Bound to the Warrior Read online

  Magnificent? Aye, she could be, without even realizing it, but they were still a poor match. She considered him nothing more than an illegal king’s representative and refused to give him the opportunity to protect their people. She didn’t trust him.

  Adrien spent the rest of the day unpacking his things brought by Eudo, as few as they were. His battle gear meant the most to him, and he saw it oiled and hung in his room. Thankfully, Eudo was seeing to the horses and didn’t reappear until suppertime.

  Supper irked Adrien. Ediva chose not to sit with them, but rather spent the time ordering Geoffrey and the other servants around so the men could be fed. He cared not to sup alone with Eudo and his sharp eyes. His brother missed nothing, even the fact that Ediva kept her distance from them.

  So Adrien found himself watching her intently. She looked lovely, although harried. The heat from the kitchen set her cheeks aglow and a sheen of moisture beaded on her nose. She had abandoned her veil for a simple scarf. Even the gilded diadem had been set aside. Her braids had been tied back by a thick ribbon. The chain belt she often favored about her slim waist was replaced by an apron. Her sleeves were rolled up as she set about the task of ordering the food platters around.

  ’Twas a good meal of young fowl, roasted vegetables and thick slices of warm bread with cheeses melting on the tops of them, but Adrien would rather have had a simple sup with his new wife at his side. And that surprised him.

  Then, in the midst of such busyness, she looked up and across the room to him. His heart leapt. As swiftly as their eyes met, she tore her gaze away, and Adrien felt the disappointment ice his heart.

  “Seems your wife has found good fare for us, Adrien,” his brother said companionably. “’Tis just simple food but well cooked. And the ale is fine, too.”

  Adrien had no idea where the ale had been hidden these past few weeks. He’d not tasted it nor been offered it since his arrival. But, he noticed, Geoffrey served it in small doses, so it must be in short supply. Regardless, he preferred his wits to remain with him, so he took only juice.

  Did Ediva not want a company of drunken soldiers and so doled out the ale in drams? ’Twas likely so, Adrien thought, noting also that the only servants allowed in the hall were males, with the exception of an ancient woman dropping vegetables onto the trenchers.

  Indeed, she did protect her people. Her maidservants, especially.

  “Why does your wife avoid us?”

  “You want to eat, don’t you? She promised you’d get your men back healthier and stronger. She cannot do that without providing some supervision.” Irritated by his brother’s sharpness, Adrien added, “Do not concern yourself with her. I can take care of my own. Was I not doing so whilst you were still in swaddlings?”

  Eudo laughed. “You’re only three years my senior. You can’t remember me in swaddlings.”

  “You refused to be trained.”

  The king’s steward laughed hard, enjoying the banter. “Tell me, how is married life?” he asked when he stopped. “Or is it so nasty that you have to take it out on your poor brother?”

  “’Tis fine,” Adrien snapped back. All he’d ever dreamed of, he added sarcastically to himself. But by far, the marriage was safer for both of them the way it was, in name only. For they would never see eye to eye on any matter, and any intimacy would only muddy the waters.

  He swallowed his bite of food. “Tell me about your new home in Colchester.”

  “There’s little to tell. King William has given me several estates, and I plan to visit them all, but first he wants a castle in Colchester. It’s an old Roman town, so there’s plenty of good stonework to use. But as for a wife, I have no news.”

  Adrien watched Eudo study Ediva. As though feeling Adrien’s heavy stare, the younger brother dropped his gaze. A surge of satisfaction rushed through him. “The king will no doubt order you married before long,” he goaded Eudo. “In fact, I’m surprised that he didn’t give you a wife the same day I was given one.”

  Eudo swallowed down his ale. After he’d set down the tankard, he dried his lips. “He very nearly did, Prado. He’d wanted to give me Ediva.” Eudo faced him with a smug expression. “I was to be here, not you.”

  Adrien sat back. “What stopped him?”

