Standing waiting in the palace gardens, Ædwen had butterflies in her stomach. Would Queen Emma find her interesting company? She had lived such a sheltered life. She tried to think of some subjects they could talk about, to ease the conversation, but the biggest adventure she’d had in her life was Stefan. Even now.
She knew she had to be careful. Over the long two winters that they had spent apart, she’d kept reliving what had happened between them, going over and over it, wondering what she could have done differently, why he’d behaved how he did. Last night, the things he’d told her went some way to explaining his mistrust of her. Of women.
She knew he had fetched her from Eastbury for one reason alone—for her to be a mother to Ellan—and that even though he might desire her, once he had got what he wanted from her, he might leave her again, so she knew she should push him away before he had the chance to do so.
Yet she had somehow managed to end up in his arms again, in his embrace this morning, letting him touch her, intimately. And it had felt so incredible, to have his hands on her again, inside her, as he kissed her, she had come apart in mere moments. Knowing it would be wrong to take her pleasure and deny him his own satisfaction, she had tried to touch him in return, but he had a lot more control than she. Now he had told her to come to him tonight. How could she refuse, when she had already taken pleasure from him? She owed him...
Her stomach flared at the thought of falling into his arms again...in trepidation—and excitement. Could she really go through with it? There was a battle raging within her. She knew she should be protecting herself from further rejection and more disappointment; she needed to keep him at arm’s bay. Yet when he was near, her body rebelled, not wanting that at all, wanting to draw him closer, to seek satisfaction in his arms, to take whatever he was offering her.
‘My Lady Ædwen, it is a delight to see you again.’
Ædwen glanced up to see Queen Emma approaching. She looked refined, graceful—and formidable—in a high-necked cloak, her hair immaculately fixed. She noticed the Queen wasn’t wearing a wimple, unlike herself. She would challenge Stefan on that one later.
‘And you, Your Majesty.’
‘You seemed lost in thought. I trust you are well today? You look far better than last night, if you don’t mind me saying so. You have a bit of colour back in your cheeks.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’
‘Let us walk this way. It is a little more secluded through here,’ the Queen said, leading her through an arch in a hedgerow to a private orchard and vegetable garden, where they began to stroll through the trees. The guards hung back a little in the protected space, allowing them some privacy. ‘I couldn’t help but notice you left the feast early last night.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t feeling myself, but I am much better today.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
The Queen began to point out some of her favourite winter blooms and Ædwen showed an interest in them, not having seen some of them before on the coast in Eastbury.
‘I trust you are finding the palace accommodations comfortable and you have everything you need?’
‘Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.’
The woman seemed to peer closer. ‘And I am sure you are pleased to be reunited with your husband? He is a good man.’
Ædwen blushed and glanced away. Was there no escape from him? He seemed to be consuming her every waking thought. And now her conversations. She wasn’t sure how she should respond, or what Stefan had told the King and Queen about their relationship, or lack of. Was she meant to make believe that they were in love? Or should she pretend that he meant nothing to her?
‘Being reunited with my child, Ellan, is an absolute joy. And I’d like to say thank you for helping Lord Stefan and my daughter. I believe you have been very good to them both.’
The Queen stopped on the path. ‘Oh, I am so pleased he told you,’ she said, clasping her hands together. ‘We weren’t sure of the situation. We knew Stefan was leaving for Eastbury to fetch you, but none of us could be sure about your relationship with your child. He asked us to remain silent on the matter... I believe he had told only me and the King about it.’
Ædwen quickly relayed the situation to the Queen, about what her father had done, feeling she could confide in her, and Emma looked horrified. She placed a hand on her arm. ‘Lady Ædwen, how awful. I know what torment it is to be separated from your child. My own three children from my first marriage have been sent across the sea, back to the French court in Normandy. Two beloved boys and one girl.’
Ædwen’s heart went out to her. ‘I am so sorry, Your Majesty. That must be a great suffering indeed.’
‘It is a deep hurt. I miss them terribly.’ She turned to look at Ædwen. ‘I understand my husband’s wishes. My children are a threat to his throne and not of his blood. And at least this way I know they are safe.’ She continued to walk and Ædwen kept pace with her. ‘Actually, I would like you to be one of the first people to know... I am with child again. Canute’s child.’
Ædwen gasped. ‘That is such happy news, Your Majesty. For you both and for the country. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. And I am hoping I shall have a friend in you, Lady Ædwen, to get me through these next few months.’
‘I should like that, Your Majesty. Very much,’ Ædwen said, smiling. ‘Is the King pleased? He must be.’
‘Oh, very. But he is eager for it to be a boy...’
‘That is a lot of pressure. I guess I’m lucky I didn’t have that,’ Ædwen said, thinking what strain the Queen must be under to produce a male heir.
