Forbidden Love (11 page)

The ceremonial dagger he had worn strapped to his waist was withdrawn from its scabbard. In the flickering firelight of the torches, it gleamed menacingly. Roanna had to call on all her courage to stand motionless.

In the instant before his arm lifted, she thought she saw a tiny smile quirk his hard mouth. It reassured her just enough to keep her still as the lethal blade plunged. Straight into the chalice.

The crowd roared its approval. As the deep red wine closed round the dagger, engulfing it raucous comments left no doubt as to the meaning of the ritual. Roanna's face was hot and her hands shook when a smiling young girl took the chalice from her. The blade was carefully dried on a white linen cloth before being presented to her. She was given to understand that it was now her property.

Silence fell again as the hooded one removed the red cord from around his body. Roanna stiffened as Colin took her hands. The chanting increased as they were bound firmly together. Ancient prayers were recited over them.

Though the words were unknown to her, she sensed the sentiments were not all that different from those expressed by Father Elferth. Far from the Satanic rites she had vaguely feared, they were simply being wed again before the spirits of fire, air, earth, and water.

Comforted by Colin's nearness, Roanna did not shirk when the hooded one at last untied the cord.

The white-robed girls were instantly at her side. Before she could take a step, she was hustled away toward the private quarters she would henceforth share with her husband.

Colin's chamber was somewhat larger than those provided for guests, but furnished in much the same way. Copper braziers provided enough Bght to see clearly. A large bed covered by a down-filled mattress took up most of one wall. Across from it stood a table flanked by benches where Roanna guessed he sometimes held private meetings with his most important retainers. Carved chests held clothes and ornaments. A shield and several swords were propped against one. The floor was strewn with fresh rushes sprinkled with sweet-smelling herbs.

Roanna had attended several nuptial beddings in Normandy and understood their purpose. But she was thankful to be spared such exposure. It was enough to be stripped naked by the girls, her body sincerely admired in terms that made her blush. Resignedly, she allowed herself to be guided to the bed.

The blankets were pulled back, revealing a coverlet of smooth white linen. Lying down, Roanna told herself that the sooner they were done the sooner Colin would come. She lay quietly as the girls anointed her with a light, pleasantly scented oil from the tips of her toes to the gently rounded curve of her shoulders.

Beneath their ministrations, Roanna sighed softly. She must be even tireder than she had thought. It was growing difficult to keep her eyes open. They fluttered shut as her skin grew warm and flushed. She was unaware of the oil's sensual effects as it permeated her body, nor did she hear the low moan that broke from her.

The girls glanced at each other, satisfied. One of the youngest giggled, only to be instantly hushed. Preparing the bride was a sacred ritual handed down from the days of the mother goddess. There was no place for levity in actions meant to make intercourse both easy and pleasant no matter how inexperienced a woman might be or how clumsy her husband Garnering up the discarded clothes, they withdrew discreetly.

Outside, Colin watched them go with relief. If it had been left up to him, he would gladly have dispensed with this part of the ceremony. Confident of both his own ability and his bride's response, he knew it was not necessary. But ancient traditions demanded respect. With the ritual's completion, however, he need wait no longer.

There was a masculine equivalent of the preparations Roanna had just undergone, but that Colin firmly refused. He had been almost painfully aroused since first laying eyes on her at the beginning of the day. The skilled priestesses charged with assuring his potency were not only unwanted but unnecessary. Certain that their disappointment could be readily assuaged elsewhere, he rose to join his bride.

The ribald jokes and eager offers of assistance faded quickly behind him. Reaching his quarters, he stepped swiftly inside, shutting the door firmly on any prying eyes. The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat and sent a tremor racing through his huge body.

Roanna lay on her back, her honeyed skin glowing in the lamplight Her slender arms were raised above her head. A dreamy smile curved her lush mouth. As her amber gaze focused on him, her eyes darkened. In the deep shadows around the bed, he looked like a huge, savage warrior intent on plunder. A flicker of fear darted through her, only to be banished by the overwhelming desire to give everything he demanded.

"Colin. . ."

He stood for a moment relishing the ardent beauty of his wife before crossing the room swiftly. Dropping on the bed beside her, he reached out a trembling hand to touch the smooth perfection of her body. His calloused fingers closed round her nipple, gently bringing it to a hard, yearning peak.

