The Red Wolf's Prize (20 page)

“William may yet visit Talisand, Serena. You should be
prepared. He will want to see his castle. And I’ve heard rumors of discontent
in the north that may draw him to Northumbria before the year is out.”

Serena had not forgotten what Morcar had told her about the
anticipated gathering of the Northumbrians and their allies, but she said
nothing, only worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she considered what
might take place in that city. She preferred to think of Steinar safely in
Scotland and her new husband safely at Talisand, not meeting on a battlefield.
Yet she feared it might be inevitable.

They finished the meal, and Renaud took her hand leading her
from the dais to the area cleared for dancing. The tables had been pushed close
to the walls allowing the couples to dance around the central hearth, which did
not bear a fire this day. Instead, the wooden shutters were thrown open to
allow the sunlight to fill the hall.

The music of the harp, lyre, bone whistle and drum urged
them to join the others. The steps involved much turning and gesturing as
Renaud led her through the dances he knew. Sir Geoffroi and Eawyn joined them,
as did the rest of the knights and many of the villagers. Soon every maiden was
partnered with either a Norman or an Englishman. The hall was crowded with
bodies moving in time to the music.

Angus pulled Maggie into the twirling couples, causing
Serena to smile.

“You are pleased, my lady?” Renaud asked her.

“Aye, my lord. It has been a long while since any at
Talisand had cause to dance.”

* * *

Sunlight from the windows in the hall shimmered in Serena’s
flaxen curls drawing Renaud’s gaze to her beautiful face and to the swells of
her breasts rising above the neckline of the elegant gown, enticing him beyond
measure. Content he had finally claimed his English bride, he wanted to be
alone with her. To lay her down on their bed and make long, lingering love to
her.
Enough eating, dancing and celebration.
He wanted his bride naked
in his bed. And he wanted her now.

As their heads passed close with the movement of the dance,
he whispered in her ear, “When the music ends, my lady, we are away to our
chamber.”

Serena blushed as he’d expected she would. Still new to
lovemaking, she had much to learn before she would be comfortable with all he
wanted to share with her. But her passionate response to his forays the day
before told him she would enjoy what was to come.

The song ended and Renaud swept Serena into his arms and
carried her from the hall with much cheering and ribald raillery shouted from
his men.

“My lord!” Serena gasped as they passed through the doorway
leading from the hall to the manor. “Must you carry me like a sack of grain?”

“Ah, Serena,” he replied kissing her on the forehead while
striding through the entry, “it is but a small thing to hasten our departure.
Besides, my men heartily approve, and your maidens are all bearing smiles. I
like having you at my disposal.”

Up the stairs he hurried with his bride in his arms. Kicking
open the door to his bedchamber, he crossed the room and tossed her playfully
upon the bed’s cover.

“You have little idea what torture I experienced at being so
close to you yet allowing propriety to have its sway. Now you are mine!”

He closed the door and returned to her, unlacing her gown
and sliding it from her.

“I see you are in haste to dispense with my clothing, my
lord. Would you like me to help divest you of yours?”

“Saucy wench,” he said with a grin.

Her arms were outstretched to him, but he was too anxious to
wait. Setting aside his blade and belt, he pulled his tunic over his head.
Kicking off his boots, he doffed his shirt, leaving him only in his braies and
hosen.

Casting her a smile, he fell upon her, raining kisses down
her neck and over her face as her arms wound around him. He took her mouth in a
gentle assault, his tongue reaching for hers. He pressed his hips to her belly
and felt his passion rise. She wrapped one of her legs around his as she
returned his kiss.

Raising his head, he looked into her violet eyes, darkening
with her pleasure. “You are not in a hurry, are you my love?”

She blushed. “You have made me eager with your kisses.”

“Not so eager as I.” And with that he made short work of
their remaining clothes to leave them both naked.

Her flesh was soft and warm and he wanted to sink his shaft
deep within her. His gaze devoured her. She was so lovely, skin as luminous as
cream, her rose tipped breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. He
could wait no longer to sample them. Threading his fingers through hers and
raising her hands above her head on the pillow, he pressed his shaft against
the juncture of her thighs and she opened to him. Taking a nipple into his
mouth to feast upon the hard crested peak, he pressed against her moving his
hips in an action designed to drive her wild.

