Stefan led her along the winding corridors, deeper into the palace, to a pair of enormous wooden doors. Hearing the rumble of noise behind them, she guessed they led into King Canute’s grand hall. Ædwen’s heart was pounding and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
‘Ready?’ Stefan asked. He looked relaxed and rakishly good-looking. For once he wasn’t wearing his armour. He was dressed in a dark tunic that clung to his perfectly sculpted body and looked every bit the hero who had saved her today.
He slipped his hand into hers, taking her by surprise. But for once, she didn’t struggle, or extract herself. Instead, her fingers curled instinctively around his. Right now, she was glad of his support—even welcomed the burning heat shooting up her arm. It was a distraction from all that lay ahead of them behind these doors.
She nodded, biting her lip. She had never thought she’d get to meet the King. If only her father could see her now—he’d be furious and, rebelliously, the thought pleased her a little. But would she be made to feel welcome here, or had her father made her Canute’s enemy?
The doors swung open and the view of the hall in all its glory was displayed before her. She had never seen anything like it. There were two thrones at the top of the grand room, on a platform, where the King and Queen were sitting, receiving their guests, and all around them there were long, overflowing banqueting tables full of meats and fruits, people vying for space on the benches. Hunting trophies and tapestries were hanging on the walls and she had truly never seen such a magnificent room, full to the brim of people chatting, coming together to eat, the noise deafening. This was the beating heart of Wintancaester.
Stefan squeezed her fingers, encouraging her to move forward, and she brought her other hand up to her lips.
‘Stop fidgeting,’ he whispered and she dropped it, instantly.
She wondered how he could walk so well, so tall, not giving anything away about the pain he must be suffering from his wound. Had he always been this good at hiding his feelings?
Ædwen was still berating herself at having put him—and herself—in that situation earlier. It was all her fault he’d been hurt and she felt like such a fool.
Stefan had offered her the chance to leave, said she could go. But in that instant she’d known she had to stay and help him. Yet every moment longer she stayed here, every conversation, every touch, she felt he was getting closer to finding out about Ellan. Talking about her mother had opened up old wounds and she felt as if everything was bubbling up to the surface, wanting to be set free. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep the truth hidden from him, or even if she wanted to. Perhaps if she told him, he might be angry, but surely eventually that would pass, and he might be able to help. A man of his power and responsibility would know things. Know people. Would he be able to find their daughter? Would he want to?
‘Your Majesties,’ Stefan said, approaching the King and his wife. ‘Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Ædwen.’
‘Lady Ædwen! So you’re the reason Lord Stefan has been neglecting his duties,’ King Canute said with a wink. ‘Welcome.’
He rose out of his throne, coming down the few steps to greet them. He was an enormous man, she realised—remarkably tall and strong. He had a hooked nose and an impressive beard, yet he was fair and handsome. He looked like a man who might be able to unite a country of Christians and pagans.
‘Thank you,’ Ædwen said, giving a little curtsy, her knees trembling.
‘I trust you had a pleasant journey?’
‘As well as could be expected.’ Pleasant was not the word she’d use to describe being held tightly in Stefan’s arms, between his legs. Oppressive would be a better description. Intense. Sensual... And again she wondered how he made her forget all that had gone before, how he had let her down and instead made her yearn for things, want things, things she knew she shouldn’t desire from him. She could feel his nearness even now. His heat. His gaze, watching her.
‘Not too much excitement?’ the King asked, his eyes crinkling as he looked at Stefan.
‘Just the right amount,’ Stefan said and they both smiled.
Stefan looked so assured, yet she felt anything but.
‘When he sets his sights on something, this man always makes it happen,’ Canute said, clasping Stefan on the shoulder, and there was a fondness there, she could tell. ‘It is good to have you back.’
‘Good grief, he’s only been gone a day!’ Queen Emma interjected, rolling her eyes, curling her hand round her husband’s arm as she stepped forward to welcome Ædwen herself.
‘Lady Ædwen, we are very happy to have you here. Lord Stefan has told us much about you.’
Had he? She glanced questioningly up into his face. What had he said? His eyes glittered down at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but the Queen beat her to it.
‘Once you are settled, I hope you will join me for a walk around the palace gardens. On the morrow, perhaps?’ Queen Emma said.