"Hmmm ...." Roanna murmured breathlessly, "please. . . keep touching me. . . ." Arching under his hand, she sought more of the exquisite sensations rushing through her.

Colin was delighted to comply. Easing himself fully over her, he stroked and caressed the silken length of her until she was quivering with need. Only then did he step away from the bed long enough to strip off his own clothes.

Roanna welcomed him back with open arms. What few inhibitions might have remained after their earlier lovemaking were banished by the ointment that drove out all restraint and opened the way for unhindered fulfillment

As his mouth wandered over her, his tongue flicking from the satin firmness of her breasts down along the flat plane of her belly to the hidden treasure of her womanhood, Colin absorbed some of the salve into himself. His caresses became slightly rougher, though no less pleasurable. Drawing her even closer, he moved to possess her fully.

The smooth thrust of his manhood within her made Roanna groan with delight. She moved against him eagerly, thwarting his efforts to prolong their pleasure. The shattering burst of ecstasy hurled them both far from consciousness. Colin cried her name into her mouth as together they hurtled toward the stars.

With any other woman, he would have been astounded to find himself still hard after such release. But with Roanna, he was not at all surprised. His need for her was endless, as hers was for him.

Holding her firmly to him, Colin rolled over on his back. Roanna straightened above him, her high-pointed breasts beckoning his hands. He gently squeezed and stroked them as they began another, slower ascent heavenward.

Even then they were not satiated. Long after all effects of the ointment had worn off, they continued to love unrestrainedly. Not an inch of Roanna's body went untouched even as she learned to know Colin as thoroughly. Together they sought the furthest reaches of ecstasy, not stopping until sleep at last claimed them both.

Much later, when she ruefully soaked away a certain lingering soreness, Roanna would reflect on the wages of such erotic excess. But just then she knew only that she lay with the man who made her heart and soul complete, and that she had everything in life she could ever wish.

No shadow darkened her happiness, no premonition hinted at the mortal danger already gathering just beyond the confines of their love-dazzled world.

"
W
e'll expect you when we see you," Brenna advised lightly. For good measure, she added, "Don't hurry back."

Roanna and Colin were willing enough to accept her advice. Married three days, they were still far too absorbed in each other to need anyone else's company. The preparations for winter were well ahead of schedule, the stronghold lay secure in the combined protection of both English and Norman forces. There was nothing to keep them from fully enjoying the balmy summer afternoon.

Hand in hand they wandered across a field bright with wildflowers. Colin bent to pluck a daisy, teasing it beneath Roanna's chin. Laughing, she made to pull away, only to be stopped by his gentle but firm grip.

Pulling her to him, Colin tilted her head back. His lips brushed hers tenderly. "I love you, my wife."

Would she ever grow used to his touch? Roanna wondered dazedly. Her throat tightened as she met his smile with her own. "And I love you, my husband." A teasing gleam entered her amber eyes. "Were we not within sight of the stronghold, I would show you how much."

Without another word, Colin scooped her into his arms and set off toward a nearby glen.

"Where are we going?" Roanna demanded, trying without success to sound stem.

"To a secluded spot I know," her husband informed her roguishly.

"The last time I wandered too far from home," she reminded him, "I was carried off by an arrogant, fearsome lord."

"What a coincidence," Colin growled, his lips nuzzling her throat "I can guarantee the same thing is about to happen again."

Not quite the same, Roanna thought with just a touch of pardonable smugness. This time there was no terror or remorse, no dread of pain or dishonor. Only joyful anticipation and the certainty of love.

With new-found docility, she yielded. It was no great hardship to be laid on fragrant grass, stripped of her domes, and slowly, relentlessly caressed to exquisite ecstasy. Nor did she regret the long, languorous hours of the afternoon during which she greedily explored her husband's lean, hard form with skillful hands and mouth.

Afterward, Colin fell asleep while Roanna nestled contentedly in his arms. Her body was pleasantly tired, but her mind was too full of happiness to rest Staring up at the bright blue sky dusted with fluffy clouds, she gave silent thanks for the joy that had come to her. Her life before meeting Colin seemed no more than a dream, from which she had at last awakened.

Far off in the back of her mind, she was aware that this blissful interlude could not last. Protected by the loyalty of his people and the support of her brother and sister-in-law, she was insulated from the problems of the world. But harsh reality would inevitably intrude. The country was still too torn by hatred and violence to allow lovers any great degree of peace.

