The Conqueror (Hot Knights)

by Gillgannon, Mary

  She struggled to maintain her demure pose. “Are you dissatisfied with my needlework? Do you find it lacking somehow?”

  He moved a few inches closer “Your work is excellent, but I doubt that sewing represents the extent of your skills. I believe you can do much more.”

  She raised her chin. “And why should I? Why should I lift a finger to aid a Norman swine like you?”

  He smiled, slowly, chillingly, and reached out to touch her cheek. “As I recall, I have already discovered an effective means of coercion.”

  Edeva tried not to draw back. If she did not cooperate, he obviously meant to forget their agreement. “You said if I obeyed you and sewed you new clothes, you would not molest me!”

  His fingers moved to smooth a strand of hair away from her face. “I wish your cooperation in other endeavors.”

  He stared at her long and hard, until Edeva’s heart fluttered in her chest like a helpless bird. Then he drew his hand away and gestured. “This is your home. I would not think you would wish to see it ruined. But ’twill be, if someone does not see to the ordering of it.” He looked back at her. “The women will listen to you. They will not pretend to mishear your orders or try to distract you with feminine wiles. You understand what their tasks should be. And those of the workmen and other servants. I believe you can make this manor run smoothly.”

  Edeva took a deep breath. A part of her longed to do exactly what he asked. Another part believed she should defy him at any cost. “How do you know I have any authority remaining? All think that you have... that you have made me your leman. Why should they listen to me now that you have shamed me?”

  “’Tis your natural stubbornness and authority that will give your commands weight. My men are afraid of you. I do not think that any servant or workman would dare challenge that viper’s tongue of yours. If they did, you could always draw a knife or take aim at their privates.”

  Edeva felt herself flush, recalling her violent behavior toward the Norman. No wonder he did not accept her pretense of being a meek servant.

  “And what is my share in the bargain?” she asked.

  “Your share?” He cocked his head. “You will have control of your own household and a claim in Oxbury’s prosperity.”

  “And freedom from your attentions?”

  He studied her coolly. “For the moment.”

  Edeva sucked in her breath in anger. ’Twas not enough! She bargained with the devil himself and still he gave her no assurances!

  But what else could she do? Besides, the longer she held him off, the greater chance that her brothers would think of some plan to retake Oxbury and free her from this nightmare

  “How will you make certain I do not escape?” she asked.

  “One of my men will guard you.”

  “And at night? Will you continue to lock me in?”

  His green eyes glittered. “At night I will sleep beside you and guard you myself.”

  * * *

  Edeva walked out in the yard, taking deep breaths. Though the odors of dung and garbage tainted the fresh autumn air, she refused to let it ruin her mood. At last, she was free of that stuffy, stultifying chamber. For a few moments, she meant to enjoy the sheer pleasure of being outside.

  She longed to climb the gatetower and look out at the valley, to drink in the colors of the turning forest and the sparkle of the river. But she feared that the man guarding her would complain to his commander that she sought to escape.

  She turned to look at her gaoler, boldly facing him down. It was the same young solder who had brought her food and drink. He flushed under her gaze, but did not look away. Mayhaps he had learned that she did not really bite. Certainly, he took his duty seriously, trailing her like a devoted puppy. She worried a little what he would do when she needed to use the jakes.

  “What’s your name?” she asked him in Norman French.

  He looked startled.

  “Your name,” she repeated. “If you are to spend your every waking moment with me, I would know what to call you.”

  “’Tis Rob,” he said. “Rob of Lascalles.”

  “I am Edeva.”

  “Edeva,” he repeated. “Where did you learn our language? None of the others understand us.”

  “My father brought a woman from Flanders to teach me sewing. She spoke the Norman tongue and considered it much superior to Saxon. She would speak naught else with me, so I was forced to learn your speech.”

  “That is good. Now you can help us deal with the other Saxons.”

  Edeva’s ire immediately rose. “I have agreed to see that Oxbury continues as a prosperous, efficient manor, but I will aid you Normans in naught else. You are still my enemies!”

  The young soldier stiffened and Edeva felt a stir of satisfaction. She would not be unkind to him, but she would not allow him to grow easy either.

  A moment later, Edeva considered the foolishness of her prideful words. Why did she inflame his suspicions? ’Twould it not be wiser to lull him into complacency?

  “Where are the kitchen wenches?” she asked him. “The weaving women?”

  He shrugged. “I know not. Some of them might still be abed. The men...” His face flushed.

  “Have them all brought out to me,” Edeva ordered. “Tell them to make themselves presentable. Their mistress commands them.”

  Rob glanced at her, then toward the manor outbuildings. She could see he was torn. Would he do her bidding even if it meant allowing her out of his sight?

  “I will remain here,” she said. “I give you my word.”

  It took some time, but eventually, all the women straggled out into the yard. A few had managed to braid their hair, but the majority looked disheveled and filthy. Some, the younger, prettier ones—had dark circles under their-eyes and a strained look to their faces.

  Observing their listless expressions, some of Edeva’s irritation faded. ’Twas clear they had been well-used by the men. By now most of them had discovered that being a servant in her household was less demanding than whoring for Normans. She would not chastise them. How could they do otherwise than they had?

