His Enemy's Daughter (16 page)

Sybilla tried to move, slowly, easily, so as to not cause more pain and found that her body no longer screamed back with each attempt. As she rolled to her side to slide to the edge of the bed, she found a heavy weight holding her in place. Reaching down, she searched for it and found it.

A large arm and hand draped over her hips.

And only a thin sheet separated the two body parts—one of which was not hers.

‘G
ood morrow, Sybilla.'

She'd had no doubt about the identity of the man, but his deep voice, made even deeper by sleep, greeted her pleasantly enough as though having a man in her bed was her usual custom. She shifted, trying to slide to the edge, but he held her in place.

‘I would like to get up,' she began, reaching for the edge of the bedcovers and then realising she lay naked beneath them.

Sybilla felt him move, lifting his arm from her and getting out of the bed. Then he took her hand at the side of the bed.

‘You have been abed for several days and Teyen said you will be unsteady the first time or two you get out of it.' Lord Soren put something in her hand and then let go. ‘I thought you would want that first.'

A
syrce.
He helped her ease it over her head and shoulders, remarkably with little pain, and then took her hands
in his and drew her to the bedside. Sybilla let her feet drop to the floor and let him help her to stand. Unfortunately Teyen was right, once more, and she began to wobble. She thought to sit back on the bed, but Lord Soren had other ideas, encircling her with his arms and holding her up…and tightly against him.

She noticed several things quickly. His body always seemed warm. His body, including a very prominent part of it, was always hard. And one more thing came to mind—he was completely naked. Though tempted to grab hold so she did not fall to the floor, she did not dare touch him…anywhere!

‘Give yourself a moment to gain your balance, Sybilla,' he whispered, sliding his arms to hold her around her waist, which freed her arms now. ‘Just stand and let me get the chair for you.'

He released his hold in increments and she did reach out for him once when the dizziness took over and threatened to spill her to the floor. He held her hand until she let go, never saying a word. Then, she heard the scrape of the chair as he dragged it to her. Once she was seated, he moved away and she heard him as he walked from one place to another and another. Then, when he guided her hand to his, she felt the fabric of his tunic on his arm and knew he'd dressed. He placed a cup in her hands and, when she winced, he explained.

‘You burned your palms sliding too fast on the rope. Teyen left some ointment and said to keep them wrapped for a few more days.' She thought he now stood by the door, his voice was in that direction. ‘I am going to allow the she-dragon in, so prepare yourself, Sybilla.'

She smiled at that, remembering now that he'd called
Aldys that several times now. And, truly, she could be quite a formidable force when she wanted or needed to be. The latch lifted and the door opened.

‘My lord,' Aldys said in a stern voice.

‘Aldys,' Soren replied, but his voice was tinged with laughter. ‘Good day, Sybilla.'

Then he was gone, his heavy steps echoing down the corridor as he strode away.

Aldys helped her to get cleaned and dressed and soon she felt almost herself. Moving in this direction or that did yet cause some twinges, but Sybilla found that most of the pain had dissipated away. Aldys opened the shutters and the warmer breezes flowed into the chamber. Sybilla walked slowly to it and stood before it, feeling the sun on her face and wishing she could see its light.

Well, that was not going to happen. She knew in her heart and soul that her vision was gone. A long, empty life stretched out in front of her now.

The sound of laughter outside drew her attention. A game of some kind, mayhap. Or a contest? Some of the voices were familiar, while others carried the accented tones of the foreigners. A few called out in their native language, then stuttered over the English words. The thing that struck her most was the happiness in their voices. Clearly, her people had found some middle ground between them and their new lord and his men. They would be all right because he would protect them.

‘My lady, the day is a fine one,' Aldys said, approaching her. ‘Would you like to take a walk?'

She turned to Aldys, though she could not see her, and shook her head. ‘Oh, what they must think of me now?' she whispered. ‘A madwoman in their midst?'

‘They saw their lady racked by grief and loss of an unimaginable kind,' Aldys answered softly. She took Sybilla's hand and patted it. ‘They saw the woman who'd cared for them and their families through the winter and who'd stood up to the demon lord for them. Worry not, lady. They understand.'

The tears burned her eyes and her throat as she asked the question that plagued her the most. ‘But what do I do now, Aldys? What do I do?'

‘You live, my lady.'

So simple, those two words, but Sybilla could see only the impossibilities stretching out before her.

‘I cannot see. I cannot carry out the simplest of duties or perform the easiest of tasks now. How can I live this way?'

‘You have a quick mind, lady. You will learn. You will learn new ways to do old tasks. And those you cannot do, you assign to others,' Aldys finished with a laugh. ‘Do you truly wish to help the butcher salt the meat?'

