She moved closer to the bed and lowered her voice. “They said you were injured in an ambush. That there was no battle.”
“The Saxons fled before our host. But some of them must have doubled back and hid among the trees. Our troop was one of the last to leave the field. I was fortunate. If the bolt had struck lower, or gone into my neck...” He paused.
She put a hand on his arm, sick at the thought of the gruesome death he had almost faced.
“Edeva, have you ever heard of your countrymen using the crossbow?”
She shook her head. “What manner of weapon is that?”
“A deadly one, capable of piercing armor. Even the finest mail is no defense against it, as I have learned.”
Edeva suddenly realized the strangeness of Jobert’s injury. He’d been in full armor, yet an arrow had gone right through his mailed shirt, imbedding deeply in his shoulder. She shook her head. “Nay, our men fight with swords, lances and axes, as well as the bow and arrow, but nothing that could inflict the injury you have.”
“The Saxons must be desperate. They know they cannot defeat us in fair battle, so they seek to kill us one by one. Still, it seems strange they chose our band to attack.” He sighed softly. Edeva wondered what troubled him. She did not want him to tire himself.
“Rest now.” She leaned over to smooth the covers. “Do you want me to bring you poppy and mandrake so you can sleep?”
“Nay, I wish you to lie beside me.”
Her hands stilled on the bedding. The tenderness in his voice made her melt.
“I want to feel your warmth near me. When I lay in the tavern in Gloucester, I thought I would die. I dreamed that I was dead and cold already, even though they say I burned with fever.”
A lump filled Edeva’s throat. It made her ache to think of him suffering so.
She took off her shoes and started to get into bed with him. He said, “You’ll be more comfortable if you take off your kirtle.” His eyes shone in the light of brazier. Wistfully, he added, “I am not much use to you at this moment, but I would have you near anyway.”
Edeva pulled her gunna over her head. Clad in her shift, she climbed over Jobert and settled herself beside him. He moved as if trying to turn toward her. “Lie still,” she whispered.
She snuggled under the coverlet, then put her arms around his chest and rested her face against his good shoulder.
’Twas strange, but she felt safe for the first time in months. His chest rose and fell with the slow rhythm of his breathing, and his body felt cozy warm against hers. Closing her eyes, she could forget the hatred and violence whirling around them. There was naught but them, two creatures seeking comfort from each other.
There was a clatter at the door. Edeva jerked upright, wishing she had locked it. Fornay came striding in. He started to say something, then saw her in the bed. “Jesu, woman, have you no shame? Can you not wait for him to heal before you resume your whoring ways?”
Edeva climbed out of the bed, not caring that she wore only a shift. “He asked me to lie with him!” she spat. “It’s you whose thoughts are lewd!”
“You curl yourself around him like a snake coiling around its prey.” Fornay’s lips twisted in scorn. “I vow I will be rid of you now, while I have a chance.”
His dagger hissed from its scabbard. Edeva faced him defiantly, her body tense and ready. He would learn she knew a little of warfare. He would not find her easy to kill!
“God’s balls, Alan, what madness has come over you!”
Alan turned to face the man on the bed. In that split second, Edeva charged. Head down, she butted her opponent hard in the belly. His sword clattered to the floor, and Fornay went down like a sack of grain. Edeva loomed over him, hands on her hips.
“Why do you not jump on him and scratch his eyes out while you have a chance?” Edeva turned as Jobert spoke. “Nay, I do not mean it,” he said hastily. “I was merely jesting.” He gave a short laugh, then moaned. “I fear I cannot properly appreciate the mirth of this situation, lest I tear open my wound.”
Edeva, alarmed, rushed to the bed. “Lie back,” she ordered.
“How can I remain still when the two of you are at each other’s throats? I have problems enough without having to replace my captain and my chatelaine all at once.”
“I’m sorry we woke you,” Edeva said, “but ’twas he who started it.” Embarrassment replaced her fury. Damn Fornay. He had goaded her into acting like a brawling squire!
