Page 16 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“She’smywoman, not yours,” Harald said, flinching at the petulant tone of his voice.
“I understand that,” Edwin replied, “but there’s no reason to treat her ill. She’s the means by which you have kept your estate, when others have lost theirs. You wish for a son, do you not?”
Harald sighed. “Aye.”
“Then you must learn compassion, brother, for there’s no better way to sire an heir than with a willing and eager wife—not one who quakes in fear at the sight of her husband.”
“I’m not a monster,” Harald said.
Edwin took his hand. “I know, brother. You’re a good man at heart. Remember the man you were before Margery destroyed your faith.”
“Don’t mention that whore’s name!” Harald roared.
“I must,” Edwin said, “if only to remind you that not all women are the same. Lady Eloise is not Margery. Treat your wife properly. Do it for your sake if not for hers. Do not risk William’s anger.”
Harald sighed and clasped his brother’s hand.
“I may not have wanted her,” he said, “but I will abide by my vows. Come—let us part as friends.”
* * *
The next morningEdwin left Wildstorm. He would be gone for some time—William had spoken of cataloguing the estates and lands of England, and he’d asked Edwin to assist his own scholars.
The two men embraced while Jeffrey readied Edwin’s white gelding.
“I regret not being able to take my leave of your wife, brother,” Edwin said carefully. “Be so kind as to bid my farewell when you see her. Do you know where she might be?”
“In the village, I believe,” Harald replied.
“Ah, yes, I hear she’s been visiting the poor of the village,” Edwin said. “Widows left with nothing after Hastings. Have you ever visited them, brother?”
“For what purpose?” Harald asked, ignoring the swell of guilt. “It’s a woman’s duty.”
Edwin embraced him. “Be well, brother,” he said. “Heed my words regarding your wife. Do not judge her too harshly for coming to you impure.”
First his wife’s father and now his own brother. How could it be that Edwin—always the more intelligent, the more perceptive of the two brothers—sought to champion Eloise, yet he’d always loathed Roswyn?
Roswyn’s husband, Jeffrey, helped Edwin mount his horse. Did Jeffrey care that Roswyn was as free with her favors as the village harlots? Did he feel the same bitter betrayal at Roswyn’s whoring, as Harald felt on discovering Eloise’s lack of virtue?
Eloise…
Why did his heart ache with betrayal at the thought of his wife in the arms of another?
Swallowing down his conscience, Harald waved Edwin farewell, then he returned to the hall in search of his sword. A morning’s training would clear his mind and dissipate the knot of guilt, an unwelcome visitor which had taken root in his heart.
* * *
Eloise shookcrumbs out of her basket, empty after her morning in the village. The family she visited had been wary of her at first—the husband had lost a leg at Hastings, and his wife was too heavy with child to care for him properly.
So many in the village had lost almost everything, but they gave her a purpose—people to care for, and a duty to fulfil. If she could not openly care forher, then she could at least care for these people.
She crouched behind a tree, waited for the birdsong to change—warning calls replaced by the territorial song of the males. The birds of the forests surrounding Morigeaux had grown to trust her. The feel of their little feet as they perched on her open palm offering crumbs had given her much comfort during the darkest period of her life, when she had begun to heal in body and mind. Yet some wounds would never heal completely.
The birdsong joined the sound of the breeze rushing through the trees and the gentle lull of the nearby river. Then a slow thud of hoofbeats approached from behind. She stood and looked towards the direction of the noise, but with the sun in her eyes, she could only distinguish a blurred shape. The rider drew nearer until he was almost on top of her. The horse was a huge black destrier, throwing a large shadow, blocking out the light. The rider called out her name and leered at her, big even white teeth glittering. Cold blue eyes flashed hungrily and her skin tightened with terror, turning her blood to ice. The instinct to run coursed through her but her legs trembled so badly she could not move. She opened her mouth to cry for help, but her chest tightened and no sound came. She heard a young girl’s voice, screaming in agony—a voice from the past, pleading for mercy...
“Lady Eloise!” Edwin’s voice broke through the layer of fear. He dismounted and took her in his arms as her legs buckled beneath her.
“God’s bones, woman! Has something happened?”