  “Many things have been neglected these past days,” she said. `Neither you nor I have been free to pursue our duties. But that will change now. Our first task will be to restore the hall to its former tidiness. When we have finished with that, I will assign you other work. There is much to do before winter,” she warned, “and we are sore behind.”

  “But what about... them?” A slight, curly-haired girl spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Several women glanced nervously around the yard.

  “The Normans will molest you no longer.”

  “How can this be?” one of the women asked. “How will you make them leave us alone?”

  “The leader of the Normans has given me complete authority over the running of the manor. If any of his men bother you, come to me and I will take the matter up with him

  “See how cozy she is with the red-haired giant?” Golde, a cat-eyed wench who worked in the weaving shed, stepped forward and planted her hands on her curvaceous hips. “He’s made her his doxy. Why should we listen to her?”

  Edeva tensed. She had warned the Norman this would happen. “I am not his whore,” she said coldly. “And I am still your mistress. If you do not obey me, I will have you flogged.”

  Golde smirked, but moved back, as if accepting Edeva’s authority.

  The group was silent for a time; then the curly-haired girl spoke again. “I, for one, am happy that Lady Edeva commands us. I am tired of the crude Normans and their disgusting, lustful habits. They scarce give me any peace... and I worry... what will happen to me if I get with a babe!” she ended in a wail.

  Two other women put their arms around the girl, who began to weep. Soon the whole group of women had dissolved into tears. For a time, Edeva allowed them to cry and complain and comfort each other. Then she said, “’Tis enough. We have work to do. You can curse the Normans while we clean.”

  * *
*

  Jobert gazed in satisfaction around the hall. Only one day had passed, and already things appeared much improved. The sweet scent of rosemary and lavender rose from the fresh rushes, and he could run his hand along the trestle table and feel smooth wood, not encrusted grime.

  Even the food seemed better—the pottage more skillfully seasoned, the bread crustier. The brewer had not had time to make another batch of ale, but Jobert knew Edeva had spoken to Alan and made it clear that certain servants were not to be taken from their specialized duties. Alan had complained to him, grumbling that the Saxon bitch left them with no sturdy laborers. Jobert had pointed out that now that the men weren’t constantly rutting with serving wenches, they had time to do more themselves.

  Things were much improved, indeed. And he had the Saxon woman to thank for it.

  He glanced to where she stood at the side of hall. With her fair hair covered and her simple gown, she looked demure and womanly, like some minor lord’s wife.

  But she was no biddable, dutiful matron, and well he knew it. At any moment, those clear blue eyes could flash with cold fire, those full lips shout oaths to burn his ears.

  Nor was she as plain and ordinary as she sought to appear. He recalled the voluptuousness of her body, the ivory perfection of her skin. His shaft rose at the memory.

  And he was to share a bedchamber with her this night.

  What madness had made him tell her that? Though sharing her bed might intimidate her and keep her fearful, it was going to be pure hell for him. He was not certain he could resist the lure of her beauty, no matter that he had given her his word.

  For a moment, he let his mind linger on the idea of parting her white thighs and thrusting deep. Of feeling her dewy, pink sheath closing tight around him.

  Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, he forced the enticing image from his mind. He dared not lose the only leverage he had over the Saxon. If he could not threaten her with rape, how would he ever control her? He would be a poor commander indeed if he indulged his body’s hunger and lost as strategic advantage over his opponent. Bedding her must wait.

  As he watched, a young woman came up and spoke to Edeva. The girl’s face was pale, her cheeks tear-streaked. Edeva consoled her for a moment, then grasped her sleeve and gave her a little shake. The girl sniffled, and then went off.

  Edeva continued to stand and observe the comings and goings of the hall. Jobert had the sudden thought that she must be tired. He motioned to one of the squires. “Have the woman come and sit with me.”

  She looked startled when the squire spoke to her. Her gaze found Jobert, and she shot him a hostile look. He met her expression with amusement. Their eyes locked and held.

  Jobert let his glance move down her body. Her face went rigid as she guessed his thoughts. She walked stiffly toward him.

  He gestured to the bench beside him. “Sit down, Lady Edeva.”

  “I am no lady to you,” she said through clenched teeth, although she did his bidding.

  He pointed toward the bowl of pottage a squire had brought. “Eat. You have worked hard today, and I am well pleased.”

  “I do not do any of it to please you!”

  “But you have.” He touched the wool of his new tunic. “Your needlework is the finest I have seen. And your skill at ordering servants—verily I proclaim you a worker of miracles for the changes you have wrought in this place in one short day.”

  A muscle jumped in her cheek, and she clutched her eating knife with a vigor that suggested what she wished to do with it.

  “I’ll say no more,” he said. “I would not have you claim a bellyache because I disturbed you while you ate.”

  She made a disgusted sound, and then began to take careful bites of the stew.

  SEVEN

  Edeva could feel his eyes on her as she ate. It made it difficult for her to swallow.

  Putting down her eating knife, she took a sip from the cup in front of her. She made a face. “What is this?”

  “The last of the wine from our traveling rations.”

