Malia Martin (27 page)

“How dare you!”

Without answering, Robert closed the door, then turned toward her, his blue eyes dark with anger. “You try my patience.”

Aleene sputtered, her resolve to maintain her indifference toward her husband melting before the fiery anger that raced through her. “I try your patience?” She clenched her hands so tight, her nails dug into her palms. “I try
your
patience?” Her voice grew louder as she felt every ounce of her self-control seep from her body.

Grabbing the first thing her hand touched, Aleene heaved an empty candlestick at her husband’s head. He ducked and it clattered against the door then dropped to the floor, the sound an insulting and inferior mimicry of the great show of force Robert had just made. An exasperated, frustrated huff of air escaped Aleene’s lips as she searched the room for another weapon.

“Cease this childish tantrum, woman. Let us speak as adults.”

“Childish tantrum?” Her voice deceptively low, Aleene grabbed one of her father’s treasured Spanish vases. “You wait, Norman, I shall strive to make this tantrum more adult for you.” She hurled the vase. It thudded against Robert’s shoulder as he turned out of the way, and it crashed to the floor. A good loud crash that made Aleene smile. “Do not think to come near me. I will not speak with you, pig Norman, ever!”

“How very adult.”

“Shut up!” Giving up on missiles, Aleene went at Robert with her fists, hitting as hard as she could. “You took everything! Everything! You control my castle.” She clawed at his face, then hit out again. “My people!” She opened one fist and slapped, connecting with
bare skin somewhere for she heard a satisfying smack and felt a fiery sting in her palm. “They shall never accept me now that I am a traitor. I hate you!” She continued to hit and scream until finally she realized that her face was wet with tears and her punches had become mere taps.

Turning away, Aleene pushed her fists against her eyes and cried great gulping sobs. When she felt Robert’s large hands on her shoulders, she didn’t even stiffen. She turned into his arms and put her head against his chest. “I do hate you,” she cried, her fingers clenching in his tunic. “I do.”

“I know.” He held her tightly.

“I cannot do this yet again. I vowed not to.” Aleene tried to dredge up the strength that had kept her cold to Robert’s warmth and love, but it would not come. She wished only to keep her head against his chest and feel his arms about her. She wished nothing else existed, not William, not England, not the need to fight.

Her sobs subsided and she only took deep shuddering breaths now and then.

“It is nearly Christmas.”

“Yes,” Robert answered her.

“There should be laughter and festivity.”

“Yes.”

Aleene sighed. She wondered if Christmas would ever be the same again. “When my father was alive, I loved Christmas.” She took another hiccuping breath.

“My brother loves Christmas. His eyes light up as they do at no other time of year.” Robert stroked her hair. “He doesn’t show much emotion.”

“We would probably get along well,” Aleene said derisively.

“Yes, John is like Cyne.”

The name sent a shiver through Aleene, and she pushed away from Robert. “Cyne?”

“John is simple.” Robert held onto one of her hands, refusing to let go. “A horse kicked him in the head when he was eight.”

“And your father did not make him leave?”

Robert shook his head, a small smile tilting his lips. “No. My family is very different than most. My mother is full of love, my father full of wisdom. It is a strange household I come from.”

Something that might have been jealousy stung Aleene’s heart. “It sounds wonderful.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and when the words sounded in the darkening room, she winced.

“It is.” Robert pulled her towards him. She resisted, but not strongly. “I never realized how wonderful until lately.” He kissed her, a light, feathery kiss against her brow. “I want to have that here, with you. Please, Aleene, it can be so.”

“It can’t.” Despair, so deep she didn’t think she could breathe, clenched her stomach.

He kissed her again, his lips against her temple, her cheek, her lips. “I promise we shall have it right here.” His lips caressed hers, his tongue lightly touched her mouth. “We can have it now if we but work together.” He deepened the kiss.

The despair did not go away for Aleene could not believe that anything could ever be wonderful again, but still she returned her husband’s kiss. Through the despair came need, and with the need came lust.

She deepened their kiss, urgency lending her courage. To purge the conflicting emotions and thoughts from her head became all that mattered. Robert could do that to her. Remembering the night before Hastings, Aleene pulled at the strings to Robert’s tunic.