“What’s come over you, Alan?” Jobert asked the knight who was now getting to his feet. “Once you argued that I could not hang her because she was woman. Now you attempt to skewer her on your dagger.”
“My lord, I...”
“He hates me,” Edeva said. “He thinks I mean to betray you.”
“She is in league with the rebels, I know it!” Fornay exploded. “Rid yourself of her now. If you don’t want her killed, at least banish her from the palisade!”
“And then who will order the servants and see to the household?” Jobert asked calmly. “I value your loyalty, Alan, but you do not speak Saxon. I have no wish to see things return to the disorder we endured when we first arrived here.”
Edeva’s heart sank. He did not care for her; he merely sought her aid in running Oxbury.
Fornay’s lips drew together in a thin line, and his dark eyes glowed with barely restrained animosity. He leaned down to pick up his dagger and replace it in his belt. “If you need anything, milord, I will be outside the door.”
Edeva watched Fornay stalk out, his dignity held stiff around him. She had her victory, but it seemed hollow. Once again, she’d acted like an uncouth virago. How would she ever convince Jobert to see her as a lady, a wife, if she did not learn to act like one?
With a shock, she realized that was what she wanted. She wanted the Norman to wed with her.
“Fornay is a stubborn one,” Jobert mused. “When he gets a notion in his head, ‘tis fair impossible to dislodge it. But I would not have him humbled, Edeva. He’s my captain, and I need him to defend Oxbury. I won’t have you castrating him while he sleeps nor poisoning him in the hall.”
“I would not do that!”
“Nay, nor even making a fool of him, whether alone or in front of others.”
Edeva bristled. Jobert was treating her as her brothers had, admonishing her to behave herself, as if she was an unruly little girl. “Then, keep him away from me,” she warned. “I allow no one to shame nor taunt me, either.”
Jobert nodded, then closed his eyes and sighed.
Edeva felt her stomach twist with worry. What had she been thinking of, to distress a man so gravely injured? She went to him and stroked his cheek, roughed now by a sennight’s worth of ruddy whiskers.
His breathing grew slow and deep. Edeva stared down at him, her body relaxing as his did. What was this hold that Jobert had over her, that the thought of him suffering filled her with dread? Once he had been her enemy, the monster of her nightmares. Now she longed to please him, yearned to be near him, and dreamed that he might join with her in marriage. ’Twas madness. Her closest kin were locked in a battle to the death with this man, and she contemplated what it would be like to be his wife.
She closed her eyes. One afternoon of passion and she was his slave. Such bewitchment was not supposed to happen to women. The man was the one beguiled by lovemaking, ensorcelled by his bedpartner’s body. But she could not stop thinking about him. The sight of him, even pale and sickly, made her heart pound. His scent seemed the rarest of perfumes. The pleasure of being near him made her sigh with contentment.
She returned to her place beside him.
* * *
He woke from a dream where Saxons were everywhere, swords flashing, eyes shining with battle lust, eager to kill him. The familiar tension filled his body as he prepared to defend himself Then the grinding pain in his shoulder reminded him of his true circumstances. Flat on his back in a bed, as helpless as a newborn puppy.
And the Saxon who lay
near him meant him not ill but good. Fornay might doubt her, but Jobert could not. If Edeva had meant to harm him, she would have done so long ago—stabbed him in the back while he bathed that first time.
But even then, full of hate and visions of revenge, she failed to carry out the deed.
Nay, he would not mistrust her now. ’Twas not merely that he respected her sense of honor, that he believed she was not the sort for deceit and treachery, but also his dream that she might someday love him. She had cared for him so tenderly these last few days. Surely it meant that she had some feelings for him.
If only he were able to make love with her. But he was a useless, sickly wretch right now. Though his shaft grew hard at such thoughts, he could do nothing.
He stirred uncomfortably. Edeva immediately awoke. “What’s wrong? Are you thirsty? In pain?”
