Bold Conquest

by Virginia Henley

  "You look as if you have seen a ghost!" laughed Guy.

  "Oh, my lord, thank God it is you." She ran to him as if seeking his protection, and the look of relief on her face was so marked he put his arms about her and held her gently.

  "You are trembling, chérie, what is it?" he asked softly. "Strange that you can face a wild boar without a tremor, yet you jump at shadows."

  She shook her head and managed a tremulous smile.

  He did not press her for an explanation, but there was a perplexed crease in his brow as he regarded her. He would find out more of the mystery if he could, he promised himself.

  "That small trunk has to be carried home. Could you get someone to carry it for me, my lord?"

  "Certes, lady, but we will be a while yet. Won't you stay here and rest until we return?"

  "Nay," she said quickly. "I will come outside and look about, I think. Don't worry about me, I will find occupation until you are ready to return." She ventured no farther than Lady Hilda's herb garden, where she picked some rosemary and thyme for the kitchens of Godstone.

  On the ride back, late in the afternoon, the rain started, and it came down in unrelenting torrents. Guy gave Lillyth his mantle to put over her own, but it was of little avail against the downpour. They left the horses in the stable and ran across the courtyard into the hall. Guy said, "By God, they told me this England was a dark, wet hole, but until today I didn't believe it."

  Lillyth threw over her shoulder, "You can always go home if you don't like it, Norman," and they ran upstairs laughing at the puddles of water they left on every step.

  Once inside their chamber, Guy began to strip off his soggy clothing and Lillyth quickly retreated through the archway into her own chamber. Guy stripped off his chausses and put on dry ones, then, bare-chested, he sought out Lillyth. She was huddled on the edge of her bed with only her cloak removed.

  "Get those clothes off, lady, you will catch your death," he commanded.

  "I have no privacy. I shall not remove one stitch until you quit this chamber," she flared.

  "Splendor of God, are you back to defying me again? Undress this instant or by the Christ I will do it for you," he threatened.

  She tossed her dripping hair and threw him a challenging glance of disobedience. In one stride he jerked her up from the bed and pulled her soaked tunic over her head. Lillyth struggled in vain as he pulled her this way and that. Her wet kirtle clung to her body and revealed its outline completely. He set his hands upon it and managed to pull it up to her thighs, and she struggled against him and begged, "Please, please, my lord, I will remove it if you would get me a towel for my hair. Please?" Her eyes implored him.

  Reluctantly he left in search of a towel and returned with it. He also brought wine. She had stripped off her last garment and put on a velvet robe. She wrapped her head in the towel, turban fashion, and Guy held out some wine to her.

  "Drink this, it will keep out the chill. I've set the fire to blaze. Come and be warm, chérie."

  "I do not drink wine, my lord, it is intoxicating," she said prudishly.

  "This is Chablis— a rich white wine, and you will drink it now, Lillyth, or do I pour it down your throat?" he challenged.

  She took the wine and sipped it slowly, looking pointedly at his bare chest. "Aren't you cold, my lord?"

  "If you would but warm me once with your eyes, I would never be cold again," he said quietly.

  He refilled her glass over her protests and lifted it to her mouth, insisting that she drink. He then lifted the glass to his mouth and pressed his lips to the spot where she had drunk. The wine warmed her considerably, and she felt it running along her veins and making her legs weak. She felt his eyes upon her and pretended to study the flames in the fireplace. It was safe and warm and very intimate here drinking wine with him before the fire, utterly alone, with the wind and rain lashing against the roof.

  "We have an hour before supper. Fetch yonder great book and teach me to read this heathen Saxon of yours," he directed.

  Glad of the diversion, she carried the large book to the fire and sat down beside him. She opened it and showed him the beautiful illustrated pages. "This is the legend of Beowulf," she began.

  He interrupted her. "Come down here on the rug before the fire, so I can see it better."

