Bound to the Warrior (Love Inspired Historical) Read online

  Adrien was glad when the punishment ended, though it did not bring him the feeling that justice had been meted out. Wanting a moment’s escape afterward, Adrien ordered his horse and left to survey the planted fields. Later, he’d confront Geoffrey to find out what exactly had happened to the missing money. Had Eudo taken it all? He kicked himself for not paying closer attention to that task. Instead, he’d stood there and admired his wife like a fool.

  The wiles of a woman had lured away his good sense.

  But for now, Adrien thought as he mounted his stallion, he needed to ride. He simply needed to—

  His gaze had already begun its journey up the keep’s wall and stopped at the top.

  Ediva leaned over the merlon, her flaxen braids flicking about in the rising wind and her wimple nowhere in sight. She wore a light blue cyrtel today. When he’d first seen her, her pale hair had enthralled him, but this time, there was the lightness, relief, to her expression to draw him in. The birthing business she and the midwife had been about must have been successful.

  His mount stamped its feet anxiously, but instead of giving in to the horse, Adrien slipped off it, handed the reins to the bewildered Harry and strode into the keep.

  He found Ediva on the stairs heading back to her solar. The torch above her was nearly out, but he could easily make out her fine form.

  “Milady.”

  She nodded to him, her hand pressed against the rounded stone stairwell. The day was grim, with heavy clouds hiding the sun. He could barely see her in the darkness and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust.

  Then he held out his hand. “Come for a ride with me.”

  She didn’t move. “You know I cannot ride.”

  “You will not be riding alone—you will join me on my horse. You’ve recovered well enough from the last time. Come. We need this time away.”

  “We do?”

  “Aye. ’Twas distasteful to punish Olin. He’s at the chaplain’s house recuperating. On the morrow, as long as he’s healing, he’ll be escorted off the estate.”

  “So why do we need to get away?” Ediva asked quietly.

  “The keep is dismal today. I want to see the brook that feeds the Colne. That river travels right through Colchester. There’s a meadow at the junction and a stone large enough to sit on. I want to take you there.”

  “I’ve been there.”

  “How often?”

  “Once was enough. I’m hardly so feeble that I cannot remember things.”

  “Have you ever sat and looked out across the river?”

  He couldn’t see her eyes, but the air about them chilled. Her answer was cold. “I do not need to do so again.”

  After he’d fought with Eudo, she’d mentioned to him how she’d considered running away from Ganute. Did the stone bench hold bitter memories for her? Was a longing to escape associated with it?

  “I need to see it.” He reached out and took her hand and added gently, “And I need you to be with me.” He wanted them both away from the keep, away from the dreary pall that lingered.

  Without allowing additional protest, Adrien led her down the stairs, stopping only to order Harry to bring a meal to them when the sun reached its zenith. He swung up onto the horse and bent down to whisk Ediva up. She let out a squeal of fright, but he settled her down onto his lap.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Nay, but will that stop you?”

  He laughed, feeling the pall finally lift. “Of course not, but be assured, we won’t travel any faster than a trot.”

  She screeched when the horse obeyed and she was thrust back against him, making him laugh again.

  Today was for naught but to spend with his wife. There were concerns of missing money, a disapproving chaplain and skirmishes to the north that should have him training with his men, but Adrien wanted none of those problems today. He wanted only to spend time with Ediva.

  They trotted onto the road that skirted the village. He urged his horse to follow a sheep path that led to the pasture with the rock.

  The wind tossed one of Ediva’s braids up across his face, and blushing, she pulled it down quickly, obviously not wanting to lose the death grip she had on him. He took both reins in one hand and wrapped his free arm around her waist before pulling her close. They trotted along in silence for a while, and he was glad to feel her finally relax in his arms.

  The place where the brook met the river would be a perfect balm for the ache inside him, he decided. It pastured sheep that cared little for the goings-on of men. Likely a shaggy dog would be watching nearby.

