Mistress to the Norman Lord Read online

  He had, in other words, discharged every obligation properly due to a lord, and ought to feel content.

  Instead he glowered to himself, solitary in his room, glaring at the empty bed as if it offended him. Which it did. Fine as it was, comfortable, valuable, it lacked the one thing that made it worthwhile in his eyes. There was no Aelfid in it.

  And in reviewing his own conduct, all the events that led up to this infuriating conclusion, he could not escape the idea that he'd behaved like a complete and utter rat.

  Take a young woman from her family, seduce her into his bed, use her for his pleasure, and then return her with an offhand gift of a few bundles of fabric - that did not strike him as fitting behaviour from a lord with pretensions to decency. Commonplace, of course: he doubted there was a man living who'd blame him for indulging in it. But nothing to admire himself for.

  He wanted to see Aelfid. Ensure that she was happy and well, wanting for nothing, loved and cared for by her own family, within her own home. She belonged with them, of course she did.

  Because what kind of place was this to bring her to? A fortress, hard and cold and unforgiving. Like himself.

  The castle hadn't always been so gloomy. He remembered how pleasant a home it had been during his mother's time. Brighter, and softer, and altogether more welcoming. Perhaps it was only a trick of his memory, decking out the days of childhood in sweeter colours than they had carried in truth. But he felt certain that everything had been better then. Long ago, before all the slaughter began.

  He didn't want to think about that. Normandy lay behind him. He'd left it for good, he wasn't going back there. Not any more.

  Better to think about the castle. His home, which increasingly did not feel like a home at all. Which could become one again, if only he brought a woman into it. The right woman.

  Aelfid.

  It was only her he wanted. Guy realised that now. He could brave any disapproval, any contempt, whether disbelief from his inferiors or sneers from men of his own rank and above. He wouldn't care, if he could only have her back.

  But what had he done? Paid her off, like a hired whore. She wouldn't receive him as a gift, now that he'd shown her what he truly thought of her. And while he certainly held power enough to compel her, that was not the kind of man he would ever allow himself to be.

  Which meant she was gone from his life forever. He'd cast her back into the dirt, and there she must remain.

  Marry some other, luckier man. The bastard from the next village along, maybe. Guy had kept eyes and ears open on his travels around the estate, but caught no hint of who she might have favoured before. Which was just as well, because he would have gone hard on the man if he'd found him.

  Luke might know.

  Of course, Luke might be in the market for a wife.

  Guy thrust that thought aside before he could be tempted to plot murder against his own friend and bailiff.

  He would visit her village, though. Make sure all was well. Listen to Luke's report in person. And if he should chance to catch a glimpse of Aelfid, or mention of her, perhaps he could find a way to show her that he did still care for her, held her in esteem, that if it hadn't been for the gulf between them he'd have had no hesitation in keeping her as his wife and not merely his whore.

  He indulged it for a moment, the dream of taking her lawfully to bed, this bed, which lay so empty before him.

  But that took him right back to where he'd started, which meant he'd made no progress at all.

  Irritably Guy splashed his hands and face with fresh water, dried himself without particular care, stripped for bed. Promised himself he would go soon, tomorrow perhaps or the day after, whenever he could work up the nerve to meet Aelfid's eyes again and discover the contempt she held him in now.

  ***

  Aelfid pulled at the spiky branch that snagged the cloth of her skirt. She wanted to tear at it, rip the thorns from the fabric by sheer force. But that would shred the cloth, and this was still the only dress she had. Mother was making tunics for the boys, vivid bright, out of the material Guy had sent. Aelfid knew she ought to finish her own dress, Mother wanted her to look smart when Luke visited. But she didn't have the heart for it, not any more.

  So she made excuses. To avoid the sewing, and to keep away from the farm. She'd been up at the croft all morning, and only now returned, sweaty and stained, for a cursory wash and a bite to eat. In her sole dress, which looked even worse than before. Thankfully no one would see her, provided she slipped down the scrubby slope and clambered over the low fence at the back of the farm.

  Not that it mattered much if anyone saw. But Aelfid didn't feel like braving her mother's meaningful sighs.

  She managed to free herself from the branch at last, and hurried down the slope as best she could. Climbed over the fence, shooed at the hens who waddled over to see if she was minded to feed them, then ran up to the house.

  Only when she rounded the corner did she see the horsemen. A whole cluster of them, waiting patiently further down the lane. Presumably they were on the lord's business, something to do with Luke's governance of the village. He wasn't among them, though. Nor was Guy - Aelfid checked, surreptitiously, and flushed to think that he might see her in this state. But he wasn't there.

  She didn't stay to gaze further, didn't want to draw attention to herself. So she ducked quickly in through the door, and crossed the kitchen with a hurried step to get into Mother's room and change.

  Stopped dead as she saw Guy seated by the table, with Luke and Mother, and staring right at her.

  "My lord." Aelfid curtsied, trembling. She felt faint, and her voice shook. In a silly effort to hide the stains and rips on her dress, she clutched at it with grimy hands.

