His Enemy's Daughter (13 page)

She drew to a halt as the truth hit her—she would not be here to work to bring the harvest in again. Sybilla would never toil to store the grains and vegetables, nor to oversee butchering the stock to use through the winter. She would not be here to celebrate Christ's Mass nor the New Year. Nor would she be here when spring brought colour and scent to the hillsides and the air.

‘Lady?' Guermont asked. ‘Are you ill?'

Sybilla had been so intent on escaping
him
that she'd never considered that she would be leaving
here
. Though she knew when her father spoke of a betrothal that she would eventually travel to her new husband's lands and live there, her brother's death had left her as heiress and now that arrangement would change. Guermont touched her hand to draw her attention.

‘Lady? You have become very pale. Was this too much exertion for you?' He placed his arm around her waist, supporting her as they walked. Sybilla shook to clear her head. What a time for such a realisation to happen.

‘Give me a moment, Guermont,' she said.

Sybilla waited for that attack of panic to pass and then let Guermont guide her back inside. The rope along the stairs aided her climbing them and soon they stood before her chambers. She thanked Guermont and was prepared to enter her chambers alone, when the door opened from within.

‘Soren,' Guermont said.

‘Come in, lady,' he greeted her, inviting her into her own room.

As she took the first steps inside, the smell of some of her favorite foods greeted her, making her mouth water in anticipation. Roasted quail? Could it be? Venison? Even the cakes the cook made for special occasions? How could it be? Lord Soren clasped her hand in his and drew her into the chamber and closed the door behind her.

‘What is this?' she asked.

He guided her to a chair and helped her to sit…at a table. She felt in front of her, rubbing her hands around the surface and bumping into plates and bowls of various
sizes. Lord Soren began calling out the contents of each as she did so.

She'd been correct—all of her favorite foods.

‘This is supper. I thought that we could talk while we eat,' he explained.

To her, talking about ending their marriage and eating did not go together, but it did not seem to matter to him. She had eaten very little in the last weeks, mostly broths and stews that she could manage without being able to see them. A cup, a bowl with a spoon, she could do. More involved eating, she simply could not manage and had not tried.

‘I am not hungry, Lord Soren,' she began, shaking her head. ‘But I thank you for going through this effort.'

Her words were clear and decisive and would have persuaded him or anyone else of her uninterest had two things not happened: her stomach growled loud enough to echo across the chamber and he slipped a small piece of the roasted quail into her mouth.

It was juicy and well seasoned and succulent and delicious.

And the instant it touched her tongue, she wanted more.

‘Good, is it not?' he asked, now at her side. She heard the scrape of a chair being brought closer. ‘Here, I have more ready for you here,' he said, taking her hand and guiding her fingers to a metal plate in front of her. ‘Try that.'

He did nothing else until she did as he directed. She slid her hand slowly to the plate and felt on its surface for the pieces of fowl he'd torn for her. Sybilla hesitated,
fearing she would drop it on herself or the floor, but he urged her on in a tone she'd not heard from him before.

‘Ah,' he said, ‘I see the cause of your concern. You do not wish to wear the food or soil your clothing.' He moved away from her, walking around her to the other side of the table, before standing behind her. ‘Let me fix this.'

Without another word of warning, he gently removed her veil and tossed it aside. Then he lifted each arm and tugged her sleeves up until they were tight against her forearms. Lastly, he encircled her neck with some cloth and she felt him tie it behind her. ‘Your garments are now safely out of the way or covered, Lady Sybilla. Carry on.'

Playful. He was being playful with her. Mayhap now that he knew he could get an annulment, he felt that he could put aside the intense hatred he'd expressed? This was no Lord Soren she'd ever encountered before and she had no way of knowing how to approach him. Another growl from her empty belly took the decision from her.

‘Here is more,' he said. She could smell a variety of aromas as he placed more foods on her plate. ‘We can talk after you have eaten your fill. There is a cup of ale to the left of your plate when you need it.'

Once begun, it was difficult to stop. She had not realised how much she'd not eaten until she began to eat. He tore the meat and fowl into small pieces for her, refilling her plate numerous times as she consumed them.

‘And you, Lord Soren? Do you not share this meal?'

Silence met her words. Had she said something wrong? Again?

