by Regan Walker
She rode all day, stopping only briefly to water her horse and eat some of her food. The night brought her to a copse of trees near a large boulder. Exhausted, she drew her warm cloak around her, and with her arrows and seax held close, she curled up with the rock at her back and sought sleep.
Chapter 10
Renaud stormed down the stairs of the manor and seeing Geoff, drew the knight to one side. “Have you seen the servant girl Sarah? This time of day she is usually above stairs, but she has not yet come.”
Although the morning meal had ended long ago, Renaud had not observed Sarah around the manor. Without realizing it, he had become familiar with her pattern of work, looking for the brown plait and violet eyes, pleased when he spotted her. He had noticed when the boy Jamie, now his page, walked to the stables alone that morning. Most days, Sarah would have been with him. And now she was absent from his chamber when she should have been freshening the linens.
“Now that you bring her to mind,” said Geoff, his brows drawing together, “I cannot recall seeing her.”
Renaud frowned but did not answer immediately. “I sense something is awry. See if Maggie knows of the girl. She may be unwell. I will be working in my chamber.”
As he ascended the stairs, he could hear Geoff in the hall talking to Maggie while she and the serving girls cleared the trestle tables. “Maggie, have you seen Sarah? The lord is asking for her.”
“M’lord, I know not where she is keeping herself. I’ve nay seen the girl all day. Ye might ask the boy Jamie.”
A feeling of unease settled over Renaud as he entered his chamber. He was not able to concentrate on the drawings of the castle on his work table. Could one of his men have defied him and taken the girl? Certainly none would be so foolish, not after Sir Hugue’s banishment. More likely she had gone to hunt rabbits and lay in the woods harmed by some beast. The image of Sarah’s crumpled form lying still in the woods made him mad with anxiety.
By the time Geoff appeared at his door, Renaud was beside himself.
“Ren, the housekeeper has no knowledge of the girl, and the others we’ve questioned have nay caught a glimpse of her all day.”
“Take some of the men and search the village, the woods. Find her!”
His friend knew him too well to question the order. “As you wish.”
It was later that afternoon when Renaud sought distraction in swordplay with some of his men, taking out his frustration and his worry on the clash of metal against metal. Seeing Geoff approach with a worried look, Renaud waved off Sir Maurin with whom he’d been sparring and sheathed his sword. He knew immediately they’d not found the girl.
“She is not in the manor or the outbuildings. The village and the woods have been searched and she is nay there. On my way here, one of the stable lads came to tell me the mare belonging to Lady Serena is missing. Assuming the servant took the horse, she has stolen a fine one.”
“When did the lad notice the horse missing?”
“He told me it was when he was feeding the horses this morning.”
“And he said naught of it?”
“He assumed one of the men had taken the horse and would return it. He said he would have reported the horse missing if it had not been brought back. I think he felt badly he had not done so earlier.”
His mood somber, Renaud wiped the sweat from his brow and chest and donned his tunic. “Let us return to the manor.” Once bathed, and still brooding over the girl’s disappearance, he joined the men in the hall where they were beginning the evening meal. She was only a servant, albeit a comely one. Why should he care if she took to the road? Mayhap the loss of the palfrey should concern him more.
Renaud could summon no appetite, so he strolled out to the yard, gazing through the gate to the dark green of the forest. She was gone. He had known in his heart it was so, but had hoped he was wrong.
Had she left on her own or had she received help from another?
After a few minutes, Geoff joined him.
“Have you seen the Welshman today, Geoff?”
“Nay, I have not.”
Renaud wondered if they’d left together. He had never trusted the bard.
But why would she leave? The answer came quickly. It had been his attempts to woo her to his bed. She had made clear her hatred for Normans and likely feared he would force her. Or, mayhap it was more. Did she fear her own desire, that in time she would, of her own accord, come to his bed? After all, she had surrendered to his kisses. Even she could not deny the passion flowing between them when their lips touched. Because of her disdain for Normans, she would try and deny that passion.
“I am going after her.” Renaud spoke his intention aloud. “There is still sun enough to travel for some hours yet.”
“I’ll gather some of the men and be ready to leave immediately,” Geoff proffered.
As Geoff turned back to the hall, Renaud said, “Nay. This I do alone. The young fool left to avoid me. Without knowledge of how to ride, she may be lying hurt somewhere. It must be me who brings her back.” His tone had been harsh though he was not angry with Geoff; he was angry with himself. And if, as he surmised, she had chosen to leave him because of what lay between them, he’d be angry with Sarah. And Rhodri if he aided her.
“When last she fled,” Geoff said, “she rode north. She might have done so again. I doubt she has traveled far.”
“I will ride the night if I must, but I will find her. Of that you can be certain.”
As Renaud rode out of the gate, he passed the bard Rhodri coming in. They exchanged a slow look as Renaud rode past him.
So, she rides alone.
* * *
Serena shivered where she lay on the cold ground and pulled her blanket more tightly around her as the dream faded. The morning brought a pale sun and cold air nipped at her face. She had managed to sleep a few hours, but from the dull ache in her head, it was not enough. When night had fallen, she had listened for sounds that might warn her of men in the woods or beasts that would see her as prey. Thankfully, there had been none, but she’d listened all the same as she lay shivering in the night.