Ædwen was stunned. She had heard stories of Queen Emma and had always admired the most powerful woman in the country from afar. Twice Queen, she had heard of her beauty and could now understand why two kings had wanted to marry her. She was extremely elegant, her hair severely parted in the centre of her head and looped into an intricate bun at the back. She never dreamed she’d get to meet her. And now the woman was inviting her for a stroll?
‘I should like that very much, Your Majesty. Thank you.’
Yet how could she be making arrangements, acting as if nothing was wrong, when her child was lost to her? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if she could ask the Queen for help. As a mother herself, perhaps Emma would understand her heartache...but she would have to tread carefully. She could tell the Queen was loyal to her husband and to Stefan.
‘And how are things in Eastbury, Lady Ædwen?’ King Canute said, his all-knowing gaze assessing her. ‘I trust your father is well?’
She swallowed. ‘He is—’
‘Stable,’ Stefan interrupted. ‘For now, Your Majesty.’
Ædwen’s face burned. She was ashamed of her father and suddenly, she needed the King and his wife to know it. ‘Your Majesty, whatever it is my father has done, or is about to do, I wish you to know I want no part in it. That I do not share his wishes, or intent.’
Stefan swung to look at her, as if he was surprised by her protest of her innocence.
‘Lord Stefan has made us well aware of that, Lady Ædwen. You have nothing to fear.’
He had? Her gaze collided with his again and she felt a lump grow in her throat. She was touched by his support of her, before he’d even come to Eastbury to fetch her. But she didn’t understand it. She had thought they were enemies. She had thought he loathed her. But perhaps he didn’t despise her quite as much as she thought...
‘We would not have granted him permission to bring you here otherwise, Lady Ædwen,’ Queen Emma said. ‘Now, please, take your seats. Eat. You must be hungry after your long ride.’
Stefan took her elbow and led her to a seat near the platform. Seated according to rank and skill, Canute must think very highly of Stefan indeed to place him in such a position.
She lowered herself on to the bench and watched as Stefan did the same, gingerly, tucking his long, muscular legs under the table, and she wondered if his wound was smarting. His thigh pressed against hers under the table, but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t. There was no place to go. The bench was crammed full of people.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked him discreetly.
‘Fine,’ he lied. ‘Now was that so bad?’
She shook her head. He had got her through it. But she had questions...questions she would need to ask him later. What exactly was her father planning? And why had Stefan stood up for her? Was it merely so the King would accept her being here? And she wondered again what it was Stefan wanted with her, after all this time.
A serving girl came over to pour them some ale and the young woman blushed as Stefan thanked her. ‘Can I get you anything else, Lord?’ she asked.
‘No, thank you,’ he replied. She knew he had drawn the attention of most of the women in the room, and she could feel the responsive simmering of jealousy in her stomach. Had he lain with any of them? No, she didn’t want to think about it. She felt sickened at the thought.
‘Does she love him, do you think?’ she said, leaning in to speak to him, ridiculously wanting to bring his attention back to her.
‘Who?’
‘Queen Emma and Canute.’
Stefan looked up at the royal couple, talking between themselves on the platform. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Well, it must be a political marriage. I just wonder if she had a choice.’ After all, Canute had taken the country in violent conquest. Had his conquest of his bride been just as brutal?
‘I believe she did have a choice. But I imagine she married him in part to save her children,’ he said.
Yes, Ædwen thought. Almost definitely. For she could relate to that. A mother would do anything for her children.
‘Yet I believe there is genuine affection in the relationship,’ Stefan said, staring down at her, his eyes dipping to her mouth, and her breath caught.
‘I agree... The way she looks at him and he her...’
She had always been fascinated about Queen Emma’s relationship with a Dane, thinking they had that in common... It was unusual in these times for such a thing to come about, when there was so much hostility between the two peoples.
Looking up, she saw the men from their journey slowly begin to enter the room, some alone and some with their wives, and they descended on their table, squeezing in, pushing her even closer towards Stefan.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered, the side of her body pressed against his.
‘Don’t be,’ he replied.
Ædwen spotted Maccus and was glad to see someone she knew. Someone else to talk to. She saw a woman who must be his wife, right behind him, but then her blood ran cold, for she saw she was carrying a tiny bundle in her arms.
