His Enemy's Daughter (9 page)

‘We…I…I thought you meant to claim your marital rights,' she proclaimed, looking none too happy over the possibility of it.

This explained much. Soren's men had been staring at him all afternoon in a strange way. Smiling at him, too, in an unexplained manner and for no reason. But now he understood what they thought, what they all thought, thanks to one untrained boy's misspoken message—they believed he was here to bed her. Part of him wanted to laugh over this and part wanted to get out of the tub, peel off her robe and claim those marital rights.

He could almost hear Lord Gautier laughing at him in that moment. And as he searched for the right way to handle this, he knew that mayhap he was not as far gone as he and many others had thought him to be. A bit of the man he used to be crept into his soul.

‘And is that what you want me to do, Lady Sybilla?'

W
hy had she foolishly admitted the truth to him?

She should have remained quiet and not spoken and not engaged him in this conversation that was now mired down in a dangerous place. If he'd only wanted a bath, that was all right with her, but talking about sharing a bath had caused such strange feelings to rush through her body. Then one word led to another, a question to an answer and so on until now she'd unwisely shown him that she had thought he was here to share her bed!

Sybilla reached up and pushed her hair away from her face. Loosened from its braid and freshly washed, it was an unruly mass that surrounded her shoulders and face with a mass of curls. She realised that no man had looked on her hair this way. Why was she thinking such frivolous things when he waited for an answer from her?

He'd stopped washing, for she could hear no sound of water splashing or movements in the tub. Did he stare at her now? She swallowed once and then again, but
her throat grew tight in nervousness. What did he look like naked if he looked so formidable across a field of battle?

She shivered at the very thought of such a thing. He cleared his throat, reminding her that he was awaiting her response. Sybilla squared her shoulders and shook her head.

‘Nay.'

She heard him move then, the water sloshing and splashing as he must be standing and stepping out of the tub. Sybilla wrapped her arms around her and tried not to shake too much. His steps moved closer until she could feel the heat of his body near hers. But he'd given her an opportunity to speak her mind, so she decided to be bold, much bolder than she felt.

‘I had planned to ask your leave to go to my cousin's convent.'

‘When were you planning to ask that, lady?' he asked, his voice coming from just above her and to her right. She turned to face him and lifted her face.

‘The day you attacked. I was going to relinquish my claim to these lands and retire to my cousin's convent in order to save my people from harm.' She shrugged. ‘You gave me no opportunity to do so.'

The silence, broken only by his breathing, made her uneasy. Sybilla took a breath and released it, trying to calm the racing of her heart. Did he truly stand so close with nothing between them? She could smell the scent of the soap he'd used when she inhaled and could imagine him smoothing it over his skin. She shivered again.

‘So, you wish to become a nun, then?' he asked, his voice almost a whisper, teasing her ear with his breath.

Oh, dear Lord in heaven, he was
that
close!

She desperately wanted to move away, but dared not. Was he giving her the chance now that he'd not done before? Would he let her go?

‘No, not a nun,' she stuttered. ‘But I could live a contemplative life there.' Her claim was a bold one and one that would be refuted by almost any person who knew her.

Suddenly, he stood behind her, grasping her shoulders and drawing her back against him. His body was like a stone wall, all hard with no softness to be felt anywhere. Sybilla knew enough about how men and women joined in carnal knowledge to know what part of him pressed against her back now, but she tried not to think of that. Then he leaned down and whispered again.

‘Would you give up all that you have, Lady Sybilla? Would you be able to obey and live quietly?'

He moved one arm across her, holding her to him while he used the other to slip into her hair and move it to one side. His breath tickled her neck now and she tried to ease away. Instead it opened the whole of her neck to him. Exposed, held securely against him, she was vulnerable in a way she'd never felt before. She should be crying out in fear, but her body reacted most strangely—her breasts swelled under the weight of his arm, her skin tingled yet ached for something more and the place between her thighs grew moist and heated.

‘Would you give up everything?'

The touch of his tongue on her skin made her jump. Then he kissed the same spot. Over and over he placed his mouth on the sensitive place and kissed it. She could not help the gasp that escaped when his teeth nipped
her skin, not enough to hurt but enough to send icy hot tremors through her whole body.