Sybilla smiled at that. The smells of that process, a necessary and vital one for their survival, made her stomach retch, but she did it because it was needed. Having someone else oversee it would be no hardship for her.

‘But I will never be able to read again.'

‘Aye, lady, 'tis true, but someone could read to you. I would be happy to do that,' Aldys offered. The woman did not seem like a she-dragon now. Sybilla smiled and nodded.

Never someone who shied away from the difficult situation or task, Sybilla wondered which things she could accomplish without her sight. Lord Soren, if his offer was
an honest one, thought she could oversee the harvest and setting up stores for the winter. Had he meant that?

‘Lord Soren offered to make this marriage a temporary one if I assisted him here over the next six months.'

Sybilla needed to talk over this strange offer with someone and it seemed right to do so with Aldys. She'd served her family and her mother for years and had seen much in that time. She'd not planned to blurt it out, but now she waited on Aldys's reaction to such a thing.

‘I know, my lady.'

Of all the words she could have said, either supporting or opposing such an offer, Sybilla never expected those.

‘You know of this?' she asked. Sybilla turned her head, looking around the room before remembering she could not see. ‘Are we alone?'

‘I sent that silly child off on some errands, lady. We can speak about this, if you wish it.' Aldys took her hand and led her to the chair. ‘I—' A knock interrupted whatever she was about to say.

Sybilla waited while Aldys saw to it. So many questions raced through her mind over the matter that she was surprised when Aldys spoke from right next to her. She placed something on the table and slid it closer.

‘Lord Soren ordered this sent to you and commanded that you finish it.' The she-dragon was back in her voice.

‘What is it?' she asked, reaching her hands along the table to find it. A tray. A bowl. A plate. Then the aromas spread. Food. He'd sent her food.

‘A porridge in this bowl. Some meat on the plate. 'Tis torn into small pieces already,' Aldys reported, the
surprise evident in her tone. ‘Eat while we talk, lady. You will need your strength.' Aldys spoke as though all plans were in place while Sybilla remained uncertain of what was to come.

When she dropped the first morsel she picked up, Sybilla knew she would stain her clothing. Holding out her arms, she asked Aldys to pull the sleeves up the way Lord Soren had and to give her a cloth napkin. Once her garments were protected, she began to feel each plate and eat from them, now ignoring any misplaced food. ‘So when did he speak of this to you?' she asked.

‘The second night after you…' Aldys paused and Sybilla nodded her understanding. After she'd lost her mind in the hall. ‘He moved his belongings in and—'

Sybilla dropped the bowl. ‘His clothing is here?' A wave of chills rushed through her. ‘He moved into my chambers?'

Aldys placed the bowl and spoon back into her hands. ‘Aye, lady. When his men moved his trunk and other things here, he asked me to accompany him to the chapel. I thought it a strange thing, but his man Larenz was there as well.'

Aldys paused, but Sybilla had noticed a slight change in her voice when she mentioned this man Larenz. She nodded.

‘He called it not a marriage contract, but an unmarriage contract when he told Father Medwyn of it. Keeping you as wife, blind or not, at your word. Offering a dowry if you seek the convent, offering to set up a household if not.'

‘He told you these things?' Why? Why would he speak
of such private arrangements with her servant with the priest? ‘What happened then?'

‘Father Medwyn argued with him. Said the marriage could be annulled if you were blind, but there was no way to end it if there was no impediment. Lord Soren seemed convinced that you would end it either way and so he ordered the priest to write it down.'

She doubted that anyone could resist Lord Soren when he set his mind to something. ‘He said that if you remained married to him for the next six months, the choice was yours and he would see to it.'

Sybilla sat back, leaving the food on the table. Stunned by such a thing and that he'd aired his intentions before the priest, his man and her maid… That was why he did it! She had not trusted him or his offer and so he made it a binding contract with her maid as witness so she would believe him. When she said nothing, Aldys continued.

‘We waited while the priest wrote out two copies, complaining and even praying under his breath the whole time of it, and then the lord made his mark and ordered the priest to keep one and gave me the other.'

‘You have it? Now?' she asked and then she realised the futility of it.

‘It is safely stored, for you, if you have need of it,' she answered.

‘He slept here these last nights?' she asked. The question came out of nowhere with no exact connection to their discussion, but in a way it did.

‘Aye. 'Twas after I questioned him about his plans—'

‘You did not! Aldys, he could have you put out!'

‘He smiled in his way and told me to come to the chapel. And that is when he had the document drawn up.'

