Malia Martin (11 page)

“Aethregard!” Harold cut off her stepbrother with a wave of his hand. “Be gone, man, you tax my patience!”

“But, your highness . . .” His voice trailed off as King Harold finally looked at him. Aethregard bowed low. “Of course, your highness.” He straightened, gave Aleene a scathing look and turned on his heel.

Aleene looked back at King Harold, her mind a cacophony of thoughts: she could not
allow her marriage to be annulled. What would happen to Cyne? Did she dare lie to her king?

And then through the agonizing jumble of questions that plagued her, Aleene heard a yell and a hollow-sounding thud. She followed the king’s gaze to where Aethregard lay in the rushes, staring at the ceiling.

Cyne, pure innocence radiating from his face, offered Aethregard a hand.

Aleene felt the twitch of a smile tug at her mouth.

“Do you think I did not see your foot?” Aethregard fumed, shoving himself up from the ground on his own and grabbing the front of Cyne’s tunic. “You give me that wide-eyed and vacant-brained look as you undermine me and my authority.”

“Aethregard, stop this instant,” Aleene commanded.

He turned toward her, his fist still clenching Cyne’s clothing.

“I demand that you leave Cyne be.” Aleene wanted to knock her thick-skulled stepbrother over the head with a chamber pot, but she kept her anger in check. “You should not take out your clumsiness on an innocent bystander.”

“Innocent?” Aethregard roared. “He’s as innocent as what lies between the legs of a harlot.”

“You have forgotten yourself, Aethregard.” The voice of Harold, low, soft, but commanding, echoed through the hall.

“I beg pardon, your highness.” Aethregard let go of Cyne, pushing the man away. “But I have been forced to suffer the indignities of this . . . this half-wit and my . . .” His mouth working feverishly, Aethregard turned a menacing gaze on Aleene, “. . . my . . .
stepsister,
” he spit the word out between clenched teeth, “for far too long.”

“That will be enough, Aethregard.”

“But . . .”

King Harold lifted his hand. “Go now, I wish to speak to Lady Aleene alone.”

Aleene could see her stepbrother wanted to protest further, but he doubled his fists at his sides and turned on his heel. Bits of dried herbs dropped from his clothing and a rather large piece of dry straw, stuck to his backside, bobbed and swayed as he marched out of the room. Aleene twisted her mouth and bit at the inside of her cheek to stop the chuckle that clogged her throat.

“I am not amused, Aleene, lady of Seabreeze Castle.”

Sobering immediately, Aleene returned her gaze to her king. Swallowing and clasping her hands before her, she bowed her head.

Harold stood, dismissing the men who waited to assist him. Aleene watched out of the corner of her eye as Cyne turned to leave with the rest.

“Please . . .” Aleene stopped.

“Yes, Lady Aleene?” Something in her king’s voice sounded a long-forgotten memory in Aleene. “You wish something?” Soft, yet strong; weary, yet kind, his voice sounded in the silent hall, just as her father’s had many years before.

“Please, your highness.” She forced herself to look into her king’s eyes. “May my husband stay with me?”

Harold blinked, obviously surprised, then he hailed the retreating Cyne. “Stay, lad.”

Turning, Cyne smiled hugely and went to stand next to Aleene. His hand, strong and warm, took hers, infusing strength into her very bones. A tiny indefinable thrill traced along her skin, and she clasped her husband’s hand and straightened her shoulders.

A weary sigh came from Harold as he turned away, pacing the floor, stopping to examine one of the tapestries, then continuing on.

Aleene waited, preparing herself. She tilted her chin, narrowed her eyes, and stood tall, thanking God for the first time that she was not a small, simpering English maiden.

King Harold stopped before her, his arms crossed over his lean chest. “You went against an edict, Lady Aleene.”

Taking note that the top of Harold’s head came only to her forehead, Aleene straightened even more and answered, “
I
never agreed to the betrothal. I am eighteen, your highness, of an age to break a betrothal pushed upon me by a man who was not even my father.”

