Married to Her Enemy

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Svend!’ She gasped as he released her abruptly, a rush of cold air washing over her skin.

  ‘You told me to go.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Or do you want me to stay now? You’ll have to ask nicely.’

  Aediva narrowed her eyes. If he thought he could toy with her, then two could play at that game. She pulled herself upright, shaking her head so that her hair tumbled provocatively over her shoulders.

  ‘No. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m fickle.’

  ‘Then the barn it is.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘It does seem a shame, though.’

  ‘It does—but what choice do we have?’

  ‘Perhaps if I showed you something else we could do...?’ He lowered his voice seductively.

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘Much more. Trust me, Aediva, we’re just getting started.’

  She bit her lip, pretending to think about it, her pulse already racing with anticipation. ‘And you think it will please me?’

  ‘Based on last night, I think it should please us both.’

  ‘Well, in that case...’ She surrendered, wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘I suppose you could show me.’

  ‘With pleasure.’ He caught hold of her waist, twisting her around into a sitting position on top of him.

  ‘What...?’

  ‘You’ve worn me out, remember? This time you can do all the work.’

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Nothing too strenuous, I promise. Here...’ He took hold of her hips, positioning her over him.

  ‘You want me to...?’ She clasped her hands over her breasts, staring at him in shocked comprehension.

  ‘Don’t cover up.’ He peeled her fingers away gently. ‘I want to see you.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘Aediva.’ He pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but it will be even better for you, I promise.’

  ‘Better?’ She moved her hips against him tentatively. ‘You mean like this?’

  He gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Like that.’

  ‘Like the first time we met?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When I tried to kill you, or so you said.’ She rocked herself backwards and forwards, saw him grit his teeth. ‘I sat astride you like this.’

  ‘Aediva...’

  She gave a coy smile, enjoying her power. ‘Of course if I’d known you were enjoying it I might have used that dagger after all.’

  He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. ‘I didn’t realise you enjoyed torturing men.’

  ‘Just you. Norman.’

  ‘Wildcat.’

  She bent towards him and then froze, clutching a blanket to her chest as she heard a knock on the door.

  ‘What?’ Svend’s voice was a roar.

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ Renard’s muffled voice sounded more than a little nervous. ‘But the masons need to speak with you. There’s some kind of problem with the wall. They say it’s urgent.’

  ‘Tell them to—’

  Aediva clamped a hand over his mouth. From the murderous look on his face, whatever he wanted to tell them to do didn’t bear repeating.

  ‘Be nice!’ she admonished him. ‘If it weren’t for Renard you might not have come home last night.’

  Svend made a face. ‘True. I’ll be down in a minute, lad!’ He gave her a smouldering look, then rolled off the bed and into his hose. ‘It seems I owe him a debt too. But I’ll think of a different way to thank him.’

  She lay on her side, watching him dress. ‘I suppose the barn will have to wait too?’

  ‘It doesn’t help that you look so irresistible.’

  ‘There’s always tonight.’

  ‘Tonight? You think I can wait that long?’ He bent over the bed, kissing her thoroughly before making for the door. ‘I want to see you back here in an hour. That’s an order!’

  She laughed gleefully and wrapped herself up in the blanket, running to the window to watch as he strode out into the bailey. He raised a hand in salute and she waved back, unable to keep the smile off her face. Danish or Norman, whoever he was, she didn’t care any more. He was her husband and she loved him.

  He hadn’t said that he loved her, but he’d certainly shown her how he felt. The words could wait for the moment. All that mattered was that the pit in her stomach was gone, all the loneliness and fear of the past year banished. For the first time since before the Conquest she felt safe and happy. Because of him.

  She only hoped that whatever the masons wanted wouldn’t take long. He’d said he had lots more to show her and suddenly she felt very eager to learn.

  She leaned happily against the side of the window and looked out over the bailey, over the barns and tents and kitchens. They’d all have to manage without her today. Though maybe later she’d take Svend to one of the barns and show him their winter supplies. She could probably find a hay bale that needed lifting too...

  She saw a commotion on the far side of the bailey and her face fell at once. A crowd had gathered, watching as the prisoners were moved between barns. Their hands were untied, and there were no signs of ill treatment, but the guards around them were taking no chances, swords drawn in case of attack.

  She watched as they came closer. The men were unkempt and dishevelled, their faces contorted with loathing even towards the other Saxons in the bailey, but her heart still ached for them. A month ago she might have been one of them, but now... All she wanted was for the fighting and the turmoil to be over, for there to be peace again.

  Her attention fixed suddenly on a sandy-haired rebel near the front. There was something familiar about him—something about his posture and the way he walked. Intrigued, she leaned over the ledge, trying to get a better look, and for a fleeting moment he looked up.

  Edmund.

  She drew back at once, her heart pounding violently. She hadn’t seen him for months, but it was him—she was sure of it. And he’d seen her too. The look of disgust on his face had been more eloquent than words. She could hardly have arranged it to look any worse—wrapped in a blanket in a Norman’s bedchamber in the full light of day. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like, but it was obvious what he thought.