Ædwen’s pulse hammered, as she glanced round, looking for a way to escape. But there was no mercy. The enthusiastic woman was already upon her, beaming down at her.
‘Lady Ædwen, it’s so nice to meet you,’ the woman gushed, rushing forward, forcing Ædwen to twist around on the bench. ‘I’m Kendra, Maccus’s wife. The tunic and kirtle look good on you. I’m so pleased.’
Ædwen nodded, trying to find her voice. ‘Thank you very much for letting me borrow them,’ she said tightly, unable to focus on anything but the child in the woman’s arms. She needed to get a look at her to see...to check... ‘It was very good of you. I am grateful for your kindness.’
‘Not at all. It’s the least I could do. Especially for Lord Stefan’s wife. He has been so good to us. I must admit, I’ve been so excited. I just had to meet the woman who had tamed him. I could scarcely believe it when Maccus said he was wed,’ Kendra said.
Tamed him? ‘And...and who is this?’ Ædwen asked, her voice strained, gesturing to the child, her heart pounding.
‘This is our daughter, Clover,’ Maccus said, pride radiating from his face as he put his arm round his wife’s shoulder. ‘She’s but two weeks old.’
Two weeks...
A mixture of relief and disappointment washed over her.
But she should be glad it wasn’t Ellan... This was their child.
Why was it that everywhere she went, there were pregnant women, or women with babes in their arms, or children playing? Even seals breeding on the beach... Stark reminders of all that she had lost.
‘Congratulations. She’s beautiful,’ she managed to say, taking a quick glance at the baby, her chest tight with pain.
‘Would you like to hold her?’ the woman asked.
And it slayed her. ‘No. No, it’s all right,’ she said, turning her body round on the bench, her back to them. She knew she was being impolite, but it was instinct, a way to protect herself from more hurt. ‘I’m about to eat. I’m starving actually. From the journey. Perhaps another day?’
Stefan sent her a look, but she avoided his gaze.
‘If you’re sure, my Lady,’ the woman said from behind her. ‘Congratulations again on your marriage.’ Ædwen watched Kendra and Maccus take their seats, sharing a glance between them, clearly wounded by her rudeness.
Ædwen’s eyes collided with Stefan’s.
‘You didn’t need to be so rude, they were only being friendly,’ he said, chastising her. ‘Why didn’t you want to hold the baby?’
‘Does a woman have to want to hold a baby?’ she bit back.
‘I guess not...’ he said, his eyes narrowing on her. But she hadn’t missed the censure on his face, as if he was judging her. He obviously thought she was callous. As if she didn’t have a maternal bone in her body...
They began to help themselves to the food, but Ædwen had lost her appetite. She felt terrible that Stefan thought she had been discourteous to his friends, after they had been so kind to her, letting her borrow the garments she was wearing. She felt wretched. Yet holding their precious child would have been too much for her to bear.
She tried to cast it off as she sat through the rest of the feast, picking at her chicken, listening to the banter among the men, admiring the Queen from afar, fascinated by the interactions between her and King Canute, and all the time excruciatingly aware of Stefan’s solid thigh pressing against hers, his arm brushing her skin each time he reached for his ale.
How could she be so aware of him?
‘I thought you were starving,’ Stefan said, turning to speak to her a while later. ‘And yet you’ve barely touched a thing. Again.’
Did he have to notice everything about her?
‘It must be all the excitement of the day. I think I’m just tired.’
‘Do you want to be a parent one day, Lady Ædwen?’ Kendra asked her from across the table, obviously deciding to give her another chance, to try to engage her in conversation again, as the serving maids began clearing the bowls away. ‘Perhaps it won’t be too long before you and Lord Stefan have a child of you own?’
Ædwen felt herself blanch. Kendra might as well have rammed a knife into her chest. Twisting it.
She was so aware of Stefan and everyone else on the table looking at her, as she tried to control the emotions flickering across her face.
She already was a parent! And that parental love had kicked in the moment she’d found out she was with child. Her child might have been removed from her care but she was still a mother. And she had been a good one, up until the day Ellan had been taken. There was no difference between her and Kendra, or her and the Queen. She loved her child just as fiercely. She still thought about Ellan every waking moment, tracking her would-be milestones, constantly. It was just the woman sitting before her was lucky enough to have her baby in her arms.