  The rock appeared over the rolling ridge. In the distance, Adrien could hear the sheepdog barking out a warning but ignored it. The sheep nearest to them trotted off, lambs following their dams as were their custom.

  He slowed his mount to a stop and eased Ediva down before dismounting himself. “’Twas not so bad, aye?”

  “Nay, not too bad. But ’tis a short distance. I can still see the keep.”

  He turned, catching a glimpse of the keep’s parapet rising above the hillock. Clouds burgeoned, but to the west blue sky was peeking through. The day would improve, he was sure.

  Ediva shrugged back her shoulders and inhaled deeply. “I love the smell of spring.”

  “Let’s sit. I want to do nothing for a while.”

  Ediva brushed off the stone before easing down onto it. As one large piece, the rock had been hewn into a simple bench. Some long dead carver had cut a series of symbols on the side. Adrien assumed they were Danish. Much of the east coast of England had battled Danes over the centuries.

  He flicked the reins off the horse and unbridled it, removing the bit so the animal could graze. After a gentle pat on the stallion’s rump, he turned.

  Ediva was staring out at the woods beyond the Colne. Up this far, the river wasn’t much wider than the road to London and probably shallow. Adrien was sure he’d find himself swimming in it on some hot day this coming summer.

  If William didn’t call him to fight at Ely.

  Regret burst within him, sharp and stinging, but he pushed it away. He wanted to get away from baronial life, if just for a day. He preferred the order within the ranks and spending his days in training or grooming his horse.

  In front of him Ediva sighed. A tear had slipped free of her eye and now rolled down her cheek. Ignoring it, she only stared at the forest near the Colne, where some trees dipped close the river, as if their branches drank in the cool, meandering waters.

  His heart tripped up. “Ediva?”

  She looked up at him, a question on her face.

  “You’re crying.”

  Blinking, she lifted one small hand to her cheek and looked down at the moisture wiped away. Her lips parted, and she hung her head.

  His chest tight, he sat down beside her. He took her hand in his and held it quietly. “I have seen you on the parapet, Ediva. And looking out your window. Here, you look toward the forest with tears. You’d mentioned to me that you had thought of running away. Talk to me.”

  She studied her fingers. “As each day waned, I thought about escaping to the forest. I would wonder how long I could survive there. The winter would kill me if I had no shelter, but I dreamed I’d find some hermit’s hut or abandoned sheep pen in some far-off field and live there without fear.”

  “Why didn’t you escape?”

  She looked at him, her eyes softened by tears. “What would have happened to the maids if I left? Ganute would have turned on them. And on other helpless servants, like Rypan. Or even Harry.”

  “Ganute is gone, Ediva. Gone and buried.” It was then that he remembered a thought from more than a month ago. At Hastings he’d met several English barons head on in battle and ran them through. He could have killed Ganute.

  The thought brought him no pleasure, though he hated the man. Death in battle was far too honorable for a man like Ganute. He should have been tried in court and held accountable for his crimes. Adrien squeezed Ediva’s hand firmly. “He ca
n’t hurt you anymore.”

  “And you, Adrien? You’re a soldier with violence in your blood. I saw how you grabbed your brother and how you let him tumble down and hit his face on the table. And you might have killed Olin had I not intervened. Indeed, you ordered a lashing where a simple fine would have hurt him more.”

  Adrien swallowed. ’Twas true. He was a soldier, used to violence. In the past, he’d justified his nature and work well enough not to give it another thought.

  Until now, sitting beside Ediva with her questioning eyes and her pain so deep he feared no one could heal her.

  At a loss, all he could do was lift her hand to his lips and kiss it. She shut her eyes as if to savor the sensation and he continued the brush of his lips against her knuckles.

  Finally, he lowered her hand and set it back on her lap. “I’m not perfect, Ediva. I want to keep my promises to you, but I fear now that doing so would cause you more grief.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I leave, who will protect you? Aye, Geoffrey and your men can do much, but only a Norman lord of this keep can truly keep the likes of Olin away. And yet, as soon as King William calls me, I will leave.”