She wanted only to feel physical satisfaction. She wanted to forget everything else but the racking convulsions of release. Aleene broke their kiss only long enough to help Robert from his clothes. Her hands shook as she tugged at ties and ripped material.

He did the same for her, his fingers catching in her chemise and ripping the soft linen. Her body was on fire.

They fell as one upon her bed, hands roaming over bodies, lips roaming over faces, tongue twining with tongue.

And then he was inside of her, hot, hard, and full. Aleene gasped, grabbing at the coverlet above her head. She bucked against her husband, taking him fully within her. He kissed her hard, then bent and took her nipple into his mouth. A tremor shook her entire body, and she closed her eyes, centering her entire attention on the tightness of her womanhood and the growing tension low in her belly. Robert sucked hard, and Aleene groaned, the tension moving lower, growing more intense. “Yes,” she cried, “yes.” And then the release came. Crashing through her senses, making her collapse on the bed, breathing hard, experiencing it with all of her soul, trying to keep it, savor it.

He moved within her, and she grasped his arms. It was gone, her release, her sweet agony, gone. Robert pumped into her, his teeth biting his bottom lip, his eyes closed. Aleene watched, feeling him hard inside of her. She knew he was close, she could feel it at her core, and then he gasped and she felt him gush within her. His eyes opened, and he stared at her. They stayed silent for a long time, still joined, but so far apart.

“I am inside of you, and yet still I do not touch you.” Robert shook his head then rolled off of her.

She turned away from him, tucking her knees to her chest.

She could feel Robert beside her, feel his confusion, his hurt. But she could not care. Finally he cupped his body around her and laid his arm around her waist. “It can be wonderful, Aleene. It can.”

Aleene did not answer. She closed her eyes and slept.

The servants bustled around him, bringing everything he asked for and keeping their eyes averted as Robert broke his fast in the great hall the next morning. No one said an unkind word, no one balked at serving him, but he could feel their animosity. They ran to do his bidding, but Robert could see their resentment in the set of a jaw and the stiffness of a shoulder. It was beyond tiring. He would have to win their trust, and was not entirely sure it could be done.

Robert glanced at Aleene with that thought. He had made love to her. That should have broken through her barriers, and yet it hadn’t. It had brought up new ones, different ones, ones Robert did not understand. He watched his wife eat her food, the motions slow and ponderous. Her gaze stayed on the trencher before her, never straying about the room or at him. It was as if she were dead, and yet her body still went on with the motions of life.

Pushing back his bench, Robert stood abruptly. He needed to get away. The hatred from his servants and apathy from his wife frustrated him to no end. “Jon,” he called striding away from the table. “Bring me my hunting gear.” Jon jumped forward from his post by the door blinking quickly. Obviously the boy had begun to nod off in the quiet of the great hall. The only noise that echoed through the room was an occasional cough or crunch of shoes on rushes. Frustration was not the only thing haunting Robert’s emotions; insanity flirted with his mind also. “Now, boy. I shall meet you outside.”

The boy turned and ran to do Robert’s bidding. “I will use a falcon from the mews, also,”
Robert said to no one in particular.

“No!” His wife stood quickly.

Robert stared at her in surprise.

Aleene glared back at him for a moment, life finally stirring within her eyes. But then, just as quickly, her dark eyes dulled and she bowed her head. “The falcons were my father’s.”

“And so not worthy of me?” Anger made his voice shake. Aleene did not even look at him as she sat again at the table. With a disgusted sigh, Robert stalked from the hall.

Berthilde smiled at him as he stepped outside. She had a steaming loaf of bread in her hands. “Done already, are you?” She hefted the bread. “I was just bringing some fresh, hot bread to fill your stomach.”

Robert eyed the curl of steam escaping from the loaf. It looked tempting with the chill winter air already making his fingers feel like ice. “I thought I’d go out and bring us back some meat for dinner.”

“Ah,” she nodded, her eyes showing sadness “’Tis warmer out here than it is inside, is it not.”

“Aye.” Robert smiled slightly.

