by Regan Walker
His body was that of a warrior, his powerful muscles beneath his skin rippling as he moved. As she had observed when she’d helped him with his bath, his back was bronze to his waist. But his muscled buttocks and long legs were a lighter shade. A man to make any maiden blush.
She’d not seen the scars on his midsection before. So, he had not always fought wearing mail.
Donning his robe, he opened the door a slit. What she could see of Sir Geoffroi’s face bore a grave expression. “The king summons you,” he said to the Red Wolf. “His messenger awaits below.”
“I’ll join you as soon as I am clothed.”
The Red Wolf closed the door and turned. Serena pulled the covers under her chin and kept her eyes on his face.
“My lady,” he said, taking off his robe. He seemed entirely comfortable in just his skin. “I would we had this morning to lie abed and become better acquainted, but as you heard, I am summoned. The consummation of our marriage must wait upon the king’s needs.” Reaching for his hosen, linen shirt and tunic, he leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead.
Her eyes slid to the dark thatch of hair at his groin and to his large manhood.
“If you keep staring at me like that I will find myself in trouble with the king.”
Embarrassed that he had caught her staring, Serena’s cheeks burned.
“’Twould be best if you dress quickly and join me below. It is time my men met their lady.”
Once he was dressed, he left, the door closing behind him.
Serena lay back against the pillow, thinking of all that had happened. There had been no words between them after they had returned to the manor the evening before. Her last memories were of his harsh words on the ride home and his instructions to Maggie. But his kiss on her forehead a few moments before had been tender. Did he assume she was now resigned to being his bride?
Was she?
Twice she had tried to escape. Twice she had failed. She had fought her attraction to him as the servant girl Sarah, but in that, too, she had not succeeded. She might fight him still if it would change her fate or that of her people. Sadly, she believed it would not. Thoughts of Steinar filled her mind. Was he still in Scotland? Though she was reluctant to admit it, she had little desire to flee again. She had shouted her hatred of the Norman knight, but even in that she had not been sincere. He had raised a desire within her no other man had. No man had ever touched her the way he did, and caused her to want him. As a Norman he might repulse her, but as a man he entranced her. Even as she had ridden from Talisand, she had missed him. When he had discovered her in the woods, a part of her had been relieved the ruse was over.
The Red Wolf had ordered a guard at her door, so little was his trust of her. No longer the maid Sarah or the thegn’s daughter, she belonged to the Norman knight. Yet neither fully trusted the other. She reminded herself of her new resolve. For the sake of her people, she would take her place at his side. He was right when he said not only her country had been conquered, but that she had been conquered. Conflicting emotions warred within her. She was the proud daughter of a thegn, and only reluctantly did she accept her fate as the wife of the powerful Red Wolf.
Serena slowly climbed from the bed, and reached for her robe lying at the foot of the bed. Once she was sufficiently covered, she returned to her chamber, hugging the wall of the corridor so that none below could see her. She could hear the knights speaking, their murmurs loud enough to reach her. They seemed excited about something, mayhap the messenger who had come from their king.
She opened the door to her chamber to find Cassie waiting.
“M’lady!” The handmaiden ran to Serena and embraced her. “Me mother told me last night ye were brought back by the Red Wolf. He has sent me to help dress ye, and not, as ye might imagine, in the clothes of a servant. He asks ye to wear the gowns of yer station as the Lady of Talisand.”
Serena sank onto the edge of her bed, twining her fingers through her now flaxen tresses. “Yea, ’tis nay something I can escape this time.”
“Did he hurt ye, m’lady?” Cassie asked with a worried look as her gaze roamed over Serena.
“Nay.” At Cassie’s surprised expression, Serena added, “I did not wake when he carried me to his chamber last night. We shared a bed but naught more. He was likely as drained of strength as was I. Sir Geoffroi awakened us both. I do not doubt the Red Wolf would have done more but for the messenger. He said as much.”
“Yea, a messenger arrived from the Norman king. Sir Maurin and the others were called together as I was coming up for ye. Ye’d best dress, m’lady. Something is afoot.”
Serena rose. “This time I must face them as the thegn’s daughter.”
Her handmaiden smiled. “Come, let us show the Red Wolf’s men the real Lady of Talisand.” Pride gleamed in Cassie’s green eyes. “I think the purple gown of fine wool, embroidered with the golden silk thread yer father gave ye, would be fitting. ’Tis nearly the color of yer eyes.”
Serena washed her face and slipped on her linen undertunic, happy to have the fine cloth next to her body once again. Cassie lifted the elegant gown over Serena’s head and let it fall in soft folds about her. Her handmaiden pulled the lacings tight so that the gown hugged her slender form. Brushing her hair ’til it shown like moonlight, Cassie sat back with admiring eyes and then began to braid it.
“Nay, Cassie. This day I will wear my hair unbound and uncovered. It may well be the last time.”
“Then let me secure it with the circlet yer father gave ye.”
Cassie opened the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled from it the precious circlet of silver woven with intricate gold leaves and set with amethyst stones.
Standing back, the handmaiden smiled. “Now ye look like yerself, m’lady. Willna all of Talisand be happy to see such a grand sight?”