‘Yes, don’t wait too long,’ Maccus added, winking. ‘Then our children might be able to play together.’
It was too much. The conversation moved on, but Ædwen stood silently, needing to extract herself from the table. Stefan’s hand came around her wrist, tight. ‘Where are you going?’ he said.
She looked down at him, his hand searing her skin, and she felt desperate. ‘I...I just need some air.’
Her eyes pleaded with him. Please. Let me go...
She needed to get out of here, fast, before she crumpled in grief.
He released her, frowning, and she managed to make it out of the hall, half walking, half stumbling. Then she was running, hurling herself down the corridor, wanting to get far away from them all. She didn’t want them to see her cry. She didn’t want them to know what had happened, how she had failed.
She reached the door to Stefan’s lodgings and was relieved to find it unlocked. She pushed it open, slipping inside, before slumping down on to the floor, devastated, letting the tears finally fall.
Would the pain ever get any less? Or was this something she would have to live with and endure for ever? She sobbed inelegantly, releasing some of the heartache. But moments later, the heavy door was thrown open and she gasped, her head shooting up to see Stefan in the doorway. He looked down at her, his gaze locked on hers. She drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them, afraid.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, his hand still on the doorknob.
‘I’m just tired,’ she said, defensive. ‘Maybe too much ale...’
He closed the door and then he surprised her, by sighing and dropping down to the floor to sit beside her, wincing at his wound as he did so. He rested his head back against the wall and stretched out his legs. They sat there in silence for a long moment and she was grateful he wasn’t demanding she talk to him, or that she must return with him to the hall. Instead, he’d just come to sit by her, offering her that small kindness.
She was clutching the scrap of muslin for comfort. She brought it up to her nose and breathed in, in the hope of catching Ellan’s scent. She wasn’t even sure if the milky smell of her daughter was still there, or if she just imagined it, but it brought her great comfort. It was the only trace of her she had left.
‘What is this?’ Stefan said, turning towards her, reaching out to close his hand over the material, bringing it down, so he could look into her face.
‘Nothing.’
His eyes narrowed on her.
‘Really? Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s troubling you? Why you acted so peculiar out there?’
‘I...’ She shook her head.
She knew he deserved to know the truth—she knew it was wrong that she hadn’t told him he was a father. How could he begin to understand what she was going through when she hadn’t explained? But would he hear her out? Would he listen and sit here long enough, as she told him she couldn’t stop thinking about her daughter, that ever since she’d been parted from her, she’d felt as if her whole life was in disarray? That she felt she couldn’t breathe without her? The way she hadn’t been able to breathe when he had left her...
If she told him now, it would have consequences. She couldn’t be sure how he’d react or what he would do...and what good would it do? She didn’t even know where Ellan was.
Yet there was the small glimmer of a hope that he might help her, if he could ever forgive her for keeping the truth from him.
Ædwen looked heavenwards, as if seeking strength from above. What did she have to lose? Things couldn’t get much worse...
‘Stefan, I have something to tell you...’ she began.
He took a deep breath and nodded. ‘All right.’
‘I haven’t told you until now because I wasn’t sure how you would react. I guess I’ve been afraid...’
‘Go on,’ he said. He drew his own knees up, resting his arms over the top of them. ‘I’m listening.’
‘When you left the monastery, not long afterwards, I discovered I was with child.’ There. She’d confessed it. Well, the start of it. She bit her lip. She couldn’t meet his gaze. She was fearful of what she’d see there, so she just stared ahead, out into the room.
There was a pause as she gave him a moment to let her words sink in. She had expected him to gasp or flinch, to stare at her, incredulous, horrified, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sat there, an unnatural stillness about him.
‘Why didn’t you come to me, find me?’ he asked finally.
She frowned. ‘Things ended so badly between us. And I didn’t know where you’d gone. I thought you might even have returned to Denmark. And you’d said you didn’t want me. I didn’t think you’d want a child—’
‘And neither did you?’ he said coldly.
She shook her head. ‘I was shocked, at first. Frightened. But I did want her...right from the outset. As my stomach began to grow, it was the first joy I’d felt in a long while.’
His brow furrowed. ‘So what happened?’ he said, turning to look at her, judgement clouding his blue eyes. ‘You had the baby and then gave up my child?’
