Aediva picked up the tattered shreds of material ruefully. How was she going to explain this to Judith? The gown was ruined. Not that she could regret it. She couldn’t regret anything that had happened last night.
She looked down at her sleeping husband and smiled, memories of the night before making her body tingle anew. Their lovemaking had been tender and wild and overwhelming all at once, sweeping her away in a primal, tempestuous sea of desire. She’d felt powerless to resist as the waves had whirled higher and faster, carrying her along, until a sudden shuddering sensation had overtaken her, dropping her panting and breathless onto some unknown shore. She’d cried out with pleasure at a sensation centred deep down in her core, unable to stop herself from quivering uncontrollably as she’d clung to his body—the only thing left to cling on to.
Then she’d lain dazed beside him, her mind and body still struggling to find each other as ripples of feeling had continued to pulse through her veins, knowing at last that there were no secrets between them.
‘Sleep well?’
She blinked, so lost in her reverie that she hadn’t noticed him wake up.
‘Quite well.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘What were you thinking about? You were smiling.’
‘I was thinking that you’ve ruined Cille’s dress.’
‘Remind me to apologise when I see her.’ He grinned. ‘Now, come back to bed.’
‘It’s getting late.’ She pursed her lips, trying to resist the temptation. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’
‘Bertrand can do it today.’ He leapt up suddenly, coiling an arm around her waist and pulling her down on top of him. ‘I’ll tell him you’ve worn me out.’
‘You will not!’
‘Then you’d better stay and make sure I don’t start any rumours.’
She laughed, happily conceding defeat as she propped her chin on his chest. ‘Was it worth it in the end?’
‘It?’ He chuckled softly. ‘Yes, it was. Didn’t you think so?’
‘Definitely.’
‘It’s just a pity we’ve wasted so much time arguing. We’ve been married for two weeks.’
‘Mmm...’ She sighed contentedly. ‘I suppose I might have been a bit difficult...’
‘Difficult?’ He laughed at the understatement. ‘You tried to kill me the first time we met!’
‘You knocked me over! Besides, I only wanted to scare you.’
‘As I recall, you tried to stab me twice in the first two days.’
‘The second time doesn’t count. You gave me the knife, remember?’
He ran a hand through her hair, teasing the strands through his fingers. ‘So I did.’
‘And I saved your life.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’
‘I saved you from the rebel ambush. You could have been killed if I hadn’t warned you.’
‘You said something about a river. Is that what you call a warning?’
‘I stopped the fighting.’
‘Your horse bolted.’
‘After I stopped the fighting.’
‘Ah.’ He tugged gently at her hair, pulling her face towards his. ‘In that case it seems I owe you a debt. How would you like me to repay you?’
She smiled, brushing her lips teasingly against his. ‘Well...there are some hay bales that need to be moved.’
She squealed as he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him.
‘I’m disappointed.’ His mouth dipped to her throat, moving in slow circles over the skin. ‘Are you sure you can’t find another use for me?’
She drew air between her teeth. ‘There’s nothing I can think of...’
His head dipped lower, his lips drifting over a nipple. ‘Should I go and get started, then?’
‘Ye—yes...’ She’d heard the smile in his voice and clamped her teeth together, trying not to pant.
‘If you’re completely sure...?’ His tongue was relentless. ‘Then I’ll go.’
‘Svend!’ She gasped as he released her abruptly, a rush of cold air washing over her skin.
‘You told me to go.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘Or do you want me to stay now? You’ll have to ask nicely.’
Aediva narrowed her eyes. If he thought he could toy with her, then two could play at that game. She pulled herself upright, shaking her head so that her hair tumbled provocatively over her shoulders.
‘No. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m fickle.’
‘Then the barn it is.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘It does seem a shame, though.’
‘It does—but what choice do we have?’
‘Perhaps if I showed you something else we could do...?’ He lowered his voice seductively.
‘There’s more?’
‘Much more. Trust me, Aediva, we’re just getting started.’
She bit her lip, pretending to think about it, her pulse already racing with anticipation. ‘And you think it will please me?’
‘Based on last night, I think it should please us both.’
‘Well, in that case...’ She surrendered, wrapping her arms around his neck. ‘I suppose you could show me.’
‘With pleasure.’ He caught hold of her waist, twisting her around into a sitting position on top of him.
‘What...?’
‘You’ve worn me out, remember? This time you can do all the work.’
‘Work?’
‘Nothing too strenuous, I promise. Here...’ He took hold of her hips, positioning her over him.
‘You want me to...?’ She clasped her hands over her breasts, staring at him in shocked comprehension.
‘Don’t cover up.’ He peeled her fingers away gently. ‘I want to see you.’
‘But...’
‘Aediva.’ He pressed her fingers to his lips. ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but it will be even better for you, I promise.’
‘Better?’ She moved her hips against him tentatively. ‘You mean like this?’
He gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Like that.’
‘Like the first time we met?’
‘What?’
‘When I tried to kill you, or so you said.’ She rocked herself backwards and forwards, saw him grit his teeth. ‘I sat astride you like this.’
‘Aediva...’
She gave a coy smile, enjoying her power. ‘Of course if I’d known you were enjoying it I might have used that dagger after all.’
He made a guttural sound in the back of his throat. ‘I didn’t realise you enjoyed torturing men.’
‘Just you. Norman.’
‘Wildcat.’
She bent towards him and then froze, clutching a blanket to her chest as she heard a knock on the door.
‘What?’ Svend’s voice was a roar.
