De Warenne Dynasty 01 - The Conquerer (25 page)

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the flame of a candle, setting it on fire. Rolfe held the scroll aloft, studying it as it burned. His face was impassive. But his mind was not.

The bait had been taken; the trap was set.

Teddy's father was her uncle, her mother's brother, Feldric. He was a dozen years older than Ceidre, and widowed. Teddy was his youngest, at fourteen. It was a few minutes later, and Ceidre was no longer feigning nonchalance, as she had when she strolled into the village with one of Rolfe's men trailing after her. Feldric was stacking bushels of wood. "I cannot," he said.

"Oh, you must, I beg you! Think about Annie!" Ceidre cried, referring to her mother.

"That is not fair," Feldric said, pausing, a hand in his gray hair.

"What has happened to my brothers is not fair," she shot back. "Feldric, we must warn them that the Normans are aware of their plans! We must! I know you can find them. Look," she said urgently. "I would go if I could, but that brute outside guards me every minute of every day. Tonight you can slip away, Feldric. Once you are in the fens, as a Saxon, you will find them instantly. Please."

He sighed. "All right," he said. "I will do my best. But if I cannot find them in a fortnight, I am returning, and that is that."

"Thank you," Ceidre said, meaning it. "Thank

YOU."

That night Feldric left, on foot. Beltain followed.

Chapter 33

Ceidre awoke the next morning with a strange, eerie feeling of anticipation. Mingled with this was worry, over what she had discovered the day before, and elation-she had sent her own messenger to find her brothers. She was finally doing something to aid Edwin and Morcar, and the taste of her activity was sweet. It was also heightened by a personal victory-she had fooled the Norman. She had actually succeeded in outwitting him!

His eyes stroked her lazily during the noonday meal. Ceidre felt as if her guilt showed, as if he could read it -she could not meet his gaze. Then she chastised herself, for there was no guilt to feel-it was her duty to abet her brothers, her duty to fight the Norman. But it was guilt she felt, or something suspiciously like it.

Beth nearly dropped a trencher on her lap, in the process whispering in Ceidre's ear to meet her in the kitchens as soon as she could. Ceidre was surprised, but hid it. She knew Beth, of course, but she was not exactly a friend. That Beth would relay such a message thoroughly aroused her curiosity, and her
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hopes.

She sought her out after the meal, when the Norman and his men had ridden out hunting. An ever-present shadow followed her-one of the Normans whose name she did not even know. The shadow occupied herself with oglingBeth and smirking a stone's throw from them. "What is this about?"

Beth's face was flushed with excitement. "I have seen Morcar," she whispered, looking hastily around.

Ceidre's heart stopped, then sped on. Now she understood Beth's flush, for Morcar had tumbled her many times and Beth, like all women, was half in love with the rake. "Where?"

"Your grandmother's."

Ceidre could not believe it. She gaped,. and then she turned to go, only to realize her shadow awaited her. "Damn!"

"I will take care of him," Beth assured her. "Oh, Ceidre, if only they would throw this Norman out on his knees!"

So much, Ceidre thought, for Beth's attraction to her lord. Ceidre paced the kitchen impatiently while Beth strutted over to her man, apparently named Roger, and began a blatant seduction. Roger was no fool, but he was also not equal to withstanding Beth's unfair tactics. Bluntly she delved into his trousers.

He gasped. As Ceidre hurried past, Beth lowered her head to his full, naked organ.

I owe her, Ceidre thought, glancing around her, trying to be casual. She wanted to run, she wanted to shriek-with joy, and anger. He is a fool, she thought, furious, for coming again. Only Morcar would dare to come into the village, right under the Norman's nose! Ceidre rehearsed a vehement speech and flung open the door to her granny's. The old lady sat at the table with not one man, but two.

Ceidre closed the door and stared.

Edwin stood, with a slight smile.

He was so handsome. So strong, and tears of joy came to her eyes. He opened his arms, she rushed into them. He held her and rocked her. Ceidre clung, sniffing. Since her father had died, Edwin had taken that place, if possible, because he was the exact image of Aelfgar, within and without. "I cannot believe you have come, all the way to the village!"