‘What? No!’ she said, reeling, her back coming up against the wall. She was shocked by the force of the distrust in his eyes.
‘She was taken from me!’ she blurted.
‘What?’ he said, his voice like ice.
She lowered her knees and turned her body towards him, facing him fully now. ‘I eventually plucked up the courage to tell my father about her. I’d kept it from him, throughout most of my pregnancy. But I knew he would eventually find out. So I gathered up the courage and told him, and he was furious. Even more so than I thought he’d be. I told him all about you, what had happened between us, and he said I was a disgrace.
‘He left me in the monastery, and I thought that was it, that I wouldn’t see him again. That I’d lost both my parents and I’d have to make my own way in life, and I was prepared to do so. He’d only asked that I keep it a secret, to protect our family’s honour. So I did. I gave birth and everything was all right. I was coping... I loved her so much,’ she said. ‘But then one night, not long afterwards, she was taken, while I slept. I woke in the morning and found her crib empty.’
Saying it out loud was even worse than she’d imagined and a fresh wave of pain lanced her. Relentless tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘At first, I thought perhaps the nuns had taken her to look after her while I slept—that she’d been crying and I hadn’t heard her. But when I went to find her, no one had seen her and I began to feel frantic, panicked. I knew something was terribly wrong. I should have anticipated my father would do something.’
‘Your father?’ he asked, as if he was trying to work out some kind of problem.
‘Sister Edith requested that I went to see her. My father was there... Seeing him, I just knew. He said he had removed her from my care—that he had found another family who wanted a child and that they were going to raise her.’ A little sob rose up and escaped, and she swiped at her fresh tears with the muslin. ‘He said that it was my punishment for laying with a pagan and bringing disgrace upon the family.’ She had heard wailing in the monastery and then realised it was her, howling in grief.
Stefan shook his head and she wondered what he was thinking. To discover he was a father...it must be a shock. And then to find out that he had been denied the chance to meet his child... He must be devastated, as was she. But she couldn’t stop now. She had to get this out. Tell him everything. He needed to know.
‘My father said the only way I would see her again was if I agreed to marry Lord Werian. That if I did, he would arrange for me to see her...’
Stefan cursed softly, pushing a hand through his hair.
She wrung her hands as she tried to explain. ‘I realised, what I wanted didn’t matter. My will was not my own. I just knew I had to do whatever it took to see her again, to try to get her back.’
His eyes narrowed on her. ‘Do you really think your father would have let you see her if you’d married Lord Werian? That he would have kept his word? That he had the power to arrange that?’
Her brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘But I was desperate. I had to try. And then you were there. You came to the wedding. You stopped it from taking place...and that’s when I knew...’ she shook her head sadly ‘...that’s when I knew I would never see her again.’
He dragged his hands over his face, as if he now understood her torment. Her tears on the hillside just yesterday. ‘That’s why you were so upset,’ he said. ‘Not because you wanted to marry Lord Werian...’
‘Of course not!’ she gasped. ‘I was doing what I had to do.’ She waved the muslin in front of her. ‘I carry this with me at all times,’ she said, a little sob escaping her lips. ‘It was hers. The only thing I have left of her. Her name was Ellan.’
She wiped her hands over her face, trying to pull herself together.
‘I’m sorry I walked out of the feast, Stefan,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘Your men and Kendra, they are so kind. I behaved badly. But seeing her and Maccus with their daughter, them asking me to hold her, questioning if I wanted to be a mother one day...it was all too much. It hurts. So badly. Sometimes I feel as though I’m drowning with grief. I can’t breathe. I know I’m a terrible person for failing to protect our child. I know you’ll never be able to forgive me. And I know that, because I can’t forgive myself,’ she said and her shoulders began to shake with repressed sobs.
He didn’t reach for her. He didn’t touch her. Instead, he unfurled himself off the floor, standing so abruptly, it shocked her. The warmth of his thigh pressed against hers suddenly disappeared and she looked up to see where he was going, what he was doing. He paced over to the door and she saw him glance back at her over his shoulder, conflicted, his face grave, then he walked out of the room, leaving her there, stranded with her sorrow.
He despised her, she thought. That much was clear. More so than ever. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything to her, or even bear to be in the same room as her. He would never be able to forgive her. And she felt as if she had lost them both all over again.
