‘And when does the Earl want an answer?’
‘He wishes it to be settled before he leaves.’
‘But you said he was leaving tomorrow!’
‘He is. Arrangements are already in place for de Quincey’s wedding to your sister. If you’re agreeable, we’ll have our wedding feast tonight.’
‘Tonight?’
‘As I said, if you’re agreeable.’
She staggered away from him, her mind whirling. Agreeable? How could she be agreeable? The very idea of marriage was abhorrent to her. She hadn’t wanted to marry anyone since the first time Edmund had touched her.
As for marriage to Svend? The thought didn’t repel her in quite the same way, but how could she possibly marry him now? At least when he’d been angry with her he’d felt something. Now his glacial expression made her feel cold all over. Whatever feelings he’d had for her were clearly long gone. If he’d only show some sign of emotion...melt just a little. Otherwise their marriage would be doomed from the start. How could she...? How could they...?
She swallowed nervously. Would it be a marriage in truth? Would he want to lie with her?
He seemed to guess the direction of her thoughts. ‘You’ve nothing to fear from me. You can return to Etton in a few weeks, if you wish. Your sister inherited the land so it forms part of the Redbourn estate. You can look after the village as before. Our marriage will be a formal arrangement, that’s all.’
‘Oh.’ She felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment. ‘And if I refuse?’
‘Make your objections known to the Earl, by all means.’ He gave a dismissive shrug and then frowned, as if admitting something against his will. ‘But I doubt he’ll let you return to Etton if you refuse. He doesn’t like to be thwarted.’
She froze, horrified, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry at the irony. She’d started off pretending to be Cille and now she was becoming her in truth! If she married Svend she’d be mistress of Redbourn—become the very Saxon bride she’d come to rescue. But if she didn’t who would take care of Etton? If this was the only way to protect her people what choice did she have?
‘Unless...’ Svend’s frown deepened, as if a new thought had just occurred to him. ‘Unless there’s another reason you can’t marry me?’
She looked at him askance. Did he mean besides the fact that he didn’t love her? Or was love so unimportant to Normans?
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re of an age for marriage.’ He looked suspicious. ‘Who’s Edmund?’
‘What?’ Her stomach twisted painfully. ‘Why?’
‘In Etton you said that was the name of your sister’s husband. Who is he really? Yours?’
‘No!’
‘No...?’
He took a step closer and she clasped the blanket to her throat defensively. She hadn’t thought that he could look any colder, but now his whole demeanour was positively chilling.
‘When you asked about Cille’s husband his was the first name I thought of.’
‘So who is he?’ His voice sounded clipped, as if he were keeping a tight rein on his emotions.
‘If you must know, he is the son of a neighbouring Thane. My father wanted me to marry him.’
His face darkened and she felt a momentary surprise. He looked the same way de Quincey had done in the tent—as if he were jealous. But he couldn’t be. He was probably just afraid of anything that might thwart his ambitions for Redbourn.
‘And...?’
‘And I didn’t care for him—not like that.’
His expression shifted slightly. ‘So you’re not married?’
‘Do you think I would have kissed you if I’d been married?’