  She swallowed hard. She was far too lovely for his good. He looked out at the pastoral view they shared and focused on it instead of her face. “Years ago, my brothers and I—excepting Eudo, who was too young at the time—were called to escort William to his home in Falaise. We vowed to protect the Duke with our lives and kill any who would want him dead. I still stand by that vow, yet now I know some good Saxon people here might want him dead and I find myself unwilling to hurt these innocents. But William is my king and I have sworn fealty to him.”

  Surprising him, she lifted her hand to his face and stroked his growing beard. Aye, the king was his main concern, but what about these people? What about Ediva, with her warm, gentle touch? He could hardly breathe at the emotions coursing through him.

  “You want to keep us safe here, but because of my pride and anger, I have not helped in that matter,” she said softly. “My wrongs are my burdens, not yours. I shouldn’t cause my fellow man to sin.”

  Adrien smiled at her reference to the previous week’s sermon. She’d actually listened to the chaplain that morning. ’Twas a good start. She smiled back at him and he felt the breath flee his lungs. Then he did what he’d wanted to do since he returned from Colchester.

  He lowered his head closer to hers.

  Chapter Ten

  Ediva held her breath and waited for the kiss. To her surprise, she wanted it to come.

  Adrien’s lips touched hers so very gently, ’twas as if the breeze drifting in had brushed her. She yielded to the limpness that wafted over her. Adrien removed the distance between them by wrapping his warm arms around her. She wanted nothing else but to have him hold her.

  The sun broke free of the clouds and warmed her skin, just as Adrien warmed her soul. She wanted to sit there forever, feeling his strength taking over and his lips exploring hers.

  How could a man coax such compliant feelings from her? ’Twas as if the grand world around her had stopped and held its breath to hope in Adrien’s success.

  ’Twas not like anything she’d experienced before. There was no fear. All that coursed through her veins was a warmth that soothed her from her toes to the tip of her bare head.

  His horse behind them whinnied and shifted, and that distant dog barked again. Soon, the sound of a mount approaching drifted into her mind.

  Adrien lifted his head. “’Tis our noon meal. Whilst the timing may not be perfect, at least we’ve worked up an appetite.”

  She flushed. Indeed, she was famished. She looked up to see young Harry grinning cheekily from atop an aging mare. Over both shoulders hung sacks. He also carried a large skin filled with something tangy and thirst quenching, she hoped.

  She cringed. Harry had seen the kiss, no doubt. He’d soon return to tell all who’d listen, she wagered. Still, she found a smile creeping to her face, though her teeth nipped her bottom lip to suppress it.

  Adrien stood and relieved the boy of his burden. Ediva took and opened one of the sacks. After finding and spreading out a crisp, white tablecloth, she busied herself with the task of setting out the food. From the corner of her eye, she spied Adrien’s stallion move closer to the swaybacked mare, interested in her, but the old mare snorted her disdain. Adrien laughed. “Harry, take that old pony back before she hurts my stallion’s feelings.”

  “Aye, my lord! And enjoy your meal, my lord and my lady!” Harry cried out jauntily as he turned the pony around.

  Despite the emotions rolling over her, she laughed. Shakily. “That boy. I don’t know why I keep him here.”

  “Because no one else will have him.”

  “He reminds me of your brother.”

  Adrien lost his smile. “Aye. Eudo was the spoiled baby but well-liked for his rascal ways.”

  The vanished smile gave her pause. As he sat down, she asked, “Adrien, why did you and your brother fight?”

  “’Tis nothing, Ediva. Forgotten. We apologized whilst in Colchester. Let’s forget him.”

  Again, curiosity sparked within her, but she said nothing more. Tearing her eyes from her husband, she focused on the task of unwrapping their meal. To her delight, she discovered sweet pastries, the likes she’d not seen since Ganute had ordered the feast the night before he left. The pastries shone with a golden, honeyed crust, thanks to Adrien’s return with the sweet treat. Her mouth watered as she considered what may be inside. Her cook had a gift of making ordinary things taste delightful. She opened the next wrapping to discover fine cheese flavored with herbs. Inside a third wrap, she found small loaves of warm bread.

