Page 21 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
She closed her eyes in fear at the sight of his huge member jutting out from the nest of curls between his broad thighs. The heat from his body prickled against her skin as he drew closer. His eyes were dark with lust but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he caressed her arm.
He pushed her onto the bed and her trembling increased.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“N-no my Lord.”
He nudged her knees apart with his hands and she held her breath.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
“Look at me, Eloise,” he said, softly.
She opened her eyes. Tears blurred her vision but she caught the light of the candle reflected in his eyes.
“Tonight I will be gentle. You have my word.”
He kept his promise. She took no pleasure from their coupling, but she felt only a mild discomfort as he took her. He bore his weight on his elbows, taking care not to touch her deformed arm. After he finished inside her he moved onto his side, taking her with him and held her close. His chest was as solid as the stone walls of the hall, the steady thump of his heart the only sign he was a living, breathing man. Its deep, regular beat sang its own rhythm to her, soothing her, caressing her own aching heart.
She had not expected him to be kind.
She lay in his arms, waiting for him to send her to her own chamber. Her body shook with the effort to restrain a cry. A large hand brushed over her forehead.
“What ails you?”
“Nothing,” she replied softly, “I’m only thinking of the gifts sent to Gerda today. I would wish you to know that I would never see an act of kindness as a sign of weakness.”
“Go to sleep,” he said. “I want you to remain here with me tonight.” He spoke no more and his breathing deepened as he drifted into sleep.
Perhaps, beneath the barbaric exterior, lay a good man. What was it Edwin had said of his brother?
Give him time.
Chapter 6
The frigid January air penetrated the thick walls of Wildstorm Hall. The building works on the new castle were progressing, and the banded pattern of the French and English stone became more apparent as the walls gained height. Harald’s steward, Collin, oversaw the works, paid for by Eloise’s dowry, and the villagers appreciated the employment and its rewards. William had now been crowned king and Harald’s fears that his people would not accept Norman rule had all but dissipated. A mild winter with full bellies was all most men needed to feel cared for, instead of oppressed.
The occasional remark reached Harald’s ears and rumors of uprisings continually circulated. Men who’d lost brothers at Hastings would never forget, but Harald noticed his wife spending time with the women of the village who’d been widowed by the battle.
The meals held in the hall were now served on trenchers—slabs of stale bread which were later given to the neediest in the village. Eloise employed many of the widows to help clean and tidy the hall. It was much needed and hadn’t been done since Harald’s mother’s death, eight summers ago. Tapestries were taken outside to be beaten, floors were swept, and rushes collected from the river were spread over the floor, together with dried herbs. The dogs were tethered when inside the hall and fed separately after the meal had finished. Instead of throwing the bones to them, Eloise insisted the bones be set to boil overnight, producing a thick, gelatinous liquid to be used in preparing soups and stews, for the next meal or for distribution among the villagers.
Though England was in the grip of winter, it was not a harsh winter—thanks, in part, to the attentions his wife gave to ensuring that bellies were full, and the sick were tended to.
To Harald’s amusement the servants obeyed his wife’s instructions, despite her delivering them in such a quiet voice, so unlike his rough words, or Roswyn’s sharp tones. Sometimes a delicate hand applied carefully, yielded greater success than a heavy one. The arrow, wielded with accuracy, would always be deadlier than the axe, and Harald’s wife was a skilled archer.
* * *
“Have you seen her yet,my Lady?”
“Hush, Jeanette,” Eloise replied. She nodded toward Mildred who was organizing bandages at the other end of the outbuilding. “I’ve visited the convent but she hasn’t arrived yet.”
“I hope she’ll be happy there.”
“Sister Agatha will be with her. She loves her almost as much as I.”
“My Lady, of what do you speak?” Mildred asked.
