Malia Martin (15 page)

The boy looked back at his friends quickly, then nodded. “Of course, milady.”

She felt a bit foolish as he ran back to play. Had she expected the lad to turn on her, scream that she was not one of them, that she didn’t belong? With a jolt, she realized that she did believe that. She had been afraid of it all of her life.

She stared for a moment at the children, then quickly left the castle grounds and followed the path along the cliff to the old Roman fort.

Aleene stopped just outside the crumbling ruins. Tilting her head, so that the sun shone brilliantly against her face. She felt rather than saw the shadow that passed over her. Squinting against the brightness of the sun, Aleene opened her eyes and saw a dove circle above her, its wings outstretched as it caught a gust of wind and sailed away over the water. She watched it for a few moments, wondering how it felt to fly.

His touch startled her, for her mind had glided away on the wind with the dove. She jumped and blinked, then realizing it was Cyne standing before her, she laughed lightly and hugged him tightly to her.

She thought of the bird. To learn to fly, the bird had probably just stepped from the nest and trusted its sturdy little wings. Aleene drew in a deep breath, smelling the salt air that clung to Cyne’s tunic.

“I love you,” she said, testing her wings.

He said nothing, did nothing, and she realized he probably did not truly understand what she said. She remembered the moment in the forest long ago when she had wished for more, wished Cyne a whole man.

She pushed the thought away, ashamed of herself. If he was a whole man, she couldn’t love him as she did.

“Shall we return? I came to bring you home for supper.” She leaned away and smiled up at her husband. He lowered his lids, hiding his eyes for a moment, then allowed her to break away and take his hand as they turned back toward the castle.

Throughout dinner that night, Aleene knew that she would finally consummate her marriage. She knew she could now, especially with the newfound knowledge of her love. Once she and Cyne reached for their goblet at the same time, their hands colliding. Aleene turned her fingers quickly and took her husband’s hand. But Cyne did not bestow his golden smile upon her, and it surprised Aleene for a moment. She blinked, frowning at Cyne and the dark mood that seemed to hang over him.

She hadn’t really noticed until that moment, but then she remembered that he had been rather somber since returning from the fort. He squeezed her hand beneath the table, and she realized that all was well. It was only her imagination and the fears that she had tucked away, but not yet completely conquered, coming back to haunt the fringes of her happiness.

Aleene banished them away, not wanting to be slave to those old fears any longer. She even allowed herself to think of the act that she would finish that eve, alone in her chamber with her husband. She thought of the feelings Cyne ignited in her with his hands, his kisses, his smiles and touches. And she thought of children. For the first time, she thought of children, not as a way to hold onto Seabreeze Castle, but as a way to share the happiness that threatened to burst inside of her. She thought of small blond children
with sky-blue eyes and smiles that glowed with joy and love.

She hurried through her meal, clutching her husband’s hand whenever she could and beaming at the servants and others around her. When finally she and Cyne were alone in her chamber, Aleene turned to him, cradled his face between her hands, and reached up to softly kiss his lips.

He hesitated for a moment, and that fleeting fear she had felt during supper returned for a moment. But then he kissed her back, his lips moving against hers, his hands trailing up and down her sides, as if he were memorizing the shape of her.

She let her arms twine around his neck, pressing against his body, her softness yielding to his hardness. With a dark, low groan, Cyne deepened their kiss, his tongue flicking at the seam of her lips.

Aleene’s heart thumped double-time against her breast, making her feel breathless and dizzy. She held tightly to her husband, opening her mouth, needing to taste him. He plundered her offering, tracing her teeth with his tongue and finally plunging through to tangle with her own.

Backing toward the bed, Aleene pulled Cyne with her, yanking at the strings of her gown as she went. His hands followed hers, helping her, pulling and yanking until she heard ripping. She reached for him, loosening the ties that held his tunic in place. When finally they stood naked, Aleene stared for a moment at her husband.

“You are well made, husband mine,” Her words were raspy and breathless, and she laughed a bit. The hollow at the base of his neck throbbed, and she placed her finger there, feeling his quickened pulse. She caressed him, trailing her hand down his chest to his waist and the golden hair that trailed down to his manhood.

His hand covered hers, and she looked up. In the dark room she couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was probably confused. Still, she also knew that his eyes would be filled with trust, for her.

She smiled in the night and brought her hand up to cup his cheek. “Ah, Cyne, I shall not hurt you. For I come to you now with only love in my heart for the freedom you have given me.” She reached up and kissed his lips lightly. “I shall never hurt you,” she said gently against his mouth.

In the silence that followed, Aleene heard a tortured sound escape through her husband’s lips. For a moment she truly thought she heard her name, low, broken, and strange. She backed away slightly. “Cyne? Did you speak?”

He moved then, swiftly, taking her off guard. She gasped as he whirled away from her, bending and taking something from the floor.

“Cyne?” She tried to reach for him, but he moved away. He yanked his
braies
on, tying them quickly as he almost ran for the door.

“Cyne!”

He stopped there, his back to her, his shoulders heaving with exertion.

She moved toward him. “Cyne? Please, try and show me what is the matter.” She was close enough that she could see that he had the door partway open, his hand on the latch, his forehead leaning against the rough wood.

“Are you afraid?” she asked softly. “There is nothing to be afraid of. I love you.”

Another tortured sound came from Cyne, and he flung open the door and ran through.

Aleene stood for a moment, shocked, then moved quickly, grabbing her shift and throwing it over her head as she left her room and ran down the stairs to the hall. She
peered through the gloom, trying to catch a glimpse of Cyne, but could see nothing. She searched the hall, then went outside and looked around the yard, the kitchen area, even the smithy. All were quiet and dark, the moon lending an eerie glow to the deserted bailey. She called his name twice, but only managed to roust a cat and send a chicken squawking.