"Hush," he said, a finger on her lips. "Do you not greet your wild brother?"

Ceidre smiled and turned to embrace Morcar. He held her apart. "Are you all right? Is it true? I heard-"

A gesture from Edwin interrupted his worried questions. "We have time." He looked at Ceidre. "Truly, I did not intend to come this far, but when the Norman rode out with half his men, I could not resist."

"He is hunting. He will not be back until late today, maybe tonight."

Edwin's gaze searched her. "Are you all right, Ceidre?"

"Yes." She suddenly remembered everything. "Ed, I just sent Feldric to find you!" And she quickly filled him in on the royal missive of the day before.

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Edwin paced thoughtfully, Morcar fretted. "It must be John," he said. "He has not been seen in a sennight."

Ceidre spoke up. "Mayhap I should know where you are, to be able to-"

"No," Edwin said, his tone a whip's lash. "What you did was right. A true Saxon can find us, just as the Normans can't. It will take Feldric time, but he would, eventually, passing through many tests, reach us. I do not want you endangered, Ceidre."

She nodded, thinking of the Norman's threat to find her a husband if she displeased him. "You will postpone whatever you are planning now?"

Edwinlooked at her, then shook his head.

"Oh,Ed , please! 'Tis too dangerous!"

"We are not afraid," Morcar spat out.

"The timing will be right, Ceidre,"Edwin said.

"Trust me." He smiled, becoming incredibly hand

some. "As you trusted Father."

"I do," she said softly.

Morcar, as ever, was impatient. "Ceidre, were you hurt after I escaped? And is it true that theNorman lusts after you?"

Ceidre flushed at the last question. "I am fine." "Is that an answer?" Edwin asked.

She could not lie. Never, to her brothers. "He had me flogged. But 'tis finished now."

"Damn him!" Morcar cried furiously. "I'll kill him!" "You are very brave, are you not?" Edwin said quietly, watching her.

Tears came to her eyes. "You would have been

proud. I did not beg for mercy, I did not cry out." "I am proud," Edwin said. "Will you help me, Ceidre? At great risk to yourself?"

"You know I will."

"Good." He smiled. "Continue to spy. What you've done is good. But now that I am planning a new rebel lion, I need information. I cannot wait for it to fall into your lap, or mine. I must have it."

Ceidre waited expectantly. "Has he touched you, Ceidre?"

It took her a second to understand this abrupt change of topic, and when she did, she flushed and
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looked away.

"I see he has," Edwin said. Morcar leapt up, swearing to castrate him. Edwin told him to be quiet.

Helifted her chin, gazing into her eyes. "Are you still a maiden, Ceidre?"

She was beet-red. "Yes."

"He does not fear you like the others. Is this true?"

"Yes."

"The gossip is he wants you badly."

222

It was a question. "I-I think so."

He released her chin to pace away, then turned back. "He is very handsome."

Ceidre's eyes went wide. An inkling began, and it horrified her. "Ed?"

"Ceidre, you can have power over him if you are careful and certain. The power of a woman over a man."

Morcar gasped, Ceidre stared.

Edwin's voice was low, steady. "I do not ask this of you lightly. If you cannot bear his touch, or will not, I understand. But I have thought long and hard, Ceidre. What is one maidenhead in the course of this war?"

She was stunned, she was devastated. Tears came to her eyes. He was asking her to give herself to the Norman, to be a sacrifice.Edwin , her brother, her god.

"If you become his leman, Ceidre, willingly, cleverly, you can have access to his innermost secrets."

"I can't believe you'd ask this of her," Morcar said furiously.

When Edwin looked at him, it was with resignation and something else, something tortured in the window of his soul. "I did not order it and I do not ask it lightly, and if I could give what she could, if the Norman wanted me . . ." He trailed off. Then his voice was strong. "For Aelfgar I would sacrifice my body."

Edwin was asking her to give herself to the Norman. To let him use her body, to become his mistress.

The thought was an echo, laced with despair and hurt. Ceidre tried not to cry. Why was she so crushed?