She sat up in bed and leaned over him. The sight of her in the flimsy shift increased his arousal. “Get me one of the men,” he said. “I need to make water.”
“When you were delirious and weak, I tended you. It did not bother me.”
“Well, I am awake now, and I would have one of the men!” His voice came out brusquer than he intended, but, God’s balls, he did not need any reminder of her touching him!
She hurriedly climbed out of the bed, then slipped on her gunna and shoes and left. Jobert let out a deep sigh. If he concentrated on the pain in his shoulder rather than lustful thoughts, he might grow flaccid enough that he could make water.
Alan rushed in a few moments later. “What’s wrong? Lady Edeva came and said you need me.”
“Bring me the chamber pot.”
When they had accomplished the thing, Jobert lay back, sweating from the pain.
“Would you like some poppy?”
“Mayhaps I would. But first, we will talk.”
Alan’s face grew guarded. “You know what I think of the woman.”
“Yea, I know. But I am commander here, and ’tis my opinion that matters. She’s not to be harassed or interfered with.”
“Even if she is a Saxon spy?”
“Her loyalties do not concern me.”
“You care not if she meets with the rebels and aids them in overthrowing you?”
“She would not.”
“Hah! While you were away, she went to the village and there met with a Saxon warrior. What could they be planning except treachery?”
“Undoubtedly she has kin among the rebels. It means nothing.”
“Nothing? How can you be so sure of her?”
“Because I am.”
Alan’s face set in bitter lines, then he went out.
Jobert shifted on the bed. Edeva had gone to the village and met a Saxon warrior. It meant nothing. He was sure of her. Wasn’t he?
* * *
“You seem better.”
He smiled at her. “That must mean that the one who nurses me is skilled.”
Edeva felt herself flush with pleasure.
“In fact, I feel well enough that I would like to shave and bathe today.”
“Should I call for Fornay?”
“Nay, I would have you tend me.”
His voice was soft, teasing. Edeva felt the blood spread from her face to other parts of her body. She met his gaze. “Are you certain you trust me with a knife at your throat?”
His green eyes sparkled. “’Twould be witless to murder a man whose life you saved. A practical woman like you can easily see that.”
Practical. He thought her practical. ’Twas why he kept her around, so she could maintain his household. “I’ll go order some hot water,” she said.
On the way down the stairs, she tried to collect herself. Not a sennight ago, he had been near death. She should not be thinking base thoughts about a wounded man. ’Twas unseemly.
But the expression on his face had brought those ideas to mind. She could swear that he looked forward to having her touch his naked body as much as she anticipated it.
A pleasant kind of torment. To touch him and remember what they had shared, and yet know that they could do nothing more. How long would it take him to heal, before he was well enough to...
She must not entertain such thoughts. Her hands would shake and she would indeed cut his throat as she shaved him!
She found some squires in the stables and bid them bring hot water for the lord’s bath. Several of them asked whether he was mending well, and she reassured them that he was.
Still feeling nervous, she stopped in the hall to look in on Wulfget. The young woman appeared much better than Edeva could have hoped. There was color in her cheeks, and she was sitting up. “Where’s Alan?” she asked as Edeva greeted her
“He has many duties. I’m certain he is attending to them.”
Some of the glow in Wulfget’s cheeks faded at this news. Edeva decided that she should talk to Jobert about his captain and the village girl.
When she reached the bedchamber, Jobert was sitting up and trying to get out of bed. His face was ashen, and his limbs trembled with the effort. Edeva raced to him. “Nay, you must not rise! You’ll hurt yourself!”
He allowed her to help him back into the bed, then lay there panting. “Jesu, I hate this! I cannot bear to be so helpless. Let me rest a moment and I will try again.”
“And where will you go?” she asked caustically. “If, by some miracle, you do reach the bathing tub, you will have to remain there. I will never be able to get you back into bed by myself.”
Jobert lifted his head, then lay back, again, swearing. “Stop it,” she said. “I will bathe you where you lay. That is the best we can do.”
White-faced, he nodded.