  “The king changed his mind when De Veres reminded him that Colchester needed a castle, which would require much supervision to build, while this shire merely needed a good soldier to manage it. Of course, I had not laid eyes on Lady Ediva at that time. Had I, things might have been different.”

  Adrien tightened his grip on his mug.

  “I could have done both, I think, now that I see your wife,” Eudo carried on. “Indeed, I may just do both. For I need only the poorest eyesight to see that all is not well for you and Ediva. ’Twould not be difficult to annul this marriage, and we both know I’m better suited to have Ediva as a wife than an old soldier like you. I think the king would agree. He wants babes to come. ’Tis clear to me such won’t happen here.”

  With a small, self-satisfied smile, Eudo took another drink. “This keep is good and strong and not far from Colchester. And its mistress is quite comely. I could do the king proud here.”

  Adrien had heard enough. He stood quickly. His hands flew out to grab his brother’s tunic. Knees banged harshly on the underside of the table as he plucked Eudo from his chair. Mugs and bowls rattled and tipped in the commotion.

  Kicking aside his chair when it got in the way, Adrien leaned close to his brother’s shocked face. “You will take the king’s taxes, and my tenants and all the tools you need, but that’s all you will take,” he growled. “Do you hear me, brother? For if you say one word to the king about my marriage, save that all is well, I will find you in whatever estate you may be and throttle you with my bare hands!”

  Eudo’s eyes gaped wide. The dumb nod he offered would have been laughable at another time, but not today.

  Satisfied that Eudo had learned his place, Adrien dropped his brother onto the wood floor, uncaring that Eudo struck his face on the edge of the table as he fell. Then, as a horrified silence reigned in the hall, Adrien set his chair aright, then sat and finished his meal with a black glower.

  All the while feeling Ediva’s surprise from across the lengths of tables.

  Eudo was right—the marriage was false and Ediva would not ponder but a moment to have it annulled.

  So mayhap ’twas time to change that.

  Chapter Seven

  With her maid’s help, Ediva prepared to retire, though she was hardly tired. Rather, edginess nipped at her, like a cat tiptoeing past a line of sleeping dogs.

  The commotion at the head table earlier this evening continued to linger in her mind. She’d restricted the ale in the cups, not only because of its short supply, but also because she hadn’t wanted a company of drunkards in her hall. Adrien and his combative brother may think they could handle the men, but considering their own foolhardy brawl, she had her doubts. She’d expected foot soldiers to come to blows, not those two.

  Siblings fought, ’twas a fact of families, but ’twas mostly children. Adrien and his brother were men. Surely Adrien wouldn’t rise to Eudo’s provocation? Surely he was mature enough to settle problems with words, not fights?

  So mismatched she and Adrien were, she decided. A brawling soldier for a husband. Her mother would have cringed in horror. Ediva had been trained to marry into English royalty, not into Norman military.

  Regardless, ’twas easy to see who had won that skirmish. Adrien had had his brother by the scruff, leaning over the younger man threateningly.

  She shook her head in disgust, only to catch her maid’s hand as the woman unwound her hair. Margaret cringed. “Oh, milady, I’m sorry!”

  “Nay, ’tis my fault. My mind is elsewhere.”

  “Down with those men, methinks.�
� Then, catching the cold glare from her mistress, the girl hastily added, “I mean your home is overrun with soldiers who demand our taxes and our men! My mind would be there also!”

  “Keep your mind on your own business. They leave on the morrow. And until then, you stay up here, girl.”

  “Aye, milady, I heard that command from the kitchen. Too many men about for any decent maid’s liking. Why, I can smell them all the way up here!”

  True, some of them were in need of bathing, but Ediva could tolerate such slovenliness as long as they hastened their departure. Her thoughts returned to Adrien. With the shock of seeing him battle his brother came the indignation of knowing that he would not stop the man from taking her men and her coins, razing her keep bare in the name of the king.

  She gestured for her maid to cease. “I’m fine for now. Go to bed. We’ll need to be alert in the morning. I expect they’ll leave for Colchester early.”