This was war. Her life, her virginity, was insignificant. What was significant was Aelfgar, her brother's
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patrimony, the liberation of Mercia, the defeat of the Normans. Oh, Sweet Saint Cuthbert, she had no choice. "I will do it, Ed."

He did not smile. "I knew you would."

Her mouth trembled, tears spilled onto her lower lashes. "But, Ed," she said, "what if he really doesn't want me?"

"Then you will lose nothing," he said.

Chapter 34

Where did one begin a seduction of one's enemy?

Ceidre was curled up on her pallet, unable to sleep, debating this topic, when Rolfe and his men returned from their afternoon's sport. Periodically, her eyes would burn and tear, and her heart would swell with pain. She shoved such despondency down, the best she could. She trusted Edwin, she always had. She wanted to help him. She was being a silly goose to overreact to his suggestion this way.

She felt betrayed.

And nothing would make the sick feeling go away.

Rolfe's men were a noisy lot, but Ceidre attempted to ignore them as they stomped in, demanding food and wine. Rolfe's own voice could be heard, and he sounded well pleased. Ceidre rolled onto her side to face the crew, attempting to find the bane of her thoughts, the target of her new ambitions. He was warming himself by the hearth. His profile was to her, proud, perfectly molded. Ed was right-he was handsome. His hair glimmered molten gold in the firelight. Alice handed him a cup of wine, which he drained effortlessly. Then she said something, and Rolfe smiled one of his rare smiles. It was like a sunburst. As if suddenly feeling her gaze, he turned to look directly at her.

She could not begin now, it was too soon. Ceidre abruptly dropped her regard and rolled onto her other side, her back to him. Despair welled again. Despair, and hurt.

She was not a seductress. She did not even know where to start. Hadn't she failed miserably with the first royal messenger? And although, prior to Edwin's proposal, she had known the Norman wanted her, now she was filled with doubt and dread. What if it was just a game? What if his lust for her was a figment of her imagination? What if, at the last moment, he was suddenly repelled by her eye as most other men were? What if he rejected her?

And she had the horrifying thought that if her plans did succeed, if he came to her bed and took her, she would weep as he used her body, betraying them all.

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Her sleep was riddled with a melange of half-waking dreams.

She was the seductress. She walked past him in a thin undertunic. They were in a meadow, his gaze smoldered and burned. Ceidre felt powerful; she laughed_ She danced for him. Whirling and whirling, her skirt lifting about her legs. And all the while he watched. . . .

She had taken off her clothes. Stark naked, she walked to him. He waited with that hot gaze. Ceidre did not feel fear, and she did not feel despondency. She felt exhilaration.

She was very close when he started laughing.

He laughed and laughed_ Ceidre froze, confused. Then she understood-he was laughing at her. He did not want her, and she had been a fool to think he did. No man wanted her_ Alice appeared, also laughing. "Witch," she shrilled. "Witch! He is mine!" Alice embraced Rolfe; who was still laughing. Ceidre wanted to disappear, to die. This couldn't be happening. ...

"Witches are whipped,"Rolfe said.

"A hundred lashes," Alice said, sneering.

Ceidre tried to beg for mercy but she found, to her horror, that she had no voice. And then she felt the lash, the brutal pain of the whip, and she screamed. She sobbed. Alice's taunts echoed. Rolfe was still laughing, because he thought she was funny-he did not want her.

Then someone held her, soothing her, the flogging over. It was incongruous, it didn't make sense, but she knew it was Rolfe. "Shh," he said, like a father to a babe. "Shh."

Ceidre woke up, her face still wet with tears. The men were all rousing, the dogs yapping. She lay very still, her heart pounding. She could remember every vivid detail of the dream. It was worse than her worst nightmare, the one she'd had recently, of the flogging. This one . . . She shuddered. She was a fool.

It was only a dream. But it had been so real.

'Twas only a dream, she told herself sternly. And you know he wants you. And if he doesn't, if he rejects you, you have suffered rejection before, 'twill be no worse than the other times-and you will be spared, She could not delay what must be inevitable.