The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series)

by York, Ashley

  "Would you have been so quick to my defense on our wedding night had you known that the king's guard had fondled me and promised to make use of me when you were done?"

  She wanted to know but regretted the question as soon as it was spoken.

  John choked on his wine, Peter quickly walked over to pat his liege lord on the back. "What ails you?"

  John shook his head as he struggled to stop the spasms down his throat. "Enough, Peter. Sit."

  Peter's eyes on Rowena were surprisingly untrusting. She glanced down at her cup.

  Wiping his face, John turned toward her. "You must have misunderstood. You were distraught."

  She tightened her jaw and faced him. He did seem sincere in what he was suggesting.

  "I promise you, I understood. His filthy hands on my breasts did much to make me understand."

  "No," John shook his head vehemently. "This would be reprehensible. It cannot be true."

  Rowena felt her face turn red in anger. She rose from the bench.

  "I do not appreciate being called a liar by anyone, my lord."

  Her head held high, she made her way across the hall. His accusation felt like a knife to her heart. She would never lie about such a thing as that, and she was mistaken to believe he was chivalrous. She needed to get away from him so that she could think. She just hoped her thoughts would not be about him.

  Chapter Five

  John knew his words offended Rowena, but he could not believe what she said. To make such an accusation against William's man was outrageous. He watched as she stiffly crossed the hall to the stairs, the slight sway of her hips a reminder of how he hoped the meal would end. Instead she was angry with him again.

  John planned to win Rowena with his charming ways, but instead she'd earned his regard by showing herself to be a gently raised woman with compassion for even younglings. The look of disappoint that swept across the face of the young serving girl made him regret his unkind dismissal. But before he'd been able to remedy the situation, Rowena's enthusiasm had brought a smile back to the child's face. His urge to kiss his thoughtful wife had been more than a lustful show of ownership. He'd been overwhelmed by her consideration for those beneath her station. The bard was the same.

  When she dismissed the lusty kitchen servant, he liked that she was staking a claim on him. It gave him hope. Now this.

  Closing his eyes in frustration, he fought to control his own ardor at the mere thought of her. She required his patience. He could win her over. The knowledge that the king required consummation, and John now whole-heartedly agreed, made biding his time a tactic he'd prefer not to use.

  Across the dimly lit hall, he saw a man quickly follow up the stairs Rowena had just ascended. Her man-at-arms? Arthur? Unaware that he had risen from the table until Peter stood at his side, John's disbelief quickly turned into an even stronger emotion. Betrayal.

  "John, what is amiss?" Tracking his gaze, Peter reacted as any friend would. "That man is certainly always underfoot isn't he?"

  "Isn't he, though?" John's tossed his cup down and stalked across the hall. Silence fell over the room but John could not think clearly. What was Arthur doing following his wife? Why would the king’s guard molest her? None of this made sense but if Arthur was who John was beginning to believe him to be, there would be bloodshed this very night.

  Peter stood at John's elbow before he reached the stairs. "Please, calm yourself before you go up there."

  His voice landed on John's ears as if through a fog. He would not wait. "Step aside. You do not understand."

  "Perhaps I do." Peter dragged at his arm, his voice quiet. "I have kept your secret about Rowena."

  John glanced up the stairs, but shook his head hoping to clear it. He reluctantly tried to make sense out of what his friend said. "What secret?"

  "Had William known you left Rowena intact, he would have been furious. He desires Norman-Saxon children to solidify his claim. You choosing not to do your duty could be considered treason."

  Peter spoke the truth. William was like a father to him but, as his leader, John obeyed his orders. William had all but commanded John to get his wife with child, yet he left her untouched.

  "Did you see how crazed she behaved that day? She would have cut my throat had I stayed here. I would not have gotten within an arm's length of her without a guard on either side. Or should I have sought their assistance in the bedding of my wife?"

  John defended his actions but now knew that his concerns had been unfounded. She would have accepted him as her husband, and he wouldn't now be panting at her heels. A flash of Rowena's writhing body sent a shiver of desire coursing through his body. Was Arthur now getting what she had refused him earlier?

  Peter dragged John deeper into the darkened stairs and looked to see that no one else could hear them. "You don't recognize Stephen, do you?" It sounded like an accusation, and John shook his head. "He is Adele's affianced."

  Adele was one of William's children, his only daughter. "Are you certain?"

  "William sent him to train with you so he could learn how to be a better man. William sees he leaves much to be desired as a son-in-law but Adele will not hear of marrying anyone else. She has her eyes set on Stephen. William's only hope is that he can learn from you."

  John knew that Rowena's story had been true about the man making moves against her in her own castle. Now the realization that he was the king’s future son-in-law put a new light on things. Perhaps she told the truth about William's guard.

  "Do you remember the ceremony?"

  "I left with William before you took your vows. He sent me back to retrieve the sheets which were nowhere to be found."

  Sheets with his virgin wife's blood could not be found when there had been no consummation of the vows. "William suspected?"

  "He had his doubts about you wanting to bed the lady. I brought him the proof he sought."