  She ran a hand over her face in dismay. She hadn’t expected ever to see Edmund again—hadn’t wanted to—but he was still part of her past, her father’s favourite. The Saxon side of her didn’t want to see him imprisoned, even if the new Norman side knew there was no choice. But for old times’ sake she couldn’t just turn her back on him—she had to do something.

  But what? She could hardly help him escape. If she deceived Svend again he’d never forgive her—not a second time. It would be the end of their marriage before it had even begun. Besides, she couldn’t keep such a secret from him. Not after last night. She’d have to tell him and ask for his help instead, try to persuade him to let Edmund go even if it meant another argument.

  Her stomach plummeted. She had a feeling their morning together was ruined.

  * * *

  Svend grinned, inhaling the fresh morning air with relish. He was in a better mood than he’d been in for... His brow creased as he considered. Could it really be years? He felt more at ease and contented than he could even remember. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and bright, and all he wanted was to spend it indoors, in bed, with his wife.

  ‘So what’s the issue with the masons, exactly?’

  ‘They’ve had some kind of argument, sir.’ Renard was still flustered, struggling to keep up with his long strides. ‘One of them says part of the wall is unstable—the rest say not. So they asked me to fetch you. I thought I should, just in case the first one was right.’

  ‘You did the right thing.’

  ‘I did?’ Renard sagged with reli
ef. ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Am I such an ogre, lad?’

  ‘No, sir, but I didn’t want to interrupt...anything.’

  Svend grinned. ‘Well, I forgive you, but you know Lady Aediva has a fearsome temper. It’s not me you need to worry about.’

  He started to laugh at Renard’s panicked expression and then stopped, distracted by a noise coming from the building site—a low rumble followed by voices raised in alarm. He looked towards the sound and then broke into a run. Part of the wall was leaning precariously, the scaffolding beside it teetering over with men still trapped on top. As he watched two of them jumped clear, but a third man was too high, and the wooden planks were wobbling dangerously beneath his feet.

  ‘Climb down!’ Svend bellowed, charging towards the scaffolding and ramming his shoulder up against a beam, trying to stabilise the frame.

  Already he could tell that it was too late. Other men were rushing to help, but the weight of the wall was pushing him down to the ground and the wood was already starting to crack, fragmenting into a thousand small pieces around them.

  The last man clambered down a level and then jumped, landing just clear of the wood as it finally splintered apart. There was an eerie creak followed by a bass rumble as the wall started to disintegrate alongside them, large blocks of stone teetering at first and then tumbling down in a torrent of boulders.

  ‘Get back!’ Svend shouted, taking the weight by himself as he heaved the remains of the scaffolding aside. He made sure everyone else was clear before he jumped backwards himself, disappearing beneath a cloud of dust and rocky hailstones as the rest of the wall finally collapsed around him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Svend forced his eyelids open. They felt leaden and heavy, as if they were trying to drag him back down into sleep, back to troubled dreams of noise and chaos. It was dark, though the flickering light of a candle told him he was back in his bed in the tower.

  He flexed his sword arm, then winced as pain shot down his side, black dots dancing in front of his eyes like coal dust. A series of disjointed memories came back to him. The bailey wall collapsing...the scaffolding buckling under the weight of stone...a shower of dust and rock.

  What had happened next? What was he doing here?

  He waited for the dizziness to subside, then tested his other muscles more carefully. He felt battered and sore all over, though he seemed to have avoided serious injury. Only his chest felt heavy—as if there were a horse sitting on top of it.

  He heard somebody else’s breathing and turned his head carefully, his heart lurching as he saw Aediva curled up in a chair by the bedside. Instinctively he tried to sit up, and then fell back with a grunt of pain, his shoulder collapsing beneath him.

  ‘Svend?’

  He heard her whisper his name but couldn’t answer, his senses still reeling. Then he felt fingers, soft and tender, moving in circles over his chest, loosening the tight muscles. From the smell he guessed she was rubbing in some kind of ointment. It felt warm and sticky, not unpleasant despite a slight stinging sensation. He fought back a growl, inhaling sharply as her fingers brushed across his injured shoulder.

  ‘Can you hear me?’ She stopped at once.

  He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, could tell that she was leaning over him. Her hair was trailing across his chest like a silken blanket, filling his senses almost to breaking point. She was close now—so close that if he reached out she’d have no chance of escape.

  He moaned, luring her face down to his.

  ‘Svend?’

  Quickly he coiled his good arm around her neck, bringing her mouth down to his, and was caught off guard by the depth and fervour of her response. Her lips surrendered immediately, her mouth soft and sweet and irresistibly delicious, deepening the kiss with every passing moment. If they went on like this...

  She pulled back abruptly, squealing in protest. ‘Brute! You tricked me! How long have you been awake?’