‘I must remove my hood to do so,' he explained. When
she shrugged, he went on, ‘I wear a hood to cover…my injuries, lady. I care not to be gawked at for the way they appear.' His voice had changed then, back to the Lord Soren she knew. ‘I cannot eat with it in place.'

Sybilla did not know what made her do it, but it felt right.

‘Then remove it, Lord Soren. I will never notice and you will be at ease.'

After a pause, she heard fabric being untied, heard the rustling of clothing and the sound of something landing on the floor between them. And then, a most disconcerting sound—he released a moan that whispered of pleasure and relief. Though she knew the cause of it, it made her belly tighten deep within.

Then, without further words between them, he went back to sharing food with her, pouring more wine—watered, since she was unused to the strong type he'd brought for her—and offering tastes of all the dishes prepared for them. She tried to slow down, fearing a sore stomach from eating too much at one time, but each taste tempted her to another and another.

The final foods offered to her were some sweet wafers and small, flavoured cakes, both in a size that she could manage without any utensils. She ate only one of each before shaking her head to refuse more.

‘My thanks, Lord Soren, for arranging that,' she said as she pushed the plate back away from her. Reaching down, she took hold of the linen napkin so that she could clean her hands and face. After she'd wiped her hands, it was taken from her.

‘Here, let me do that since I can see what a mess you have made of yourself,' he teased.

‘That badly?' she asked, as he dabbed the corners of her mouth and her chin and wiped across her lips. She slid the tip of her tongue out and licked her lips. Then she felt his thumb slide over it, retracing the path of her tongue. Her belly reacted again, feeling the light touch deep within her body. She shivered and he dropped his hand from her.

She decided it was time for that talk between them and not waiting for him to begin, Sybilla did.

‘So tell me, Lord Soren, what has made you decide you do not want me any longer?'

G
od save him from innocents and fools! he thought as the words passed her lips. The lips that drove him to drink throughout the meal they'd shared. The lips he wanted to place his own on and taste. Not want her?

Right now, and with little more provocation than she'd already given him, he could lay her on that inviting bed near them, peel off the rest of the layers of clothing that covered her and kiss and lick and taste every possible inch of her skin. And once he was satisfied that no part of her had gone untouched by mouth and hands, he would place himself between her thighs and lay claim to the rest of her. His prick lengthened even now in anticipation and desire.

Not want her?

Soren leaned back in his chair and stared at her. If she ever had an idea of the amount of time and effort it had taken him to stay out of her bed and to speak to the priest about annulling their marriage, she would never
think that. His mind understood her question, even if his body wanted to misunderstand it.

‘The words of a child, lady.' He shifted in the chair to accommodate his erection, which she thankfully could not see, and continued. ‘While instructing Raed on his duties to his lord, I was reminded of a lord's duties to his lady.' He must not think on
those
duties or he'd never get through this!

‘I confess I do not understand, Lord Soren.' Her expression was one of puzzlement, disgruntled for some reason and puzzled for the obvious one.

‘I told Raed that it was a man's duty to take responsibility for his actions and to admit when he erred. That is what this is about, Sybilla.'

‘Lord Soren, forgive my impertinence, but why should you care what happens to me? You made yourself and your reasons for hating me very clear. I understand your hatred. I understand your need for vengeance. But this, this…' she motioned at the table and him with her hand ‘…I do not.'

He stood and pushed the chair back from the table. She tensed, preparing herself for whatever he would deliver to her. He'd seen her do it before.

‘The blow from your father should have killed me, Sybilla. No one, not the healers, not the priests, not even William's physician himself, can explain how I survived. But I know how—I needed to live to seek vengeance on him. That alone kept me alive, through every excruciating hour, through every surgery to repair the damaged flesh of my body, through every time I tried to give up and die. Vengeance pulled me along and made me live.'

She shivered at his words and clutched the napkin in her hands. But it did not stop him from saying the rest.

‘I came here to kill you and to destroy everything that belonged to Durward,' he said, not sparing her the truth.

Sybilla pushed back in the chair and tried to stand. He grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her. Guiding her back to sit, he explained, ‘You are safe from me now, lady.' But she shook as she sat there before him. He could see the terror return to her face.

‘Alston and you were not what I expected,' he revealed. ‘I forgot for a long time that my men fought with me, dreamed of a place of their own with me and accompanied me for that chance. I was quite ready to kill you until your people showed me what loyalty was. When they put themselves between you and me, it tore from me my resolve to kill you.'

