Margo Maguire (24 page)

“This is absurd,” said Mathieu to the knights on guard. “Lord Robert de Mortain ordered her taken to Billingsgate, yet she is not there. How can I find out who is in charge of the king’s prisoners?”

“That would be…your father, my lord,” the guard replied. “Baron Autier de Burbage.”

“My father?”

“Aye. Lord Autier has had the authority since his arrival in London a fortnight ago.”

Mathieu seethed with anger. Clearly, his father had changed Lord Robert’s order. For what reason, Mathieu did not know, but he could guess.

He and Raoul returned to their horses. “Where is Osric?” Mathieu asked.

“I kept him with me. He’s at the inn with the family who owns the place—they’re Saxon.”

“Raoul…I have no choice,” Mathieu said as his tem
per boiled. “I must go to my father at the king’s hall while you keep looking for Aelia. Take her to Osric and tell her I’ll join her as soon as I can.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Raoul turned into a street heading north, while Mathieu went directly to the grand hall where he’d last seen his father. He knew he had put Raoul in an awkward situation, but it could not be helped. Besides, if Mathieu was not mistaken, he now outranked his father. Ingelwald was greater than any property Autier de Burbage could claim, and so were Mathieu’s victories in battle.

Autier had no right to decide Aelia’s fate.

Mathieu reached the king’s hall, but ’twas not the same composed, sedate crowd that greeted him earlier. William had arrived with a large entourage, and the place was filled with music, noise and jocularity. Mathieu saw the king in the center of it all, a tall figure making his way to the dais. There was clearly some celebration in progress, but Mathieu cared naught. He only wanted to find his father and learn what he had done with Aelia.

The king suddenly called out to Mathieu. “Join me here, Fitz Autier! Lord of Ingelwald!”

Mathieu gritted his teeth. He could not ignore William. For the first time in his recollection, he was being honored above his brothers, but he took no pleasure in it. He made his way through the throng of knights and ladies gathered in the dining hall, and joined the king and his closest advisors upon the dais. The rich bounty he’d found in the Danes’ saddle packs lay spread upon a low table nearby.

William silenced the throng and publicly congratulated Mathieu on his victories in Northumberland. “I grant you all of Ingelwald, Mathieu Fitz Autier, and
name you earl,” said the king. “I expect a full accounting of your properties by the new year.”

“Thank you, sire,” Mathieu said, searching the crowd for his father. “You do me great honor.”

“Your exploits in Northumberland precede you,” William continued. “I would honor you above all others tonight. Allow us to grant you a king’s favor.”

Shooting a quick glance toward Simon de Vilot, who gave a slight nod, Mathieu spoke directly to the king. “As I have been released from my betrothal agreement with Simon de Vilot, I ask only that I be given Aelia of Ingelwald for my wife.”

“A Saxon lady?”

“Aye.”

“To bind Ingelwald more closely to you, Mathieu?”

Mathieu agreed. If the king wanted to believe ’twas diplomacy that dictated his actions, Mathieu would keep private what he felt for Aelia. ’Twould not be necessary to tell the king that he loved her more than his own life, although he would certainly do so if the situation demanded. He loved her, and he would tell her so, as soon as he discovered where his father had sent her.

“You are one of my most able commanders, and now I count you among my noblest lords, Mathieu of Ingelwald,” said William. “I grant you your request. Bring the lady forth, and wed her now, amid this company.”

“Sire, I cannot,” Mathieu said. “She is being held as prisoner….”

“Where? We can send men to rescue her.”

“I must find my father, sire, and ask him. He is her jailer.”

A
utier de Burbage did not appreciate the interruption, but the young kitchen maid he’d cornered did not hide her relief. She scampered away as Mathieu and Lord Robert closed in on Autier.

“Where did you send the Saxon woman?” Robert asked.

Autier did not bother to disguise his angry frustration, shooting a furious glance in Mathieu’s direction. “I saw how you looked at the wench. I heard what you said. And I merely prevented your disgracing my name with your—”

“Too late, Autier,” said Mathieu, grabbing the front of his father’s tunic in his fist. “You’ve done enough disgracing for us both. Where is she?”

“Gone.” His expression was smug. “To Normandy.”

Mathieu felt the blood drain from his skull. “How?”

“By ship, only a short time ago.”

“I know where,” said Robert. “Maybe there’s still time. Let’s go.”

Robert gathered several of his men as he and Mathieu retraced their steps through the hall, ordering their
horses to be saddled and brought ’round to the front of the building. Then he stepped up to the dais and spoke to the king.