  Guy merely nodded, said nothing at all, turned back to Luke. Who went on speaking, as if he had been part way through a sentence when she appeared.

  Which he had, Aelfid realised as she hid in Mother's room and attempted to make herself presentable. They were part way through discussing the management of the farm. There wasn't much to say: the new men worked hard, which freed Aelfid to spend all day at the croft if she chose. And although they ate plenty, the stores held up so far.

  "Good." Guy's voice cut across the discussion, low and firm, making her shiver. "That is all I wanted to know. If there's hardship here or anywhere else, Luke, you'll authorise a dole."

  "Thank you," Mother said, and the intense gratitude in her voice made tears start to Aelfid's eyes.

  It would all be well. They'd go on here, as a family, well fed and happy. Luke was a good man, and Mother deserved both support and affection. As for Aelfid herself, she would have to learn to be content with memories.

  She took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself, then emerged into the kitchen with what she hoped was a serene expression. Hovered by the door, meekly silent, and waited to see if anyone wanted anything from her.

  She tried not to glance at Guy, but it was impossible. He sat so close that if she reached out she could rest her fingertips on his shoulder. Aelfid imagined that, felt the warmth of him under her touch. Remembered caressing his naked skin, smooth over the play of strong muscle. Her breathing shortened, and her belly grew uncomfortably hot.

  He looked up at her then, met her gaze full on. She felt herself falling, as she had done in his castle, as she had done when she first saw him there on the road and knew he was the only man in the world for her.

  Silence settled around her, and the startled glances from Luke and Mother prickled on her skin. But she didn't care, couldn't care, because all her world lay contained in the man who watched her now, with a heat in his gaze that brought an answering heat to her own. She longed to touch him, felt an overwhelming urge to take the last step that separated them and fall into his arms.

  "Well." Guy broke the moment, looked away. Stared at the table, then rose abruptly and strode towards the door. "I am glad you have all that you need. Luke?"

  "Sir." Luke rose also, ling
ered with a gentle touch on Mother's arm and a rueful smile towards Aelfid. Then followed Guy who ducked out into the yard and disappeared without another word.

  Aelfid plucked at her dress. Tears burned in her eyes.

  He didn't care about her. Never had done, not really. It was all over between them, and what she had imagined they shared stood revealed now as the tawdry fantasies of a foolish and prideful girl.

  "Such a kind man," Mother said, in a voice mellow with affection. "And we are lucky to have so generous a lord. He asked after you, even - wanted to know that you were well." She rose, bustled past Aelfid towards the splintering basket that held all their sewing. "You know, we should finish these clothes. I was quite ashamed to appear before his lordship in these rags. It seemed disrespectful, as if we didn't appreciate his wonderful gift. He asked if the materials had arrived, so I showed him what we're making." Mother pulled out Aelfid's dress and laid it on the table. "This doesn't want much to finish. Hop to it, girl, and I'll set out dinner for us."

  Aelfid slumped onto the stool where Guy had sat, and pulled the fabric towards her.

  "At least he paid you." Mother paused to stroke Aelfid's hair. "Things could have been a lot worse."

  Aelfid nodded mutely. If she spoke at all, she was bound to cry.

  "It will make you a fine dress," Mother went on as Aelfid began to sew. "Do you well to get married in. And I think we should find you a husband, dear. Just in case, you know."

  Aelfid winced as the needle stabbed into her finger. Blood welled up in a large tear and wept into the cloth. She stuck the fingertip in her mouth and sucked at it until the salty taste subsided.

  ***

  Guy rode home in a storm of emotion. Aelfid's unexpected appearance, luminous with fresh air and good health, had unsettled him completely. He'd been half relieved to find her not at home, listened to her respectful and kind-hearted mother with interest, watched Luke's smitten gaze with amusement. Sat back content in the knowledge that a farm and a family were once more safe and thriving on his land.

  Then all of a sudden Aelfid stood there, dishevelled and beautiful and heartrendingly out of his reach. He'd tried not to watch her, but it was impossible - the room was small, she was forced to stand close, he'd been near enough to touch her.

  When their eyes met, it was like that first fateful meeting on the road. He'd had the sense of falling into endless light, and only with a supreme effort pulled himself back to reality.

  In truth, he'd come within a hair's breadth of sweeping Aelfid into his arms and declaring his love for her, right there in front of her mother and his own trusted man. Embarrassingly, he almost wished he'd given in to that impulse.

  But it was too late now. He'd left her, hurriedly because he did not trust himself to speak. The visit had achieved its objective, he knew now that she was safe and well and did not resent him. That brought joy to his heart, he revelled in the thought until his horse began to dance under him and he forced himself back to practical matters. But she was happy, she was well, she did not hate him. Not if that expression in her eyes was anything to go by - attentive, intense, like during the intimacy they had shared. Almost he could delude himself into imagining that she also had experienced that sense of falling, that like him she had been on the verge of reaching out, and holding on, and never letting go.

