His Enemy's Daughter (21 page)

‘S
o, you suspect this Wilfrid of Brougham is helping Edmund recruit men?' Giles asked.

His friends understood that he needed to focus on the coming battles rather than the woman who had torn his heart apart with her betrayal. Soren shook his head in reply, forcing his thoughts back to the information they'd gathered. It was safer to think of killing than to think of
her.

‘Nay, I think it is Maurin de Caen. He acted as though his Norman heritage should persuade us he is not involved.'

Soren unrolled a map that Stephen had drawn during his search of the mountainous region between Alston and Maurin's lands to the west. ‘There are so many places that could mask the presence of small groups of men,' he continued, pointing to several spots on the map. ‘And none further apart than a few hours' march.'

‘But why do they remain here in England at all when the border is so close?' Brice asked.

‘I suspect you are the answer, Lord Thaxted.'

His body reacted just to her voice. He closed his eyes and tried to get his wayward thoughts and desire for her under control. Then, with a deep breath, he met her gaze.

They all turned and looked at Sybilla, who had crept up on them without them noticing her. Soren held on to the edge of the table, fighting the urge to drag her into his arms and kiss the breath from her. But then he would remember the expression on her face as she saw all of him in that moment and he could control the need.

‘How am I the cause, lady?' Brice looked at her with open curiosity.

‘The supplies and gold you brought. The rebels know and are going to try to take it.' She squinted and moved closer to the shadow of the building. Soren bit his tongue to stop from asking her if the bright light hurt her eyes. It must, for he'd seen her block the sun with her hand whenever she was in the yard.

Damn him for noticing!

Soren turned back to his friends as Giles looked at the map and then at her and back again.

‘So, if the rebels saw us moving the carts with the gold and supplies, they might follow it in the hopes of re-supplying themselves and continuing their fight?' Though Giles was not asking Sybilla, she answered anyway.

‘Lord Soren told me about Edmund Haroldson and his struggles to regain his father's lands and titles. He has lost his way in this and now only fights to fight again.'

‘Lord Soren told you about Edmund?' Brice asked, glancing over at him as he said it. ‘Interesting.' Soren
glared at his friend, warning him off that path. ‘Am I the only reason he does not head north?' he asked instead.

Sybilla glanced at Soren first before replying. ‘Nay. Edmund has little support here in the north, other than one or two nobles who are hiding him. Once winter comes, he will use all his resources and have none to attract new followers. So he needs to make a stand now in order to keep the ones he has.'

‘You know, it worked at Thaxted,' Brice said, looking at him and then Giles. ‘We used a fake treasure to draw them out into the open.'

‘Will Edmund be suspicious of it so soon?' Sybilla asked.

‘Oremund is the one who was lured in, Edmund had no choice but to follow,' Soren explained, even though he'd vowed not to speak to her. Lucky for him and his weakening self-control, she stepped away from the table and their discussions after bringing up some good points. Brice nodded to her and she walked away, thankfully without another word to him.

And he watched every step she took.

‘So you discussed military strategy with a woman?' Giles asked, drawing his attention back to the plans.

‘She has a quick mind for details,' he said. His praise earned him several exchanged glances and questioning expressions. They did not even try to hide their curiosity.

‘Soren, is there truly no chance of a reconciliation?' Giles asked. ‘Clearly there is much to hold you together.'

‘How would you feel if either of your wives looked on you with horror and pity? I saw it and I know I could
not bear to see it when I wake in the morn and when I go to bed at night!'

He hated explaining. He hated that so many knew of the strife and the reason for it, but there was nothing to be done about that now. ‘I asked for a temporary marriage and she agreed and is carrying out her part of the bargain. The harvest is mostly done and stored and Alston is ready for the coming winter. Once Edmund is no longer a threat here, I will release her from our marriage as I promised.'

They tried to argue with him, but he diverted their attention by calling in several of his men to discuss the plan to bait Edmund into a trap. Within hours, all the arrangements were made and news was let out both in the manor and in the nearby villages about the riches that Lord Brice would be transporting home.

They split up their men, leaving a good number here to protect the manor and the people and sent some out to ‘beat the bushes' and stir up their quarry. Then they drove them right in between the three of them and when the battle was done and the bodies counted and identified, there could be no further claim by Edmund Haroldson in the north or anywhere in England.

 

‘Has there been enough pain yet?'

Soren looked over his shoulder as Larenz walked to his side. He'd ridden to the hills and stood looking over all they'd—he'd—won by defeating the last wave of rebels and strengthening William's border with the Scots. He'd sought refuge in the distance and solitude of this high-perched place.

‘There is always a cost for any gain, Larenz,' he said. ‘You taught me that.'