  She slowly sat on the furs beside him and began to read. He looked at the words and protested that he could make no sense of them. His interest soon strayed from the book. He studied her profile intently while she read, and though she pretended otherwise, she was completely aware of him. His nearness did strange things to her, or was it the wine?

  Swiftly he closed the book in her lap, and pulled her across his chest. His mouth took hers in a demanding kiss. She put her hands up to push against him and felt his naked chest. The muscles rippled under her hands and she thought, How magnificent he is.

  She pulled violently away from him, afraid of her own reaction to his maleness. He did not pursue her further but contemplated her intently while he finished his wine. The silence stretched between them, so, womanlike, she said the first thing that came into her head.

  "You will never learn Saxon if you allow your attention to keep wandering to other things," she rebuked him lightly, and to her dismay she heard herself giggle. It must be the wine, she told herself hastily.

  "I can learn Saxon in one hour if I put my mind to it," he boasted. She threw back her head and laughed. "Ridiculous, impossible for a thickheaded Norman to learn a civilized language in a year, let alone an hour," she ridiculed him.

  "A wager! Tonight I will study your Beowulf for one hour. If I read it back to you perfectly, you will have to pay a forfeit."

  "Done!" cried Lillyth boldly, then instantly knew what he meant by "forfeit."

  His teeth showed in a grin. "Who wagers against me loses."

  She arose hastily, wondering at what she had done. He had a power over her that set her shivering. She retreated through the archway to dress for dinner and hoped fervently that he would not follow her, then when he didn't, she wondered why he had not.

  At the evening meal Nicholas had again chosen Rose as his dinner partner, while Andre sat next to Edyth. Lady Adela had attracted Hugh Montrose for the past two nights from across the great hall. Tonight he was bold enough to take the seat next to hers.

  "My orders are to dine with one of the ladies so that I may learn some Saxon. I have chosen you," he said very deliberately, glancing boldly at her neat figure and light, ash-brown hair.

  Her lashes swept down over her cornflower-blue eyes. "My lord, I do not seek company."

  "Then why did you uncover your hair?" he asked pointedly.

  She glanced at him swiftly, fearing he would be more demanding than Luke, her husband, had ever been. She must go slowly, just keep his thoughts on impersonal matters. Her mind raced quickly for a subject that would fit the moment. "I will try to teach you Saxon, my lord. It is indeed fortunate that I have a little French."

  In Saxon she told him her name was Adela. "You need a protector, Adela," he said plainly.

  She blushed. "I have just lost my husband, sir."

  "Call me Hugh. A young widow needs a protector," he repeated.

  "I'd rather not speak of it, sir, I mean Hugh," she said politely.

  "We will speak of it, Adela. Lord Montgomery has over forty men. Any one of them could take you any time he felt the need. The only way to avoid being continually molested is to choose a protector. Lady Lillyth understands that very well, if you do not." He indicated Guy at the head of the table. "If we pair off, the other men will not dare bother you." Her mouth had gone dry and her lips went white. Hugh lifted his goblet of wine, but before he held it out to her, he took out his dagger and plunged it into the blood-red liquid to the hilt. It was a sexual symbol which she understood completely. She hesitated for long minutes, then slowly accepted the wine and drank it.

  Lady Emma had come to dinner determined to acquire whichever knight was the talle
st and the strongest. She felt lost without a man. She felt betrayed by her husband, as if he had abandoned her, and the sooner she replaced him, the safer she would feel. She eyed the company of knights who were still available after eliminating Guy, his brothers and Rolf. By the look of things, Hugh Montrose was also out of the running.

  Three men sat together. They had discovered a fondness for English ale as well as the good plain food which was always served so generously in this newfound country. Emma had a plan. She would flirt with all three. They would argue over her, perhaps even fight, then the strongest would emerge the victor. Such a knight would make her feel safe and protected again. She soon caught the eye of Fitzroy, the youngest of the trio. She smiled at him. He looked owlishly back at her and said to his companions, "God's feet, I just received an open invitation from across the hall."

