Married to Her Enemy

For half a moment he wondered if he were imagining the vision before him. With the child in her arms she looked calmer, softer, a completely different woman from the spitting wildcat of the previous day. She’d changed her clothes too. Her mud-splattered tunic had been replaced by a woodland-green gown. He ran his gaze appreciatively over the close-fitting contours of the fabric, his body reacting despite himself. She was swaying from side to side, cooing gently as she tried to soothe the grumbling child, slim hips rolling in a slow and alarmingly distracting rhythm.

He forced his body back under control. This was the second time she’d caught him by surprise in this very hall. What was the matter with him? She seemed to undermine all his defensive instincts. What was it he’d wanted to tell her? Something about his authority...

‘You almost woke him!’ She hissed through her teeth. ‘You were stamping like a whole herd of cattle!’

Svend raised an eyebrow, the vision of loveliness dissipating before his eyes. It was her, no doubt about it. That fiery glare would have given her away even if her adder’s tongue had not.

He cleared his throat deliberately loudly. ‘It’s time to go. My men are waiting.’

‘I can’t.’ She shook her head so vigorously that tendrils of hair broke free from the sides of her headdress. ‘Not yet. It’s taken me half the night to calm him. If I stop moving he’ll wake up for certain.’

Svend narrowed his gaze critically. Her face looked wan and drawn, her eyes circled with dark shadows. Had she slept at all?

‘Have you been pacing all night?’

‘No!’

Her denial came too quickly and he scowled ferociously. ‘I told you to get some rest! For pity’s sake, woman, we have a day’s ride ahead.’

‘I did rest!’ Her chin jutted upwards unconvincingly. ‘But Eadgyth needed some sleep too.’

‘Then you should have asked one of my men for help!’

‘Ask a Norman?’

Her voice dripped with scorn and he clenched his teeth, trying to restrain his temper. ‘Is it too much to hope that you’ve packed?’

‘No.’ She gestured towards a sack by the door. ‘I did it last night, if you must know.’

‘Well, that’s something.’ He scooped up the bag and untied the leather cords, ignoring her shocked intake of breath as he rummaged inside.

‘What are you doing? Those are my things!’

He bit back a smile with effort. It was quite a spectacle, watching her lose her temper and try to comfort a baby at the same time. He wouldn’t have thought such an endeavour were possible.

‘You’ll have to forgive me for searching for weapons...’ he paused meaningfully ‘...under the circumstances.’

‘I’m not a fool!’

‘I never said that you were. Now, say goodbye to your sister. We should have left an hour ago.’

‘I can’t wake her. She needs to rest.’

‘Then don’t say goodbye—let her sleep. Either way, leave the baby with the old woman and let’s go.’

He fixed her with a hard stare, challenging her to argue. She was nearly trembling with anger, every muscle in her body taut with tension, eyes sparking so brightly he could almost feel the heat. If she’d been holding anything other than a baby he was quite certain she’d have thrown it at him by now.

He swung her bag over his shoulder, deliberately relaxing his stance to present an open target.

Her eyes flashed and he found himself smiling sardonically. She was a wildcat, in truth. Surely any man would enjoy taming her—or at least trying to.

‘I need a few moments.’ Her voice was clipped with anger.

‘A few,’ he agreed, turning his back and strolling casually towards the door, not even bothering to turn for his parting shot. ‘Just be quick or I’ll come and carry you out myself.’

* * *