Bound to the Warrior (Love Inspired Historical) Read online

  Adrien had offered her a solution. Adrien! She sat up. The keep was quiet. She stood, grimacing at her aches.

  Lord Jesus, protect him.

  A small measure of peace settled on her. ’Twasn’t any great strike, just a seed within her. And it comforted her.

  She stepped tenderly toward the door and opened it a crack. The corridor was dim and quiet, the guard staring down it to the keep’s open door and the men formed up outside.

  Adrien stood in front, with his sergeant and Geoffrey accounting for each man. She breathed a sigh of relief. Beyond him, several guards stood by the closed bailey gate.

  A commotion started. Someone was being dragged out by one of the soldiers. ’Twas Rypan. He tripped and fell before being hauled up by the shoulders to stand in the ranks of servants. He stood, hunched with fear.

  Ediva gripped the door as she carefully scanned the backs of those she could see. Her attacker had worn rough, damp wool, easy to discard. All who stood there wore light under tunics and braes. But she couldn’t see all of them, and Adrien would never allow her to inspect them.

  After quietly closing the door, she settled back on the bed. What would happen to the man should her husband find him? Adrien had flogged Olin for his vile act, and he barely knew Wynnth.

  A shudder rippled through her at the thought of what he might do to the man who had harmed her—and at the revenge the man might later take in return.

  * * *

  ’Twas dim when she awoke again. She could feel a gentle warmth emanating from a small brazier that had been brought in. On the hook above it, a lamp glowed a low, smoky flame.

  She looked around. Her stomach growled, and thirst parched her mouth as she realized how late it was. A body shifted on a low pallet beside her and, still aching, she peeked over the edge of the bed.

  Adrien. She recognized his strong, slim form. Her heart lurched with gladness at the sight of him dozing below her.

  Thank You, Lord, for protecting him.

  Again, she felt that seed of peace within her as she sank back onto the bed. I trust You, Lord. Please help me learn to forgive.

  “Ediva?”

  She peeked over the edge again. Adrien rose and adjusted the small metal lamp’s air tube to allow it to burn brighter.

  The light landed on him, warming his tanned skin to a burnished glow. He’d shed his outer tunic and stood beside his table with hands on hips and feet planted firmly on the stone floor. His dark hair caught the yellowy light, a wonderful gleam like of polished wood.

  He was so handsome, Ediva wondered if she wasn’t dreaming this moment. She allowed herself the pleasure of taking in every inch of him. His strong arms, his wide chest, his legs...that bore no bandages.

  She blinked. “Your leg isn’t bandaged. Did you have your stitches removed?”

  “Aye. They’d begun to itch. The wound is well-sealed now.”

  They sank into an uneasy silence until she could stand it now more. “Adrien, did you find him?”

  “Nay. All the men were working in groups. There were a few in the fields with the animals, but they were too far away to have reached there so soon.”

  She fell back onto the pillow.

  “You didn’t see him?” he asked.

  “Nay. The torch had gone out. I smelled something strange, besides the smell of the wet wool he was wearing.”

  “Wool?” With dropped arms, he took a step closer. “Was it wet with sweat?”

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “There was a familiar smell, but I couldn’t say where I’d smelled it before.”

  He eased back as if her words disappointed him. “On the morrow we shall walk about to see if you can smell it again. Was it food?”

  “I hope not. ’Twas more sharp and foul.” She bit her lip. “Is it late?”

  “Aye. I ordered all tenants to their huts and a rotating guard around the keep. The men are not to leave the hall after dark. The women are in servants’ quarters behind the kitchen.”

  Throwing off the furs, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She felt far better than she did earlier, despite the aches and hunger. Adrien had turned the keep into a fortress, but she wouldn’t complain. He did what he felt was proper.

  As she should. She should tell the truth. “Adrien, I fear I haven’t been fully honest with you.”

  He sat down beside her. “How so?”

  She cleared her throat. “I was attacked before.”