  Gervais, a muscular, powerfully built man with a dark brooding quality, glanced over at Emma. She immediately smiled at him before lowering her eyes. "You are wrong, my young cockerel, 'tis me she fancies."

  Esmé, the only tall blond Norman in the group, asked, "Do you mean the one with the lovely big ta-ta's? I've had my eye on her since the beginning."

  "Well, we had better decide this thing fast, or while we are arguing over her some other son of a bitch will have bedded her," laughed Fitzroy.

  "I make first claim," drawled Esmé lazily, as if all had been decided.

  Gervais lifted a dark brow, looked like thunder at his companions and announced shortly, "There is only one way to decide." As he reached into his doublet for a pair of dice, the clouds cleared from his brow and a sunny smile broke through.

  Fitzroy set aside the pewter tankard of ale with the leather handle to make room for the cast and said to Gervais with resignation, "We don't stand a chance, mon frère. Esmé always gambles with the devil at his shoulder. He never loses."

  Each man cast the die and, as predicted, Esme's negligent cast proved to be lucky.

  He stood up from the table, stretched his long legs and sauntered over to Emma. Naturally, she had witnessed what had transpired, and humiliation stained her cheeks. He cocked an eyebrow and drawled, "Dearest lady, to the victor goes the spoils."

  She wanted to turn from him in disdain, but his beauty held her in thrall.

  Guy cracked walnuts with the hilt of his dagger. Most of the knights got out the dice, and the room was filled with such boasts as "I'll nick three throws out of three."

  Rolf looked across at Guy. "Will you hazard with me?"

  Guy put up his hands. "Nay, I've a deal of studying to do. While you waste your evening, I'm learning to read Saxon."

  He bowed low to Lillyth. "Come, little tutor." She blushed vividly and with lagging steps followed Guy upstairs.

  Without a word he took up the book and began to read intently. She tried to distract his attention by poking at the fire, and then by brushing out her hair in front of him, but he never looked up. She walked about nervously and finally took her courage in both hands and said, "My lord, what will my forfeit be?"

  He met her glance evenly. "My bed has been cold to me for many nights, Lillyth. This night you will warm it for me, chérie," and he bent his attention upon the book again. The room was filled with silence.

  Lillyth retired to her part of the room and took up a shirt she was making for him. Slowly and thoughtfully she plied her needle. It had such a calming effect that her confidence returned and she knew he could never do what he had boasted.

  She went to him before the hour could be up and said, "You have had the time we agreed upon, my lord, let us hear what you have learned."

  He flashed her a wicked grin and began to read the first page in perfect Saxon. As he neared the bottom of the page, he glanced up triumphantly and saw such dismay in her face, such distaste for what lay ahead, such marked fear in her eyes, that he faltered and, clearing his throat, asked, "I cannot understand this last bit here. Will you translate it for me, lady?"

  Her lashes were beaded with tears. "Thank you," she said softly.

  "Lust is a hard horse for a man to ride and control, Lillyth. Good night."

  After a short time she began to relax and finally drifted into sleep, but Guy found that he was unusually restless. He tossed and turned in the great bed and longed for Lillyth to be beside him. Finally, he slipped quietly from the bed and sought her out. He gazed down upon her sleeping form, then knelt beside the bed and took her hair between his fingers. Its satiny texture aroused him further and he ached to know the feel of her skin. He had never wanted a woman like this before. His desire almost overpowered him. He longed to slip in beside her and caress every curve of her body. He wanted to put his mouth to hers and to go inside of her. He wanted to give full rein to the passion he had dammed up too long, and know the luxury of her response to him. He fought his raging desires and let her sleep on peacefully, but it was the greatest agony he had ever endured. The captor was completely captivated.