He paused and watched a myriad of expressions move across her lovely face, each one exposing more about her to his scrutiny. The one that lasted was something he should recognize, for he wore it and felt it often enough—anger.

‘So you married me instead?' she asked, tossing the linen aside now and clasping the arms of the wooden chair.

‘It seemed the better choice at the time, lady.'

Then it happened for the first time since he'd met her—she laughed. Not a chuckle or smile this time. Sybilla laughed aloud and it was a sight to behold. 'Twas difficult to believe she was sightless, for her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed. Then the laughter softened and stopped and he missed it the moment it fled her face.

‘And now, now you wish me to go?'

Soren had sidestepped explaining the real reason he'd married her, but now needed to reveal more about his plans than he wanted any one person to know. Could he trust her?

‘Alston is a pivotal crossroads here in the north, Sybilla. It must be held to secure the entire border with the Scots and to keep Northumbria from absorbing William's lands.' He paused to let her absorb that part of it. ‘William sent me here to take and hold these lands and to assess who was loyal and who sought to overthrow his rule, both here and in the south.'

Soren knew that Morcar and Edwin believed William would keep to the lands that belonged to the Godwinsons, but Soren knew differently—William intended to rule over as much of this isle as he could. Holding the western half of the north was only the beginning.

‘And…?' Clever girl, she knew there was more.

‘The traitors are closer at hand than even I imagined,' he said. ‘I need Alston settled so that I can focus my efforts on the threats from the outside.'

‘So, my seeking the convent will rid you of problems here at Alston?' she asked, a suspicious glint in her eyes now.

Soren ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. She really thought he wanted her gone. Apparently his plan made sense to no one but him.

‘Nay, I need you here. Though once things are settled, I am willing to seek an annulment if that is what you wish.'

She shook her head at him. ‘I do not understand. How does my staying help you at all?'

‘I need to be able to concentrate on training and deploying my men and those who will arrive from Giles's and Brice's forces to help me. With the reports of rebels moving into and through this area, I must strengthen the defences of the manor and the keep and cut them off from their allies. With the harvest coming soon, I need someone who will work with Guermont and his men to oversee it all. Someone with experience, someone who knows the fields, the crops and the people here. You, Sybilla, I need your help.'

‘I cannot oversee anything, my lord. I cannot see.'

The bitter words hung out there between them for several moments before he sweetened the offer.

‘I will keep your people safe, Sybilla. Once the area is settled and the rebels scattered—no more than a six-month—I will honour your request to leave. Blind or sighted, you will be free to go as you please. Whether you choose the convent or another place, I will see to it.'

‘A temporary marriage? An annulment even if I can see?' Sybilla wanted to be certain she understood this unusual bargain he sought with her.

‘Aye. And if you decide you wish not to retire to the convent, I will make arrangements for you elsewhere. It will be as if this marriage never occurred.'

For some reason, the kiss they'd shared came to mind and Sybilla touched her lips, remembering the passion in such an innocent touch of mouths. ‘Consummation? Will you seek to consummate this marriage?' She hesitated bringing the matter up if he'd not thought about it, but…

‘Aye,' he said, his voice now husky and deep as he interrupted her. ‘I will seek your bed.'

'Twas more a promise than an answer, she could feel it in his voice. Her body understood it as well and she felt a wave of heat rush through her veins as it responded to that promise. Still, she must be careful in this, for it was worse than facing the blackness of the stairs and waiting to fall down them. This was the chance to choose that which had never been hers before. There were enemies surrounding Alston, surrounding her, and she might be asked to help these invaders against her neighbours or other Saxons who had been loyal to their king.

But his last words, this promise of intimacy unlike anything she'd ever known, both tempted and terrified her. The results of joining with him could also cause more problems. Something he'd not mentioned yet…

‘Children?' she blurted out. ‘What if a child is created?' Though she might be willing to give up all interest in Alston—and she was losing her certainty in that more with each passing minute—was it fair to also do that for a child who should inherit it? If there was one?

‘There will be no child, Sybilla. I will make certain of that,' he promised.

Men spilled their seed, children resulted. As a man of illegitimate birth, surely he knew that. How could he promise such a thing to her? Gytha's words came back to her about his past and his many lovers. Had no child resulted from such promiscuity?

‘How can you be sure?' she asked. There were herbs rumoured to cause miscarriages and some to prevent conception, she knew of these from overheard conversations, but would they work?

