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se’s side in this matter, Captain? We Somerford folk do love our lady. Don’t be thinking otherwise. ’Tis Sir Arno we don’t like. He shows us one face but he has another he keeps well hid. Ever since he came here, he’s been watching her, hoping for more than he has a right to. Lady Rose trusts him because her heart is good; she doesn’t believe he’d betray her.”

“She is fond of him, then?” The words were careless, as if it mattered to him not at all. Gunnar was surprised how difficult it suddenly was for him to assume such a pretense.

Edward snorted. “You think they be lovers, Captain? Nay, they’re not lovers! Lady Rose is too good for Arno, Captain. He was Lord Edric’s friend, and so she trusts him for that reason. Do you know he swore allegiance to her over Edric’s deathbed?” The old man raised a cynical eyebrow. “Edric made him do it.”

“And you think…?”

“I think Lord Edric knew very well what Arno was about. I think he made him swear his allegiance to Lady Rose to keep him true to her. Mayhap he hoped Lady Rose would marry again, to a man strong enough to deal with the Norman. He didn’t realize our lady would see that Arno did not love her people as she did, and so for our sake she would stand alone. Lady Lily helped her in that—Lady Lily be a strong woman herself.”

As Gunnar returned to the keep he felt almost light-headed with relief. It must be so. Edward was right. Rose was no treacherous lady. No, he was the treacherous one. He quickened his pace, full of a dark, unfamiliar anger. He was here as Rose’s man but he was actually Lord Radulf’s spy. Worse than that, for he was seeking to steal what was hers. And when Rose learned of it she would feel betrayed.

She would probably never forgive him.

Constance had been watching Rose since she entered the bedchamber that morning to help her dress. The old woman had a gleam in her eye, but as yet, to Rose’s relief, she had said nothing. With luck she would believe the signs of exhaustion on Rose’s face were due to no more than a restless night—Jesu, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have plenty of troubles to keep her awake! She didn’t want to speak of Gunnar yet. She felt too unsettled to consider what would happen now, and Constance would force her to think hard.

“Lady? The red gown today with the blue undergown?”

Rose nodded, allowing Constance to choose, standing docile while Constance tugged the cloth over her head and settled it into place. Constance’s gaze fixed on the bed and instantly Rose tensed. Although she was sure she had smoothed away all evidence of Gunnar’s occupation, he was such an overwhelming presence, it was as if some sign of him remained. Would Constance sense that he had been there?

Thus far the old woman had not said a word.

“The plaited gold girdle, lady? And the red calfskin shoes?”

“Aye, Constance, thank you.”

Constance finished with the girdle and shoes and set to brushing her lady’s hair, strong strokes through the curling, midnight thickness. Rose sighed for the dozenth time, wondering how she would look at Gunnar today—yesterday had been bad enough, but now there was much more between them.

She closed her eyes, remembering despite herself. It had not been at all as she imagined. She had thought he would lie with her once and leave, mayhap even use her like a…a camp follower. Instead he had taken her with relish, lavishing his body upon her. She had feared from the first moment she saw him that he would enthrall her senses, and so he had, but in return he had given her a new sense of her own power over him.

She had not expected that.

Rose had learned last night that Gunnar Olafson was not the invulnerable warrior she had thought him. She could make him sweat, she could make him shudder, she could make him groan for release. He was a man, capable of feeling pain and pleasure, hurt and joy. And knowing that had changed everything.

Constance had begun to braid her hair, standing close behind Rose, her fingers still quick and sure for all her years.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “the character of a man is more important that his bloodline.” She nodded to herself, twisting the dark strands into one thick rope. “A man with honor, a strong man who can see right from wrong, aye, he would be a far better option than a man with powerful friends who whores and swears and cares not at all for his wife and family.”

Rose had stiffened, staring straight ahead as if Constance held a dagger at her back. So much for thinking she had escaped Constance’s eagle eyes, she thought despairingly.

“I have heard tell that the Vikings are near enough to kings, in their own country.”

“They are savages and murderers in ours,” Rose retorted in a small, hard voice.

“Lady, your own father is no shining example. Old Edric was frightened of him, but he still married you, and not only because Radulf, his overlord, told him to. He did it because you were beautiful and sweet, and the old man lost his heart to you. Maybe he even felt sorry for you, when he met your father and saw what he was. One day you will have to wed again, and your second husband may not be as easy to manage as your first.”

Rose shook her head; of all her people, Constance was the only one who knew of her past. “Constance, this is not helping…”

“To marry beneath your family and position may not be ‘beneath’ you in other ways, that is all I mean to say.” Constance finished with a rush, determined to complete her speech.

Rose took a deep, slow breath. “I see that you have guessed what happened between Captain Olafson and myself. It was lust, Constance, nothing more. You said yourself I needed a lover, and last night I took one. That is all. Please don’t think it more than that.”

Constance finished the braid and let it fall gently against Rose’s straight back. “Do you truly believe that? I have seen the look in your eyes…in his eyes, and I know there is more to this than lust.”

“No.” Rose pulled away and stood up. Her heart was pounding, her eyes wide, her hands shaking. “Please, let me hear no more of it, Constance. I will hear no more!”

And she was gone, all but running down the stairs. Constance stared after her with a humorless smile. “Aye, my lady, you may run this time, but there will come a time when you can run no more. And then you will see that this old woman was right.”

Chapter 13


Tags: Sara Bennett Medieval Historical