When she had slept, it was only to wake with the image of the Red Wolf in her mind. There was anger in his gray eyes, as she knew there would be when he learned of her escape. But it was needful she leave before she succumbed to his masculine lure, before he could claim her as his. If he took her maidenhead, she would belong to him forever, no matter the priest had said no blessing.
A rustle of leaves drew her gaze, but when she cautiously surveyed the woods around her, she saw nothing unusual, and heard only the birds greeting the morning.
Rising from the hard earth, she dusted off her clothes. She would ride for a while before breaking her fast. Mayhap it would clear her mind. Today she must hunt.
She had traveled only a few hours when, seeing a fast flowing stream, she decided to stop. If the stream was bountiful, she might catch some fish. But first she would hunt rabbits. She could cook the meat, eat some and carry the rest with her for her evening meal.
Leaving her horse tied in the sheltering oaks, she crept on silent feet, making her way through the sun-dappled forest in search of her prey. Long ago Rhodri had taught her to move as one of the creatures of the woodland, confident none would hear.
* * *
Renaud had ridden Belasco through the night, determined to find the girl. Before he lost the light, he had identified a trail heading north. When the sun sank and its glow of scarlet and gold gone from the sky, he gingerly made his way by the light of the moon. His body was now crying for rest but he was used to ignoring its demands. As a knight in William’s service, he had gone days without sleep.
All during the night, thoughts of Sarah had run through his weary mind. Why was he so fascinated with the girl? All he had wanted at the end of war was peace, to find his joy in the land, as had his father and grandfather before him. Though, in truth, he knew little of the demands of a demesne such as Talisand, as Sarah in her
impudence had informed him. But he could learn, and he would. And beside him he wanted the English girl, no matter she was a servant. He was certain he had been right in thinking she left because of him. Telling the women he would allow none of his men to force them was a truth. But he would never have to force Sarah. She had softened in his arms and returned his kisses, no matter how it shamed her to do so. She was only a servant and he was a Norman knight, now made an earl by his king. How much longer could she have refused him? Not long, he thought.
Anger warred with worry as he plodded on, concerned all the while what might have befallen her for her reckless leave-taking. Would he find her lying hurt somewhere? Thinking the worst, with the rising sun, he urged Belasco to a faster pace.
The sound of the running stream shook him out of his musings and reminded him both he and his horse were sorely in need of water and rest.
He led the gray stallion toward the sound of the gurgling water, and loosely wrapped Belasco’s reins over a log near the stream’s bank. But he walked on some distance until he spotted a large flat rock near the edge of the water. Kneeling, he leaned over the edge and brought the cold water to his mouth.
A snapping twig brought his head up. He stilled, searching the forest for the source of the sound. Brown and yellow leaves strewn about the gray rocks beneath the trees soaked up the sun’s rays. A labyrinth of fallen logs and tree trunks lay before him. Anything could hide there.
The cause of the snapping twigs soon became apparent when he spotted movement. A slim lad, dressed in the colors of the forest, crouched at the edge of a small clearing, focused intently on the broad base of a tree where three rabbits foraged, as yet unaware of the lad’s presence.
Without a sound, the lad nocked an arrow and pulled back the shaft. The first arrow flew with a whooshing sound. Then, so fast Renaud could not see the movements clearly, the lad nocked the second arrow, and fired off another shot, then another.
At the base of the tree, three rabbits lay dead.
He had never seen an archer so fast or so accurate. In truth, such skill was unknown to him. Mayhap he could recruit the young man to join his archers for he doubted if any of them could match the lad’s speed.
Renaud watched as the lad walked to the base of the tree and leaned down to gather his kill. As he reached to pick up the first animal, his cap fell from his head and a thick brown plait tumbled toward the ground. A curse escaped Renaud’s lips in a low hiss.
Sarah!
Then, into his mind came unbidden the words spoken by Jamie at the archery contest.
Her arm is so fast ’tis as if the bow is part of her, as if they are one.
Not Sarah. Serena!
With sudden clarity, he realized he’d been played the fool. Rage filled him as he slowly rose. The lady had deceived him, living beneath his nose disguised as a servant, determined to thwart his claim to her. Well, her deception was at an end.
Uncaring if she heard him, he boldly stomped toward her.
* * *
Startled by the sound of heavy footfalls crushing leaves and rattling stones, Serena whirled drawing her seax. Like an angry beast robbed of its kill, the Red Wolf stalked toward her, his hands curved into fists at his side. Fear gripped her as his cold gray eyes made clear his intent. Rising, she retreated until her back hit the broad trunk of the tree. Like a doe held in the fixed gaze of a wolf, she froze.
Knocking the knife from her hand, he clasped one arm around her waist and the other under her legs, sweeping her into his arms, and carried her toward the stream. The tension in his hard muscles and the set of his jaw shouted his anger. The force of his hold told her to struggle was futile.