  Margaret stepped back. “Will you also retire, milady?”

  “Nay.” She took her cloak from the hook and threw it over her shoulders. “I need air.”

  “Should I come?”

  Ediva shook her head. “Nay. I’ll stay on the parapet.” She fastened her cloak’s brooches. As she prepared to draw up the hood, her maid held out the kerchief she’d worn at supper.

  She declined. “I need cool air on my head. It’s pounding.”

  Margaret brightened. “Shall I get you some herb tea? The midwife left some willow bark in the kitchen for aches and pains.”

  Ediva considered it and nodded. “Add some chamomile also. But mind you only go to the kitchen and come straight back.”

  Clearly glad to be doing something after spending her evening cloistered in the solar, her maid hurried off. Ediva rubbed her forehead. Her head was indeed pounding and she hoped that the willow bark tea would taste better than it usually did. Perhaps the chamomile would sweeten it and help her to sleep.

  She thought of all the pain she’d endured with Ganute—nearly every pain a woman could feel, short of childbirth. She was grateful to have been spared that. She would never have wanted to have a baby with him.

  What kind of life would her children have had with Ganute as their father? He was brutal to all unfortunate enough to cross his path.

  You were deemed barren and deserve to be called so for being so stubborn, a nasty voice whispered in her head as she closed her solar door. She hadn’t cared what people had called her, but once, when the chaplain had suggested that God had made her barren because of her bitter nature, she’d very nearly cried.

  Enough of those memories, she told herself sternly. ’Twas just the old chaplain’s opinion and he would dare not voice it again. Adrien—Ediva paused. What would Adrien do if the chaplain spoke to him of those matters? She straightened. There was no way to know—and pondering it only worsened the ache in her head.

  She padded quietly up the spiral stairs to the parapet. The night was quiet and she eased against the merlons that rose between slots archers might use. Surprised by the chill, she drew her cloak close. With the clear sky and full March moon, the night felt colder than she’d expected.

  But she would not retire yet. The peace this vantage point offered was too tempting. Peace after the confusion in her heart. Adrien had promised he’d protect her tenants, a vow he’d tossed off like an old bone. And seeing him fight his brother cut her to the quick. She’d feared for his life, with Eudo’s guards so close. Her marriage may be mismatched, but where would her tenants be if Adrien had been sliced in two by his brother’s men? They’d have no protection then.

  A footstep onto the parapet forced her to turn. Adrien stood beside the small alcove that held the door to the stairwell. She knew her husband’s finely toned body, though the moon didn’t cast its glow upon his face.

  She straightened. “If you have come for peace and quiet, I shall take my leave.”

  “Nay. I met your maid in the kitchen. She told me where you were.”

  Margaret was far too chatty. “I ordered her not to speak to anyone.”

  “I am her master, not a soldier from whom you kept the women tonight.”

  “Do you blame me?” She arched her brows. “I have no desire to see these maids have their hearts plundered by your charming soldiers like your brother has done to my strongbox. He’s not only helped himself to that, but to my tenants, too.”

  Adrien stepped closer to her. “Ediva, I had no knowledge of his plans for that when he first arrived. I expected a courier to bring my wardrobe and word on when to send in the taxes. I didn’t think my brother would come and demand more than coinage besides. ’Tis not his responsibility. The king has other men for that task. Nor could I know that he intended to start the castle in Colchester so soon.”

  She believed him. But, oh, the betrayal. Whether he’d known Eudo planned to take the men or not, he’d done nothing to stop it. The contradiction churned within her. “So why the brawl? Because of his plans?”

  “Nay.” After a pause, he added, “My brother said something I didn’t like. I know, ’twas wrong to fight. I acted before I thought.”

  Horror swept over her. All that anger just over ill-chosen words? She drew her cloak closer as she eased further down the parapet. She’d never considered that Adrien had a bad temper, but ’twas evident tonight. Ganute often took out his anger on the closest person, which was nearly always her. Was God giving her yet another man like that?