‘If your child had been a boy, perhaps your father might not have been so cruel and might have allowed you to keep him?’ the Queen suggested.
Ædwen pulled a face. ‘Probably not. The child would still have been a half-Dane, whether it was a boy or girl.’
‘There is nothing wrong with being a Dane. Your father is extremely short-sighted. Did you know my great-grandfather was the Northman warrior Rollo, the founder of Normandy?’
‘I didn’t, Your Majesty.’ That would certainly explain a lot about Emma and her warrior-like stance.
‘Go on. You may ask me the question I know you’re burning to ask,’ the Queen said to her, knowingly.
Ædwen’s cheeks heated. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty.’
‘You want to know if I love him. Canute. Or if I married him to save my children’s lives.’
‘It is none of my concern, Your Majesty,’ Ædwen said, shaking her head fiercely. ‘Your decisions are your own and I would never judge you for them.’
‘I know that. That’s why I like you. And why I think we shall get on very well, Lady Ædwen. I should like a friend I can confide in. And one who isn’t afraid to share their thoughts with me.’ She moved a branch out of the way of the path and held it aloft so Ædwen could pass through.
‘Thank you.’
‘At first, I respected him. Canute. His battle tactics, his power and ruthlessness. He was a worthy foe. And then I was afraid for my children, unsure what he might do. But when I realised he wasn’t cruel, when he kissed me, well...’
Ædwen smiled. She thought about the way Stefan had kissed her this morning. Fiercely. So passionately, it had taken her breath away. Her cheeks heated at the memory.
‘Looking at your face, I’d say you know exactly what I mean.’ The Queen smiled. ‘I can tell you married for love, Lady Ædwen. And whatever troubles you and Lord Stefan had, I hope they are behind you. The truth is, I love my husband. Will you have more children, Lady Ædwen?’
She had never thought it possible...never thought a man would ever want her again. Had never thought she’d be with a man again. And now Stefan had told her to come to him tonight... Her treacherous heart leapt again in anticipation. Yet how could she even contemplate it? They couldn’t risk bringing another child into this world when things were so uncertain between them. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t even thought about the consequences until now. She was such a fool. She would have to talk to Stefan, make him see reason, before things went too far again.
‘I have only just got Ellan back. I would like to enjoy her for a while.’
The Queen’s gaze flicked over her. ‘And enjoy your husband, too, no doubt. Lord Stefan is a favourite of the King’s, you know. And mine. Loyal and a formidable fighter. We are lucky to have him. As are you.’
Ædwen swallowed, her throat feeling thick with emotion.
‘Did you know my husband was already married?’ Queen Emma said. ‘Before me?’
Ædwen looked up at her.
‘To Ælfgifu, a noblewoman who was born here, in England. He put her aside for me, allowed to do so because it was a pagan marriage.’
Ædwen felt the flicker of alarm go off somewhere in her body. Stefan had told her he had been married before. That they had been able to separate by their laws.
‘She now lives in Denmark. And I am sure she must despise me,’ the Queen continued.
‘I am sure she understands the politics of the situation. That Canute needed to unite England. She doesn’t need to know he couldn’t help falling in love with you,’ Ædwen said.
Queen Emma smiled at her. ‘Thank you, Lady Ædwen. I needed to hear that.’
Ædwen was pleased she had reassured the Queen—she had known she would like the woman, she just hadn’t realised how much. And yet, unwittingly, in return, Queen Emma’s words had unsettled her deeply.
As she made her way to the monastery to fetch Ellan, her thoughts swirled like a hazy snowstorm in her mind. So the King had been allowed to put his first wife aside because it had been a pagan marriage, not recognised under Christianity.
Doubt exploded in her chest.
If Canute renounced one wife for another...if he had abandoned his first wife for a second, allowed to do so as his marriage had been a pagan one, what did that mean for her and Stefan? Theirs had not been a Christian marriage. They had merely whispered their vows to one another, binding their hands together...was it even a marriage at all?
Stefan knew all of this. He knew the King had disposed of his first wife. Stefan must know he could easily do the same if he tired of her. Despite his adamance that their union was legally binding, she knew now it didn’t offer her the security that she would need to stay, or legitimacy for her child. She felt her old fears of abandonment resurging—the need to protect herself. She must not allow herself to fall for him again.
She tried to push her dark thoughts away as she headed into the monastery. She found Sister Margaret and Ellan, and let out the breath she’d been holding. Would she always feel this relief upon being reunited with her daughter, grateful to have her back? In a way, it made her feel strong enough to cope with anything else. Even Stefan...
Ædwen was pleased to see the kindly nun again. They embraced and the woman kept dabbing her eyes with a cloth. She was tearful, overjoyed that Ædwen had been reunited with Stefan and Ellan, but also repentant that she had kept the truth from her.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I was so afraid. Afraid of what Lord Manvil would do if he found out I’d lied, if he found out where I’d placed her...but I did not give up hope that you would be reunited with Lord Stefan and your daughter, Lady Ædwen.’