  John blanched. "I did not know. I give you my thanks. If I had known my wife's nature, I would not have left her." He heard the desire in his voice and was not surprised to see his friend's raised eyebrows. "It's true. She is a contradiction to the barbaric surroundings of this place."

  Remembering Arthur, he pulled his arm away and started again up the stairs.

  "Wait, John, wait." Peter followed him. Arthur stood outside Rowena's door as John and Peter both came to a stop in the hall. The click of the latch on the door reverberated through the silent hall. John's blood boiled. He strode toward the man.

  "Arthur, may I assist you?"

  "No, my lord." Arthur lowered his eyes respectfully. John hadn't missed the smirk he now hid.

  "Then why are you outside my wife's door?" His voice sounded menacing even to his own ears. The blood coursing through his veins throbbed in his ears, his fists clenched at his side, at the thought of any man touching Rowena.

  "I was concerned for her when she left the hall."

  John stepped closer, grasping the front of Arthur's tunic as he spoke in hushed tones, "Why would my wife be of any concern to you?"

  They were nose to nose, but Arthur refused to take a defensive stance.

  "My apologies, my lord, I have clearly overstepped my bounds." He avoided eye contact as well.

  John was disappointed that the man gave him no excuse to pulverize him, but he slowly released his tunic and took a step back.

  "I believe you now understand your place?"

  Arthur stared back at him, tipping his head in acknowledgement. "Aye. That I do."

  John had no actual proof that Arthur lied about why he was in Rowena's chamber.

  Forcing his breathing to a normal rhythm, he backed away from Arthur with a flourish down the hall. The red-haired man took the escape without a moment's hesitation. Peter and John watched him until he was gone.

  John's hand was on the latch when Peter grabbed it.

  "John, don't see her like this."

  John could not actually see anything. Did his wife entertain the man in her bedchamber?
Had a guard manhandled her before escorting her to him all those years ago?

  "Remove your hand from me." John's gaze held his friend's until Peter released his hand. "Go below. I will be down anon."

  Peter seemed to sigh in relief and followed where Arthur had gone.

  John did hesitate before he opened Rowena's door. What was the proper course of action? If it were a battle, John would know just what to do but this involved a woman's feelings, totally unexplored ground. His throbbing increased. He pushed the door open in time to hear her gasp and watch her turn away. He had seen the tears and felt chagrined.

  "My apologies for not knocking." What a fake. He had no remorse for not knocking. He'd wanted to catch her in her lies.

  Her long hair cascaded down her stiff back, curling at her hips. He remembered the softness of that lovely derriere. He paused. He needed to get his wits about him. Shifting toward the fire, he felt very much like the flames that licked hungrily at the logs. He was being eaten up with desire for this woman.

  He cleared his throat. "Can you tell me why Arthur thinks he needs to be concerned about you?"

  "Arthur is my friend." Her quiet voice sounded sad. John took a step toward her then stopped himself. He picked up the brush from her table. The smell of her hair wafted up to him.

  "Does he normally come to your bedchamber?"

  Her back stiffened even more. He pulled a long strand of brown hair from the brush.

  "Sometimes."

  John firmly placed the brush back on the table. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fists balled at his side. A knock on the door sent him lurching toward the door. He jerked it open. A surprised blonde woman took a step back at the sight of him.

  "Oh, my lord," she bowed. "Forgive my intrusion." She glanced over his shoulder. "I've come to assist Lady Rowena with her gown."

  The woman was making it up as she went he'd wager, but he didn't care. "She no longer requires your assistance." The thick-skulled woman looked perplexed, so he explained himself. "I will assist my wife."

  "Yes, my lord." She backed away from the door as he all but slammed it in her face. He dragged his hand through his hair. His torment at the situation deepened.

  "I must allow you to touch me, then?" Rowena's voice cut to the quick as he turned to face her.

  Her passionate response to his touch earlier came quickly to his mind. Allowing him to touch her? He repulsed her so? He had to stop himself from closing the distance between them and demonstrating the truth to her. He licked his dry lips before he continued.

  "I would not have us interrupted at this time." Her shoulders seemed to slouch. In relief? She may think she didn't want him but she was still his wife. "We have much to say to each other."

  The silence grew. On the one hand he was beside himself that anyone had so violated her before their wedding. When he thought of her fear it all made sense now. He should have protected her even then, and his own excoriation made it worse. Of course she hated him. She knew nothing about Normans. She had been threatened by one of the king’s own guards.

  Had she been here with her lover, Arthur? Is that who comforted her? John knew there were ways to be intimate without losing one's virginity. Those ways were still punishable offenses. So did he comfort her for her abuses or punish her for adultery? He rubbed his throbbing head and dropped to sit on the stool beside the fire.

  §

  Rowena could not miss the anger in his face when he had burst into the room. When she had been assessing his worth, she was finding there was much to praise him for. Intelligent, well-spoken, gracious, considerate. Every woman, Norman or Saxon, had been treated respectfully. The rumors had flown when William of Normandy had been crowned. The Normans raped women in packs, murdered small children by throwing them into the river, and tore down churches and burned Saxon priests at the stake. Her treatment prior to wedding John seemed to support what she'd heard. Rowena had seen no such thing since.

  "As my wife, Rowena..."