“I don’t blame ye for trying to find a respite.” She broke the bread in half and wrapped it in a cloth she was carrying. “Take this with you. And not to worry, milord, the people will soon see ye’re not to be feared or hated.”

Jon came out then with his bow and arrow. Robert took the wrapped bread from Berthilde, smiled his thanks, then accepted his hunting gear from Jon. “I’ll be back soon,” he said to no one, then left, not truly wanting to be back too soon.

The sun had started to peek through the fog that hung over the harbor as Robert left Seabreeze and turned toward the forests that bordered the keep. Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he took a deep breath of the cold air and rubbed his hands together quickly. He should have brought his gloves. He would catch nothing with numb fingers, but he’d left so quickly, he had forgotten to retrieve them from the trunk that sat in an alcove of the great hall. Robert hadn’t had the courage to take it to Aleene’s chamber that first day when William had landed.

He could probably have it hauled to the room now. He could probably move his entire garrison into Aleene’s room, and she would not even frown. Robert sighed, stuck his hands in the folds of his tunic, and watched his warm breath turn the air in front of him white. He would rather Aleene yell and throw things at him than act the beaten creature as she had this morning.

Robert heard a shout in the distance and looked up. One of William’s men waved from the fortress that still stood within the Roman ruins on the cliff. Robert waved back halfheartedly. He wished William would call his men away. They were not needed since Robert had Seabreeze well in hand. He laughed aloud at that thought. Well, he had more control than the men at the fortress. Perhaps he would send a message to William.

He entered the forest then, the tall trees blocking out the weak rays of the sun and sending a shiver down Robert’s spine. It hadn’t snowed yet. He wasn’t at all sure if it did snow here. But it seemed cold enough that he expected white flakes to fall from the heavens at any moment. Robert shivered again and buried his hands in his tunic once more.

He spent nearly an hour without spotting a single creature among the trees. He was sure his stomping probably scared them all into their burrows. He had to keep jumping up and
down to keep the blood flowing through his body. Finally, he spotted a nice fat hare and brought it down with one arrow. He had a small inkling of hope in the back of his mind that he could find and bring down a deer. Robert could just imagine the look on the faces of the people of Seabreeze if he brought back such a prize. They would have to stop hating him completely then. To have their bellies full because of the marauding Norman would perhaps make them hate him a little less.

Robert chuckled derisively as he twined string around the hare’s back feet and hung the creature on his quiver. As he straightened from his task, he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. Turning quickly, he caught a quick glimpse of blond hair as someone ducked behind a bush.

Pulling an arrow from his quiver, Robert placed it against his bow and walked slowly toward the spot. “Who goes there?”

A twig snapped beneath his feet, but no other sound broke the forest silence. He stopped, fearing a trap. “Show thyself!” he yelled.

He heard a whimper that cut off abruptly. Robert frowned. He had never known assassins or soldiers to whimper. “Who is it?” he asked again, this time a bit more gently.

Quiet. And then, slowly, a small face peeped from around the bush.

“’Tis only I, Meg, sir.” A young girl stood before him, her blond hair ragged and dirty, her face streaked with mud, her bare feet peeking from beneath the hem of her thin gown. She held greens in her hands, a big bunch of them.

Robert quickly put his arrow away and shouldered his bow. “Are you picking greens, child?”

She looked down at her hands, then back up at him, her eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t, sir, really I didn’t.” She dropped the offending branches and boughs.

“No, Meg, ’tis quite all right.” He smiled and inched forward. “Are you picking them for the Christmas season perhaps?” Mayhap he should bring some back to Seabreeze? A bit of Christmas cheer to go along with the rabbit for the peoples’ stew, they would hate him even less, he was sure.

Meg looked at him, the fear in her eyes turning to confusion. “Christmas?” She said the word like she had never heard it before.

Robert wracked his brains. Had he used the wrong English word for the celebration of Christ’s birth. He shook his head, no, Aleene had used the word only the day before.

Meg bowed her small head before him, wringing her fingers together. “Nay, sir, not for Christmas. I was picking them to eat.”

“Eat?” Meg jumped, and he softened his tone. “You were going to eat those?” He looked at the leaves in the small heap at Meg’s feet.