Aldys was a she-dragon and on Sybilla's behalf! She suspected that a man like Lord Soren respected strength even in a woman.

‘He has moved in then?' she asked again, understanding the true meaning of such an action now.

He was keeping her as wife, at least for the next six months, and intended to claim his marital rights to her. She shivered, remembering the feel of his mouth on her skin and the heat it created. If that was only the beginning of joining, what would the rest of it feel like?

‘Aye, my lady.' Aldys placed a cup of wine in her hands and Sybilla drank it down.

Filled with nervous anticipation, she could eat no more. But, considering the way he'd cared for her these last days, the protection he'd offered by making up a contract, and the way her body reacted to him, it was not the dread of their first days. Sybilla knew she faced a life of blindness, but Lord Soren had offered her some measure of choice in how she lived it. No matter how this turned out, her people and Alston would be protected.

‘Aldys? Would you help me learn to walk down the stairs?'

She heard Aldys's muffled reply and knew the maid was crying now. So much for being a she-dragon. Sybilla felt her own tears, but brushed them away. She had too many things to do this day to waste time crying like a babe. She pushed back from the table and stood, ready to take the first step in learning how to live without her sight.

 

An hour or two later and countless times of going down and back up the steps, Sybilla returned to her
chambers, exhausted from all of it. Though she had not held on to Guermont's arm or on to Aldys's, she still feared falling. Yet, if she took each step carefully, holding on to the rope as a guide and support, she could make it down to the bottom without falling or screaming the way she had the first time.

By the time she gave in to her exhaustion, a crowd had gathered in the hall and had begun cheering her on. Calls for her to be strong and not to be afraid echoed around her in the stairwell as she pushed on to conquer them and her fear. Their cheering and support gave her courage to keep trying and their applause when she reached the bottom warmed her heart.

Sitting in her chambers, while the servants brought in a meal she knew was for two, Sybilla realised that this was only the first task she must learn. There was so much about herself and her limitations she needed to discover before she could make any other decisions. The stairs had only been the first.

Lord Soren would be the second.

I
t felt good to be outside and to have the sun shining after these last days, he thought. Soren made his way to the end of the new wall to meet with Stephen and Guermont and hear news from Brice. But, even as he left Sybilla behind, his thoughts seemed to return to her.

Had she discovered his trunk in her chambers? Did she object? Did she even know he'd slept at her side these last four nights? His body reminded him of it again. Soren had touched her, cleaning her and applying salves to the bruises and cuts, but he was a man and did not miss the creaminess of her skin or the fullness of her breasts. Or the curve of her hips. Or the pale triangle at the top of her thighs.

He shifted in his breeches, trying to ease the seemingly ever-present erection he lived with. Never in his life had he gone this long wanting and not having a woman. There had been times and reasons not to share pleasure,
but he'd never held back when he wanted a particular woman and she was available to him.

Now, he was married, he wanted his wife and would not take her. He knew better than most what she was experiencing right now and he would not put another burden on her shoulders. Her words spewed in anger and panic were true, none the less—he had caused her blindness. His reawakening conscience reminded him that he planned on capitalising on it. Both of those things gave him enough reasons not to seduce her, even though he knew he could. Her body was ready, even if her mind was not.

The monster her father had created was once again at war with the man he used to be. He could not win, no matter the outcome. For if she remained blind, she would want to leave after their bargain was completed. If her sight, by some slight chance, returned, she would never want to remain married to him once she saw his true form. And if she learned the true depths of his vengeance—that he had killed her father on that day when Durward had destroyed him, she would hate him for all her days, blind or sighted.

How the hell had his life sunk to this? Vengeance was so much simpler.

Stephen called his name, gaining his attention, and Soren joined them. Brice's messenger had arrived and told them of the increased attacks by the rebels and that they seemed to be originating to the west. The Pennines, named by the ancient Romans when they controlled these lands, separated his lands from those in Cumbria and seemed to be the hiding place for Edmund's forces.

After neglecting his duties for these last days to see
to Sybilla's care, Soren decided to lead a small group of his men to search in the nearby hills for evidence of Edmund Haroldson or his rebels. They had plenty of daylight available and it would feel good to be carrying out the one duty William gave him in exchange for these lands…and her—find and destroy anyone not loyal to him, be they Saxon, Norman or whatever.

When he'd found the rolls of the manor, Soren noticed that some not known to be dead, but who belonged to the manor, were missing. Not many, but another two this week added made the total a noticeable one. His men and those who'd remained behind in Shildon until Brice arrived would give him enough bodies to keep the manor operating and safe, but he knew that allowing or ignoring the escape of those bound to him and the land would send a bad message and encourage others to follow. As long as Edmund was preaching his message of insurrection against William, there would be those willing to risk escape and the punishment if caught for the chance at some vague glory.

