Page 23 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“Aye.” She turned her head away, her smile fading.
He should be pleased at her reluctance for long speeches—it was a rare woman indeed, who didn’t plague a man with words and demands. But her unresponsiveness frustrated him.
“Tell me of it.”
She turned her clear blue eyes to him. “There’s little to tell,” she said. “I learned as a child and often rode with my brother Henri and his friends…”
She broke off, her voice catching. Her hands curled into fists and her horse shook its head from side to side before she collected herself and regained control. Harald caught the expression in her eyes, the flash of sickening, paralyzing fear. Had she fallen off a horse once? Might that explain her deformed arm?
Or had something else frightened her? Was she, too, plagued by nightmares of Hastings, the battle in which she’d lost her brother?
“Are you well, wife?” he asked.
“Aye.”
He longed to inquire further, to elicit more than a single word, whispered in a pained voice. But a shout from ahead heralded sight of their quarry, and he spurred his horse on.
* * *
Eloise watchedher husband join his men at the front of the party. The riders gained speed, chasing the deer deeper into the forest, but she hung back until they disappeared among the trees. Finding a small area where a break in the trees let in a ray of sunlight, she drew her horse to a halt and dismounted.
Her husband’s inquiry had affected her more than expected. The vision swirled in her mind of the last time she’d gone hunting—a handsome face with dark blue eyes, brutal hands throwing her to the ground, a burst of agony in her arm—and elsewhere. She bent over and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to retch. Eventually her breathing eased, but the thunder in her ears grew louder.
A noise came from the direction the riders had gone—thrashing and snapping twigs. Then a deer leapt out from the trees. Eyes wide, dark pupils surrounded by reddened irises, the animal ran straight at her. Foam dripped from lips drawn back to show yellowing teeth. Two spears protruded from its flank, swaying with the animal’s movement, the fur reddening with dark patches of blood where it had been impaled.
The deer leapt forward, forelegs crumpling with the force of the landing and it toppled head first to land at her feet, body thrashing, scuffing the forest floor, scattering dirt and leaves. An inhuman sound rattled from its throat, the cry of an animal that knew death was near.
Eloise fell to her knees beside the animal. She held out her hand and for a moment a connection existed between woman and beast and she whispered a silent prayer.
I’m sorry for your pain, for I cannot ease it.
A thundering crash interrupted her prayer and she looked up to find herself surrounded by men on horseback, their mounts circling in the excitement of the chase, breath exploding from their nostrils in quick, strong puffs, visible in the cold air. Dogs ran among the horses’ legs, snapping and snarling at the helpless animal before her.
Harald sat astride his horse, holding a spear aloft.
“Wife, move away.”
Rooted to the spot, she quivered at the sight of him, the tip of his spear aimed directly at her, before she looked down at the deer which stared back, a plea for mercy in its eyes. She moved her hand towards the animal’s face before placing it on the warm, damp fur, feeling the animal’s fear as the tremors from its body reverberated into her arm.
“God’s bones you foolish woman—move away!”
She sat still, trembling, unable to take her eyes away from the deer.
A flash of a movement blurred in the corner of her eye before the animal let out a scream. A surge of blood spurted upwards, scattering droplets onto her gown before settling into a pulsing rhythm, seeping into the earth, draining the animal’s life essence. The deer’s eye continued to watch her until it dulled, the spark of life extinguished.
Harald had driven his spear through the animal’s throat.
Chapter 7
When Eloise was finally able to look away she saw her husband arguing with Jeffrey, his expression dark with fury. Jeffrey sat astride his horse, bowing his head in submission while Harald’s voice roared into the morning air. Finally Jeffrey rode towards her, dismounted and pulled her to her feet.
Ignoring her, Harald nodded at Wulfstan who began the process of unmaking the deer –carving it into pieces to be divided among them. Jeffrey led her back to her own mount, and lifted her onto the saddle as easily as if she were a child. He took her reins and ignoring her protests, led her away. She turned round to glimpse the dogs as they were let loose on the remains of the carcass—the reward for their morning’s work—as Harald looked on with not so much as a backwards glance, as if he’d already forgotten her existence.
Would that she could forget what she’d witnessed! But the baying of the dogs and the bloodstains on her gown told a different tale.
Bloodstains…
She closed her eyes, but the image remained—a nun holding a garment soaked in blood—blood which ran down her arm and thighs, washing away her innocence and opening her eyes to the realities of the world.
