Page 47 of The Saxon Lord's Unwanted Bride
“I lost a friend in Henri,” Ralph said, “and I’ll die before I lose another friend. You have my word, Harald, that no man, or woman, shall come between us. I have learned my lesson.”
Harald gritted his teeth. “As have I.”
They parted at the door and Harald returned to his chamber.
He sat on the bed and leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. How could he have been so foolish? He had thought he could love her. What might she have done to him had he not discovered her true nature?
She must be punished, but he needed to think—act rationally rather than on impulse. He couldn’t let her treachery overshadow the tournament—not when peace between Norman and Saxon was at stake. Once the tournament was over, he’d decide what was to be done with her. But, for now, he would ensure she gave Ralph every courtesy, treat him with the respect that was his due. She had betrayed Ralph just as Harald himself had been betrayed by Margery. But, this time, justice would be served. By ensuring she tended to his friend at every turn, he could atone for what she had done to him.
* * *
Eloise clutchedViolette’s posy to her breast and entered her chamber. Harald had been too busy with Beauvisage to notice her, and she’d seized the opportunity to visit the convent. She concealed the posy in a chest before slipping out of her chamber. The child’s curiosity grew with each day. Violette’s questions had disturbed her, but not as much as Eloise’s own response. She may have lied to Harald by omission but the more direct lie she had told Violette pained her.
Your maman and papa loved each other. They’re united in heaven, watching over you to keep you safe.
“Eloise.” A male voice made her jump.
Ralph leaned against the wall by her chamber door, the planes of his handsome face prominent in the candlelight, a seductive smile on his lips.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she said.
“Why so jumpy, my dear?” he asked. “A man might think you’ve something to conceal. Does the Saxon know of your infidelity? Another lover in addition to myself?”
“Leave me be!” She cried, and she fled toward the kitchens and the company of the servants. Beauvisage played too careful a game—he wouldn’t follow her there, but he called after her.
“I shall enjoy your company tonight, Eloise.”
* * *
By the time darkness fell,the rest of the tournament guests had arrived. Wildstorm was alive with activity and Eloise busied herself greeting the competitors. The majority were Norman noblemen, but a handful of Saxons had been invited. The married competitors who brought their wives with them, were given space to sleep in the main hall. The unmarried resided in tents surrounding tournament field, and were a source of attraction for the maidservants and unmarried women of the household and estate, all vying for their attention.
The two exceptions were Edwin, who had arrived shortly after sundown, and Beauvisage. Both men had chambers of their own, though the attention they attracted from the women was just as intense.
The jocular laughs and ribald humor at the feast reminded Eloise of her wedding, though it was moderated by the sobering presence of the Normans. Once again a wall of hostility stood between her and her husband. Ralph—or Beauvisage, as he was now known—had a place of honor at the top table next to Harald, and the two spent the feast deep in conversation. Harald had insisted Eloise sit at Ralph’s right and tend to him. Roswyn sat to Harald’s left, with Jeffrey on her other side. Eloise was painfully aware of the attentions the redhead gave Harald. Edwin sat on Eloise’s other side, but she ignored him.
Ralph served Eloise from the trencher they shared. Though her instincts screamed at her to run, she bore his attentions, taking a bite of the meat he held to her lips, suppressing a shudder when his hand brushed against hers. Anger and disapproval simmered in her husband’s expression as he watched them both.
“I trust my wife serves you well, Beauvisage.” Harald’s voice was barely audible, slurred by the wine.
“Aye, Harald, you have my thanks.”
“You enjoy the hospitality of a lady, my friend.”
“Lady, indeed.” Ralph’s laugh projected across the room and the guests closest to them stopped talking and craned their necks to listen. “In my experience, Harald, all women are whores—servants and noblewomen alike.”
Eloise awaited her husband’s response. Would Harald defend her?
No—he drained his winecup and banged on the table for more.
“Aye, my friend,” he growled. Then he reached into his breeches and drew out a fist and held it over the table. Opening his fingers in a dramatic gesture, he let the contents scatter onto the surface—the tattered remnants of Eloise’s posy of flowers, the delicate blooms crushed beyond recognition.
He lifted his head and turned his dark gaze to her as he spoke to Ralph. “Do not marry, my friend,” he said. “Your wife will play you false.”
“Does a man not wish for a son?”
Harald snorted. “Father bastards instead.”
Ralph lowered his voice. “What if your wife took a lover—bore his child?”