But this time, she had told him the truth. Everything. And he’d abandoned her anyway. Stunned, a chill trickling through her blood, she stared after him, bereft. She had no one...she was all alone. She felt as if God, along with Stefan and her mother, had forsaken her.
She slumped to the floor, her cheek pressed against the cold stone. She wasn’t sure how long had passed—a moment? An entire night?—when suddenly Stefan was back, walking towards her, through the door, a bundle in his arms.
Her throat closed in shock.
No, not a bundle. A child!
Her heart trembled.
Their child?
She scrambled to her feet so fast, her head swam. She held still in expectation and hope as he lowered his arms, presenting the baby to her.
She hesitated before moving closer, reaching out tentatively to move the muslin away from the child’s face and looked down in euphoric disbelief. It was her daughter! Ellan... Her tears fell faster. She was overwhelmed with joy and relief.
‘How...?’ she sobbed.
‘Sister Margaret found me,’ Stefan said, his voice thick with emotion. ‘She said she’d been tasked with finding a new family for your baby. She said she couldn’t go into details, but you couldn’t look after her. And I wasn’t to tell anyone she’d come to see me.
‘I’m sure you can imagine how I felt, finding out I was a father—that I had a child I never knew existed. It was the first I knew of any pregnancy, any baby. I was furious with you before. And then, to discover this... It was the second thing you’d kept from me. And then to learn that you were giving up my child...’
Ædwen shook her head fiercely. ‘I would never,’ she said.
He nodded, letting her know he knew that now. That he believed her, about this at least.
She looked down at Ellan again. ‘Can I...can I hold her?’ she whispered.
He gave a sharp nod and passed the child over without hesitation, their bodies brushing as he placed Ellan in her arms. She drew her daughter close to her chest, staring down at her in wonder. Warmth and love radiated through her whole body, joyful tears streaming down her face.
‘I can’t believe it,’ she gasped. ‘She was here, with you, all this time?’
He nodded. ‘When I told the King I had found out I was a father, that I had a child, he brought me inside the palace. He arranged for some help from the nuns in the convent here. I couldn’t have done it without them.’
‘She’s grown,’ she said, smiling through her tears. ‘She’s beautiful.’
‘She’s perfect,’ he agreed, his lips curling upwards. And then he inclined his head towards her. ‘She looks just like you.’
Ædwen walked over to the bench and sank down on to the furs, mesmerised by the bundle in her arms.
‘I’ll go. Leave you two to get reacquainted,’ Stefan said, backing away out of the room.
‘No, please don’t,’ she said, looking up at him and then back at their child. She gave her head another little shake. ‘I have so many questions... I can’t think straight. I don’t know where to start.’
‘We have plenty of time for that, Ædwen,’ he said.
She bit her lip. She couldn’t wait. She wanted to know it all. Every detail. Now. ‘When did she come to live with you? How long have you had her?’
He closed the door again and slowly made his way back over towards her, coming down on the bench beside her. ‘About a month ago. Maybe a bit longer.’
She nodded, more tears falling, splattering on to the blankets that were swaddling her baby. She sniffed, trying to stop their descent, not wanting to wake her.
‘How has she been? And you...?’
He stretched his arm out behind her on the table, leaning back. ‘It was a shock at first. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.’ He grimaced. ‘And she cried. A lot. But we coped.’
‘How did you feed her?’ It had been one of her biggest worries—how her baby would be fed. Not only had it been a cruelty to her, first suffering the pain of her full and swollen breasts, her milk overflowing, but then when it had dried up, it was almost too much to bear.
‘Cow’s milk... She wasn’t happy at first, but she’s used to it now.’
Ædwen nodded. She was glad he hadn’t used a nurse maid. ‘Why didn’t you tell me—that you knew about her? That you had her, when you first saw me again?’ she said.
He raked his hand through his hair, sitting forward on the seat again. ‘I regret that now. Now I know what you were going through. But you have to see... I didn’t realise you cared. I had so many questions. I needed to see how you felt about her first. I thought you’d given her up. That you didn’t want to be in her life. I wanted to know why...to understand... I had to know your feelings about her before I told you.’
‘So...was this all some kind of test?’ she asked, looking up at him.