Mathieu did not wait for Robert. His own horse was saddled and waiting outside. He left the crowded hall and mounted up, then quickly headed south, toward the wharf.

He encountered Raoul in the street.

“I could not find her—”

“They’re putting her on a ship bound for Normandy.”

Raoul muttered a curse and joined Mathieu. They rode to the wharf and saw that there were three ships preparing to set sail.

“Which one?” Raoul asked.

“You take this one,” Mathieu said, indicating the first of two ships that looked most ready to sail. “I’ll go to the next.”

He covered the distance between the two ships and stopped his horse where two men were pulling up the gangplank.

“Stop!” he called as he dismounted. The two sailors gaped up at Mathieu as if they did not understand him.

“Halt! Do you have Saxon prisoners aboard?”

“Aye,” said one of the men warily.

Mathieu wore no insignia of his station. Without armor and helm, he had no visible authority with these men. “Who commands this vessel?” he demanded.

“Who might you be, asking all these questions?” asked a sailor of rank.

He stepped onto the plank and crossed to the ship. “I am Mathieu Fitz Autier of King William’s court,” he said, drawing his sword. There was a crowd of people in the bow, and though Mathieu could not see Aelia
among them, he saw that there was a disturbance taking place there.

“You cannot come up here,” said one of the men, but Mathieu ignored him, shoving past.

“Aye, he can,” called a voice from the dock. ’Twas Count Robert de Mortain, and he was recognized by the ship’s hands.

“My lord,” Mathieu shouted back to him. “Will you go to the last ship?”

Robert gave him a quick nod and rode away, leaving two men on the dock awaiting Mathieu’s command.

He hurried to the far end of the ship and pushed through the crowd of guards and frightened Saxons who were gathered there. “Aelia!” he shouted.

One of the guards was about to whip a prisoner with a leather strap, but Mathieu stayed his hand, and noticed it was Aelia lying facedown upon the wooden planks. “What—?”

“Strike at your own peril,” Mathieu said viciously. Her hands were tied, but she rolled over and held them over her head to ward off the blows, and ’twas all Mathieu could do to refrain from taking the whip from the Norman guard and seeing how he liked its bite.

Instead, he leaned over Aelia and said her name.

She lay perfectly still.

“Aelia, I’ve come for you.”

Her shoulders heaved once, and Mathieu took hold of her and gently turned her. His relief was just as great as when he’d taken her from the Danes. “Aelia.”

He cut the ropes that bound her, then lifted her into his arms, wanting naught but to hold her, to stop the tears that welled in her eyes. “That’s it,
ma belle,
hold me tight.” With Aelia’s arms looped ’round his neck, Mathieu carried her the length of the ship, then down
the gangplank. “Raoul has Osric.” He felt her sobbing breaths against his chest. “Your brother is safe.”

He carried her to his horse and lifted her up, quickly mounting behind her.

“I see you found your lady, Mathieu,” said Robert de Mortain. “And is she well?”

“Aye,” Mathieu said, holding her close, feeling her shuddering against him as she squeezed his hand in affirmation.

“Then ’tis the king’s wish that you join us in an hour’s time.”

“Agreed.”

Mathieu had received the king’s sanction for his marriage to Aelia, and he wanted all the Normans—particularly his father and brothers—to witness their vows. In one hour, he would return to the king’s hall with Aelia.

He rode away from the wharf, stopping in a secluded lane. Turning Aelia in his arms, he kissed her softly. “Forgive me for letting them take you,” he said, touching his lips to her forehead. “I was a fool to let you go.”

Her chin quivered and tears fell, but she said naught, wrapping her arms ’round his waist as if she would never release him.

Naught had ever felt so good to Aelia…Mathieu’s hard chest against her face, his arms ’round her back. He’d said Osric was safe, so all she had to do was relish this moment. But she only had him for one hour. Then he was to attend the king.

They held on to each other for several minutes until someone nearby spoke. “Mathieu…”

’Twas Sir Raoul.

Mathieu did not release her when Raoul continued
speaking. “Mayhap we should go to the inn. Lady Aelia can see her brother there, and I am sure the women will be able to find some decent clothes for her.”

Aelia knew how she must look. She was as filthy as her ragged kirtle, but at least Mathieu did not seem to mind. In truth, he also looked the worse for wear. He had not shaved his face in days, so his beard grew thick and his clothes were as untidy as her own.

Mathieu agreed to go to the inn, and Raoul said he would ride ahead and see that all was made ready for them.