Instinctively, she was storing away each precious moment as a source of strength against the darker days she could reluctantly foresee.

Determined to shake off her somber mood, Roanna brushed a feather-light kiss across her sleeping husband's lean cheek before going off in search of some distraction. A glimpse of irises blooming beside the stream drew her in that direction.

Humming softly to herself, she filled her arms with the flowers. They would bring a welcome note of color to the guest chamber Brenna and Guyon were sharing, as well as to her own and Colin's bower. One particularly lovely blossom was just beyond her grasp. Stepping around moss-draped rocks, she reached for it carefully.

The flower was in her hand when she saw the still form lying half-hidden by the underbrush. The man lay on his stomach, his arms and legs spread in the attitude of falling. He was roughly dressed in the garb of a peasant A brown serge tunic covered him to his knees. Stained and torn hose sheathed his legs down to wooden clogs, one of which was missing.

Though she could not see his face, the firm muscularity of his body suggested he was a young man. That was substantiated by the sight of thick brown hair heavily matted with blood.

Dropping the bouquet Roanna moved forward, intent on determining whether the man was alive and, if so, offering what help she could. She was at his side before she remembered that Colin was only a short distance away. If he found she had approached a stranger by herself, even one so grievously hurt, he would be angered.

Picking up the skirt of her tunic, which was her only covering, she darted back to him. An urgent hand on his shoulder shook him awake.

"Roanna. . . ." The sight of her strained features and wide eyes banished his sleepy smile. Instantly alert he sat up. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"There's a man, in the underbrush. I don't know if he's alive or not"

Colin was on his feet before she finished speaking. He dressed swiftly. "Show me."

They reached the spot by the stream within minutes. Motioning her back, Colin glanced round cautiously. A body meant assailants, who still might be nearby. His hand was on the dagger strapped to his side as he turned the still form over.

Roanna had been right to think the man young. His face, ashen from loss of blood, revealed him to be little more than a boy. Besides the wound at the back of his head, he showed numerous other injuries. Wherever he came from, he could not have gotten very far in such condition. But despite his grave condition, he was still alive. Kneeling down beside Colin, Roanna was able to find a slight heartbeat

"We must get him back inside," she murmured, "whoever he is. . . ."

Her husband's face was grim. "I know him. He lives on one of the farms in my holding."

Shock turned Roanna's eyes to darkened pools. Violence of any form was almost unheard of within the Algerson lands. Colin ruled justly but firmly. He did not allow his people to injure one another. Whoever had done this was an outsider.

Stunned by his revelation, she said nothing more as Colin easily hoisted the young man over his shoulders and started back toward the stronghold. The flowers lay forgotten on the bank as Roanna hurried after him.

Guyon was crossing the bailey as they entered. He came quickly to their side. Glancing from one to the other to make sure they were all right, he asked quietly, "Are there any others?"

Colin shook his head. His eyes met Guyon's in the silent way of men who have come to understand each other. "Not in the same area. Perhaps elsewhere."

Standing between them, Roanna could see the sudden tightening of her brother's face. For the first time since finding the injured man, she began to consider the implications of her discovery.

It was likely, given where she had found him, that he was heading for the stronghold when his injuries overcame him. His desperate effort suggested he was trying to get word of some peril to those best able to defend against it

Colin laid the man down gently in a corner of the great hall. "Take care of him," he instructed the old woman who had helped bring Roanna through her relapse. "If he regains consciousness and can talk, make careful note of all he says."

Drawing Roanna a slight distance away, he added, "I'm not sure yet exactly what this means, but it can't be anything good. Gather the women together and begin preparations in case we are attacked. In the meantime, I will ride to the farm he comes from to try to discover what happened."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him not to seek out danger, but she bit back the words. His duty as chieftain demanded he go. Moreover, she knew full well that Colin was not a man to hide behind strong walls while his people were threatened. He would find the enemy and, if at all possible, slay him before further damage could be done.

Understanding all this, she was still taken aback to see her brother mounted and ready to ride with hum. When she questioned him, Guyon merely shrugged. "I need the exercise."

The grim hardness of his eyes belied his easy words. Nor did his knights look as though they anticipated an amiable outing. Wearing full armor including battle helmets, they appeared every bit as implacable as the thegns and housecarls who rode beside Colin.