Harold Godwinson, who'd held these lands and more across the south, was dead and buried. Most of William's enemies had been neutralised or at least identified. William could not yet take on the king of the Scots, but he wanted the path to Scotland made difficult for those who would seek help from there. Soren needed to begin that in earnest.

He called for his horse, mounted and followed Stephen out of the gates and along the path that led to the hills. As they rode higher along the trails, he stopped and looked back and down on Alston. The keep appeared small from this distance, the outline of the wall barely visible. The
fields spread out around it in a patchwork of colours and crops. To the north lay the land of the Scots. To the far east, Northumbria and the sea. To the west, Cumbria and the Irish Sea. But these below were his.

And no one would take them from him.

 

Hours later, the sun had set and they rode by the light of the full moon back to Alston. The smell of cooked food greeted his approach to the hall, as did Larenz with news of his wife.

‘What did you find in the hills?' Larenz asked as they walked together from the yard after Soren handed his horse off to those overseeing the stables…including Raed, it seemed.

‘Remains of several camps, though none large. Stephen will go back during the day to have a better look around. The ones we found were miles from here,' Soren reported.

‘Do you think Edmund has arrived here? Will he make a stand here with the Scots at his back?'

Soren shrugged as they walked inside. ‘His actions make no sense. He does not have the support of those on the Witan who yet live.' Most nobles of Harold's court had died on Senlac field. ‘Their Atheling was chosen since he has the strongest claim,' Soren said. ‘Even if Edmund can claim a blood connection to his father,' he added, exchanging a knowing glance with Larenz.

Edgar's claim was even stronger than William's, but as a boy of but fourteen, Edgar stood no chance against the Duke of Normandy and his war machine. As a son of Harold by his unsanctioned wife in the Danish manner, Edmund had no claim on the English throne. That had
not stopped him from gathering together a small army in Wessex where his father's lands were and where they would prefer any of the Godwinsons to an outsider and marching northwards, creating chaos and killing along the way.

Edmund had nearly sold Giles's wife to a Welsh lord in exchange for money and men. Then he'd allied himself with Oremund of Shildon and tried to take control of Brice's lands in Thaxted. Now, he was using Alston as a pathway north. But Edmund would have to go through Soren to get there and Soren was determined to stop him.

‘Is supper done, then?' Soren asked as he watched benches and pallets being placed in the hall for the coming night.

‘Aye,' Larenz said, clapping him on the back. ‘But Aldys says the lady saved yours for you before retiring for the night.' Larenz laughed then. ‘One of the benefits of having a wife, eh?'

Soren felt a very physical disappointment, realising that Sybilla had sought her bed already. She must be exhausted on this, her first day out of bed in the last five.

‘The lady caused quite a commotion just after you left, Soren.'

Soren turned and glared at the man. He was being goaded into something and Soren hated being goaded. ‘Just tell me, old man.'

‘The lady decided to master the steps on her own.'

Soren would have lost any meal he'd eaten in that moment. He thought his knees might have gone weak, for he stumbled before righting himself. Sybilla had been
wobbly just standing next to her bed this morn and had no reason to think she could walk down the stairway unassisted. He had taken several paces in the direction of those stairs before Larenz grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a stop.

‘You would have been proud of her, Soren. As stubborn as you when faced with a challenge.'

‘Did she fall?' he asked, afraid of the answer. He'd wanted her out of her chambers, but not…not…

‘They cheered her on, her people did, once they saw her struggling with her fears. It made this old man's heart glad to witness it.'

‘You watched it? Her?' Soren asked.

‘I thought I should be here if she needed help. Aldys sent word to me before she left her chambers, so I was here watching. The lady would not give up. The people knew it, too.'

‘Sybilla is asleep now?'

‘Aye. Aldys put your food aside to stay warm and settled the lady in her bed before leaving her,' Larenz reported.

The old man and the she-dragon. It shocked him, but he'd seen stranger connections and couples. ‘Any other news to report?'

‘She said she'd like to try walking the yard on the morrow.'

Soren shook his head at Larenz's failed attempt at humour and walked to those same steps that Sybilla had faced. He could only imagine the terror she had felt—most likely the same he felt the first time he had to defend himself in battle after his recovery. A small skirmish, but
it was Senlac field relived for him and he fully expected the death-blow at any moment.

She would survive this, he knew that now. If she'd regained her courage or had begun the process, she would be able to face whatever came at her in the future, with or without him. He reached the door and lifted the latch as quietly as he could.