  ‘Not long.’

  He tried another groan and she started forward again in alarm.

  ‘Have I hurt you?’

  ‘Not yet. Care to try?’

  ‘Stop teasing me!’ She stamped her foot angrily. ‘It’s not fair.’

  He grinned. ‘You are too good to resist.’

  She glared at him, perching on the side of the bed just out of arm’s reach. ‘And how do you feel?’

  ‘Like a wall has fallen on me.’

  ‘Renard says they were rushing to finish and the mortar wasn’t dry.’

  ‘Is everyone all right?’

  ‘One of the masons broke a leg, but everyone else escaped. You must have been the slowest.’

  He caught the mischievous glint in her eye. ‘Getting old, perhaps?’

  ‘Probably. It’s amazing that you didn’t break any bones. Wait!’ She sprang forward as he started to sit up. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘The old man wants to get up.’

  ‘You need to lie still.’

  ‘I’m not staying in bed like an invalid.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘And you needn’t look at me like that. I’m not afraid of you, Svend du Danemark.’

  He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Not at all?’

  ‘I’ve held a knife to your chest before. Don’t think I won’t do it again.’

  He laughed painfully. ‘I believe you.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet, anyway.’ She reached for the ointment again. ‘Now, lie down and be still.’

  He fell backwards, heaving a sigh. ‘So this is marriage? Very well, then, wife. Do your worst.’

  She gave him an arch look, trailing her hands along the sides of his ribcage.

  ‘Will I live?’

  ‘You’ll survive.’

  ‘Somehow I can’t tell if you think that’s a good thing.’

  ‘It’s bearable.’

  He smiled. ‘Surely you can’t deny me a small walk around the chamber?’

  ‘No! Look what happened the last time I let you out of bed.’

  ‘In that case you’d better join me. I won’t make the same mistake twice.’

  He heard her breathing quicken, before she shook her head emphatically. ‘It’s definitely too soon for that.’

  ‘Aediva...’ He gave a low growl. Despite the pain, he could feel himself getting aroused. ‘Either let me out of this bed or get in.’

  She hesitated for another moment before climbing up and nestling down by his side.

  ‘You scared me. Don’t do it again.’

  He twisted towards her, surprised by the quiver in her voice. Up close, he could see that her eyes and cheeks were swollen, as if she’d been crying.

  ‘I promise never to be crushed by a wall again.’

  ‘Stop making light of it! You could have been killed!’

  ‘It’ll take more than that.’ He reached out, stroking the side of her face with his fingertips. ‘I’m not so easy to get rid of.’

  ‘So I’m learning.’

  ‘I’m sorry you were scared. So was I, if it helps. One night with you is nowhere near enough. The thought of not having another was terrifying.’ He pressed his lips into her hair. ‘Speaking of which...that position I showed you would be perfect for a situation like this.’

  She batted a hand at him. ‘I’m not being held responsible for you relapsing.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘You need to rest.’

  ‘I can’t think of a better way to help me sleep.’

  ‘Svend!’

  He laughed at her ferocious expression. ‘All right. But soon...’

  ‘Soon,’ she agreed. ‘Very soon.’

  * * *

  Aediva looked up from the be
d, pressing a finger to her lips and smiling as Bertrand bent his head under the doorframe. A month ago she would have felt uncomfortable in the presence of such an alarmingly large, archetypal Norman, but now she was genuinely pleased to see him.

  ‘Lady Aediva...’

  He looked embarrassed to find her on the bed and she took pity on him, wriggling away from her sleeping husband and onto her feet. It wasn’t her fault that Svend insisted on her lying beside him all the time. His men probably thought she was some kind of wanton.

  ‘What is it?’ She smiled encouragingly.

  Bertrand lowered his voice. ‘I have some questions about tomorrow, my lady, but I’ll come back later.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘We’re taking the prisoners to the Earl for sentencing.’ He saw the look on her face and cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, I thought you knew.’

  ‘No.’ She tried to keep her voice from shaking. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Those are the Earl’s orders.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’ll come back later.’

  He backed out of the room hastily and she sank down onto the bed, stricken with guilt. She’d been so preoccupied with Svend over the last two days that she’d hardly thought about the prisoners at all. She hadn’t even considered what was going to happen to them. Her whole world seemed to have contracted to this one room.

  She gazed down at him lovingly, dipping her fingers into the soothing ointment the wicce had given her, then rubbing them gently over his bare skin. His chest moved up and down beneath her touch, warm and smooth and sprinkled with a fine layer of soft white-gold hair. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her mind on the task. Even covered in red and purple bruises, his body still had a powerful effect on her senses. The thrill of running her hands over his hard, taut muscles was as strong and distracting as ever.

  Should she tell him about Edmund? She’d intended to, but that had been before the accident. She didn’t want anything to disrupt his recovery, but she couldn’t bear to think of Edmund being dragged in chains before the Earl either. No matter what he’d done to her, she didn’t want that.