  And she, still warm from Adrien’s kiss, relaxed. “Our cook has outdone herself!”

  “And some meats done in pastry, I see, stuffed with herbs and greens. More than I’d hoped.”

  “You brought good provisions back with you. Thank you.”

  “Aye, we’re blessed. I’d planned to return with only ale and geese and cheese, but we spied a big doe and brought her down.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes widening. “Not on the king’s land, I hope.”

  “Nay. She’d strayed onto the road just outside of Colchester. One of my guards is an excellent archer. It only took him one arrow. For a portion of her hind, I purchased the honey at an apiary along the way.” He sat down across from her and his gaze lingered on her. “I knew you would be hard pressed to keep the soldiers fed, but you’ve kept them toned and fit thanks to the farm work.”

  “I had no idea that my plan was so transparent.”

  “Aye, but ’twas the effort both Eudo and I admired. And I knew ’twas good for our soldiers to learn the skill of planting and shepherding.”

  She nodded, lost for words as she recalled how she’d emptied her larder, killed more swine than she’d planned and used every last egg in the village. Soldiers had huge appetites.

  Adrien sliced the meat and then broke a loaf apart. It steamed gently as he smoothed on some fresh butter. They ate in a comfortable silence, one broken only by the nature around them. The sun had shoved aside the clouds and the day lost its dreary pall.

  They finished the meal in due time, but ’twas not a hurried affair. Ediva had knelt until her legs ached, and now she stretched them out. Her ankles showed, but she didn’t care. In fact, after staring at her shoes, she bent forward and unlaced them, then kicked the leather free.

  All the while feeling her husband’s gaze lingering on her. ’Twould be nice to have this be the norm for them. To be comfortable in each other’s silence. And to share long looks...

  But Adrien had said that he was never meant for such a dreary life. Hadn’t he dashed off to Colchester with his brother at the first opportunity? Only to return for—

  For what reason, she wondered. He was hardly needed to escort a few tenants who were not required in Colchester.

  “Adrien,” she began, “wha
t really brought you back this time? The truth, please.”

  He’d been watching her, but suddenly he slid his gaze over her shoulder to the forest. Distant geese called in flight, but she refused to listen. She wanted only to hear Adrien’s voice. “Is this not my home? With the threat of more battles, I returned to be ready.”

  So he did live only for battle. Not for marriage to a Saxon who trusted no one save herself. Worse than that. Did she even trust herself with the way she was beginning to feel?

  She shifted quickly and grabbed the cloths that had wrapped up their food. The pastries were all gone, and though traces of honey still lingered on her tongue, the taste was now bitter.

  “We should go. We’ve dawdled here for too long. That venison you brought will need to be prepared and I wish to compensate the tenants whose eggs I took. They will gladly take some meat.” She chattered on, too quickly for even her ears to make sense of it, but she kept wrapping and working, fully focused on her task.

  Beside her, Adrien sighed and began to help. Together, Ediva barefoot, they bundled up the remaining food. He slung the sacks over his horse’s back and began to lead the stallion toward the keep, with the two of them walking on either side of the animal up the hillock. When the beast realized he was going home, he tried to increase his pace.

  Adrien stopped the horse. “He’s anxious to see that mare again. I’ll leave the food with Harry and take him for a gallop to wear him out. Are you fine to walk?”

  “Of course. I’ll put my shoes on. I prefer the quiet anyway.”

  His mouth a thin line, Adrien mounted the horse before urging it to a trot. A few minutes later, she’d just reached the top of the hillock when she saw him race out of the bailey gate and down through the village. As suddenly as he left, she felt a pang of loss.

  The worst had happened. She’d begun to care for the man bound to her in an unwanted marriage. The man who still saw Normandy as his home and who preferred life as a warrior.