A lamp had been left burning and he could see her in the bed in the corner. He closed the door and removed his hauberk, deciding he would need to leave that somewhere else the next time. Though flexible, it was a noisy thing to remove and he hoped he'd not disturbed her. Although, mayhap if she stirred… He hardened at the thought, making it difficult to remove his breeches, but he did. His tunic and hood followed.

There was a basin and a jug of water, so he poured some and washed his face and hands. Then, as he reached for the bottom of his shirt, he thought better of it. If their bodies touched in the night, he did not want her to feel the ridges of scarred flesh on his back. At least the linen of his shirt would prevent that. Soren walked to the side of the bed and watched her sleep.

Her hair lay spread around her head like a pale cloud. Other women braided their hair for bed, but she did not—it seemed she preferred to leave it loose. Soren noticed his palms sweating at the thought of stroking it with his fingers. He was so busy watching her expressions in sleep that he banged his leg into the table as he stepped nearer and cursed.

‘Lord Soren?' she asked in a voice husky with sleep.

‘Aye, Sybilla. Go back to sleep,' he said, hoping and praying she would…would not…
Merde!

‘Did you eat? Aldys said your meal is by the hearth to keep it warm.'

She began to sit up and only grabbed the covers at the last moment, but not soon enough to keep from gifting him with an arousing view of her breasts. Truly, in that moment, the only thing he wanted in his mouth was her tongue or one of those pert breasts. Heat poured through him, his heart raced and his blood surged through his body.

‘Nay,' he said, trying to keep his voice even.

If she said the wrong thing, something that sounded vaguely welcoming, he would probably be between her thighs before she knew what had happened. He took in a couple of deep breaths and released them, trying to hold on to the scant control he felt slipping away.

‘How are your injuries?' he asked. Good. Think about those bruises, he told himself. She had lain unconscious for nigh on four days, waking just this morn. What kind of perverse monster would bed a woman who was still recovering?

Soren felt the beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip from the effort not to touch her. He reached out for her several times, but always managed to draw back at the moment just before he touched her skin. Losing the battle within himself, he took a couple of paces away from the bedside.

‘Whatever was in Teyen's brew helped. By later this afternoon, I felt well enough to conquer the stairs!' she told him. He knew this already, but to hear the enthusiasm in her voice, something that had been missing since
he arrived here, pushed him closer to the point of no return. ‘I did it, Soren,' she exclaimed, pushing her hair back over her shoulders and giving him a clear view of her graceful neck. ‘I walked the stairs by myself!'

Had she just called him by name? He rubbed his forehead and tried to count to two score. Thankfully it had not been in that breathy voice with all its wonderful sexual undertones that spoke of passion and pleasure and desire. If she spoke to him with that voice, he would…he would…disgrace himself like an untried boy. Soren turned away, deciding that eating would be a good idea right now.

‘Soren?' she said quietly. ‘Lord Soren?' she repeated. Her voice was getting closer and closer to the one that would make him explode.

‘Aye, Sybilla? I am going to eat.'

He found the pot left by the she-dragon and used a cloth from the table to lift it from the hearth. Lifting the lid of it, he found a stew with a crust over it. The aroma filled the chamber.

And her stomach growled loud enough for both of them to hear.

Sybilla laughed then, and he gripped the table to keep from going back to her and kissing her breathless.

‘I confess, I did not eat much supper this evening.'

He gave in to the inevitable in that moment—and that was that he was destined to be tortured for the next six months by the woman he called wife. ‘Come,' he said as he walked to the bed and took her hand. He grabbed the
syrce
hanging on the corner of the headboard and gave it to her.

Soon, they were both at the table and sharing the meal
he'd planned them to share earlier. He scooped out half of the stew into one of the cups meant for the wine, crushed up the crust into the gravy and gave her a spoon. Then Soren ate out of the pot. He had never developed a refined sense of taste, but he knew good food and he knew bad. Alston's cook was good.

Either they were both very hungry or they were both simply trying not to talk, for soon he noticed they both scraped the bottom of their makeshift bowls. He placed the cup that held the wine in her hands and guided it to her mouth, holding it while she drank from it. He lifted it back before she'd finished and so a drop of wine remained perched on the edge of her lip, threatening to spill on her
syrce
if she did not catch it. Soren had slid to his knees next to her before he even knew it.

He caught it with his tongue just as it rolled down her lip, and then he took her mouth as he'd been dreaming of for days. With a hand on the chair at her back and the other on the table, he did not touch her but for her mouth. Soren would have stopped, but she sighed against his lips and touched his arm. Slanting his face, he kissed her again, deepening it to encourage another sigh from her.