Page 58 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
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In the days that followed,Eloise waited for her husband to send for her, but he did not. Ralph presided over Wildstorm and despite Eloise’s concerns, the estate was run efficiently with no signs of dissent. Despite Edwin’s warnings, Jeffrey willingly assisted Ralph, showing none of the resentment that he’d directed at Eloise.
Had his newfound cordiality been towards anyone but Ralph, Eloise would have rejoiced. But Ralph was not to be trusted. Though many of the household had fallen under Ralph’s spell, Eloise remained suspicious.
But a lone woman could do little against a warrior. Her best course of action was to appear meek and biddable, tend to the household and avoid him where possible. To her relief, other than to remind her that Harald had no wish to see her, Ralph spent little time in her company, and did not seek her out.
* * *
About a monthafter Harald’s accident, Ralph left Wildstorm with Jeffrey, to investigate further Saxon uprisings. With his absence, Eloise’s fears for Harald lessened, but still he did not send for her. Though Roswyn updated her on Harald’s progress, she took delight in reminding Eloise that he had no wish to set eyes on her.
In the days following Ralph’s departure, thick rainclouds smothered the sky, putting a stop to the works on the tower. The people of Wildstorm spent the days cold and shivering, going about their business inside, only venturing outside when necessary. With her enemy absent, Eloise hoped that she might be able to see Harald. She prepared a stew from a recipe of her mother’s—a light broth made from boiling poultry carcasses with vegetables. It had given her much comfort when she’d been ill as a child—nourishment to help the body heal, but not so rich as to overwhelm a fragile stomach.
She sent the broth to Harald’s chamber, but for the first three days, the tray was returned untouched, with instructions from Roswyn that Harald only wanted good Saxon food, not Norman poison.
On the fourth day, the rain stopped. By the afternoon, the sun had broken through the clouds. Eloise ventured outside, breathing in the warm air, still damp with moisture, relishing the faint aroma of damp grass.
The colors in the garden always looked brighter after rainfall. The green alone yielded a myriad of different shades—dark spikes of rosemary, the darker, glossier green of the small, round leaves of thyme. The surrounding grass completed the palette, a rich bright apple green. And at the far end of the garden—tall, purple tufts danced together in the breeze.
She crossed the garden and plucked a flower, crushing it between her fingers. She lifted her fingertips to breathe in the delicate aroma. Lavender. The garden at her home in Morigeaux had been filled with rows of lavender bushes. As a child she’d collected and dried the flowers, sprinkling them on the rushes on the floor of her chamber. The soothing aroma was always more potent at night, and it had helped to chase away her nightmares as a child—before her nightmares had become real.
Lost in her memories, she didn’t notice the sound of footsteps until he was almost upon her. Reminiscent of the first day they’d looked into each other’s eyes she turned to see Harald standing before her.
* * *
Harald opened his eyes.The constant drone of noise which had plagued him while he lay immobile and in pain for so many days had abated. Only silence greeted him when he called out. Roswyn—with her grating voice and rough hands—had gone.
Why had Eloise not visited him? Roswyn couldn’t be trusted with such a question but Beauvisage had answered honestly, despite knowing the pain such honesty would cause. Ralph said that she had no wish to see him. His wounded pride prevented him from persisting—it was easier to try to convince himself, and others, that he didn’t want her either.
But now Beauvisage had gone—he’d taken Jeffrey to undertake Harald’s duty. He should thank the king for sending such a capable man.
Roswyn seemed to have followed suit, though in her case, he welcomed her absence.
Now, his only companion was his conscience. An unwelcome companion on the best of days, its presence today was intolerable while he lay in pain. It brought forth the truth which the pain forced him to admit—to himself, if not to any other.
He missed his wife.
How often had his mind drifted toward the memory of her? A ship, lost at sea, will try to find a way back to the port—an animal separated from its herd will strive to return to its home. Eloise was his home. Where was she? Why did she not tend to him?
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and grimaced at the flame of pain shooting through his leg. He had to find her before Roswyn returned.
By the time he spotted her in the garden, his leg throbbed with pain. Gritting his teeth, he hobbled forward. The pain increased with each step, and he summoned all his strength to remain upright.
When she spotted him, she screamed.
“My lord! What are you doing? How could you be so foolish?”
Foolish? How dare she speak so!
“Woman, I have every right…” he growled but she interrupted and pointed to his leg.
“Look!”
A large red stain spreading across the bandage on his leg. The sight of it elicited the pain he’d previously banished to the back of his mind. He bit his tongue to shift his focus from the invisible knives which seemed to split his leg open.
She knelt at his feet, seemingly oblivious of the wet ground underfoot.
“Tell me if it hurts when I touch you.”