“Oh, Renaud…”

Quickly he let go of her hands and moved his mouth to her
nether region where he lapped at her wetness with his tongue, feeling her
shiver beneath his hands kneading her breasts.

“So ready, so soon,” he said. He could not wait a minute
longer to have his bride. Rising above her and positioning his shaft at her
entrance, he plunged deep.

Serena inhaled and sighed out her breath.

She was so tight, her muscles gripping his shaft with a
vengeance; it took all his control not to spill his seed. But he had no
intention of quickly concluding this lovemaking. Slowing his heart from its
racing pace, he began to move while bending his head to kiss her deeply. She
clung to him raising her hips to accept his thrusts.

He raised his head to look at her face flushed with passion.

“Your leisurely pace inflicts its own pleasant torture,” she
spoke huskily.

“’Twas my intent, my lovely Serena. I would extend this time
beyond our enduring.” With his warrior’s control, Renaud took his time until
she was near the peak only to back off ’til her passion subsided, and then to
raise it again ’til she was moaning beneath him, tossing her head on the
pillow.

Soaked in the sweat of their lovemaking, he plunged deep,
hard and fast, and together shouted their release.

And this was just the beginning of a night Renaud knew he
would never forget.

Serena woke to see Renaud’s gray eyes staring at her as he
leaned on one elbow, his expression serious.

“What is it?” she asked, suddenly wide awake, for he seemed
worried.

“Are you, indeed, content to being the wife of a Norman?”

It was too early in the morn for such conversation, but she
could see he was determined to have an answer. Wiping the sleep from her eyes,
she said softly, “I made my vow to you before the people of Talisand. And we
have joined our bodies as one. Surely you cannot doubt me now.” It was with
eyes of love that she looked at his strong masculine face framed by his tousled
chestnut hair. But looking back at her were eyes of disbelief. Hoping to persuade
him, she said, “Though you were my enemy, Renaud, now you are my husband and my
lover.”

“I would that it always be so, my lady wife,” he said as he
kissed her and rolled to the edge of the bed. “Only love between us. Nay
forget.”

“I never shall.” And she meant it. After their night of
lovemaking, how could he doubt her?

Renaud rose from their bed and began to dress. His muscled
lean body drew her attention even as she pulled the bed cover over her breasts.
Their intimacy was still new.

While donning his clothes, he told her that after they broke
their fast, he wanted to see the castle with her. Though tired from their night
of lovemaking, Serena would not turn away from an invitation to be with him for
the morning, particularly when there were still doubts in his mind. Besides,
she was eager to get a glimpse of what would be her new home, even though
leaving the manor would be another step in leaving behind all that had gone
before—her parents, her brother and the memories of the life they had shared
together.

Nearly everyone had left the hall by the time she and Renaud
finished breaking their fast. They stepped into a cloud-filled morning.

Renaud looked into the sky. “A good time to see the castle
before the rain descends.”

“While you were in Exeter, Sir Maurin made the castle his
favorite theme at the evening meals. I have heard much about it, but not yet
viewed the interior.”

“Then come my lady.” He held out his hand. “There are stairs
we can ascend to view all.” She placed her hand in his and together they walked
over the new wooden bridge that spanned the moat and up the wooden stairs that
led to the top of the motte.

Serena had not realized just how high the mountain of dirt
rose above the yard until she stood at its summit. She estimated it was about
fifteen feet to the ground below, and from where she stood, the new keep rose
another thirty feet into the sky. It was a large square structure with a
protrusion on one side. All was surrounded by a wooden palisade like the one
below that circled the yard, stable and outbuildings, now a part of the bailey.

They walked into the keep, where servants had lighted the
torches set into the walls. On the ground level there was a hall with a large
hearth and stairs at the rear leading up to the solar and sleeping chambers. It
was larger than the old hall. The smell of new wood surrounded them, as she
realized the large space was clean, but as yet unfurnished.

On the second level, the bedchamber for the lord was larger
than that of the manor and connected to a solar, a place for her husband to
work and meet with small groups of his men. There were other bedchambers as
well. Above that, a third level contained a viewing platform with vertical
slits set into the wood on each side that provided a grand view of the countryside—and
a safe place from which to shoot arrows at an enemy. It was there they viewed
the knights sparring just beyond the palisade.