  He jerked forward. “Before! When?”

  “Do you remember the day when you found me with a sore throat? ’Twas because that man nearly throttled me, not because of a fever as I had led you to believe. He caught me in the stairwell.”

  He gaped at her, but his expression grew from shock to fury. She could see his fingers curl into fists.

  “What happened?” he bit out.

  “I was coming down the stairs, and a dog stopped me. It was quite angry and wouldn’t let me pass the last few steps. But I think it was growling at the man behind me.

  “Then the man grabbed my throat and I nearly passed out from lack of breath. He said I must kill you. And if I don’t, he’ll kill the tenants one at a time.”

  “He has attacked you twice!”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. It almost felt as though there were two of them. But it couldn’t have been. He knew what he’d done before.” She rubbed her head.

  Adrien dragged his hand down his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I was going to. But then you told me that the midwife was dead, and your sergeant confirmed that she’d been killed. I thought it was the attacker, punishing me for not harming you. I was so scared!” She gripped the edge of the bed. “He threatened to kill more if I mentioned anything. These are my people, Adrien. When Ganute died, they worried they’d be killed by Normans or plundered as we were hearing other villages were. I promised them that I’d protect them.”

  “And I promised you I would.”

  “You weren’t here when I promised this.” She pulled in a deep breath. “There is more.”

  “More?” he fumed.

  “Geoffrey told me about some men starting to rise up against you, led by one man. They say that they’ll fight against you, especially when you leave for Ely.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  “It’s not that at all, Adrien. We don’t know who is behind this, and there are only so many strong Saxon men here. Geoffrey promised he’d find out, but even he believes these men have the right to defend their lands.”

  “Those who think that are fools. William won’t tolerate them. But I can protect this keep and village, even from the king. Do you not trust me on that?”

  “Can you truly protect us from the king?”

  “Aye. I’m not just a simple knight, Ediva. My brothers and I escorted William to safety years ago. William remembers that. He trusts me.”

  “But—”

  “But what, woman? Have I given you my word so you could treat it as if ’twere that of a child’s?”

  “You swear allegiance to a Norman king who has stolen my land! You allowed your brother to take away my tenants, save a few men and women. ’Tis hard to trust you! And if I find it hard, consider those who don’t know you. That man said if I told anyone, even you, he’d kill the villagers. I couldn’t allow that. They have no one.”

  “They have me.” He paused, and then his voice dropped so low she could barely hear it. “And I thought you also had me.”

  Adrien had tightened his jaw. But his eyes softened and showed not anger, only hurt. It cut her to the quick.

  She should apologize for her doubts. And tell him of her new faith. Her new faith! Did she really have new faith in God? Even that simple prayer in her head seemed to grow the seed of love within her. Adrien deserved to know this. And yet, his scowling hurt told her he wouldn’t listen right now.

  She deserved this pain. She’d hurt him.

  Snatching up her pillow, she fussed
about the bed. “I should return to my solar. ’Tis not right to have the lord of the keep sleep on the floor.”

  He didn’t answer immediately. In the dimly lit room, his expression was unreadable, but she felt him tense.

  Finally, he held out his hand and helped her up. In his other hand he bore a short blade, one Ediva recognized from Ganute’s armory. The hilt was decorated with the family crest. “Aye, you should return to your solar.”

  Shivering despite the warmth in the room, she put her hand in his, marveling again at how gentle he could be. Instead of pulling her close as she’d hoped he would, he opened the door to find Harry asleep in front of it.

  “I’d ordered him into the hall,” Adrien growled, stepping forward.

  She touched his arm. “Let him sleep.”

  “He was worried for you.” With his foot, Adrien nudged the boy, who jumped up, startled. “Bring your lady’s maid to her solar. She needs her tonight.”

  Harry scampered away, and Adrien led Ediva to the stair. She hesitated. “Are the torches all lit?”

  “Aye. I ordered them to stay lit all night.”