‘Of all the things you heard me say, that is the one you listened to?'

‘It is true.'

Larenz let out a frustrated breath. ‘You love her. She loves you. You are a fool. All of those things are true, as well,' he said, angrily.

He wanted to beat Soren to a pulp for messing this up, but he could understand why Soren had reacted the way he had, seeing things that might not have been there and hearing meanings to words the lady never meant.

‘When you look over Alston, did you imagine it would be this way? You letting the woman you love walk away because you are afraid?'

Soren struck out, swinging his fist quickly, but Larenz expected it and stepped aside.

‘I am honouring the agreement we had.'

‘You saw what you wanted to see in her eyes, Soren, not what was there.'

‘I imagined the horror, the hatred, the pity?'

‘You convinced yourself she would feel those things. You convinced yourself she could not accept you and see past the flesh to the true man underneath. You never gave her a chance,' Larenz said. ‘Then, just in case you might have been wrong, you made certain she would hate you by telling her you had killed her father.'

‘I did kill him.' Soren's hands flexed as though holding his sword and reliving the moment. ‘I stabbed him as I fell.'

‘He was dead when he struck you, Soren. An arrow
in his back. He probably did not even realise that his axe hit you.'

Soren faced him, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I turned and swung my sword as I fell. I did kill him,' he argued, though his voice did not have the confidence it once carried. Mayhap he was beginning to question his memory of that day and the consequences. ‘If he did not, why did you let me believe it?'

Larenz had seen it all, but was too far back to help get to Soren and defend his back. Now he revealed the truth to Soren that the warrior had been unable to face before now. Soren's face twisted in shock, but he knew Soren had suspected this truth for a long time.

‘You had to believe it because only this gave you purpose and the strength you needed to live, but now it lies between you and the lady,' Larenz pointed to the real truth of the matter. ‘And now you are strong enough to know and to accept that you did not kill him. What has happened here and between the two of you is your responsibility, not his.'

Larenz watched as Soren relived that day in his thoughts; only the gasps as the memories flooded him whispered in the space between them.

‘You lived by your looks for so many years, even you believed that's all you were. The Beautiful Bastard! A man living from bed to bed and war to war.' He softened his tone. ‘Then Durward took that from you and you lived on vengeance and hatred. And Sybilla took that from you and now you do not know what kind of man you are.'

Soren would not meet his gaze, but Larenz would have his say.

‘I understand your fear. But do not give her up for fear.'

‘She is beautiful, Larenz. She needs a man who she can gaze upon without disgust.'

Larenz backhanded him. ‘You insult the lady with those words.'

Soren wiped the blood from his mouth. ‘I cannot watch her tire of looking at this horror,' he said, pointing to his face. ‘I cannot watch her fall in love with another. Someone who looks as I used to. Like my cousin Tristan. Someone who will lure her into their bed as I once did with other men's wives.'

‘You do not trust her?'

Soren did not answer.

‘To get trust you must give it. Did she never ask about your injuries? Did she never feel the scars?'

Silence met his question. ‘You expected much from the lady but offered nothing in return.' Larenz shook his head and closed his eyes. ‘You surprised her. You expected a young woman who had never seen the horrors of war to simply not react. Now that she understands, let her see you. Trust her.'

He could see Soren considering his words, but the fear of being rejected again was so strong. There was not much time.

‘Did you ask her to stay? Did you ask her to tear up that contract and stay? Or did you tell her you were ending the marriage?' he demanded.

He knew he should not goad a dangerous, hurting man, but he needed to get through the pain. ‘The lady leaves with Brice and Giles in the morn. Think about whether the risk of asking her is worth what you will
become without her, what Alston will become without her. Whether emptiness and regrets will be enough for you to live on now that vengeance is gone.'

Larenz walked back to where he'd tied the horse and mounted. Gautier had claimed that Soren was the smartest of his four sons, but at times like this, Larenz doubted even his late brother's wisdom.

 

Soren remained without moving for some time after Larenz left, thinking on his words. His past experiences as a warrior, as the ‘Beautiful Bastard', would not help him now. That shallow existence, from woman to woman and from fight to fight, with no thought of commitment or future, was over. But could he grab hold of the future and move forwards now? He kicked at a few stones at his feet and crushed them into the loosened dirt, letting Larenz's words and challenge sink in.

He'd been judged by his appearance, his good looks, tall muscular stature and sexual prowess for so long he'd forgotten many of Gautier's lessons. Or had tried to forget until
she
forced him to consider the values and truths of his life.

Sybilla had never seen that man, the one who caused women to swoon and some to fight over his attentions. The one who thought nothing of swiving another man's wife. Though he'd presented her with someone much darker and more dangerous, she'd brushed aside her fears and accepted him.
Certainement
it had not been easy for her, but Soren realised that their evenings alone in her chambers had been the turning point for her in getting over her fear of him.