‘It’s all right, Sister Margaret. It is not your fault. And you did a wonderful deed, bringing her here to Stefan. I only wish to thank you for keeping Ellan safe,’ Ædwen said, gripping the woman’s hands tightly.
‘Well, I just couldn’t do what you father was asking me to do. I couldn’t separate Ellan from you for ever. I hoped that Lord Stefan would find you. And I’m so pleased that he did. He is a wonderful man.’
People kept telling her that. She had thought so herself once and was in trouble of thinking so again. Yet he had proved she couldn’t rely on him. Why should anything be different now? She mustn’t put her trust in him, or pin her hopes on him. She must not let herself care for him again because it was at that moment, when you’d given someone your heart, that they dropped you, leaving you to wallow in misery.
She had felt the distance he’d put between them so acutely when he’d walked out of her life. She had spent days aimlessly walking the halls, regretting her choices, wondering where he was and if he’d ever come back to her. Sister Margaret had likened her symptoms to those of the local drunks, who were being forced to go without ale. It was like giving up a habit, suddenly and brutally. It had been agony. She never wanted to put herself through that again... And this time, she had so much more to lose if things went wrong.
No. She had to protect herself. She had to protect her child.
When Stefan arrived back at his rooms later that day, Ellan was screaming. He had spent the morning patrolling the walls, doubling up the men on each watchpoint and making sure they’d increased both the production of weapons and the training of his soldiers. And yet he hadn’t been able to focus. His thoughts kept returning to Ædwen and he had decided to quickly check in on her.
A slight prickle of unease passed through him as he wondered if he was surreptitiously keeping track of her, needing to know what she was up to, as he still viewed her with distrust. Would he always feel as if he was looking for signs of deceit, trying to uncover lies she might have told, believing there must be more?
Yet the scene was not what he’d been expecting. Ædwen looked fraught, patting Ellan’s back, swinging her in her arms, trying to settle her, but the ferocious crying continued.
He unclasped his belt, dropping his sword down into a basket, and came towards her.
‘Everything all right?’
‘Does it look all right?’ she snapped, her hair dishevelled, her face flushed. ‘She’s been like this all afternoon, since I got back. She just won’t stop crying. I’ve been through the list in my head. She’s not too warm, or cold. I’ve offered her milk...and changed her. I’ve rocked her, walked her up and down the corridor and out in the cloisters. I’ve tried everything,’ she said, desperate. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m worried something is wrong with her.’
‘Here,’ he said. ‘Let me take her. You look exhausted.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, not wanting to admit defeat. She was far too stubborn and proud.
But when he reached for Ellan, she finally relented and allowed him to take their daughter into his arms. In an instant, the crying stopped. Peace descended on the room. Ellan gurgled and, moments later, she was fast asleep.
Ædwen looked up at him, forlorn, as he cradled their child. ‘She wanted you,’ she said in disbelief. ‘That’s what all this was about. She wanted you, not me.’
‘I’m just more familiar right now.’ He shrugged.
‘But she was inconsolable.’
‘She gets like that sometimes.’
She wrung her hands. ‘Have I been away for too long?’
It had felt like aeons. ‘Of course not,’ Stefan said. ‘Look, if I can do this, then you definitely can.’
He headed over to her crib on the far side of the room and lowered Ellan into it. When he came back, he sat beside Ædwen on the bench. ‘She’ll get used to you again,’ he said. ‘It’ll just take a while.’
He pulled her against his shoulder, running his hand up and down her arm, attempting to soothe her. But she bristled, her body stiffening, and she pulled away from him.
‘Did you have a good day apart from this?’ he said, frowning.
‘Yes.’
‘Queen Emma...?’
‘All good.’
He could sense something was wrong. Something she wasn’t telling him. Her answers were short and to the point. She was good at keeping things in, but he’d already told her he wouldn’t stand for that. Not here. Not again.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ she said, getting up and making herself busy, clearing the table.
‘My day has been non-stop,’ he said, trying to get her talking. ‘We’re looking to build up the fortifications of the city. We walked round the entire outskirts of the boundary, checking for weaknesses.’
She stopped what she was doing. ‘Why? Does it have anything to do with my father?’ she asked.
‘It’s just a precaution.’ He shrugged. ‘Your father has been a threat for a while.’
She nodded, letting that sink in.
‘Hungry?’ he asked. ‘We could go out to the market and pick some things up.’
She frowned. ‘What about Ellan?’
‘It’s a good job Sister Margaret adores her.’ He grinned.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You go. I’ll stay and watch her.’
She glanced over into the crib, checking on Ellan again perhaps for the fourth time in so many moments. She was being obsessively concerned.