  She stopped at the first tread. Beyond, in the hall beside Adrien’s private chamber, several men snored loudly. Other than that, all remained eerily quiet.

  She stared deep into the spiral that had only a flickering glow to welcome them. ’Twas hardly a welcome, considering how the torch had gone out before.

  Lord, be with us.

  “Let me go first.” Adrien set her behind him and began the climb. With tender footsteps, she followed him up.

  “Adrien!”

  He turned.

  “Do you smell that?”

  He sniffed the air. “I smell the torches. Tallow stinks when it burns.”

  “Can’t you smell something sharp and tangy over the tallow? It’s so strong here.”

  She scanned the stairs and gasped. Between two torches, at the edge of one pool of light, something lay in a heap. Adrien lifted the torch nearest him from its mount. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s that thing?”

  He handed her the torch and lifted up a long, dark cloth. “’Tis a wrap.” He leaned forward and sniffed it. “Ahh, I smell it now. ’Tis sharp like spirits. You have a good nose.”

  “Aye,” she whispered hoarsely. “My assailant smelled of this.”

  “He may have, but he also smelled like he didn’t know how to bathe. This wrap has never been washed, I’d wager.”

  “’Tis more than that, Adrien. I have smelled that smell before! But I can’t remember where. Do you recognize it?”

  He shook his head. “Not a smell I know.” He held the cloth up.

  She shrank away. “He wore that about his face.”

  “’Tis unfortunate that we hadn’t found this yesterday. I suspect that our cur was thirsty from the heat after covering his face. Had I known, I’d have watched the well or the pantry. Or I could have sniffed the line of men to locate him.”

  “Take it out of my sight, Adrien, please. ’Tis an awful thing to look at.”

  The sound of people approaching caused Adrien to drop the cloth and push past Ediva. He raised his sword slightly, but when Ediva’s maid hurried into the circle of torchlight, he lowered it.

  Margaret jumped and stepped back onto young Harry, who let out a small yelp.

  Adrien lowered his weapon, and ever cautious of it, Margaret stepped around it to take the torch.

  “Nay!” Adrien stepped forward. “Follow me.”

  The three followed him along the upper corridor. “Wait here,” he ordered them.

  Adrien threw open her solar door, and after a few minutes of searching, stood back and gestured the obedient group to come closer.

  Much relieved, Ediva stepped through, while Adrien ordered Harry to remain outside the closed door.

  “My lady, I’ll see you on the morrow.”

  She thrust out her hand but stilled it. She wanted so badly to tell Adrien of her prayers, but ’twas not the time.

  He noticed her movement, but said nothing as he closed the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  For a long time, Adrien stared up at the ceiling of his chamber, thinking only of how Ediva had kept the truth from him. She didn’t trust him.

  Of course, even if he had been aware of the threat, he wouldn’t have felt himself to be in any true danger. He wasn’t intimidated by some Saxon cur. Hadn’t he driven off the man in the wood? ’Twas easy with his mount, aye, but he could have easily sent the man to his Maker without his horse.

  Adrien sat up on one elbow. Was the man who’d attacked Ediva the same as the one in the wood? Had he not been as injured as Adrien suspected? How could a stranger simply wander into the keep and—

  A stranger couldn’t. But someone from here, or Little Dunmow, could easily wander about freely. The bailey gate was open and many had business here, people like the midwife who’d often deliver herbs. Or her neighbor, who was called to sit as juror against Olin. That man had not liked the task one bit.

  The herbs the midwife delivered. He was sure Ediva had been poisoned and had wondered why.

  Because she was a traitor in their eyes. As soon as the righteous indignation rose in him, shame also swept over him. Hadn’t he also thought her a traitor to him?

  With head dropped to his hands, he could do only one thing.

  Father in heaven, I have sinned against You and against Ediva. Forgive me and guide me with wisdom here.

  Yet, despite the prayer, the hurt still weighed heavily on him. Ediva still didn’t trust him because all he’d said to her was about his return to battle.

