‘Stay hidden. If I don’t come back, wait until dark and then go.’
He started towards the shore and then stopped abruptly, bursting into relieved laughter. A Norman patrol was pushing its way through the rim of trees, their white tunics and pointed helms shining with light reflected off the water.
‘Svend? What is it?’
She was staring at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted two heads, and he fought the temptation to jump down and gather her in his arms. How long before somebody found them? Not long enough for what he wanted to do.
‘Nothing to fear.’ He raised a hand, waving a greeting to the knight in front. ‘Just a friend.’
He looked down again, but she’d already slid off the rock and ducked back under the water. Tendrils of hair spread around her like an ink stain. As he watched the ripples gradually stilled, revealing the shimmery outline of her body beneath.
He dragged his gaze away. ‘We should go.’
‘I’ll follow.’ She looked shy suddenly. Even her shoulders seemed to be blushing.
‘There might be more soldiers on the way.’
‘I won’t be long. Besides, if they’re Norman I should be safe, shouldn’t I?’
Her tone challenged him to deny it and he nodded reluctantly, pulling his tunic over his head as he collected Talbot and made his way back around the edge of the lake, walking fast to quell his desire.
At least Hugh was a friend—one of the few knights who judged a man on ability rather than birth—and he knew how to keep a secret. Under the circumstances, it might have been a lot worse. If de Quincey had found them, for instance...
‘Hugh!’ He hailed a man with cropped chestnut hair and a broad, friendly face.
‘Danemark? You’re the last person I expected to find here! Are you lost?’
Svend gave a disarming smile before jabbing the other man in the ribs, dropping him heavily to the ground.
‘You have either the best or the worst timing, my friend.’
‘That’s the thanks I get for finding you?’ Hugh clutched his stomach, winded. ‘You know FitzOsbern doesn’t like waiting. Where have you been?’
Svend proffered a hand. ‘There were...obstacles. Finding Etton was more of a challenge than we anticipated.’
‘But you found it?’
‘Eventually.’
‘And...?’ Hugh’s face lit up inquisitively. ‘What’s she like, de Quincey’s new bride?’
‘She’s not an ogre.’
‘Dark or fair?’
‘Dark.’
Brown hair kissed by the sun. Eyes like the purest honey.
Hugh smirked. ‘He likes them dark. Is she pretty?’
More than words can describe.
‘Pretty enough.’
‘Is that it? I’ll never understand you, my friend. You talk more about horses than women.’
‘She’s a woman—the same as any other.’