He frowned. ‘No, we go together or not at all.’
‘We don’t have to spend every moment together, Stefan,’ she bit, moving to walk past him.
He gripped her arm. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked. ‘You don’t seem yourself.’
‘I’m fine.’
What had got her so upset? Not Ellan crying? No, he felt sure it was something else.
‘Well, if you’re not going, I’ll stay with you,’ he said, smoothing his thumb across her wrist, offering her a dangerous, wicked smile. ‘All alone again.’
Her eyes flared; her lips parted. She tugged her hand from his grasp, as if he’d burned her.
‘Or we could take her with us...’ he offered as an alternative.
She nodded, her face suddenly relaxing, relieved, appeased by his suggestion. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’
And it was good to get out. The sun was shining, despite the winter bite, and today the market was a different experience. With Ellan strapped to his chest, fast asleep, they strolled along the bustling streets, browsing the best stalls he could recommend.
They used some of his coin to buy wool and flax, which Ædwen said she could weave into clothing, but he insisted on exchanging some of his armbands to buy her an imported blue silk pinafore and a plain dark tunic of her own, so she didn’t have to keep wearing Kendra’s garments. She tried to stop him, saying she felt guilty about him spending his hard-earned coin, but he insisted. He proudly handed over the silver for the item and enjoyed presenting the clothes to her.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, running her hands over the silk.
Next, they stopped by a few food stalls and Stefan spoke to the vendors, telling them Ædwen was new to Wintancaester, convincing them to let her try some of their produce, and they were only too pleased to indulge the King’s chief commander.
When he’d arrived here last winter, he’d become reliant only on himself. It was hard, navigating a new place, new people, and he knew he stood out. A pagan among Saxons. He was different and they’d treated him as such. It was a relief to find Canute and other Danes. He’d been determined to make his old life across the ocean, and the one he’d made with Ædwen in Eastbury, a long-distant memory.
Now he’d made a name for himself and commanded respect among all the people. He was no longer an outsider. Everything had changed. Everything except his desire for this woman at his side.
He picked up a cube of cheese and offered it to her now. ‘Try this,’ he said and she leaned in, taking the morsel from his fingers and popping it hesitantly between her lips.
‘Mmm...crumbly,’ she said, smiling through the mouthful.
‘Now this,’ he said, passing her a cup of wine.
She took a sip and swallowed it down, offering him the cup to take some, too. ‘Your turn.’
‘Bit early for me, I’m still on duty.’ He grinned. He was enjoying himself. He hadn’t had this much fun in a long time.
‘Now you’ve got to have this,’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her with him to the next vendor.
‘What is it?’
‘Lemon pastry. A local delicacy.’ He picked up a slice and held it up to her mouth and she shyly took a bite, licking the crumbs off her lips.
Her eyes widened.
‘Sweet and sour. That’s amazing and far too good to share with you,’ she said, trying to take it from him, and he laughed. He was glad she’d got her smile back.
He was enjoying spending time with her, getting to know her anew. But it disturbed him that he was starting to like her again, so quickly. Had he ever stopped? While he wanted her in his bed again, he had vowed to himself that he would not lower his defences and give up his heart. He must remember how she had deceived him last time and he would not be fooled again.
But then he thought of this evening and his heart leapt in anticipation. He had told her to come to him and, if she did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to deny himself. A thrill of excitement rushed through him and heat pooled in his groin.
‘You know, I think that’s the most I’ve seen you eat all week,’ he said, raising his thumb to brush a crumb from her lips.
She swallowed. ‘Well, you have to admit this sugary lemon thing is better than that woman’s pottage in the alehouse,’ she said.
He frowned, thinking back to that evening. ‘That must have been hard for you, seeing that woman with child, what with the trauma you were suffering. Now I understand your reaction. But in that moment, I was cross with you, wondering why your face was like one of my wooden carvings.’
‘There were reminders everywhere I went...’
She came up to Ellan in his arms and stroked a finger down her cheek, then looked up at him. ‘Now we’ve been reunited, I just want to be a good mother,’ she said. He was struck by her openness and honesty. Her vulnerability. And that he believed her, about this at least.
‘Come on. Let’s head back. Canute will be wondering where I am and I think it’s going to rain.’
She looked up at the dark clouds and nodded in response.
But as they made their way back to the palace, she seemed distracted, glancing about, looking for something, or someone.
‘Everything all right?’ he asked.
He peered closer. Her face had turned ashen.
‘I thought I saw...’ She frowned, then shook her head. She looked all about them one more time. ‘No, it’s nothing. I must be imagining things.’
‘Saw who?’ he asked, stopping in the street, just as the clouds burst and the rain began to pelt down on them, soaking them to the bone.
‘It’s just... I thought I saw my mother.’