Page 61 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
Her eyes widened, but he shook his head. “I merely wish to hold you in my arms.”
She nodded and crawled under the furs beside him. She helped him onto his side, then let him curl his body round hers, pulling her close with his free arm. He breathed in the scent of her hair, a faint aroma of lavender, before sleep claimed him.
* * *
Eloise awoke in the night,at first unsure where she was. Harald lay beside her, his body still wrapped round hers. In sleep, free from pain, his face looked gentler—kinder. It was as if in sleep, he revealed his true self. During the day he had a role to play—that of lord and warrior. To fulfil the role successfully required strength, brutality and resolve. He had to show his people that he was strong enough to preserve their Saxon heritage, at the same time as demonstrating his unwavering loyalty to William.
It was a delicate balance to master. Men such as Jeffrey openly opposed the Normans—whereas the neighboring Norman lords still doubted Harald’s loyalty to the king. As for Beauvisage…
Eloise suppressed a shudder. Ralph had motives of his own.
Aye—during the day, Harald had much to harden himself against. But at night, when asleep, warrior was replaced by the man—a man she’d begun to care deeply for—even love. But to show love would be a weakness, which others—particularly Roswyn and Beauvisage—would exploit.
“Oh Harald.”
She kissed his hand and held it to her face, now wet with tears.
“I could love you, Harald, so much, if only you would let me.”
* * *
Harald waitedfor his wife’s breathing to steady enough to indicate that she’d fallen asleep. Only then, did he open his eyes. The tears on her face glistened in the candlelight but it was the words she’d spoken as she’d cried herself to sleep, that etched themselves into his heart.
She loved him.
Chapter 15
Over the following month, Eloise tended to her husband almost constantly. Unexpectedly she found his company enjoyable. She’d spent so little time in her life in the company of men—what would a man have to speak of all day? And to a woman?
But he proved to be a pleasant companion. He spoke of his childhood and the songs his mother had taught him. At her shy request, he even sung for her in his deep, rich voice.
His eyes softened on speaking of his love for his brother and the games they’d played as children before he was fostered. When his expression darkened at the mention of his fostering, she steered the conversation away, speaking of the herbs she tended to in the Wildstorm garden and their restorative and culinary properties.
Roswyn returned, but Harald insisted she was not to plague him with her presence. In a calm voice Eloise relayed his instructions. To her surprise, Roswyn complied, a sly smile on her lips, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, as if in anticipation of something.
Sweet heaven—had she perhaps discovered Violette’s existence? Or worse, the child’s whereabouts? Had Roswyn been plotting with Beauvisage?
A visit to the convent was necessary, if only to assure herself of the child’s safety. Sister Agatha would protect Violette with her life, but the nuns were no match for Beauvisage. If there was the slightest chance of Violette being exposed, she must be moved elsewhere—and the only man she trusted to help her was Papa.
* * *
After returningfrom visiting the convent with a lock of Violette’s hair concealed in her basket, Eloise broached the subject of Papa visiting, to her husband, explaining how much she missed him, and how he might be of use to Harald during his recovery, in Beauvisage’s absence. Guilt plagued her at the deception, but she dare not tell Harald about Violette. She had no wish to break the fragile bond which had formed between them.
But she was not the only one harboring a secret. Eloise was certain that Roswyn plotted something. The woman continued to appear excited, flirting with the men while her husband was still absent with Beauvisage, and casting sly glances in Eloise’s direction.
As Harald grew stronger, Eloise encouraged him to take a few steps about his chamber, at first just a small journey to the door and back again. Torfin cut a thick stick on which Harald leaned, to lessen the strain on his leg. After a sennight, Eloise declared him fit to walk outside.
Hand in hand they stepped into the garden where she pointed out the different herbs, picking their leaves and crushing them between her fingers to release the different aromas—the sweet, strong scent of mint, the earthier, woody rosemary. As they reached the lavender bushes, he plucked a stem and handed it to her.
“My Lady.”
She took it from him and he grasped her hand and kissed her fingers, his rich brown eyes glowing with—what? With love?
Then he blinked and the moment was gone.
As the day drew to a close, they returned to his chamber and he drew her to him for a kiss, gently unlacing her gown before brushing his lips against her throat. Rough, calloused fingers caressed her shoulders with the tenderness of a gentle breeze. Soft warm lips on her throat sent a pulse of heat through her body which grew into a fire as the tip of his tongue traced a path to her nipple. His hot mouth enveloped the little peak, teasing it with his tongue while it stiffened to a point under his loving attentions.
He drew his mouth away and sighed in frustration.
