“Get out,” he said, low. “I have changed my mind, I do not need you—as you can see.”
Ceidre wiped her eyes and stood, squaring her shoulders. She could not look away from his dark, violent gaze.
“Go to your husband,” he said softly, ugly. “Go to him, charm him. But stay the hell away from me.”
For some reason, the urge to go to him and take away the controlled loathing in his tone swept her, and she did not move, unable to do so.
“Why do you wait? Do you now play the seductress? Do you think to cast a spell, standing there honey haired, beautiful, trembling as if with hurt? What you have I have seen before many times. You are only a woman, like any other, and my response to you is the same as with all the others.”
His cruel words struck her with the force of a blow, and she turned, numbly.
“Tell Alice to come to me,” he called to her departing back. “Tell her to come to me, I have need of her now.”
Ceidre escaped.
A week later, Rolfe and Guy rode out to inspect Guy’s holdings at Dumstanbrough thoroughly. Rolfe’s leg was slightly stiff, which he deemed the riding would ease. They took with them a dozen men, in case of a run-in with Scots reivers, leaving Aelfgar well defended and under Beltain’s authority. They reached this outermost village belonging to Rolfe in a day and a half and had completed their inspection by that nightfall.
As his men lounged around the campfire, preparatory to sleep, Rolfe stood and stretched. His leg ached slightly. The village was quiet now, after the initial uproar that their arrival had caused. Apparently, being so far north, they saw little of their lord and master, and apparently cared just as little whether that lord be Saxon or not. Ample fare and atrocious ale had been provided for his men. Guy had already chosen a site for his manor. As soon as Rolfe could spare him, he knew Guy would be returning to see to its construction. This made him envision a day in the future that surely must come—Ceidre living here as the lady of Dumstanbrough.
Not that he cared. Let her have Dumstanbrough and the husband she already loved so well! Maybe Guy would bring her with him when he returned, and leave her here when he left to resume his services at Aelfgar. If it weren’t for Ceidre, Rolfe would be thoroughly pleased with the turn of events. Guy was a fierce knight, and having him on this northernmost border would be a boon to his defenses. Rolfe had already decided to take on more men, and some of these he would garrison here as well.
Ceidre. Did she pine for her husband? He felt the ugliness rising within him, and stalked away from the campfire, as if to outdistance his emotions.
She loved Guy. Fickle was the first word that raised itself, she was fickle. But how could that be? He snorted, feeling derision, directed at himself. A rape did not win her heart. But hadn’t they shared more after? And what did he care about her heart! Love was for fools—for women and boys. In truth, it did not exist, it was merely a polite excuse for lust. Could she have truly found such passion and such ecstasy in Guy’s arms? He reiterated to himself that he did not care, he had his choice of wenches, and in the dark one could barely tell them apart.
He stopped, realizing he had reached the village, about to turn around to return to the camp. There was a feeling of potency in the velvet night cocooning him. He was keenly aware of it; almost as if he was pierced with something, poignant and intense, like a need, but a need of what? As he started back to the camp, a husky laugh caught his attention. Despite the sexual note, he instantly recognized the tone as belonging to Guy, and pausing, his gaze scanned the environs.
In the darkness, he finally made out an embracing couple beneath an oak tree, the rays of the moon drenching them. His curiosity was not idle; he had to know if it was really Guy, and he approached until he was certain. It was Guy. He had the woman on his lap, her skirts tossed up, his hips rocking her rhythmically as he fucked her. Rolfe felt anger sweep over him.
He did not move, and presently they finished, the woman rising, shaking out her skirts, laughing, Guy adjusting his hose and patting her behind. He started when he saw Rolfe. The wench also noticed him, and she gave him a sly look, but Rolfe ignored her. She left, disappointed.
“You are looking for me, my lord?”
“No, I just happened upon you.” They started walking back to the camp together.
Rolfe looked bluntly at Guy. “You are not faithful to your wife.” It was, of course, a statement, yet it was also an opening, a question.
It was dark, but from Guy’s tone, Rolfe knew he was blushing. “No. Of course not. I am too young to grow old with one woman, and a witch at that.”
He felt the anger again. “She is no witch, Guy.”
“I am sorry, I forgot you believe otherwise.” Guy was nervous and it showed.
“I am surprised,” Rolfe said carelessly, “that after being in her arms, you would find the energy, or desire, for another.” His glance skewered the younger man again.
Guy was silent, with unease. Rolfe knew it, and wondered if it was his blunt reference to having been the first to bed his wife, or something more. Finally Guy shrugged. “I am young.” Head down, he trudged on.
Rolfe knew that if he were married to Ceidre he would not have the energy or desire for another. He stared at Guy thoughtfully. And he wondered how Ceidre would feel if she knew her husband was so eager to seek out other women.
“Arrest her,” Alice said.
Ceidre froze in the midst of lighting two tapers in the hall of the manor. Two Normans rushed forward, one of them taking her arm. Beltain stood with Alice, his face dark. “What is going on?” Ceidre cried.
Alice smirked, her face ugly with malicious intent. “You have committed treason one time too many, Ceidre, and in my lord’s absence I must protect him and what is his! Arrest her!”
“Treason?” Ceidre gasped. “I have not—”
Beltain interrupted her, waving a parchment that he was holding. He was grim. “A maid found this in your chamber, Lady.”