‘Of course not!’ he said. ‘I didn’t know she’d been taken from you, Ædwen. If I had, I would have told you she was safe. That she was with me. Sooner. I would have ended your suffering and put you out of your misery.’
Seeing his daughter in her mother’s arms for the first time stirred Stefan’s emotions. His heart swelled.
As he’d listened to Ædwen tell him about their daughter, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That she was innocent. That she had been a devoted mother after all and her father had cruelly arranged the removal of her child, without her consent. He felt like such a brute.
Now he knew about Ellan being taken from her, he felt awful. So certain was he of her guilt, he hadn’t even given her the benefit of the doubt. Had he become that cynical? To think he could have intervened and ended her pain before now. But, unable to forgive and forget, he’d thought the worst of her.
He should have known this was all Lord Manvil’s doing. Was there no end to this man’s malice? Yet Stefan had been so quick to blame Ædwen, so swift to judge and see fault in her because he’d been wounded by her before.
When he and Ædwen had tentatively embarked on a romantic relationship the previous winter, she had suggested leaving, getting far beyond her father’s reach. Perhaps she’d always known what he was capable of, that she’d feared he’d do something like this. She had told him Lord Manvil wouldn’t allow her to marry a Dane. She had told him no one must know about them and there had been a part of him that had thought she might be ashamed of him.
But Stefan had wanted to do things right. Yet he’d never been given the chance. When he’d finally seen the man in person, all his memories had returned in an instant and he’d been horrified to discover it was her father who had slaughtered his family. He’d found out about Ædwen’s deceit...all of which had impacted how he’d handled this situation now.
But hearing her story, listening to her open up to him, feeling her loss and hurt, he had known he couldn’t keep her child from her a moment longer. He’d had to tell her. Immediately. To end her suffering. And seeing them together now, Ædwen holding their daughter, he knew that she loved Ellan, because once she had looked at him that way.
Ædwen was transfixed, unable to contain her smile, her tear-washed eyes wide and glowing.
‘I’m sorry you had to go through that, Ædwen,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how you coped with her being taken.’
But even though she had been the victim here, it didn’t change what she had done before. And it didn’t change the fact that she still hadn’t come to him, found him and told him the truth about their child.
He couldn’t abide secrets, any withholding of information. He knew it stemmed from the sickening discoveries in his past, from being let down so badly.
It’s why he knew he must resist his desire for her now. Why he must keep his invisible armour in place.
‘I didn’t. I felt as if every day was another day of heartache I had to endure. The future was bleak. At first I couldn’t even bring myself to get out of bed. I had no motivation to get up. I had no interest in activities, conversation or mealtimes—or even prayer. I felt alone and I guess I retreated inside myself.’
He had left her alone to deal with her pregnancy and all that entailed. To cope with the shame he knew now he must have brought upon her, the nuns believing she was having a child out of wedlock—or to a pagan. He wasn’t sure which was seen as worse. He hadn’t known about the child back then, but still, he felt like such a beast.
‘And I hated my father. The anger began to set in. But I needed that. It fuelled me to keep going.’
He couldn’t believe Lord Manvil had put her through such pain. To think that man had taken his father from him and tried to take his daughter, too. Stefan’s own anger stirred.
‘So was he lying?’ she gasped now, realisation dawning. ‘If I’d married Lord Werian, he wouldn’t have arranged for me to see her? He couldn’t have, because she was with you. Did he even know where Sister Margaret had placed her?’ she said in a disbelieving voice.
‘I don’t think he could have, for I’m sure he wouldn’t have allowed her to live under my protection. Unless he didn’t care. I will be for ever grateful to Sister Margaret for taking the initiative and tracking me down.’
Ædwen responded with a slow nod. ‘She left around the time Ellan was taken... She had helped me greatly in those early days, after the birth. I didn’t know where or why she had left... I was distracted by my grief.’
‘She resides here in the monastery now. She is still in Ellan’s life. She has been a huge support to us.’
‘I must speak with her on the morrow,’ she said. And then she shook her head. ‘Stefan, that’s why I left your room today...why I foolishly went out of the palace. I had determined I was going to find her. That I’d start by asking questions, finding the local orphanage, or any families who had recently come to the city with a child.’
‘I had thought you were running away from me,’ he said wryly. ‘I wish you had just told me.’
She shrugged. ‘I was afraid to. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. I’m so sorry you got hurt by that man today because of me.’