Harold glanced at Aleene from under his brows. “Be careful, Lady Aleene. I am weary of intrigues. This long summer has worn on my good nature.”

“I realize you have had burdens this summer, your highness. But I have tried not to be one of them. Indeed, I have tried to lighten those burdens.”

“Yes, I received the gifts of your ships and trained fighting men, the house-carls.” The king began pacing again, turning his back on Aleene. “But they do not buy your right to defy me.” He turned again to face her. “I need unity now among my people.”

“I support you completely.” Aleene tightened her grip on Cyne’s hand; she would not let Harold intimidate her. “I have shown you that I can protect Seabreeze Castle and Pevensey. Why can I not marry whom I wish?”

“Because, Lady Aleene,
I
wish you to marry another.”

Aleene bit down on her tongue, halting the tirade of angry words that wanted to fly forth.

“Have you slept with him?” King Harold asked abruptly from across the room, nodding toward Cyne.

Silence thundered in the large hall. Closing her eyes, Aleene felt the presence of her husband at her side, strong, caring, loving and knew she could not abide to have him gone.

She lifted her gaze to her king. “Yes.” And it was no lie.

His face did not harden in anger as she half-thought it would. Instead, the lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to deepen, his shoulders sagged. He aged in front of her. “Are you with child?”

Her bravado left her quickly, deserting her when she needed it more than ever. “I . . . I cannot say.” Her voice shook, as did her hands.

“You cannot say?”

Aleene stayed silent not able to lie to her king when it finally came to that, but also unable to throw away her only chance at happiness.

Finally Harold nodded, looking away from her as he said, “Ah, I understand. You have not experienced your monthly flow.”

King Harold turned back to her, his chest rising and falling slowly as his breaths ticked off the long seconds they stood, silent, assessing each other.

“Guard!” King Harold called loudly, causing Aleene to jump.

A large man entered, probably one of
her
house-carls, and bowed to the king.

The king nodded toward Cyne. “Take him to the dungeon.”

“No!” Aleene jumped in front of Cyne. “No, you cannot!”

“Why not, pray tell, Lady Aleene?” Harold raised a questioning brow. “You do have a dungeon as I remember. Very thoughtful of your father to add one.”

“Please, your highness.” Aleene could hear the desperate tone in her voice, but wasn’t
sure she could curb it. “I . . . you can’t put Cyne, my husband, in the dungeon.”

“He will be your husband only until we know for certain that you are not with child.” Harold sat with a weary sigh. “Until then you will be separated.”

Aleene no longer cared to put on haughty airs or show Harold her strength. “Please don’t put him in the dungeon. I will stay away from him, your highness, on ray word I will not go near him. But please, please don’t put him in that filthy, awful place.”

Harold stared at her, then closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “Aleene of Seabreeze Castle you are truly an enigma.”

Aleene nervously glanced from her silent king to the unmoving guard and back again.

“Put three guards on him,” the king finally said, gesturing at Cyne, then looking at Aleene. “I have no faith in your honor, Lady Aleene. You have not earned it.”

Aleene winced and bowed her head against the king’s hurting words. Next to her she felt Cyne shift, his warmth seeping through her clothing, touching her.

Looking up into his blank eyes, Aleene suddenly realized that he would not understand their separation. He might even think he had done wrong.

Ignoring Harold, Aleene turned her back on the advancing guard and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Cyne, I will not let anyone hurt you.” She stared at him, tried to make him understand. “We have to be apart for awhile, not long.” Her voice seemed thin and far away.

As he looked at her she saw a flash of some emotion, distress perhaps? She tried to soothe him. “It will be all right, Cyne, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She kissed his hand, the soft, dusting of hair on his large knuckles, the calluses on his palm.

She felt him move away and looked up quickly. The guard had taken Cyne’s other arm. As the man led her husband from the hall, Aleene held onto his hand until it was no longer possible.

The king’s minstrels and traveling players sang, tumbled, and laughed with the crowd of men gathered in the large hall at Seabreeze Castle. The revelry grated upon Aleene’s nerves. She wished that everyone would leave, wished she could be alone with her husband.

