Page 8 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“’Tis you who are kind, Lady.”
“Today, I must first look after my husband,” Eloise said. “Would you show me the herb garden?”
“‘Tis not a task for one such as I.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Lady Roswyn says that only the steward or the senior servants are allowed to address the principal lady of the household.”
“Who’s Roswyn?”
“Jeffrey’s wife,” Mona replied. “Jeffrey leads Harald’s soldiers.”
“And does this Roswyn consider herself the principal lady of the household?” Eloise demanded.
Mona cast her eyes down, fear coloring her voice. “Forgive me, my Lady.”
“No matter,” Eloise said. “I shall decide for myself who escorts me to the gardens. Come, I’ll enjoy your company this morning. I’m in need of restorative herbs – mint, chamomile – to soothe a troubled constitution.”
“We have the herbs you seek.” Mona bobbed a curtsey and led Eloise and Jeanette into the gardens. They approached a walled part of the garden where a wooden bench had been placed in the shadow of a tree. The whole garden had been fashioned in harmony with Mother Nature, the trees and shrubs forming sensual, organic shapes, in direct contrast to the hard lines of the more formal gardens in Morigeaux.
“This garden is beautiful!” Eloise exclaimed. “I shall enjoy exploring Wildstorm.”
“Then wait here, Lady.” Mona said. “I’ll find the herbs you seek.”
“Very well, but may Jeanette accompany you? I’m anxious for her to learn your tongue for she only knows a few words.”
After the servants left, Eloise closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of the sun on her face. Mesmerized by the birdsong around her, she didn’t hear footsteps approaching until a voice called out in French. She turned to see two men watching her, one much taller than the other. She lifted her gaze and found herself looking into the dark eyes of her husband.
* * *
Harald woke to an empty bed.Perhaps his marriage had been a distasteful dream. No—the trunk beside the bed, bearing the Morigeaux crest, told him otherwise. His head throbbed as if a battle on horseback raged inside his brain. The sour taste in his mouth when he belched made him take a deep breath in order to retain the contents of his stomach.
A faint imprint on the other side of the bed was the only evidence of his wife’s existence. A hazy memory entered his mind—a woman lying beside him, the smooth pale skin on her back so unlike his own. Good—he must have consummated the marriage. Now he could banish her to her own chamber and hope his seed had taken root so he had no need to touch her again.
Slowly, he stood, taking time to focus on keeping still when he felt the ground shift beneath him. Barely noting how neatly his clothes had been folded, he pulled them on and stumbled out of the chamber in search of his wife.
Edwin, already up, bumped into him in the passage, a servant by his side.
“I trust you’re reaping the fruits of your excesses of last night, brother.”
“I’m in no mood for your sermons,” Harald said. “I’m looking for my wife.”
Edwin gestured to the manservant. “Torfin tells me she’s in the gardens with her maidservant.”
“Then let me partake of some ale before I have to look upon her.”
Edwin chuckled. “You’ll have to see her when you’re sober eventually.”
The brothers strolled outside. The air was turning cold, but the sun still produced some heat. Harald prayed for a mild winter. His people had suffered enough this year.
They rounded a corner and caught sight of a woman clad in a plain homespun tunic. She had her back to them. Her hair, scandalously loose round her shoulders, was a warm gold color, the ends lifting in the breeze.
“You there! Wench!” Edwin called out. She turned and looked up at Harald. Her eyes were an extraordinary blue—the color of a summer sky—but she lowered them almost immediately and dropped a curtsey. Harald found himself tongue-tied at the sight of her. She had an ethereal beauty, as if she were a creature from another world. Her features were delicate—large expressive eyes and a gentle mouth, lips lifted in a smile of greeting.
“Where’s your mistress?” Edwin asked in French but she shook her head and responded in French.
“I do not understand you, sir.”