  Her eyes narrowed at use of the title.

  "...you will not allow men into your bedchamber. Other than me, that is."

  A little shiver passed through her at the idea of him coming to her in the middle of the night. She could again feel his fingers caressing her. Perhaps he had indeed returned to be her husband in truth. The possibility excited her.

  Arthur had followed her and even taken her in his arms to comfort her. In the past she had welcomed the feel of his arms around her, seldom as that happened, but she was already different. His arms no longer felt right around her. She had tried to tell him he could not be in her room, it wasn't seemly. He had looked so hurt.

  "Do you not understand me, wife?"

  The title bristled her. "Yes, husband, I understand you fine."

  The use of titles did not make it any more true. Men always thought it did. They were wrong. Turning to him, she felt her cheeks grow hot as he caressed her ever so slowly with his eyes, finally resting on her face before he spoke again.

  "Husband I will be soon enough."

  His answer told her he didn't miss her meaning. He stood suddenly, and the fire silhouetting his large frame caused her breath to catch at his imposing size. From his powerful legs, slightly parted and ready for attack, to his solid torso, ready to receive the assault, to his burly arms more than willing to instigate the encounter. This was certainly no complacent lord of the manor; this was a well-honed fighting machine. Rowena was confused when she realized her own longing to touch him. His brown hair looked soft and the shadow of a beard around his chin caused her hand to itch for the touch of both.

  "Know this, Rowena…"

  Her breath quickened when he stepped toward her, his eyes piercing her own.

  "...there will be no one but me."

  He stopped just short of touching her but that now familiar heat reached out to her.

  "You are mine and only mine."

  His voice was quiet as he spoke the ominous words. Tipping his head slightly, John raised his eyebrows as if to ask if she needed any clarification. She did not. His meaning was quite clear. With tender fingers he stroked her chin and gently pulled her face closer. He lightly touched his lips to hers. "Good night, then."

  Rowena watched him leave. She finally let go of the breath she'd been holding forever and collapsed on the bed. Deep gulps of air did nothing to settle her chaotic emotions. She rolled onto her side and tried to erase the feel of his hands on her, his lips on her. But a stronger desire burned even hotter to try and remember every detail, every sensation, to relive it exactly as it had been. Her restlessness only increased.

  The fire burned brightly in the room and the candle beside the window gave off a soft glow. Her room, which had always seemed so peaceful, suddenly felt empty and cold. She stood to leave and realized she wasn't safe to wonder the halls. Norman scum.

  Chapter Six

  It had taken every ounce of strength for John to simply kiss Rowena and walk away when all he wanted to do was make her his in truth.

  Peter was leaning against the wall beside the stairs when John came back to the hall. John rolled his eyes.

  "Lying in wait, are you?" Glancing around the hall and not finding Arthur, John headed to the stable.

  Peter tagged along. "How did it go?"

  John pretended not to hear.

  "The time with your wife?" Peter continued. "You don't appear any more relaxed."

  John clenched his fist and turned to his friend. "It may be a good idea to keep out of my concerns."

  Peter laughed quietly.

  John's blood boiled. "Where is Arthur?"

  "He did not stay here. He simply passed through the hall to the outside."

  In the inner bailey, the stars twinkled overhead. John paused to take in the fresh scent of hay from the barn and the smoke from fires burning beyond in the village. It was a peaceful setting and did nothing to lessen the tension gripping his body. Rowena's dark hair sweeping down her gently heaving chest and her soft l
ips trembling in her upset called out to him that he needed to be with her right now. That was where his peace would be found.

  "You seem more like a strained rope about to break."

  "Peter," John turned on his friend. "If you are unable to stay out of what doesn't concern you, at least stop…talking so much." He scratched at his head before looking around. All that he saw was his but he knew it not at all. Very much like his wife. He finally located the stables and quickly closed the distance.

  "Why did you not just bed her and be done with it?" Peter moved quickly to keep up with him.

  John's jaw clenched. "I see you know nothing about women. That would explain your unmarried status."

  "No. I choose the life of a soldier over a coddled man." Peter paused in the doorway of the barn. "Although coddling does have its advantages."

  "Jeanette would say that it does." John thought of Peter's petite, red-haired mistress and added in irritation, "She would also say you agreed but not to the word coddling." John came out of the last stall and paused in the darkened aisle. "Damn."

  "Did you actually think you would find Arthur hiding in one of the stalls?"

  John paused long enough to glare at the man. "Perhaps."

  "Get ahold of yourself."

  Exhaling sharply, John felt as if he would explode. Where was Arthur? He would like to throttle the man. No, what he wanted was to throttle his wife. Well, maybe not actually throttle.

  "My wife does not seem happy with me."

  "I wonder why. Did you actually accuse her of entertaining a lover?"

  "Not in so many words. I think she has to be made to understand."

  "Certainly." Peter leaned against the low wooden stall. "I actually enjoy making Jeanette ‘understand’. She does, too."

  "Is that all you ever think about?"

  "Yes… I would have to say, yes."

  John settled down on the bale of hay at the end of the aisle. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and sighed wearily."You are exasperating."

  "Are you sure it's me who is exasperating you?"