With surprising ease, the two groups formed up into a single unit Roanna stared up at her husband, sitting so tall and resolute on his great stallion. His features softened momentarily as he met her gaze. No words passed between them, but they were not needed With difficulty, he tore his eyes from her. His shouted order to move out sent the war party forward in a flurry of pounding hooves and flashing steel.

The day passed slowly. Having had so much practice in the last few months, the women completed their preparations swiftly. A large contingent of men-at-arms had been left to guard the stronghold. They took up their places along the outer palisade, alert for any sign of movement beyond the clearing.

None came as the sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew hot. Roanna and Brenna offered each other what comfort they could, but the hours stretched out with excruciating slowness. Neither woman would give voice to the fears that were uppermost in both their minds as they waited for their husbands to return.

Several miles to the east, Colin reined in above a small settlement His worst expectations were confirmed by the sight of spiraling smoke. A rough-hewn hall that had served the farmer and his family was engulfed in flames. Off to one side, a barn burned fiercely. Livestock lay wantonly slain in their pens. Bodies of men, women, and children were scattered across the grounds.

Despite tihe immense destruction they had already wrought the attackers were not yet finished. Oblivious to the war party on the ridge, several dozen men were carrying off booty and breaking open casks of ale.

Others were amusing themselves with three terror-stricken young girls stripped naked and tied spread-eagle near the corpses of their kin.

The faces of Colin and his men were white with fury as they surveyed the hideous scene. But their revulsion, great though it was, was surpassed by that of the Normans.

To Guyon and his knights, the pillagers were all too recognizable. Their armor and weapons marked them as countrymen. The orgy of violence and death was being carried out by men they had crossed the Channel with and fought beside at Hastings. They had marched under the same banner, served the same leader, and pledged themselves to the same cause. But they were separated by an immense gulf marked by savagery on one side and honor on the other.

When the Algerson battle cry filled the air, English and Norman alike surged forward as one with no thought but to wreak vengeance in the name of their common humanity.

The fighting was swift and ferocious. Weakened though they were by drink and rapine, the raiders were still formidable foes. From childhood they had been trained to one task, killing. They performed it with relentless efficiency.

Several of Colin's party fell beneath their swords, but many more of the attackers perished as the thegns and housecarls made excellent use of their newly honed skills. They fought from horseback as ably as any Norman. Guyon and his knights backed them fully. They accounted for their own share of the enemy while taking scant losses.

The hot summer air was heavy with the stink of blood long before the last foe fell beneath Colin's sword Dismounting swiftly, he rapped out sharp orders to his men.

"Find the wounded and keep as many as possible alive for questioning. Alaric, set a watch. We will stay here tonight Send a messenger back to the stronghold to tell the Lady Roanna and her sister of our safety, but say nothing of what we found here. Guyon, will you put your men to erecting a shelter?" He gestured toward the three young girls still alive despite their sufferings and the battle that had raged around them. "They will need it"

Colin took several of the older warriors who had wives and daughters of their own to help him untie and care for the victims. There was little that could be done for them beyond warm blankets and reassurance that their ordeal was over. The men's faces were grim as they gently covered the girls's abused bodies and settled them beneath the hastily constructed lean-to.

The knights kept their distance. The sight of any men clearly terrified the girls; they did not need to be confronted by replicas of their attackers.

Helping to sort out the wounded, Guyon paused beside one of the mangled corpses. There was something familiar about the dead man. It took a moment to recognize the significance of the blazoned shield lying beside him.

Joining his brother-in-law, Colin glanced down disinterestedly at the body. He was concerned only with those of the enemy who still lived and could be made to talk.

But seeing Guyon's concern, he asked, "What's wrong?'

"I know him. He is the younger brother of Frances DeBourgnon, one of William's most ambitious supporters. They both fought at Hastings and were in London with the King, last I heard."

"Why would the brother be here?"

Guyon hesitated, but only for an instant. "DeBourgnon was waiting to be granted an estate. If he got it he would be likely to bring his brother along to help him take possession of his new lands."

Colin's head jerked back, his gaze fierce. "You mean my lands?"

"It looks that way." Seeking to explain, not excuse, Guyon said, "To William, any holding still in the possession of native lords is a potential threat to his security. He knows that a successful invasion is not the same as a conquest To consolidate his rule, he must put his followers in power throughout the kingdom. DeBourgnon probably came out here expecting an easy takeover. With most of the Anglo-Saxon nobility destroyed at Hastings, few families have been able to hold out"