“In truth, I cannot say. It is not what I wanted, Cassie, but it might be for the best. If it is my fate to serve the people at the Norman’s side, so be it. It is my fervent hope I can help him understand their needs.”
“Ye can lift yer head high, m’lady. Never forget ye are a powerful thegn’s daughter.”
“I never shall.” She hugged her childhood friend, straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. It was time to greet the Red Wolf and his men.
Chapter 12
Standing in the manor’s entry, Renaud crumpled the parchment in his hand and exchanged a look with Sir Maurin. “William’s summons comes at an inconvenient time, but our sire has need of us, so we must go.” He shifted his gaze to the young messenger dressed in the king’s livery. “Get some food and then be on your way. You may tell the king the Red Wolf rides this day to join him.”
The messenger bowed, then headed toward the kitchen. Flanked by Geoff and Sir Maurin, Renaud stood watching his men breaking their fast, wondering what he should tell them.
“Where are we bound, Ren?” asked Geoff.
“To Exeter. It seems Gytha, mother of the dead Harold, has stirred the city to resist William’s increase in annual tribute and his demand for fealty. He has marched on the city intending to lay siege and summons me to add my men to his army.”
“I’ll ready the men,” Geoff said solemnly, and together with Sir Maurin, turned toward the hall.
Renaud reached his hand to Geoff’s arm to stop him, but allowed Sir Maurin to continue on his way. “I will address the men, Geoff. There is Talisand to see to as we may be away for some time.”
Renaud stepped to the large doorway leading into the hall. His presence silenced the men’s conversations as all eyes turned toward him. In addition to his knights and retainers, there were a number of Talisand’s men in the hall. The Welsh bard, Rhodri stood to one side looking on with furrowed brows.
“The king has summoned us to join him in the south for a siege,” he announced.
The men cheered.
When they quieted, he continued. “Knights and archers be prepared to ride at the sixth hour.” Nodding heads an
d smiles on the faces of his men displayed their approval of the new orders. “Sir Maurin will remain here with enough men to defend the manor and village. Now that I have chosen a site for the castle, and the plans are drawn, the building will proceed apace with Sir Maurin as overseer in my absence. Talisand’s men and the carpenters we brought with us will see the task done.”
Sir Maurin nodded from where he stood amidst the others, and Renaud was reminded he must speak to the knight about the guard he had appointed for his errant bride.
As Renaud gave further instructions for their travel to Exeter, the continued smiles on the faces before him made clear his men were eager for battle. It was what they had trained for, and the past months had shown them little action.
In the midst of the men’s murmurs, all sounds suddenly died away and the eyes of his knights fixed on a point behind him as they rose from their seats.
Renaud sensed her presence even before he turned.
Serena.
No longer dressed as a servant, his bride stood adorned like a queen. Stunned by her beauty, his eyes took in the elegant purple gown that hugged her curves not revealed by the servant’s attire she had worn before.
A fitting mate indeed.
Her unplaited flaxen hair, crowned by a silver and gold circlet, announced to all she was a maiden still, making him regret again that the king’s summons that had forced him from his bed.
Stepping aside, he gestured her forward. As she approached, there were gasps from some of his men who, looking more closely, realized for the first time who the servant girl Sarah really was.
She stood proudly, her violet eyes shining with a light of determination.
“Good knights and men of Talisand,” Renaud said loudly, first in Norman French and then in English, “I give you my lady, Serena of Talisand.” For a moment the hall was silent. Then his knights dropped to one knee, each bringing his fist to his heart, silently pledging fealty and protection to the woman who was to be their lord’s wife.
Serena stood for a moment, her eyes traveling over his men, a slight smile on her lips. Then, to his great surprise, she spoke in perfect Norman French.
“I thank you for your obeisance. But lest you believe otherwise, know this: Talisand is the rich demesne you see today because of the foresight and wisdom of an English thegn, my father, Sigmund. I would ask that you respect his memory and treat well the people of Talisand he loved, for they have lost much and I would restore it to them if I could.”
She paused for a moment and then stepped back into the manor’s entry, and smiled at him briefly before saying, “My lord,” and hastening through the door to the yard that Sir Niel held open for her. The knight nodded to Renaud and followed after her.
Renaud faced his men, his knights having risen from their knees to stand.
“Heed my lady’s words. I would have no disparagement of the old lord. He is the grandsire of the sons Lady Serena will one day give me.”
To Renaud’s ear came the sound of a loud cheer from the yard outside. He turned and strode to the front door. The yard was bathed in sunlight. Serena, her back to him, stood before a large gathering of English men and women. Unwilling to interfere, he waited, wondering what she would say.
She raised her hands to still their murmured praises.
“Good people of Talisand, I am once again among you as your lady.” A cheer rose up from the crowd. It seemed to Renaud this was no conquered English maiden. More like a queen returning from a forced absence to greet her subjects.
“I seek only to serve you and to help ease the pain of your loss—the husbands, fathers and sons who are gone from us forever—and the independence my father had granted you. Though we have lost much, we must thank the Master of the Heavens for what we still have and for the coming harvest. I thank you, as well, for your loyalty, your protection and your many kindnesses.”