Enough to make her come to her senses!

‘And what, Lord Soren, do I give up?' she asked, straightening her head and tugging free. ‘Lands and people that are no longer mine? A husband who came within seconds of killing me and now plans to use me only as a brood mare? A life lived blind, unable to see or do anything that gave me pleasure or satisfaction? What exactly do I stand to lose by entering the convent?'

Time spun out between them as she stood in the darkness that was now her world, awaiting his response. Sybilla half-expected him to strike her now for her insolence, just as her father would have if she'd spoken to him in this manner. The touch of his mouth to hers was not what she expected.

This time he did not hold her in place. He simply placed his lips on hers and kissed her. She gasped at the feel of it and then felt his tongue slipping inside her mouth. Stunned, shocked and completely inexperienced in such things, Sybilla did not know what to do. She'd been kissed before—her parents, family, even her father's overlord—but never by someone in this intimate manner. When his tongue touched hers, swirling around it, and pressing more firmly against her mouth, Sybilla forgot about everything else.

He recognised his mistake as soon as he got close to her. Old habits died hard and his enjoyment of taking pleasure where he could came roaring back at him. This was his wife, after all—he could take her to bed and pleasure her and no one could naysay him. It was right…
his right. But her words took him out of his need for pleasure and to the heart of the matter.

He had come here to kill her.

He had taken her lands and everything and everyone she held dear, to what extent she still did not know.

He had stolen her sight and whatever life she could have had.

Sybilla had spoken the truth of it all, yet her mouth beckoned to him anyway. The urge to touch those full lips and silence her with pleasure overwhelmed his control. He would show her what she would miss if he had their marriage annulled and let her go to the convent.

So, he stole but one kiss.

Only to show her the folly of her belief that she had nothing to lose. To demonstrate that she would miss
something
. Instead he taught himself a lesson, one that would be difficult to forget.

The woman he'd married might be blind and might be innocent, but he could feel her arousal, feel it against his mouth and taste it on her tongue. If he continued and deepened the kiss the way his body urged him to, her mouth would soften even more against his, her breasts would swell in his hands, the nipples would tighten into buds and he would suck…

Merde
, he thought as he fought the passion that rose within him, he could have her beneath him in minutes, if not sooner, both of them panting and him kissing parts of her body she most likely had never considered having kissed… She would arch to his touch and call out his name…

Durward's voice, his laughter as he attacked from behind, echoed in Soren's head at that moment and he
pulled back at almost the instant he was about to surrender to the need to have her. He stepped back, releasing her mouth.

Her expression showed her surprise and her confusion. Though her eyes could not see, she blinked as though waking from a slumber and frowned. Her mouth, the one that would tempt him again this night in his dreams, closed into a thin line. The flush of arousal still coloured her cheeks.

Soren pushed down the concern he felt growing even as the passion cooled. He ruthlessly ignored all the things he knew she needed to hear from him, from a man of his experience, from her husband, and walked away. Picking up the clean garments near the tub, he dressed hurriedly and turned to face the door.

He would not give in now to weakness when it was his inner strength that had kept him alive this long. He could not relent and let her in or even close to him. He had almost made his escape when her soft voice echoed across the chamber.

‘Do you give me leave to go to the convent?'

It would be the easier of the possible paths to take. It would be almost the kindest thing to do rather than condemning her to the life he'd planned for her. It would make complete sense, considering her condition and her inability to carry out the duties expected of the lord's wife.

What had begun as teasing, as flirting, had turned deadly serious with only a kiss. Soren had plans, plans he'd paid for with his own flesh and blood, plans that he'd spent months making and refining and waiting to see come to fruition. Now, when everything was on the
edge of success, could he step back and forget all he'd suffered because of a kiss? The heartless monster everyone thought he'd become battled with the better man he always wanted to be in that moment.

As it turned out, it was a tie. Or a stalemate, depending on how he looked at it.

‘No, Lady Sybilla, you do not have my permission.'

He lifted the latch on the door and pulled it open. Stepping into the corridor without looking back, Soren breathed in and out. The coolness of the air there eased his way out and made it possible to breathe. At his direction, the guard had remained belowstairs, keeping the lady's maids there, too, so no one witnessed his hurried exit of her chambers.