“How far we can see!” she declared. “Much farther than from
the manor’s roof walk.” In her imagination, she could see the west manor miles
away.

“Yea, ’tis a better vantage point,” he said with a look of
satisfaction.

Impressed with the
donjon
and aware of the statement
it signified to all who viewed it, her thoughts drifted back to the Norman
bastard who would be king. She could not help but ask, “Why did your Norman
duke think to conquer England?”

“If you knew William, you would not need to ask,” he said
smiling. Then in a serious tone, “He believed he had been promised the throne
by your King Edward for one thing. And William, unlike Harold Godwinson, had a
blood tie to the throne, so he did not think it above him. Too, in Normandy,
William was but a duke; in England he is an anointed king.”

“But to terrorize the people into submitting? Was his
slaughter in the south necessary?”

His frown made her wonder if she had reminded him of his own
role in that slaughter.

“Whatever you say about William’s methods, Serena, they have
been successful. He would not give up a prize like England, one he had come to
think of as his by right. I admit he can sometimes be cruel, but have no doubt,
he means to rule England.”

“His castles are
meant
to intimidate,” she muttered
to herself. But it was quiet where they stood for there were few hammers
pounding at the moment, and she realized he had heard her.

He did not respond at first, but stared into the distance as
if pondering. Then with a sigh, he let out his breath. “Yea, they are. William
does not want the English to forget he is now their sovereign—that he is here
to stay. He builds more of them where the people doubt his intent.”

The conversation had soured Serena on the tour of the castle
as it reminded her the structure dominating all of Talisand was yet another
symbol of her country’s invasion.

As they returned to the ground floor of the wooden tower,
she saw a door left open to what appeared to be a chapel and remembered the
room that jutted out from the keep she had seen from the outside. “Your new
church?”

“A chapel for the family and our guests,” he said. Then
taking her hand and kissing her fingers, he led her into the chapel, adding,
“It will be here that our sons will be christened.”

She did not speak her thought that it was constructed as
penance for the lives he had taken. Had her father’s life been one of those?
Somehow she had to find a way to let such questions go if she was to give
herself completely to this marriage, and to him. Such things were now in the
past.

“It is good to have a chapel as a part of the keep,” she
said. “There will be times a place of prayer will be needed.”

“Aye, I have always found it so.”

They left the keep and stood at the edge of the motte
looking into the yard. Rhodri was walking through the gate with the archers,
headed in the direction of a clearing in the woods where Serena knew they oft
practiced.

“Why is the bard still here?” Renaud asked. “I thought he
wandered from place to place?”

“It is true that Rhodri comes and goes as he wills and oft
travels far. In that he is much like the wind. We are fortunate he has lingered
so long among us.” The look in Renaud’s eyes told her he was displeased. “Would
you have me bid him go?”

“He watches you with interest,” he said with a scowl. “I
like it not.”

He was jealous of the Welshman? Mayhap he cared more than
she had thought. “You need have no worry for Rhodri, my lord. He was trusted by
my father and is much loved by Steinar. The bard merely protects me in their
absence.”

“Even from your husband?”

“Of course not! Why would you ask such a thing?” She turned
to look at his face. His eyes that had been the color of rain only moments
before had hardened to the steel of his sword as they narrowed on the bard.

Without answering her question, he asked, “Will you be
taking up your archery again now that you are no longer acting the servant?”

So he would remind her she had once lived in disguise. It
made her restless to think that was still between them. Would it ever be so? “I
trust you only tease me my lord, and you are not still angry for my early
deception. You know why I did it.”

“Aye, but I liked it not.”

She could do nothing to change the past, only try and build
a future.

“Well, to answer your question, I do sometimes practice with
Rhodri, but not oft.”

“I would see your skill on display, Serena. Mayhap another
shooting match is in order. Now that I think of it, tell me, did you miss that
first arrow you aimed at Sir Hugue?”

“Nay.”

“You were aiming for—”

“His arm, aye. Sir Geoffroi just assumed I missed the
rogue’s heart. That would have been my next shot.”

“I still remember those rabbits you felled in the forest. Yea,
we must have another match at Talisand.”

Serena’s cheeks burned at the memory of what occurred that
morning on the bank of the stream. “If it would bring you pleasure, my lord.”