Finally she went back to her chamber, half-hoping that he had returned in her absence. Her room was empty. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring hard at the door, waiting and praying that he would return soon. She wanted so badly to take away his hurt, his fear, as he had done for her. She could show him, show him how much he meant to her. She knew she could. If only he would return.

She sat that way for a long time, her mind going numb with the whirl of her thoughts, her hands and feet becoming icy cold. Some time during the night she leaned over, letting her head drop to her pillow, and curling her knees into her chest. She did not sleep, but stayed in a half-waking state, waiting, listening, jumping with every tiny sound. When the sky finally lightened to a gray dawn, she felt herself slip into sleep, her last thought of finding Cyne when the day came. For then it would be easy. She would just look for gold.

She awoke to the clamor of yells and shouts. So many, she thought, how could there be so many people about? Then she shot out of bed, icy dread clamping at her heart as she threw a gown over her shift and raced for the hall. The king must have returned!

Berthilde met her on the stairs, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. “Milady! Ships!”

Aleene grabbed at Berthilde’s shoulders.

“What are you talking about, Berthilde? What ships?”

“Ships, they’ve been sighted,” the woman barely got the words out in between gulping breaths. “It can be no one but that scoundrel! They have come!”

Aleene shook Berthilde. “What do you speak of, Berthilde? You do not make sense!”

A yell came from the bottom of the stairs. Aleene looked and saw one of the serving wenches, her gown clenched in her hands, her face covered with tears. “They shall ravish me!” she screamed. “They shall kill my babe!” She touched her swollen stomach, then looked up at Aleene. “Help us, milady, do something!”

Aleene could only stand, unmoving at the top of the stair. Her mind whirled with questions, fear, dread. And then she took a deep, strong breath. She had fought all summer to control her own castle. She had told her king she could protect it as well as any man. She must prove herself now.

“Close the gates!” she yelled to no one, rushing past Berthilde and the serving wench. Pushing through the throngs of people crying and wailing in the bailey, Aleene ran for the gate tower. She took the stairs two at a time, to find the top deserted. But the bay was not.

Ships and barges of every size crowded through the opening to the sea, entering Pevensey harbor, her harbor. Aleene gulped down the terrible lump of fear that lodged in her throat and clamped her hands together to stop her shaking. “Oh, Lord God,” she prayed quietly, “let us live through this.” A terrible thought hit her as she turned to go back to the people. It would be better to die than to live through what may happen.

She faced the townspeople, trying desperately to rid that thought from her mind. She dredged up every ounce of courage she could find and yelled as loud as she could. “Men!” A few people close to her quieted, but still others continued to talk, wail, yell, cry. “All of the men!” she yelled again. This time the people around her took up her cry.

Soon the people stood quiet before her. “All the men here,” she said again. “Go to posts
around the castle walls. Women and children inside the hall with you.”

People looked at each other, fear paralyzing them. “Now!” Aleene screamed, her own fear tingeing her voice with urgency. They began to move, splitting into groups, the men moving toward the castle walls, the women taking children in their arms and going to the hall.

Berthilde came running up to Aleene, her face haggard with fear and worry. “I can’t find Cyne, milady, where has he gone?”

Aleene closed her eyes, her heart dropping to her stomach, making her want to heave. Cyne. He was probably out there, at his fort, alone.

She grabbed Berthilde’s arm and dragged her toward the gate in the high wooden wall. “Close the gate behind me, Berthilde, close it and bar it. If I return with enough time to spare, let me back in. If I don’t, you must keep the gate barred!”

“Milady!” Berthilde’s voice held panic. “Where do you go? I will not bar you from the castle!”

“Do as I say, Berthilde!” She reached the gate and shoved it open. Running through before Berthilde could stop her, Aleene yelled over her shoulder. “Bar it! Don’t let anyone through.”

She ran from the security of the castle, her gaze darting around her, looking for invaders. The grass swayed in the breeze, the cool sun made lazy shadows dance against the ground. All looked peaceful; nothing marred the beauty around her.

But her heart beat a rapid, fearful rhythm against her chest, and her mind conjured up every kind of evil behind every rock. “Cyne,” she cried. “Cyne!” Her voice sounded pathetically weak in the magnitude of her surroundings.

“Aleene!”

The harsh, commanding voice stopped Aleene cold. She whipped around, her gaze darting from the castle behind her to the quickly filling harbor, then over to the fort. Who had called her?

And then over the rise in front of her she saw him. His golden head appeared first, then his entire, strong, muscular body was revealed, as he walked up and over the hill. Only his eyes were different. Steely hard intelligence gleamed in his darkened eyes. “Get back to the castle. Put all of your people inside and bar the gates.” His voice matched his eyes: hard, edged with steel. “You shall be safe there.” His hard look faltered, he blinked, his hand came up as if he were going to touch her, only he didn’t. “Please, Aleene, go back. I can promise you will be safe.”

“You can promise? How? Who are you?” She asked, her mind reeling with shock.

His long dark lashes fluttered, shuttering his gaze. “I am Norman, Aleene. I am one of William’s knights.”

Her heart broke at that very moment. First it seemed to suck all of her life blood from her limbs, taking it all into itself, freezing there for a moment. And then it broke and there was nothing left inside of her.

She stared, her mind blank, her hand pressed against her mouth.

“Aleene.” He moved forward, his eyes pleading, the lines of his face set in hard ridges.

“You bastard,” she whispered, biting the back of her hand until she tasted blood. Her heart remained broken, but now a protective layer of ice shrouded it. “You bastard.”

She turned away from him, his winter-sun beauty, his ice-blue eyes, and ran.

Part II