Renaud was pleased to hear her gracious words. Though he was angered at her deception, to his ears she sounded resigned to her role as his countess. He could only hope it was so. Walking forward, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, claiming her before the people. She stiffened slightly but did not pull away. Mayhap if he were gracious, he could end the acrimony between them.
Speaking to those gathered, he said, “I have told my men that Serena is my lady and soon, my wife and countess. They are to respect her as such. May we all prosper because she is returned to you.” The people listened, but remained silent at his words. To them he was still the foreign invader. Then, too, some would be called to battle this very day at his orders. But before they left, he would have them know he respected their lady.
Renaud faced Serena and spoke in a softer voice for her ears alone. “Join me at my table for the morning meal, my lady, and then I must depart to join William.”
“You go to fight again?” she asked anxiously.
He hoped it was worry he saw in her beautiful eyes yet he dared not believe she might truly care about the husband forced upon her. There was passion between them, he knew that well, yet he was still the Norman who had claimed her lands. “Yea, I go to Exeter in Devon.”
Frowning, she said, “Gytha, the queen mother lives there.”
“She is no longer the mother of a king, Serena, and because she has stirred the men of the city to rise against William, they will once again know his wrath.”
Serena looked down, but he doubted it was in resignation.
In a subdued voice, she said, “Four of Gytha’s eight children died the year your king claimed England; she lost three sons at Hastings alone.”
“And the other—Tostig—was a brother of treachery.”
“Yea,” she said raising her head and staring into his eyes, “he fought his brother Harold and fell at Stamford Bridge. So did Ulrich, husband of Lady Eawyn, who fought against the invader from Norway. But after Hastings, Gytha pleaded with your William for the body of her son Harold. The Norman king rejected her plea. Is it not understandable she should inspire the Saxons to rise against a man who would deny a Christian burial to their king?”
“It is the way of war, my lady. William had his reasons. But one day the fighting will end. You must look forward to that day, as I do.” How he longed for the day when he could be concerned only with his lands, his lady and his sons, and claim the peace so long denied him. Yet he feared he would never know that peace.
“Will the fighting end?” she asked. “I wonder. Your king is still challenged by many. And do not forget that Edgar Ætheling, the Saxon who would sit on the English throne, is now safely ensconced in Scotland with my brother.”
He had not known that Steinar was with Edgar Ætheling, the young English contender for the throne, but it made sense. “I have not forgotten where your loyalties lie, my lady.” Renaud was unhappy to be reminded that the woman he would take to wife was not loyal to William. But he had no desire to argue with her just before he rode to battle. “Come,” he said as he led her inside the manor, the people having dispersed, “I would share a meal with you, Serena, lest we argue ere I ride, mayhap to my death.” Serena placed her hand on his offered arm and another question occurred to him. “Would you mourn the loss of your future husband?”
* * *
Still pondering his question, Serena took her place at the Red Wolf’s table for the first time since the Normans had come. She sat on his right, Sir Geoffroi on his left and Maugris on her other side. Though there was still much activity in the hall, some of the men had already left, presumably to prepare for their soon departure. Rhodri looked at her from where he sat at one of the long tables, a question in his eyes. She knew he wondered if this had truly been her decision or if she had been forced. The Welshman and Steinar were close, and to her, Rhodri wore the look her brother would have worn had he been here. A look of incredulity. How could she agree to wed a Norman?
Staring at the trencher she shared with the Red Wolf, she took a bite of the brown bread spread with butter and then a piece of the cooked white fish ta
ken from the river that ran next to the manor. Wild strawberries were piled high in a small bowl set to one side.
She picked up a berry, the color of fresh blood, and worried it in her fingers. Would it matter if the Red Wolf were slain in this battle he was called to by his king? Her anger still burned for the Norman who called himself England’s ruler, the one who had robbed her of her father, but no matter her words the day before, she could not bring herself to hate the knight who would take her to wife. She would miss him were he to be slain. And, if he were killed, the Norman king would only force her to wed another of his men, one she might like less well than the Red Wolf.
“I would see you return from Exeter, my lord.”
He studied her face. “You tarried long in coming to that answer, my lady.”
She looked into his gray eyes framed by the thick russet waves of his hair. Was it concern she saw in them? He was a handsome knight, she had to admit, and though oft stern, an honorable one. If she were honest with herself, she would have to acknowledge she cared for him.
“I had much to ponder, my lord. But when the time comes for you to leave, know that I will wish you Godspeed.”
He smiled and reached for the goblet of ale set between them, taking a long draw. “For that I am grateful, my lady. Hopefully I shall not tarry long in the south. While I am gone, you can prepare for our wedding feast.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Ah, the obedient Lady of Talisand. I wonder if this change is to be believed.”
Serena said nothing. She wondered herself.
“I hope it is,” he said, studying her somber face. “Meanwhile, when I return, the castle should be well underway. I have chosen the site next to the manor. What think you of that? It will mean we can incorporate the existing structures into the larger bailey.”
“It pleases me, my lord. I would like to retain what has been my home.”