* * *

A few days later, Renaud persuaded Serena to leave Cassie for
the time it would take them to visit the west manor where Geoff had ridden
earlier that morning to see his lady love, Eawyn, who had offered to prepare a
noon repast for them. It would be his first foray to one of the three distant
manor houses that were a part of his lands, and this one held a special
interest for him since he believed that one day it would be the home of his
friend.

They crossed a narrow bend in the river and rode over the
rolling hills of the countryside. Renaud was struck by the peaceful nature of
the land bathed in summer’s colors of green and gold. The sounds of birds
chirping in the trees and the occasional bleating of a sheep or the bark of a
dog were far different than the harsh sounds of battle or the clamor of London.

For the foreseeable future, he would have to straddle two
worlds, heeding his sire’s call to battle while becoming a man of the land. He
hoped he could do well by both.

He was grateful to Serena for helping him understand the
needs of the people. Since their wedding, she had become the dutiful
chatelaine, working with the steward Hunstan to see that all was as it should
be. Her hands were never idle. Though he’d not seen her embroidering or working
on a tapestry as one might expect of the lady of the manor, she worked tirelessly
at other duties. She and Maggie made the decisions about what food was to be
served and together they planned for adequate stores to be laid up for winter.
They set about assuring that a supply of candles and mead was available for the
cheerless months.

He vaguely recalled his mother busy with similar tasks at
their estate in Normandy, but since he had been made a squire at a young age
and then a knight, he was rarely home and gave scant attention to his family’s
lands tended so well by others. His life had been as a leader of men in battle.
Now he must learn to be a different kind of leader, hoping for a day he could
set aside his sword.

The king’s messengers, and his own, had kept him informed.
All was not quiet in the north. William harbored concern over the Welsh, who
had supported Eadric the Wild, and were now leaning toward an alliance with the
rebellious Earls Morcar and Edwin. Beneath its calm surface, Northumbria
seethed with rebellion.

The light filtering through the trees caught Serena’s flaxen
hair, glistening like the sun. With each passing day, his ardor for his new
English bride grew, and the resulting vulnerability he experienced worried him.

Lovemaking consumed their nights as Serena grew ever more
adventurous, which pleased him greatly. She was a willing bedmate and seemed
content, even happy. Still, he wondered. Would she be loyal if he was forced to
face the English in battle again? And if he were killed, would she mourn?

“You are very quiet,” his lady wife teased from where she
sat on her white palfrey. “Is all well?”

Stirred from his musings, he answered, “Aye, for now. We
will move into the castle next week. I trust that pleases you.” Seeing her
smile, he reminded her, “Some rooms will be bare for a while ’til the needed
furniture is finished, but still quite livable, I think. The carpenters are
being kept busy. Between the old hall and the new, my men will be able to bring
their pallets inside when winter comes, though I’d ask you to reserve a
bedchamber for Maugris. His old bones would benefit from a soft cushion.

“Aye, my lord. I had thought of that. He is well loved by
all at Talisand, and I would see him comfortable. There is a chamber that looks
out on the river I think he will like. At night the stars are reflected in the
waters.”

“You seem to know the wise one well,” he replied, pleased
with her insight. “He always seeks a view of the heavens. That is why he sleeps
outside while it’s warm enough to do so.”

“What think you of keeping the lord’s chamber in the old
manor for Sir Maurin?” she asked. “The other two chambers would serve for
guests, at least until Sir Maurin marries and sires children.”

Seeing the smile on her face, he realized she was thinking
of her handmaiden.

“I would be pleased to reward him,” he said. “You know Sir
Maurin seeks the hand of Maggie’s daughter.”

“I do. At least that is what is written on his face. When
Cassie took the mercenary’s knife in her chest, Sir Maurin hovered over her
like a beast protecting its wounded mate. Though she now recovers, he still is
reluctant to leave her side.”

“Yea, ’tis true. I fear the knight is besotted.” Renaud had
no doubt Sir Maurin would be speaking with Angus before summer’s end.

“Will you keep the old kitchen?” she asked.

“Aye, I would think both kitchens will be needed. If she
would have the position, your handmaiden could become housekeeper in the manor,
at least until she marries Sir Maurin. Then another can be found to serve as
cook. Maggie and Angus can move from their cottage into the castle. There’s a
large bedchamber on the first floor near the kitchen for them. It will be warm
in the winter.”