‘William.’
‘William?’
‘After everything that’s happened we thought we might need to curry favour with the Earl and the King.’
‘Do you think it will work?’
‘Philippe thinks so, and I trust him.’
Aediva smiled. Judging by the look on her sister’s face as she said the Baron’s name, she didn’t need to worry about her any more.
‘If you truly want to go to Normandy then I’m happy for you, but what about Etton?’
‘I think you and your husband are more than capable of taking care of Redbourn and Etton. Speaking of your husband...’ Cille stood up determinedly. ‘I promised to tell him the minute you woke up. And I certainly don’t want to be on the wrong side of his temper.’
‘Wait!’ Aediva put out a hand to stall her. ‘I must look a mess!’
‘No more than usual.’ Cille smiled affectionately, putting a hand on Svend’s good shoulder. ‘But I don’t think he cares. I think he loves you the way you are.’
‘Just let me comb...’ She caught her breath unsteadily as a pair of blue eyes sprang open.
‘I’ll leave you two alone.’ Cille gave an enigmatic smile as she drifted towards the door. ‘I have a baby to tend to.’
Neither of them spoke as Svend heaved himself out of the chair and walked to the end of the bed, looking down at her with an expression like granite.
Aediva watched him nervously. When he’d held her in his arms on their journey back from the marshes she’d thought that he understood what had happened. Now she wasn’t so sure.
‘How’s your shoulder?’
‘Worse than before.’
‘Oh.’ She swallowed hard, quailing beneath his accusatory stare. If he’d been torturing her for information she couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable. ‘I wasn’t trying to help them escape.’
‘So the guards said.’
‘They’re alive?’ She almost cried with relief.
‘Badly wounded, but they’ll survive. They’re none too pleased with you, though.’
‘No...’ Her insides twisted. ‘I tricked them into letting me see Edmund. I only wanted to tell him what you’d said—that if he surrendered he might be pardoned—but it all went wrong. I thought I could reason with him, but...’ She gave an involuntary shiver. ‘He wasn’t the man I remembered.’
Svend looked distinctly unsympathetic. ‘I told you...war changes men.’
‘Women too. I’m sorry—truly.’
‘You’ll have to tell the guards that.’
‘I will. Are you angry with me too?’
‘Angry doesn’t begin to cover it.’
‘But do you forgive me?’
He held out for another moment before heaving a sigh, sitting down on the end of the bed. ‘Yes, for my sins, I do. I just don’t have to be pleased about it.’
She watched him with trepidation. He was sitting out of her reach, as if he didn’t want to come within touching distance. ‘What will FitzOsbern do when he finds out?’
‘He won’t be pleased.’