  Oh, please don’t be like Ganute.

  “What did he say?”

  “’Tis a matter between brothers. Eudo has always provoked me. I merely corrected him.”

  Quite the correction, she thought with a swallow. “And if I say the wrong word some day, will that be my correction also?”

  He stiffened. “Nay! I would never hit a woman!”

  She could only blink at him. Adrien ran his hand down his face. “Ediva, the brawl was a private matter. I’ve promised you I would never use force against you in any way. I keep my promises. And Eudo can handle a bit of brawling from me. He’s earned it before.”

  Such strength in his words. Her heart lurched with the urge to give in to his reassurances. Still disquieted, though, she searched her mind for an excuse to leave. Of course, her headache. Though the cool wind had cured her of the worst of the pain, she still needed the chamomile to ease the edginess. The morrow would start before sunrise.

  “I’ll bid you good night, then. ’Twill be an early morn for me.”

  “Ediva?” There was a pause as expectant as a ewe in springtime as he stepped between her and the stairs. “You have sent Harry to get herbs. What were they for?”

  She brushed past him. “Mostly for headaches.”

  In the moonlight, Adrien turned and frowned. He tilted his head. “Just headaches?”

  “And other aches. ’Tis a delicate subject, my lord.” Not to mention humiliating, she added to herself.

  “I am your husband. There should be nothing we cannot discuss.”

  “Then tell me what happened between you and Eudo. And why you didn’t argue about Eudo taking our men!”

  He’d moved into the glow of moonlight, showing battle-hardened features frowning in concern. Deep concern that seemed to steal her breath. “Ediva, don’t worry yourself with that or with Eudo. Your people will be treated well in Colchester.”

  “They’re needed here!” She shook her head, and daring to raise her husband’s ire, she stepped forward to press her point. “Adrien, they work hard on the land, for the king and for the church. To give them more work is unthinkable!”

  “Trust me, Ediva. We will have the fields planted and sheep cared for. You secured more men for that task.”

  “While you didn’t!”

  He folded his arms as the moonlight glinted on an expression now stony. “I would have, ha
d you not spoken. Once you entered into the negotiation, your skills and wiles interested Eudo more than they should have. I had no idea that Eudo would be so—” He cut off his sentence. “I know why you fought for more men. ’Tis obvious that you plan to use them in the fields rather than practicing their skills in the bailey.”

  “Is that wrong?”

  “Nay.” He sighed. “The Word of God tells how men built the walls of Jerusalem—”

  “The Word of God! Finally something sensible from it!”

  “Ediva! How can you say that? God’s Word is His gift for us.”

  As she stepped away, closer to the merlons, she folded her arms. “I don’t know that. I have not read it. My chaplain says I could never understand it, and indeed, I fear he’s correct. It says I am evil whilst still an innocent maid. Such makes no sense to me.”

  As Adrien moved closer, Ediva jammed herself between the merlons, where the crenel gaped open against her back. But Adrien’s face showed nothing but compassion.

  When he reached out to finger her chin and raise it up, she held her breath. “God does not want to see you hurt, Ediva.”

  “’Tis too late for that,” she whispered.

  His words stayed soft. “He loves you.”

  She turned her head. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Tell me such things. My chaplain would disagree.”

  “Then he’s wrong.”

  She turned her head and stared into his eyes. The moon was to his right, reaching only half his face. But she easily saw his expression, and her heart lurched. “Please, Adrien. ’Tis very confusing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be so. Trust in Him.”

  She ached to believe him and to still the disquiet within her. It was so tempting to trust in his faith, his strength, his offer of comfort. The urge to brush the burr of his short beard with her palm and trace the arches that were his eyebrows, all washed over her.

  Nay. ’Twould do no good to be beguiled by this man. She stepped back. “You said that God is pruning me. Oh, how He must love me to slice into my heart!”