Soren positioned the patch across the sunken area of flesh, then he placed the leather hood over his head and adjusted it. With those ready, he walked down the steps. Durward's laughter still tasked him, making him realise that he had lost the battle after all. The irony of wanting the woman he'd sworn to destroy was not lost on him, but neither did he forget that she almost gave herself over to him in that one moment of the kiss they shared.

And he wanted to keep her. He wanted the opportunity that she offered without even having knowledge of it herself. He wanted to be with a woman who shuddered in passion and not in horror. Damn if some needful place in his heart did not realise it and want her even more for it. Convent? His arse! Unfortunately, another part of his body seemed to be controlling his actions and it was not his head.

He passed by the guard whose duty it was to watch over Sybilla and her maids, who both stood with hands
clutched and twisting their garb as though expecting him to announce he'd killed her. Then Soren remembered what the entire keep seemed to suspect his reasons were for sending a bath to Sybilla's chambers and shook his head in disbelief. As he began to walk to the small chamber off the kitchen where he usually slept, he spoke to the one called Aldys.

‘Has she eaten today?' he asked. He suspected the answer, but wanted it confirmed or denied.

‘She was quite nervous, Lord Soren,' she began to explain. He waved off the rest of it.

‘On the morrow, she leaves that room. The weather has broken a bit and it should be pleasant at some time. When the sun is up, get her dressed and get her out.'

‘But, Lord Soren,' the woman pleaded, ‘she cannot see!'

‘She does not need sight to walk. Guide her. Both of you!' he said sharply. ‘You do your lady no service keeping her shut away in her room. It ends on the morrow.'

He nodded his head in the direction of the stairs, sending them to her now. He added one thing. ‘Do not offer her food or drink. Serve her if she asks, but do not mention it otherwise.'

The horror on their faces told him immediately that they mistook his instructions and they believed him planning to starve her into submission. He let out a frustrated breath and explained further. ‘Speak not of food to her. I will have the evening meal sent to her chambers and eat with her.'

It did not go well. Clearly the thought of eating with him turned their stomachs. ‘Do not question my orders, nor tell her of them. Do your duty or I will re-assign you
to ones you can perform adequately. Call on Guermont if you need assistance, but
get her out of that room
.'

The horror in their expressions did not ease. So be it. He cared not if they agreed or not. Soren understood better than most what the lady was going through. He'd survived the shock and numbness after regaining consciousness and then faced the permanence of his injuries and the changes they meant to his life. The worst time was when he'd prayed for death rather than wanting to live…like this.

She would reach that time of purgatory for her soul and her spirit. For now, Sybilla probably believed her sight would return. He was certain that she'd convinced herself even now that this was simply a temporary condition, that Teyen was wrong in his assessment of the severity of the injuries she suffered. But until she accepted her blindness would not go away, her soul would have no peace.

Soren had learned much in his own struggles, but never had he expected to be the one watching someone else experience what he had. Or expected to be the cause of it. For the first time in the months since he'd decided that he would live for vengeance, he now questioned whether or not he could keep up the pursuit of it.

Lord Gautier had taught him well that vengeance ate a man's soul bit by bit and now Soren wondered if that wasn't the truth of the matter. Though it had given him the strength to survive his dark night of purgatory, he considered that mayhap he would need something more to give him the strength to live.

He reached the room and closed the door. His meal sat waiting as he'd ordered and Soren sat on the stool to eat.
Removing the hood, he stretched his neck and shoulder, easing the ever-present tightness. As he sat alone eating, he realised that his desire for a bath alone had caused this chain of events. Later, as he lay unable to sleep, he thought he heard Lord Gautier's laughter again.

For the first time in months, he missed his friends Giles and Brice, who'd trained and fostered with him in Rennes. Bastards all three, they had somehow met and befriended Simon, Gautier's son and heir, and found themselves being tutored and raised by that wise man. After the battle at Hastings and once his friends knew he lived, they'd ridden off at the king's orders to claim their lands. He yearned to be fighting at their sides, as they'd always done, but it had taken months for him to recover and he'd joined them in battle just in time to help Brice chase the rebels from his lands.