Page 35 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“I’ve missed you also,” Edwin replied. He gestured toward the tourney field. “I see the preparations for the tournament are progressing.”
“Can’t I persuade you to enter?” Harald asked, “for the family honor?”
Edwin laughed. “I’m no horseman, brother, and well you know it, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you were crowned the victor.” He lowered his voice, his tone becoming graver. “But what of the melee? Doesn’t it concern you that its likeness to a real battle may bring forth your nightmares?”
Edwin knew him too well.
“My nightmares are lessening,” Harald said. “With the most recent, my wife…” he broke off, remembering Eloise’s tender administrations, he gentle voice and the soft brush of her lips on his forehead.
“Did she witness it?”
“Aye,” Harald sighed, “and she gave me comfort. She said that the fears we fight in our dreams enable us to be strong during the day.”
“Perhaps she has fears of her own that visit her at night,” Edwin said.
“Aye, she does.”
“And you give her comfort in return?”
Harald’s cheeks warmed with shame at the memory. “She told me to keep away from her and I sent her from my chamber.”
Edwin did not respond, but his disapproval hung in the air. The two men strolled toward the hall in silence. At length, frustration overcame Harald.
“What would you have me do, brother?”
“I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do,” Edwin said, “but your wife must have a reason for her nightmares, as you do for yours.” Edwin raised a hand, anticipating Harald’s protest. “She may not have seen death and suffering in battle, but perhaps she’s experienced something to give her cause to suffer as you do. You say she gave you comfort—from whom shouldsheseek it?”
“From her lover?”
Edwin let out a sigh of exasperation. “You still insist upon her infidelity?”
“I know a maiden when I take one and she confessed to being sullied—she even kept a lock of his hair.”
At that moment, the subject of their conversation emerged from the kitchens and crossed the courtyard. She called out a greeting and one of the maidservants emerged from an outbuilding, a child of about eight summers clutching her hand. The child released her hand and limped over to Eloise. His name was Alfred, Harald recalled, a peasant boy, lame since birth. His mother had died bringing him into the world and his father was one of the many killed at Hastings. How Alfred had lived since, Harald neither knew nor cared.
But Eloise cared. She drew the child into her arms, then lifted his tunic to inspect his leg. From a distance, Harald could discern a splint, tightly bound to the leg by the clean bandages Eloise always used. She took the child’s hand and returned to the kitchen, dropping a curtsey to Harald and Edwin as she passed.
“I see no sinner,” Edwin said. “I see only a kind and gentle lady.”
Harald snorted. “She appears to be very fond ofyou, brother.”
“Jealous?” Edwin’s laugh subsided almost before it had begun as Harald glowered at him.
“I will not be taken for a fool,” Harald said. “Do you forget the pain and humiliation I suffered at the hands of that bitch Margery? No woman can be trusted.”
“You honestly believe the gentle creature you married to be one such as Margery or Roswyn?” Edwin asked. “I’d have credited you with more sense. Unless, of course, she transforms into a seductress when she shares your bed.”
“She is as I expected—a cold Norman bitch.” Harald winced as the harsh word left his lips and he shook his head as his conscience pricked him. Forgive me, Edwin, I should not have said that.”
Edwin raised an eyebrow, though whether it was at Harald’s profanity, or his apology, he did not know.
“Does your pride suffer because she doesn’t scream with pleasure when you take her?” Edwin asked. “Your wife is no seductress, brother. Her cries of pleasure may be rare, but they’ll be true.”
“You speak like a harlot,” Harald said. “Marlin said the same when I last saw her.”
Edwin frowned. “You’re still visiting whores?”
“Aye.”
