‘For both, of course.’
‘Then I’m glad you’re enjoying them.’ FitzOsbern’s smile widened as his mount stamped at the ground impatiently. ‘Redbourn’s a fine castle. You’ve earned it—now take care of it.’
‘Yes, my lord.?
?
‘And remember I’m counting on you. Don’t let me down, Danemark.’
Svend nodded sombrely, watching as the Earl and his knights thundered out through the gates, most of them looking distinctly the worse for wear. In the bright light of day even Hugh’s good-natured face looked unusually strained, his brown eyes bloodshot and bleary as he waved farewell.
At last they were gone and he glanced back up at the tower, his thoughts returning to the woman in his bed, before forcing his attention back to the bailey.
FitzOsbern was right. Redbourn was a fine castle. It was a formidable example of Norman engineering, and it was his. He could still scarcely believe it. The building work was nearing completion—the masons’ hammers echoed loudly in the morning air—but now that the army had gone he could see Saxon structures too: wooden dwellings, stables and barns scattered in amidst the new Norman stone buildings.
He felt a twinge of unease looking at the two different worlds, Saxon and Norman, side by side and yet distinctly apart, as if the differences between them were too great to merge into one.
That was a sign, if ever he’d seen one.
He frowned. What the hell was wrong with him? He ought to be happy. He had everything he’d ever wanted and more. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about one woman?
He shook his head impatiently, gazing out over the battlements. The day was cold but bright, with thin wisps of cloud scudding across a pale blue sky—perfect for a ride to clear his head. Rays of sunshine were kissing the tops of the hills in the distance, as if challenging him to catch them, and he felt a shiver of anticipation.
But sunshine wasn’t all he had to catch. The Earl had been explicit in his instructions, giving him a month to clear the county of rebel incursions and establish Norman control. As far as the first days of his marriage went, hunting down his wife’s countrymen made for an ominous start, but those were his orders. Otherwise he might find himself out of a castle as quickly as he’d found himself in one.
He set his jaw determinedly and made for the stables, summoning his men as he passed. The sooner they got started the better. Idle soldiers made for ill discipline and worse behaviour. He’d set a bad enough example this morning, by tarrying in bed. It was time to get back to work. That was what they were there for.
And this time there wouldn’t be a woman to distract him.
* * *
Aediva felt it the moment Svend moved away, heard herself murmuring in response. Unconsciously, she reached out towards him and then froze, hardly daring to breathe as he dressed and left the room without her.
Then she opened her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. That was that. The door had stayed closed and somehow she’d got through her wedding night untouched and unscathed. As far as anyone else was concerned the marriage contract was sealed and she was Svend’s wife.
She stretched her arms, rolling into the warm space left by his body. She didn’t know how their bodies had ended up together, but she hadn’t wanted him to move. She hadn’t felt repulsed or horrified or even reluctant. She’d felt safe in his arms, safer than she’d felt in a long time, as if she somehow belonged there.
But it wasn’t real. He’d made it clear enough how he felt about her. And she didn’t want a man who didn’t trust her, no matter how safe she felt in his arms.
She heard voices outside and strained to listen, but the words were muffled, followed by ribald laughter. They were probably laughing about her. She wanted to bury her head under the covers and stay there, but what jokes would they make about her then? Besides, she wasn’t going to hide as if she had done anything to feel ashamed or guilty about. She’d done what was necessary to protect her people. Just as Svend had done what was necessary for his reward. That was their arrangement.
The fact that he’d carried her to bed and she’d woken up in his arms meant nothing.
In any case, she had her own business to attend to. Now that the Earl was leaving, she ought to try and find out what had really happened between Cille and de Quincey. If what Svend had told her was true, then somebody in Redbourn had to know something.
‘Lady Aediva?’ A maid poked her head around the door. ‘The Warden thought you might be hungry. I’ve brought you some porridge.’
‘Oh...thank you.’ She felt a moment’s surprise. Apparently Svend had been thinking about her even as he’d left.
The maid handed her a bowl and Aediva looked at her thoughtfully. There was something familiar about her round face and strawberry blonde curls.
‘Were you one of my sister’s maids? I think I’ve seen you before.’
‘Yes, my lady, I was with Lady Cille when she was in Redbourn.’
‘Judith!’ She sprang forward impulsively, grasping the other woman’s hands. ‘You’re Judith!’
The maid nodded shyly. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember me.’