Married to Her Enemy

‘I like it loose.’

She glanced up in surprise. She’d thought that he was already asleep, but he was propped up on one elbow, watching the progress of her fingers through her hair admiringly.

‘I can never decide if it’s dark gold or light brown...’ He seemed to be genuinely considering the question.

‘It’s hair.’ She dropped her hands at once, tempted to find the nearest shears and give herself a cropped Norman haircut just to spite him.

‘Obviously.’ Pale brows arched upwards. ‘How’s the floor? Comfortable?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘Good.’ He settled down again. ‘I’d hate to inconvenience you on our wedding night.’

Before long his breathing altered and she glowered into the darkness. She hadn’t heard him snore at all during their journey to Redbourn, and now she was almost certain he was doing it on purpose. Worse still, the wooden floor felt as hard as rock. She wasn’t accustomed to luxury, only a straw-filled mattress, but no matter how she twisted or turned she couldn’t get comfortable. At this rate she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep.

She sighed, inwardly conceding that she ought to have shared the bed. He was her husband, after all. There was nothing wrong in it. And, no matter how angry he was, she trusted him not to do anything she didn’t want.

It was what she wanted—that was the problem. Despite everything, the thought of sharing a bed with him wasn’t nearly as repellent as it ought to be. Far from it. And she definitely didn’t want him to find out about that.

She curled up into a ball, trying to make a cocoon of body heat. The fire was fading and she felt too cold to sleep now—probably due to the icy presence of her husband. Surely a knight ought to give up his bed for a lady? Or did those rules not apply to Saxon wives?

And then he was beside her, lifting her up before she knew what was happening.

She squealed, looking towards the door in panic. ‘Are the Earl’s men here?’

‘No, but we’ll neither of us get any sleep if you’re going to writhe about all night. Get in!’

He laid her down on the bed, gently this time, drawing the blankets in around her before striding to the door and dragging a wooden coffer across it.

‘Is that better?’

She nodded, answering a different question, enjoying the feathery comfort of the mattress, not to mention the warm space left by his body. This was what she’d been afraid of, and yet the very last thing she wanted was to go back to the floor.

‘Good.’ He walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in. ‘Like it or not, Aediva, we’re stuck in this together. We might as well try to make the best of it. Now, get some sleep. Trust me, I’ll break the arm of any man who comes in here.’

Chapter Fourteen

Somehow they’d come together in sleep. Svend opened his eyes to find their bodies entwined, her cheek nestling against his chest as his arm curved protectively around her waist, holding her to him as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

So much for punishing her. He hadn’t even been able to leave her on the floor.

Instinctively he started to pull away, but she made a faint murmur of protest and he stopped, wondering how to extricate himself without waking her. Not that he particularly wanted to. She felt soft and warm, and her hair smelt of honeysuckle and daisies, heady and intoxicating. He took a deep breath, inhaling the now familiar scent, fighting the urge to pull her even closer.

He’d slept surprisingly well beside her, so deeply that he had no idea which of them had initiated the embrace, but their bodies fitted together perfectly, like two parts of a whole. There was no other way to describe it. Her being there felt right.

He felt a stirring in his loins and shifted his lower body quickly. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up and find him like this. He’d come this far through the night in bed with her—he wasn’t about to lose control now. They might be married, but nothing else between them had changed. She’d still deceived him and he still couldn’t trust her.

Even if, lying beside her, he could hardly trust himself.

He pulled away—determinedly this time. But she rolled after him, eyes still closed, arms outstretched, as if she wanted to hold him still. A surge of desire coursed through him and he stamped it down quickly. Judging from the sound of horses and marching feet outside, not to mention the slivers of light pouring in through gaps under the rafters, he’d already stayed too long abed. He had duties to attend to—the Earl’s departure, for one.

He dressed quickly, pulling the coffer away from the door as quietly as he could before descending the tower steps and stepping outside. The sun was even higher than he’d expected, the bailey already half empty as the Earl’s army marched out through the castle gates.

‘The Warden emerges at last!’ The Earl swung his destrier round in greeting. ‘We’d almost given up hope of seeing you this morning.’

‘My lord.’ Svend inclined his head. ‘I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye and expressing my thanks once again.’

‘For Redbourn or for your wife? I’ve never known you to be late for anything before.’