Mathieu held Aelia close as they rode through the narrow streets of London town, and before they reached their destination, she heard a child’s shouts in the distance, calling her name.

“’Tis Osric!”

He ran the length of the street, shouting as he ran. Aelia let go of Mathieu and slid down to the ground, catching Osric as he ran into her arms. She heard Mathieu dismount behind her as she embraced her brother, weeping tears of relief, of joy.

“Aelia! I never thought you’d get away from those bastard Da—”

Aelia laughed and pulled him close, kissing his unkempt head.

“You’re squeezing me too tight!”

She laughed again and released him as Mathieu put his arm ’round her and guided them down the street, leading his horse behind them.

“So, did you kill them? The Danes?” Osric asked Mathieu.

“No, it wasn’t necessary,” he replied.

“But you stole my sister away from them?”

“Aye, but ’tis a tale to be told later.”

“No! Tell me now!”

Aelia’s heart warmed at Osric’s demand, so typical of her intrepid brother, and Mathieu’s patience with the boy. She did not know what the future held for her and Osric, but for now, she would treasure these moments together.

They entered the common room of an inn and were greeted by Raoul and two Saxon women. “Lady Aelia,” said one of them. “Everything is ready for you…or nearly ready.”

They started to lead her away, but Mathieu kept hold of her. “Not without me,” he said.

Feeling close to tears again, Aelia clung to his hand. Raoul took charge of Osric as she climbed the stairs with Mathieu and entered the bedchamber indicated by the Saxon woman.

“’Tis not much, my lady,” she said, “but I hope it will do for now.”

Mathieu thanked her and ushered her from the room, closing the door when she was gone. A second later, Aelia was in his arms. His mouth came down upon hers as though they’d been separated for days, rather than hours.

“How long must you stay with the king?” she asked, breathless as he unfastened her gown and slid it from her body. He kissed her injured shoulder and spanned her waist with his hands.

“A good bit of the night,” he replied.

“Will he be angry if you are late?” Aelia asked, tipping her head back to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck.

“I cannot be late…for my own wedding.”

Emotion, raw and painful, welled in Aelia’s chest. She had not anticipated the kind of devastation she
would feel when he went through his nuptials. “You must go then.”

“What’s this? Tears?”

She slipped out of his arms and turned away. “Please do not ask me to wish you well, Mathieu,” she whispered.

“What’s happened to my fearless Saxon lady?” he asked, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her to his chest.

“I never knew you to be cruel, but—”

“Come with me, Aelia,” he said quietly, “and be my bride, before the king and all the nobles of the realm.” He slid his hands ’round her waist and kissed her neck. “I’ll have no other wife, Aelia.”

“I don’t understand….” She pulled away and faced him, feeling confused and vulnerable. “Your Norman lady…”

“Her father was persuaded to release me from our agreement.”

Aelia’s heart pounded so hard she was certain Mathieu must be able to hear it. “’Tis really true?” she whispered, barely able to believe what he was saying. “You want a Saxon wife?”

“Aye,
ma belle.
But only you.”

She threw herself into Mathieu’s arms and wept.

“I hope these are tears of joy,” he said, holding her close.

She nodded against his chest.

“You are everything to me, Aelia.” He fitted her head underneath his chin. “Come back with me to Ingelwald. Stand by my side as my lady. Bear my children, rebuild all that was lost in battle.”

The bed creaked as Mathieu sat up and came to Aelia where she sat near the fire in their bridal chamber. She
still felt dizzy from the night’s events, her body humming with the aftermath of their fierce lovemaking in their room here at the inn.

Mathieu settled himself at her back and pulled her into his embrace, nuzzling her ear.

“You promised to honor and obey me, wife,” he said quietly.

“Aye.” She felt him take a lock of her hair and curl it ’round his finger.

“My men honor and obey me.”

Aelia smiled. “Of course they do…as do I.”

He swallowed, and his voice was thick with emotion. “I would have more from a wife than her obedience.”

Aelia turned and looked into his eyes, which were dark with need.

She took his hands and pressed a kiss into each palm. “I love you, Mathieu. You conquered more than my lands when you came to Ingelwald. You are the lord of my heart, my body and my soul.”

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, touching his forehead to hers. “And you, Aelia…I love you with all that I am, all that I ever hope to be.”

He stood and took her hand, pulling her up beside him. When he cupped her face in his hands and tipped his head down to kiss her, Aelia knew her mother had been right.

This Saxon lady had known her one true mate at first sight.