“The Fyrd will be dispersed,” the king said, touching her hand lightly to get her attention.

Reluctantly, Aleene dragged her gaze from Cyne, who sat at a lower table. “For the Nativity of St. Mary as was agreed, your highness?”

“Yes.” Harold sighed and watched as a juggler strolled by in front of them. “The men are needed at their homes, and with the summer gone we can rest easy that William will not make a move for another year.”

“Aethregard and his men will go back to their village?” Aleene said a quick, silent, yet fervent prayer that Aethregard would be returning home with his men.

Harold turned to look at her. “Aethregard is not a bad man.”

A huff of air escaped Aleene’s lungs. “Yes, your highness.” Her words held no conviction.

“He is completely loyal to me.”

“As am I.” Aleene turned on the bench to face Harold.

“Really, Lady Aleene?” The king stared at her. “Can I trust you to be level-headed in your decisions? Would you obey my commands without question?”

“Of course!” Aleene said quickly, even as she knew with every fiber of her being that she couldn’t obey anyone without questioning.

“As you have these past weeks?”

Aleene turned to stare out at the festivity around her. “I . . .”

“If you do not carry a babe in your womb, Lady Aleene, you will marry Aethregard.” King Harold cut her off. “He will not leave with his men.”

Agony Her heart wrenched in her chest, but she tired of the verbal sparring. “Very well, your highness,” she said quietly.

He patted her hand, a loving, fatherly gesture that made her want to snatch her hand away and run.

Aleene gritted her teeth and folded her arms beneath her breasts, glancing over to check on Cyne.

He was looking at her, his eyes filled with what looked like worry. Could he worry about her? She wished he would, but knew he couldn’t. Her heart was playing tricks with her mind. She smiled anyway, a hopeful, promising smile.

“I am going to retire, your highness.” Aleene stood.

Harold stood also, as did the others around her, each bidding her a good night. She nodded to the men around her, then curtsied to the king.

“Let your mind be at peace, Lady Aleene,” he said. “I will make sure you are taken care of.”

Aleene almost laughed in his face. Could he not see that was the last thing she wished from him? But she only nodded.

She moved away from the table, her eyes searching out Cyne. The place he had occupied with his guards was vacant. Worry made her search the hall. If anyone did anything to Cyne, she would personally tear their eyes out. Quickly, Aleene moved to the door, her heart pounding hard in her ears. She peered through the gloom outside of the hall, feeling for the knife she had put back in her girdle after using it during dinner.

And then she saw him, his smile a gleam in the dark. He stepped toward her, his face in shadow, but still she knew it so well now that she could see his eyes in her mind, bright, loving, and kind.

“Cyne!” She rushed forward and took his hands in hers, bringing them to her chest. “Are you all right? Has anyone tried to hurt you? Did the . . .” She stopped as the men who guarded Cyne moved and she realized they were not alone.

Her husband’s hands shifted under hers, moving so he held hers. She returned her gaze to Cyne’s shadowed face. “Oh, Cyne.” There was so much she wanted to say. So much that he wouldn’t understand. But still, now, just touching him seemed to be enough.

She sighed as he squeezed her hands. “We must . . .” Again her words were cut short. This time Cyne silenced her, pressing one of his large, warm fingers against her lips. She blinked, surprised. And then he threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape, bringing it forward and kissing the dark strands.

Aleene watched his fingers in her hair and felt a pounding need drown out her distress. Suddenly her body was back in the deep forest, under the tree, her husband’s hands bringing new and wondrous feelings ringing through her. She shuddered and spread her hands against Cyne’s chest, her gaze dragging back up the length of his muscled arm to his darkened face.

He smiled. She knew he did. She could feel it wash over her, touch her more
deeply than she had allowed anything to touch her, ever. His hand cupped the back of her head, holding her still as his mouth covered hers in a kiss. Soft, yet possessive; giving yet taking, his lips moved over hers for a mere moment before they were broken apart by the guards.