Page 6 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“I wish you’d wed the brother,” he said. “A gentler man would suit you better.”
“Papa, we both know that a gentle appearance can disguise the monster beneath.”
Papa kissed her forehead and led her out of the chapel.
* * *
The noisein the dining hall was deafening—cheering, raucous male laughter, and the high-pitched shrieks of women. Eloise had been tutored in the Saxon tongue, but it sounded harsh and barbaric compared to her native language.
She recoiled at the sight before her. A long table was laden with carcasses at which men tore pieces of meat off with their bare hands, laughing, mouths full, sending pieces of partly-chewed food over the table. Whores sat on their laps, shrieking with pleasure as the men buried their faces in their bosoms. Huge dogs roamed among the guests who tossed half-eaten joints to the floor, cheering to see the beasts snarl at each other as they fought over the bones.
Edwin was nowhere to be seen, but in the middle of the party, Eloise’s new husband lay slumped over a table, his hand grasping a goblet of wine. Next to him sat a woman; beautiful and voluptuous, with thick red tresses tumbling over her shoulders. Though finely dressed, she displayed her wares as eagerly as the whores. She looked up, triumph in her eyes as her gaze met Eloise’s, and a smile curled across her lips.
Eloise looked away.
“Papa, I’m tired,” she said. “Have Jeanette take me to the bridal chamber. I’ll await my husband there.”
* * *
Edwin reachedthe hall and almost bumped into Alain de Morigeaux. The Norman lord stood watching the revelers, disgust in his eyes. The bride was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s the Lady Eloise?” Edwin asked.
“My daughter has retired to the bridal chamber. She’s tired from her journey and today has been an ordeal.”
His voice could not disguise his disapproval, or his concern for his daughter.
“I am sure she’ll be happy here,” Edwin said.
“Do you seek to assuremeof that,” Morigeaux replied, “or are you also trying to convince yourself?”
Edwin’s face warmed with shame under the older man’s stern gaze. Many fathers viewed their daughters as chattel—instruments to secure alliances. But Alain evidently cherished his daughter. Beneath the anger, concern for her welfare sparked in his gray eyes – the eyes of a man who still mourned his son. Henri de Morigeaux had been killed at Hastings, his blood mingling with that of the Saxons he’d fought.
Edwin offered his hand. “Forgive me, my Lord. She’ll be taken care of.”
Alain gripped Edwin’s wrist and pulled him close.
“Permit me to be honest,” he hissed. “In a little under a sennight I return to Morigeaux, leaving my little lamb—my only child, now,—alone in this den of wolves with only her maidservant for company. What manner of care would you deem that to be?”
“These are good people,” Edwin replied.
“I pray you’re not mistaken.” The old man’s voice hardened but moisture glistened in his eyes. “She’s all I have,” he said, his voice thickening.
“She’ll be taken care of,” Edwin said. “Despite my brother’s appearance, I assure you he’d never let her come to harm.”
“I see I must be content with that,” de Morigeaux said, then he turned his back on Edwin and left.
Few wedding feasts took place with both the bride and her father absent. Edwin watched the old man retreat, then entered the hall. He sat beside his brother and sent Roswyn on her way with a sharp word. He disliked the woman immensely, sensing the predatory nature beneath her earthy beauty. Though she was Jeffrey’s wife she still managed to coax money out of Harald, dressing herself and acting as if she were the lady of the hall. She had no right to take the bride’s place at the feast. And Harald had no right to encourage her.
Harald lifted his head and drained his goblet.
“Brother, are you insane?” Edwin snarled. “You’ve insulted Alain de Morigeaux with your boorish behavior. Do you think William will overlook this? You should treat your wife properly on the day of your wedding, even if you’re not man enough to do so afterwards.”
Harald snorted. “I didn’t ask to be married.”
“So you’ve said on countless occasions. But it’s done and you should make the best of it. Consider this marriage as one of your battles. Plan a strategy to ensure success.”
“Success!” Harald roared. “Like the success I enjoyed at Hastings? Do you suggest I approach my wife with an axe?”