While she waited for the water to arrive, Edeva fussed with drying clothes and found something clean for Jobert to wear. She avoided looking at the bed, knowing that he was embarrassed by his weakness.
Finally, the hot water arrived. Edeva had them place the buckets by the bed, then shooed the squires out.
She rolled up her sleeves and dipped a cloth into the hot water. Taking a deep breath, she approached the bed and started to pull back the covers, then paused. “I’ll have someone fetch coals for the brazier. You’ll grow chilled otherwise.”
She ran down to the hall to find a servant to carry up glowing coals to fill the brazier. With this task was done, she once again took up the wet cloth.
“Should you not shave me first?” he asked.
She nodded, grateful for the reprieve. After wetting his whiskers with hot water and soap, she sharpened a blade on a whetstone. Praying her hands would not shake, she began to shave him.
She concentrated intently on her task, trying to remain unaffected by his nearness. ’Twas no different than sewing a straight seam, she told herself.
“Mayhaps I should have you cut my hair,” he said, as she was finishing.
She paused, hands in midair. “Why?”
“’Tis the Norman way.”
“Which you have not followed so far,” she pointed out.
A faint smile lit his features. “Do you like my hair worn long?”
“Yea, it makes you look more like a Saxon.” She flushed. ’Twas likely not the best thing to say, but it was true. She had found it difficult to get used to the way Norman men shaved their faces and cut their hair above their ears.
“If it pleases you, I will keep it long,” he said.
An ache of tenderness went through her to think he cared for her opinion.
She wiped the soap from his face and put the shaving things away. Then, when she could delay no longer, she uncovered his chest and dipped a cloth in a bucket of fresh water.
She drew the cloth along his neck, over his good shoulder and arm. He lay still, his eyes half-closed. She rinsed out the cloth and gingerly washed his underarm. He did not seem ticklish. It was she who quivered as she soaped the tawny hair there.
After rinsing what she had washed so far, she started on his chest. His nipples puckered as she touched one of them, and Edeva felt h
er own nipples tighten in response.
As she had been the first time she bathed him, she found herself intently aware of every detail of his body: the way the hair on his chest was less red than that on his belly, the planes of his hard muscles visible beneath the skin, the corded strength of his neck.
The sight and feel of him made her feel hot and dizzy. She wanted to press her mouth to his skin, to taste him.
Instead, she rinsed the soap away and began on his other side. Washing around the wound took some care, distracting her from her provocative thoughts and reminding her that he was not yet mended. She was almost calm and collected as she helped him sit up so she could bathe his back.
Then it came time to do his lower body.
She spread a cloth over his chest so he would not get chilled and pulled the covers lower. All her nonchalance vanished at the sight of his engorged shaft.
She froze as the vivid, shocking memories came rushing back. The feel of him inside her, stretching, filling and bringing her to ecstatic completion.
Swallowing, she leaned over the bucket of water and rinsed out the cloth. Surely her face was ablaze, her lewd reveries transparently obvious. What did he think of her? Did her embarrassment amuse him? She could not know unless she looked at his face, and she would not do that.
Somehow she got a grip on her nerves and returned to her task. With the blanket pulled farther down, she began to wash the less distressing parts, his legs and feet. She took her time, fighting for some relief to her turmoil. Mayhaps if he grew chilled, his erection would shrivel and she would not have to face it.
Silently, she cursed the brazier, which was now putting out substantial heat. He was not likely to get cold. For that matter, the water would warm him. The thought of him swelling and rising beneath her fingers disconcerted her even more.
“Do you wish me to turn over?” he asked.
Edeva let out the breath she had been holding, “Can you manage it?”
“If you aid me.”
Helplessly, she glanced at his face, then downward. “What do you want me to do?”
“Lean close and support my shoulder.”
She did as he bid, and then stepped back. This view was only a little less titillating. Broad, well-muscled shoulders and taut, rounded buttocks formed an enticing picture of masculine pulchritude.
The Conqueror (Hot Knights) Page 18