‘Sorry, sir.’ Renard’s muffled voice sounded more than a little nervous. ‘But the masons need to speak with you. There’s some kind of problem with the wall. They say it’s urgent.’
‘Tell them to—’
Aediva clamped a hand over his mouth. From the murderous look on his face, whatever he wanted to tell them to do didn’t bear repeating.
‘Be nice!’ she admonished him. ‘If it weren’t for Renard you might not have come home last night.’
Svend made a face. ‘True. I’ll be down in a minute, lad!’ He gave her a smouldering look, then rolled off the bed and into his hose. ‘It seems I owe him a debt too. But I’ll think of a different way to thank him.’
She lay on her side, watching him dress. ‘I suppose the barn will have to wait too?’
‘It doesn’t help that you look so irresistible.’
‘There’s always tonight.’
‘Tonight? You think I can wait that long?’ He bent over the bed, kissing her thoroughly before making for the door. ‘I want to see you back here in an hour. That’s an order!’
She laughed gleefully and wrapped herself up in the blanket, running to the window to watch as he strode out into the bailey. He raised a hand in salute and she waved back, unable to keep the smile off her face. Danish or Norman, whoever he was, she didn’t care any more. He was her husband and she loved him.
He hadn’t said that he loved her, but he’d certainly shown her how he felt. The words could wait for the moment. All that mattered was that the pit in her stomach was gone, all the loneliness and fear of the past year banished. For the first time since before the Conquest she felt safe and happy. Because of him.
She only hoped that whatever the masons wanted wouldn’t take long. He’d said he had lots more to show her and suddenly she felt very eager to learn.
She leaned happily against the side of the window and looked out over the bailey, over the barns and tents and kitchens. They’d all have to manage without her today. Though maybe later she’d take Svend to one of the barns and show him their winter supplies. She could probably find a hay bale that needed lifting too...
She saw a commotion on the far side of the bailey and her face fell at once. A crowd had gathered, watching as the prisoners were moved between barns. Their hands were untied, and there were no signs of ill treatment, but the guards around them were taking no chances, swords drawn in case of attack.
She watched as they came closer. The men were unkempt and dishevelled, their faces contorted with loathing even towards the other Saxons in the bailey, but her heart still ached for them. A month ago she might have been one of them, but now... All she wanted was for the fighting and the turmoil to be over, for there to be peace again.
Her attention fixed suddenly on a sandy-haired rebel near the front. There was something familiar about him—something about his posture and the way he walked. Intrigued, she leaned over the ledge, trying to get a better look, and for a fleeting moment he looked up.
Edmund.
She drew back at once, her heart pounding violently. She hadn’t seen him for months, but it was him—she was sure of it. And he’d seen her too. The look of disgust on his face had been more eloquent than words. She could hardly have arranged it to look any worse—wrapped in a blanket in a Norman’s bedchamber in the full light of day. She didn’t want to think about what she looked like, but it was obvious what he thought.
She ran a hand over her face in dismay. She hadn’t expected ever to see Edmund again—hadn’t wanted to—but he was still part of her past, her father’s favourite. The Saxon side of her didn’t want to see him imprisoned, even if the new Norman side knew there was no choice. But for old times’ sake she couldn’t just turn her back on him—she had to do something.
But what? She could hardly help him escape. If she deceived Svend again he’d never forgive her—not a second time. It would be the end of their marriage before it had even begun. Besides, she couldn’t keep such a secret from him. Not after last night. She’d have to tell him and ask for his help instead, try to persuade him to let Edmund go even if it meant another argument.
Her stomach plummeted. She had a feeling their morning together was ruined.
* * *
Svend grinned, inhaling the fresh morning air with relish. He was in a better mood than he’d been in for... His brow creased as he considered. Could it really be years? He felt more at ease and contented than he could even remember. It was a beautiful day, cloudless and bright, and all he wanted was to spend it indoors, in bed, with his wife.
‘So what’s the issue with the masons, exactly?’
‘They’ve had some kind of argument, sir.’ Renard was still flustered, struggling to keep up with his long strides. ‘One of them says part of the wall is unstable—the rest say not. So they asked me to fetch you. I thought I should, just in case the first one was right.’
‘You did the right thing.’
‘I did?’ Renard sagged with relief. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Am I such an ogre, lad?’
‘No, sir, but I didn’t want to interrupt...anything.’
Svend grinned. ‘Well, I forgive you, but you know Lady Aediva has a fearsome temper. It’s not me you need to worry about.’
He started to laugh at Renard’s panicked expression and then stopped, distracted by a noise coming from the building site—a low rumble followed by voices raised in alarm. He looked towards the sound and then broke into a run. Part of the wall was leaning precariously, the scaffolding beside it teetering over with men still trapped on top. As he watched two of them jumped clear, but a third man was too high, and the wooden planks were wobbling dangerously beneath his feet.
‘Climb down!’ Svend bellowed, charging towards the scaffolding and ramming his shoulder up against a beam, trying to stabilise the frame.
Already he could tell that it was too late. Other men were rushing to help, but the weight of the wall was pushing him down to the ground and the wood was already starting to crack, fragmenting into a thousand small pieces around them.
The last man clambered down a level and then jumped, landing just clear of the wood as it finally splintered apart. There was an eerie creak followed by a bass rumble as the wall started to disintegrate alongside them, large blocks of stone teetering at first and then tumbling down in a torrent of boulders.
‘Get back!’ Svend shouted, taking the weight by himself as he heaved the remains of the scaffolding aside. He made sure everyone else was clear before he jumped backwards himself, disappearing beneath a cloud of dust and rocky hailstones as the rest of the wall finally collapsed around him.