“Where are you taking me?” she cried, aware they were alone in the forest.
“To prove to both of us just what I have found.”
Without another word, at the edge of the stream he tipped her head down, causing her plait to splash into the flowing water. Holding her fast to his chest, the Red Wolf stared beyond her to the stream. Fearful of falling, she wrapped her hands tightly around his neck and looked back, her head only a foot above the rippling swirls. Her long brown plait drifted in the water. A feeling of dread came over her as she saw the brown color running from her hair to be carried away by the swift current. Parts of the plait were now flaxen where the walnut dye had deserted the pale strands.
Slowly she turned to look at him, his face mere inches from hers. Realization and anger glared from his cold gray eyes like a storm about to break.
He knows.
Setting her on her feet, he clamped his hands around her upper arms. “What is this deceit you have wrought? You are mine, Serena, by William’s decree!”
“Never!” She pushed against his chest. “Never will I accept your claim or your king’s decree.” Though she knew the Normans counted women only as possessions, something to be bartered and given away like her lands, she was determined to fight. Within her raged a battle between dread and desire. But to give in to the desire seemed a betrayal of her father, her brother and all she held dear.
As if she weighed but a sou, he lifted her into his arms and carried her the short distance to the clearing. Setting her once again on her feet, he threw his cloak on the ground and forced her down upon it.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” She tried to stand, but his hand on her shoulder held her down. Squirming, she tried to fight off his hands but he fell upon her, his heavy weight pinning her to the ground. He captured her hands in his and held them above her head, as he looked into her eyes. Captivated by the desire she saw in his darkening gaze, both fear and excitement rose within her.
“No, Serena. I’ll not let you go, not before I show you what lies between us. What you seek to deny. The reason for your flight. You cannot bear to want me, a Norman, can you?”
Before she could think to move, his lips were upon hers. She jerked her head away only to have him take her hands in his and raise them above her head. He took both her hands into one of his and grasped her chin with the other, forcing her to face him while she was pinned beneath his long muscled body.
The kiss was punishing. His tongue invaded her mouth, compelling her to accept him. Her body responded, her breasts sensitive to the weight of his powerful chest and her senses reeling from his warmth and his masculine scent, now so familiar. He lifted his mouth from hers, and leaving her gasping, rained kisses down her neck. He murmured words in French she could not discern, his voice a low seductive growl.
When his teeth grazed the base of her neck she moaned. He slid his hand to her breast where his touch rendered her nipple sensitive beyond enduring.
She could not help but reach her fingers to the thick chestnut waves of his hair.
His palm swept beneath her short tunic to cover her naked breast and she quivered as her nipples reacted, producing a tingling sensation that echoed through her body. His kiss was deep, his tongue moving like a flame, branding her as his. In spite of the all-consuming heat from their passion, she shivered as an unfamiliar ache arose in her most intimate flesh.
Overcome by the new sensations, every soft curve of hers embraced his hard body. He continued to kiss her while settling his lower body between her thighs. Moving his hips with a slow rocking motion, she was suddenly aware of his hard shaft pressing against her woman’s center, demanding to claim what was his.
She knew enough about the mating of men and women to know his intent. “Nay!” she shouted. With her hands, she pushed against him with all of her strength, squirming to be free.
“You only entice me with your movements, Serena.” The depth and huskiness of his voice told her he spoke truth. His lips brushed her ear.
Ignoring her protests, he pressed warm kisses to her neck just beneath her ear. Without meaning to, she bent her head to his, melting with the touch of his lips on her skin.
He raised his head. “Do you see how we are together, Serena? You have always been mine. You were given to me afore I ever came to Talisand. And now I
will have you as my wife.”
“But I will not have you!” Serena struggled to find the will to match her actions to her words, but her resolve was fading with his whispered words of love and his seductive movements.
She gripped his hair to pull him from her, but he kissed her again and soon her hands threaded through his thick locks and she ceased fighting and allowed her body to respond fully to his. She wrapped her arms around him and held onto his strength.
The Red Wolf moved his hands to the open laces of her tunic and then to her linen shirt, moving the cloth aside to expose her breasts to his eyes. “You are beautiful, Serena, as I imagined you would be.” He forced another sigh from her when he cupped her naked breast and the warmth of his hand made her pull him closer.
Taking her nipple into his mouth, he gently sucked.
She shivered, then sighed. “Nay…” But it was only a weak plea.
Suddenly he rose up on his elbows. “Look at me, Serena.” Her eyes fluttered open. In his silvered eyes she saw unrestrained passion. “You belong to me by the king’s decree. Why do you not give to me what is mine to take?”
“Your king, not mine,” she protested. Then looking away, “Take another for your wife.”
“Nay. I wanted you as my leman ere I knew you were my bride, and I intend to have you and no other.”
He bent his head to her breast, his tongue stroked her nipple, leaving her boneless and craving more. Against his strength, her weak efforts to resist availed little. In her woman’s flesh the ache grew demanding.
His hand slid down to her braies and quickly stripped them down. The feel of his searching hand on the bare skin of her thigh was both alarming and enticing. He was moving ever closer to—