‘It will heal. And you? The birth...was it...?’
She knew what he was asking. ‘Painful, yes. But also wonderful.’
Guilt floored him. He should have been there.
‘Thank you, Stefan,’ she said suddenly. And she leaned over and kissed him. It was a soft, gentle kiss on the cheek and so spontaneous, it startled him. ‘Thank you for taking her in. For looking after her.’
He felt a lump grow in his throat. ‘She is my child. What else was I going to do?’ he said. ‘Besides, she’s incredible.’
She looked back down at her. ‘She is. I can’t believe she’s here,’ she said. ‘That I’m really holding her. Did you...what did you call her?’
‘Sister Margaret said you’d named her Ellan...and I kept her name. I liked it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, blinking fresh tears out of her eyes.
She leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Ellan’s forehead, breathing in her milky scent. And then she righted herself, drawing in a breath. ‘So...what happens now?’ she asked. ‘I guess the sooner we make arrangements as to how we should proceed, the better.’
His brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean...where do we go from here? I want to take care of her. I love her. And I’m her mother,’ she said, determined. ‘I know you care for her, too, and that you’ll want to see her as often as possible...’
His frown deepened.
‘So, what are you thinking will happen between us now? We will need to come up with a plan.’
He shook his head, rising off the bench, pacing away from her, before coming back, his hands on his hips. ‘Nothing has changed. You will both stay here with me in Wintancaester. You’ll be her mother, Ædwen. And you’ll be my wife!’
She looked up at him, stunned. ‘No!’ she gasped, shaking her head.
‘No?’ he asked, staring down at her, his brow pulling together.
‘I mean, yes, of course I want to be her mother. Am her mother,’ she stuttered. ‘But I can’t stay here, with you—’
‘Why not?’ His voice was deadly. ‘Where else are you going to go? You have no coin, no home.’
‘I don’t know. I’ll manage... I am grateful to you for—’
‘Grateful?’ he repeated, disbelievingly, taking a step towards her.
‘Yes. For looking after her, while I couldn’t. But I can’t be your wife, Stefan.’
‘You already are!’ he exploded, incensed, raising his hands up in despair.
‘I realise now that you brought me here for Ellan. To get answers. And so that she has a mother... But surely you can’t mean for us to carry on this ridiculous pretence of us being married?’
He blew out a breath, raking a hand through his hair. ‘How exactly is it a pretence? We said our vows...’
An old fury took up place in his stomach. Had she ever meant the words she’d said to him before? Had she ever taken their union as seriously as he had? He wondered now if she had ever thought he was good enough for her?
What was it with women committing to him and then changing their minds? Well, he’d had enough.
She shook her head. ‘We were young and naive. Maybe we meant the words we said back then, but now? I don’t want to be your wife, Stefan. You don’t even like me,’ she said. ‘Why would you want to still be married to me? To continue acting as though we mean something to each other when we don’t? It wouldn’t be a real marriage. Not without love.’
He gave a grim twist to his mouth. ‘If I hadn’t taken you to bed, you would never have got with child. Ellan is my responsibility. So are you, whether we like it or not.’
She recoiled and he knew he’d hurt her, calling her a responsibility, a duty. But then she had hurt him, too, proclaiming that she didn’t want to be his wife!
It took him back to a moment years before, when he was in Denmark...a moment of great humiliation and rejection...and he knew he needed to take control of this situation, fast.
Out in the hall earlier, he’d been proud to have her on his arm, to introduce her as his wife. He’d noticed the admiring glances she aroused from the men and women in the hall and, although he didn’t want the men looking at her too hard, he knew why their gaze was turned. Her beauty surpassed all others. He had never met an equal. He still wanted her. And there were worse things to base a marriage on than desire.
‘This marriage makes you respectable. And Ellan legitimate,’ he added. ‘You were prepared to be married to Lord Werian for your daughter. How is this any different?’
Apart from the fact there was an unfinished, undeniable attraction between them.
‘Where I come from, marriage is a sacred union between us and the gods. We don’t take our vows lightly and I will honour that union—you must, too. We will make the best of it. For Ellan,’ he said, grimacing. ‘Because that is what a marriage is, Ædwen. A choice. And once you have made it, you stick with it. For better, for worse, you make it work.’