She felt the heat of him as he stepped closer to her.

‘There are ways, Sybilla,' he whispered into her ear, startling her and sending a wave of shivers along her spine. ‘I know them.'

The touch of his mouth on her neck made her realise that he knew so much more than she about these matters of the flesh. As her resolve began to waver, as more questions raced through her mind in a now-haphazard manner, she voiced the one concern bred into her by generations before.

‘Lord Soren, I will not betray my people. Even if I must give them up to you, I will not betray them.'

He did not reply, but she heard him there, still standing close, able to touch her wherever he would. She understood that he meant to consummate their agreement and their marriage as soon as she gave the word. Should she do this?

Doubt niggled at her in that last moment—she had nothing to prove this agreement existed. As the priest told her, at any time during their marriage he could call for an annulment, leaving her with no legal rights to her land or her people, with no income, nothing but her blindness. He'd sworn to destroy everything she had in order to complete his vengeance against her father. Might this not be part of it—to gain her co-operation, to use her skills and her body and then simply toss her aside when he had finished using her?

His hand sliding across her breasts nearly made her forget all of her doubts. His fingers played over them, caressing the tips of them until Sybilla felt them tighten. He kissed her neck then, moving along the skin, licking and then biting it until she gasped. All the time, his hand
never paused its attention to her breasts. He cupped one, rubbing his thumb over the tip again and again, and, in spite of layers of
syrce
and
cyrtel
, she felt each movement as though it was skin against naked skin.

When she opened her mouth to voice her concerns, he covered it with his, tasting her and letting her taste him. His other hand crept up onto her head, sliding his fingers into her hair and loosening her braid. He held her to him, plundering her mouth as he caressed her breasts. She ached for something else, for something more, and she found her body arching against him.

His mouth never left hers, and Sybilla tasted more of him when he slipped his tongue inside to caress hers. He moved his hand and his tongue in the same motions at the same time and she was ready to surrender to him and agree to his devil's bargain if it meant more of this. Then he let his hand glide down, across her chest and on to her belly…and lower. It was a scandalous thing to be touched like this, but her body reacted despite her innocence. The place between her legs now tingled and grew wet as he placed his hand there and pressed. His long fingers sought the spot between her thighs and even with the layers of cloth, she could feel his intimate touch.

Sybilla lost the ability to think then. When he reached down, grasped the edge of her garments and began to slide them up, tickling and touching her legs, which were naked above her stockings, she gasped in shock and pleasure. She reached down and placed her hand on his arm, not sure if she should stop him or urge him on.

‘Are you afraid, Sybilla?'

‘Aye,' she whispered. In truth, she was terrified by
the step they were about to take and the claim he would make on her body and her life.

‘Trust me,' he urged in a compelling and sensuous voice. ‘I will have a care for you,' he promised. ‘I can teach you how to survive the injuries you have.'

For some unknown reason, his words were like a bucket of water tossed on an overheated horse. Mayhap the suggestion that she would never see and needed his help did it, she knew not. However, his words stopped her from going any further on this journey into passion.

‘I cannot,' she said, pushing on his hand. ‘I do not know you enough to trust you.'

His hand stilled, he stilled, and Sybilla waited for him to release her. Her body rebelled against this interruption and pulsed with heat in spite of her decision.

‘I cannot,' she repeated.

He lifted his hand from her legs, allowing her garments to slide back down in place and helped her to stand on her own before letting go of her. Her legs shook and she held on to the table until she felt the chair being moved behind her. If she dropped a bit too hard into it, he did not speak of it.

‘I bid you a good evening then, Lady Sybilla,' he said.

She heard him moving around the room, gathering things and then he paused at the door. Sybilla thought he would speak again, but the latch of the door lifted and he was gone. She remained seated, trying to recover her breath and expecting to hear the chattering of Gytha and Aldys as they approached, but only silence reigned.

As his wife, she had no right to refuse him her bed or her body, so Sybilla wondered why he'd given up on
what was clearly his intent all along—to claim his marital rights to her. The bargain he offered, if indeed it was done in good faith, would never stand, for his rights as husband would never be questioned in matters such as these. Lord Soren could have taken her virginity right then, whether she willed it or not, and no one could have questioned his right to do so.

So, if he wanted her and he wanted to take her, why had he stopped? Why did he want her consent when he needed it not?