  “’Tis wretched stuff.”

  He regarded her with a wry expression. “Better than the ale we had last even. None of the men would drink it. The brewer tapped it too soon. Now, we must wait for another batch.”

  “Water would be better.”

  He nodded. “I’ll have some fetched for the ewer in the bedchamber.’

  The word “bedchamber” made the rest of Edeva’s appetite depart. Any moment the Norman might suggest they go upstairs. Would he sleep with his clothes off? Insist she remove hers?

  Heated images swirled in her brain.

  She forced herself back to the present. There were important things they needed to discuss. “I have promised the women that your men will leave them alone,” she told him. “Otherwise, they will not have the time or energy to do their duties.”

  He nodded. “I agree with you, although ’twill not be easy to make the men give up their pleasure. They have grown used to rutting wherever they please.”

  “Well, they will have to learn to curb their lust!” Edeva said hotly. “To run smoothly, the manor requires not only the efforts of the servants who live within the palisade, but the sokemen and their families in the village. We cannot do the butchering, nor process the wool, nor do many other important tasks if the villagers are afraid to enter the palisade. I am used to having several of the sokemen’s daughters spin and weave for me all winter, but they will not come this year unless I can assure their parents that they will not be ravished by your men!”

  The Norman grunted. “I am aware that I need the aid of the villagers. Without them to fish the river, to gather nuts from the wood and to tend the beehives, we will be doomed to a monotonous diet this winter. And by next spring, they must be ready to plow and sow the fields or we’ll all starve.” His voice rose in frustration. “I know these things, but I am not sure of the means to gain their cooperation. How can I convince them I do not mean them ill?”

  “You will not convince them until it is the truth! As long as your men feel free to rape any woman who crosses their path, why should my people trust any Norman?”

  “Have any of the men bothered you?” the Norman asked, his voice sharp.

  “Of course not. As you have said, they are all afraid of me.”

  “Mayhaps that is the means of it then. You must teach the other women to be as fierce as you are.”

  He was teasing her. Edeva felt certain of it. She cleared her throat. “Promise me that you will speak to them. That you will give them strict orders to leave my women alone.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “’Tis time they settled down and behaved as proper soldiers rather than worthless louts.”

  Edeva ate in silence for a time. She could still feel the Norman watching her, and the tension in her belly did not abate. With every bite she took, the time grew nearer when they would go upstairs to bed. She both dreaded that moment and felt a vague sense of expectation.

  When the last bits of meat on her trencher were gone, the Norman reached over and threw the gravy-soaked bread to the floor. It was immediately consumed by one of the dogs that had been let into the hall at mealtime to keep the rushes free of refuse.

  Edeva took a final swallow of the sour wine, and then met the gaze of the man beside her. “Ready, my lady?” he said. “I’ll escort you upstairs.”

  There was courtesy in the way he helped her up from the bench and took her arm as they crossed the hall. At the stairs, he gestured that she could go ahead while he carried the cresset torch.

  They entered the room, and the Norman put the torch in a bracket on the wall and went to close the shutters. Edeva remained by the door, uneasy not only with what this man might do, but also with her own feelings: A few days before, she and the Norman had been bitter enemies. Now they shared a meal and spoke congenially. She wished she could go back to hating him and plotting his death. But she feared she could not.

  Of course, that did not mean that they
were not adversaries. She only cooperated with him for the sake of Oxbury and its people, to keep things running smoothly until her brothers could regain control. Eventually, they would find the means to oust the Normans and reclaim what was theirs.

  Restless, Edeva went to the table and dipped her hands in the washbasin and rinsed her face, then dried herself on a cloth. When she looked around, the Norman was undressing. She turned back to face the wall, dreading to see him naked. She could still recall how he had looked the first time, and the peculiar way it made her feel.

  With suddenly clumsy fingers she fussed with her braids. When she could no longer pretend to busy herself with redoing her coiffure, she sat down on a stool and began to remove her shoes and stockings. She could not go to bed in her gunna, but the idea of wearing only her shift made her mouth dry.

  And what would he wear? His undertunic? His hose? Or nothing?

  “Edeva, will you quench the light when you come to bed?”

  She could not delay forever. If he touched her, she would remind him of their bargain. Surely he would not be so foolish as to risk losing her aid by violating their agreement.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled the gunna over her head and hung it on a hook. She put out the torch and walked to the bed. The Norman lay on the outer side; she would have to climb over him.

  She closed her eyes and planted a knee on the bed, then carefully rolled herself over the Norman’s bulk. ’Twas a struggle to get under the covers, but at last she was abed. She sighed heavily.

  A second later, the Norman gave a faint snore. At the sound, her mood went from anxious to irritated. She wanted to strangle him for making her endure such turmoil, such awkwardness—especially when he was going to fall asleep as if she were not even there!

  Edeva stared up at the darkness. She had agreed to do his bidding if he left her alone. Obviously, ’twas no hardship for him. He apparently found her so unattractive that he could sleep beside her and not be even a tiny bit tempted!

  The embers of her hatred flared to life. He was a crude, stupid pig, and she should have let him ruin Oxbury rather than help him!