  Chapter 9

  With the rain still coming down, the next day brought the return of the rider Guy had sent to William. Guy watched with approval as the knight saw to the needs of his horse, rather than turn it over to a stableboy. The knight grinned. 'William took Dover Fort after besieging it for only eight days. He was most pleased to get your messages and sent this." He handed Guy a sealed packet.

  Guy said, "Come to the hall and take refreshment. Tell me the temper of the people at Dover."

  "Well, they hate us Normans, but they have grudgingly accepted William." He laughed. "What choice did they have? He's already nicknamed William the Conqueror. I don't think he'll have any trouble taking London and once he is crowned king, perhaps a lot of this hatred and resentment against us will die down."

  "You could easily hate William, but you could never despise him. I think these Saxons will never become Normans, my friend. We shall all have to change and become English. We may not accomplish that until the next generation. Saxons are obstinate as the devil and everything goes by custom or superstition," said Guy.

  "In my travels I have discovered that England is full of odd people, but that is one of its charms." They both laughed.

  Guy poured them both wine, then opened the sealed packet and studied the contents. He smiled to himself that William had writ plainly his plans to go immediately to Canterbury and take hostages, with no care if this message was discovered and made common knowledge. None could stop William— he was that sure of his own destiny. He had written that once he was crowned king, he would grant Guy deed to the manorial demesne of his choice, but he would need his help in London. He intended to completely surround it with a show of force in such overwhelming numbers that none would dare say him nay. He commanded Guy to be in London in full force by the end of November. This was only the end of October and therefore Guy had another month before he need take up arms again. William had signed the letter in Latin: "Ego Willelmus cognomine Bastardus."

  That night at the main meal, Guy told his men of William's request and outlined how much there was to do before their departure. He smiled at Lillyth. "I'm afraid I am turning into a farmer. You'd be surprised at all the things I have had to learn since coming here. For instance, half a beef herd must be killed for winter salting at Martinmas, but with sheep you can get enough cheese and wool to pay for their winter keep. However, if you let sheep feed on grass that has hoarfrost upon it, then they suffer from aphtha about the mouth, which prevents them from feeding. I could go on and on through foot rot to scab, but it would bore you to death."

  "l think you are the one to be bored, my lord, and will be glad to go back into battle, slaughtering my poor people. You are all cruel barbarians!" she said hotly.

  "Nay, lady," spoke up Rolf, "when we have fought the infidel we saw such cruelty you wouldn't believe. Blinding, castrating, or using human heads for footballs were common. We are Christians."

  She looked at Rolf and scoffed. "You fight the infidel so he won't swarm over your country, burning your towns and ra
ping your women, but as dutiful Christians you swarm over my country, burning our towns and raping our women!"

  Guy gave her a warning glance. "Gently, chérie, in all fairness, no woman of Godstone has been badly used. War is no pleasure. It is simply chaos and it's every man for himself. Some blossom and rise above themselves in the horror of battle, others just go rotten. Look about you, Lillyth. My knights are all eating and drinking themselves into a convivial stodge, to use a Saxon phrase. Think you they would rather be on Senlac Field holding a blade plastered with thick blood to the elbow, catching some poor bastard under the armpit as he lifts his shield?" he asked.

  "You enjoy conquest, do not dare to deny it to me!" she challenged.

  He shook his head slowly and his green eyes glittered. "I cannot deny it. I have mastered Godstone and Oxstead, and I shall master you, Lillyth, so have a care how you speak to me in future, wench!" he warned.

  She looked boldly into his eyes and vowed silently, I will bring him low!

  Her mother passed her and bent low to whisper, "He looks at you as if he would devour you, like a hound at the throat of a doe. The pliant bough bends to the wind, Lillyth, do not unleash the beast in him," warned her mother.

  But Lillyth's appetite was whetted and she licked her lips over him.

  Aedward approached Guy as soon as Lillyth moved away.

  "My lord, may I have speech with you?"

  "Certes, Aedward, is there a problem?"