He suspected that she might even have fallen a bit in
love with him when she could not see the monster that everyone else saw. And he also realised that he'd let a little of the man he wanted to be for her out during those intimate night encounters.

The wind blew against him and he turned his face into it, allowing it to cool his skin. His horse nickered as though reminding him of the time. Soren untied the reins from the tree and gathered them in his hand.

Though he understood the truth in Larenz's words, Soren felt the ripple of fear in his gut and in his heart as he considered his choices.

His life would be empty without Sybilla at his side.

His future bleak.

Worse, his heart would never recover and his soul would wither.

Climbing on to his horse, he glanced down at Alston once more and knew that he had no choice.

Alston was Sybilla and he could have neither without the other.

He did not want Alston if he did not have Sybilla.

Guiding his mount to the path, Soren gathered his courage and prepared himself to face the most terrifying moment of his life.

S
ybilla stood by the gates as the last of the carts was secured.
He
had insisted that she take anything that remained of her family or her father, so she had. The loom had been dismantled and would be rebuilt when she found a place to live.

She'd finally finished the blue bedcover, but she could not bear to bring it with her. When she looked at it, she saw all the parts of her life—from the perfect before he arrived to the flawed section of her blindness, to the part they wove together, and then the last part she'd finished alone over the last weeks of turmoil and pain.

She'd left it behind for him to do with as he pleased.

Brice and Giles were saying their farewells to the men who'd served with them. This would be the last time the three were together for a while, for Giles had a new babe at home and Brice's wife was now carrying. Sybilla had accepted Giles's invitation to stay with them at Taerford for a while. Giles signalled that they were ready and
Sybilla looked around the only home she'd ever known for the last time.

She had the feeling that she'd forgotten something, so she went back into the keep for one last look. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she walked up the stairs to her chambers and looked around. Only the bed remained, with its blue cover in place. She could not help herself; she reached out and touched it. Closing her eyes, she let her hands glide over it, remembering hour upon hour of pleasure and love spent in it.

They might not have called it that. They did not even realise what they had between them in those times, but she knew it now and she would mourn its loss for the rest of her days. Separated or not, annulment or not, she had given herself, body and soul, to him and could never hope to forget it.

‘I did not only pray that you would stay blind every night,' he said from the corner of the room.

She did not look up at him. She couldn't in that moment.

‘I also prayed that I could find a way to make you stay.'

Soren walked towards her.

‘But I did not have the courage to ask you,' he said, taking her hand and lifting it to his mouth. He placed a kiss in her palm. ‘I did not have the courage to trust you when you asked me to.'

Sybilla dared not hope. She held her breath, praying for the chance to prove that she loved him.

Soren held her gaze as he unbuckled his belt and removed it. His tunic and breeches followed and all of his clothes until only his shirt remained. He was doing
this in the light of day and she would see everything he'd tried to hide from her for so long. Then he closed his eye and waited.

His stomach lurched with the fear he denied having. He loved her. He had known it long before Larenz had forced him to see it and admit it. He just did not have the courage to accept it.

He'd spent so long hating, he had not recognised their love when it happened. It took the threat of losing it all and of losing her before he could come to her and risk his heart and his life. He held his breath as he pulled his shirt, the last barrier between them, over his head and stood naked before her.

He could not bear to look. He waited and waited for some reaction, some word, something.

The touch of her mouth on his back shocked him. She kissed the ridge of flesh where the axe had torn, following its path of destruction along his back on to his neck, then she pulled his head down and kissed his face and the place where his eye should be. He fell to his knees before her and held on to her, wrapping his arms around her.

‘Stay with me,' he begged. The man he wanted to be for her pushed his way out, giving Soren the courage to reveal the truth of his love to her. ‘Be my wife, be my future.'

She touched his head, caressing him and guiding him to stand. Soren did not release her as he stood.

‘Always,' she whispered.

He bent over and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, their bed, and placing her on top of the now-finished bedcover. It represented their relationship
from beginning until now and it felt right to make her his and to claim her body and heart on its surface.

Within moments, she lay naked in his embrace and he eased between her legs, filling her body and melding their flesh even as their hearts joined. And this time, for the first time, he did not withdraw as his seed spilled. As he poured himself into her, he hoped she understood the step he, they, were taking. The trust he was offering and accepting.

The love he was giving and accepting.

In that moment of complete satisfaction, of giving and receiving, he looked into her eyes and saw only love shining back at him. Soren knew he could become the man he needed to be for her.

‘I will never let you go, Sybilla,' he swore to her.

And he never did.