  How could he expect her to believe he’d protect her people if he was off fighting their countrymen? He looked up. Through the slit window above dawn was lightening the sky. He should rise and begin his investigation. Today, he’d find who’d attacked his wife.

  By chapel time, Adrien had studied and counted all the men. The village men who Eudo had dismissed early were at their homes. They’d been in the fields and far away from the village when Ediva had been attacked. Adrien doubted these men would have entered the keep and threatened their mistress. Those few men had been injured in Colchester and could barely work the fields, let alone attack anyone.

  He returned to prepare for services. The sky was light when Adrien reached the chapel. The chaplain opened the door. When the man’s widened eyes strayed to the keep, Adrien turned.

  With Margaret and Harry following, Ediva was descending the keep’s steps, her lightweight blue cyrtel matching her sheer, silvery veil. His breath stalled, a single, savage catch in his throat at his wife’s fair beauty. Blue made her skin glow, her eyes brighten. It was an expensive color but it became her.

  He bowed as she approached, saying nothing as they entered the chapel. What could he say? He dared not even breathe for fear this was a foolish dream. Ediva walking, albeit carefully, toward him, sitting with him, showing reverence and awe and interest.

  Adrien shifted edgily beside her. Something had changed. He’d seen her sit stiffly and pay attention. She’d done all that was proper. But something was different today. He stole a glance at her.

  Her expression. She looked at the chaplain with softened eyes. Yet, her lips lay straight in a contrite line and her chin wrinkled slightly as it would before she cried.

  When the service was over, she stayed seated a moment and bowed her head. Then, standing, she blinked several times.

  “Ediva?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She waited for him to leave the pew and allow her to exit also. The men and women behind them also waited.

  He did not move.

  “No one can leave until you have exited, my lord,” Ediva quietly reminded him.

  “Then let them wait,” he answered softly. He continued to study her.

  “Why are you staring? Have I grown an extra nose overnight?”

  “You’re different.”

  “Dismiss the people. Then we can talk.�
�� She lifted her chin and blinked as he motioned for the people to leave. When they were gone, she continued. “I’m still the woman who has hurt you. I’m still the woman whose husband looks forward to a battle at Ely, rather than protecting his own people, something he’d vowed to do.”

  Ire rose in him. “I can do both.” Then, remembering his contrition from last night, he crushed his anger. “I’m also the man who realized last night that I was angry at a man who considers my wife a traitor, when I also considered her one. I was hypocritical.” He shook his head and lowered his voice. “And wrong. You were doing only as you’d promised.”

  Her stiffness watered and she took up his hand. She seemed to begin to speak, but instead turned him and gently shoved him into the aisle. She nodded to the chaplain as she took Adrien’s hand and led him from the chapel. He allowed her to guide him out the gate, but instead of taking the well-worn path to the villagers’ huts, she led him to the right, and soon they were alone, walking along the sheep trail that led to the stone bench that overlooked the River Colne.

  She didn’t speak until she reached the stone and sat down. “I should have told you immediately what had happened. But I was afraid for you. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want anyone else to die.”

  “What have you decided then?” Had she brought him here to attempt to take his life? At half his size, she was no match. Besides, he knew she would never hurt him.

  “I prayed for help.” She looked up at him. “You were right about me needing to forgive Ganute. I need to forgive if I expect God to forgive me. And I most definitely need God to forgive me. Before Ganute died, I had wanted his death many times. When my attacker pointed that out to me, I knew I was a sinner.”

  He sat down beside Ediva, hardly believing her words. “Go on.”

  “I knew I could get help only from God. And peace from Him.”

  He smiled, took her hands in his and kissed them warmly. He held his breath for a moment. “I’m thrilled beyond measure, but there’s still something that’s bothering you. What is it?”

  “I have peace, but just not as much as I thought. I am still afraid you and others will die. I don’t have much faith, I fear.”