  But she'd made no move, and neither had he. Which was for the best, for all concerned.

  As he reached the castle, he found outriders waiting for him in the hall.

  "My lord," one of them said, "your lady mother bids me greet you and say she is on her way to visit and will arrive tomorrow after noon."

  Guy blinked. "My mother?" She was welcome, of course - and by good fortune, he had a suitable chamber to spare. He nodded to one of his own men, and was conscious of a pang to the heart as he recognised Aelfid's brother. "Make the guest room ready." The youth bowed and took off with a brisk step. Guy watched him, strove to treasure every hint of resemblance. There was something in common there, beyond the vivid eyes and beautiful face: they both moved with alacrity, as if accustomed to useful work.

  Good. It was what Guy liked to see in a man. No need for it in a woman, he had no work for her to do here in any case.

  Guy thrust aside the thoughts of Aelfid, and began to make preparations for his mother's entertainment.

  ***

  "One must make allowance for the children, you know," Mother said. "She's besotted with them, of course."

  "Naturally." Guy maintained an unbroken mask of polite agreement, but inwardly he smiled. This had been the tenor of the conversation since his mother arrived.

  His sister, it appeared, preferred to run her own household rather than allow Mother to do it for her. Thwarted at every turn, Mother had retreated to her former home to brood on her misfortunes.

  Which meant Guy's role was to listen patiently to a litany of complaints, thinly disguised as compliments. He endured it quietly, and with a measure of sympathy. Mother was used to being in charge, and taking second place did not come easily to her.

  Guy remembered how he'd chafed under his father's command during their last campaign. So he agreed that it was delightful to see a young woman know her own mind even if it meant she made foolish decisions, praised Mother's great fortitude in allowing disorder to reign, shook his head at each new instance of depravity.

  "The children are charming," Mother continued. "So excited about everything. And it is good that she makes their happiness her main concern. It doesn't matter that a few minor tasks remain undone - sometimes for weeks - "

  "Not at all."

  "And if my own small hints are not always heeded, that is hardly surprising. We all have our own methods. Besides, she will learn best from her own mistakes."

  "Certainly." Guy kept his expression grave. "However, I can imagine it does not create the most orderly environment for you. I hope you will consider remaining here for a while, or perhaps even make this your home again."

  His mother sighed. "You are a darling boy, but I really don't think I can. She needs me, though she imagines she can do better by herself. Still, I felt I needed holiday. Away from all the bustle, you know. And I always loved this place. We were so happy here, when your father was alive." Her expression grew wistful as she looked around the room.

  "We were," Guy agreed, and felt the enormity of loss.

  "Though you could certainly do more," Mother went on. "Those walls are a disgrace. And I notice you had no musicians at dinner."

  "I've been away," Guy said in his own defence. "Campaigning."

  "But you are back now, dear. And really, one must ensure things are done properly. When your father went to Normandy - " She lost herself in reminiscences.

  Guy courteously refrained from pointing out that he'd served alongside his father on no fewer than three campaigns, and needed no lectures on how things had been managed then. Instead he let her talk, and remembered with her, and wished for Aelfid.

  "You should marry," Mother said eventually. "Then I could stay here to advise on household matters. It really is a shame you've made no useful connections that way. Are there no suitable daughters anywhere near?"

  "Not many," Guy said, omitting to mention that he'd failed to ask. But he thought of Aelfid, vivid-eyed and beautiful, regarding this simple place with awe and wonder. He saw it now through her eyes, compared it with the plain but functional farmhouse she lived in. Did not recall why he'd imagined them so very far apart. One was large and one was small, but with such an unequal number of people to house the discrepancy did not seem so great. Food and shelter and human warmth: what more did anyone need?

  "It need not be so fine a match," Mother said. "A well-behaved girl of good family, with a portion of land, perhaps towards the coast - one must be mindful of threats from across the Channel."

  "Indeed one must."

  "And with sound connections," Mother went on. "Titles. Patronage."

  "We don't need those."

 
Mother blinked at him, caught in mid-flow. "I suppose not. But you must think strategically."

  "Always." Guy allowed himself one rebellious memory of Aelfid, soft and yielding in his arms. "I'd like there to be affection, too."

  "Oh, that will come. In time. And of course, I shall be here to teach her everything that pertains to - well - matters between husband and wife."

  "I'm sure she'll be grateful," Guy murmured, while Aelfid's wide respectful eyes shone before his mind. His mother would melt under their gaze. As he had done.

  Guy rose. "Would you care to ride out with me? A short excursion, while you tell me what the bishops have been up to recently."

  "What a splendid idea." His mother rose likewise, with an eagerness that reminded him of Aelfid pleading for work. "And if there are any little matters you want my advice on - of course, I would never presume to suggest how you should run your own estate - "

  Guy leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I know you managed it for years, whenever my father was away, and that you managed it well. Come and see what I've done with it, and tell me everywhere I'm going wrong."

  ***

  There. It was done. Aelfid held the dress up before it and surveyed it with satisfaction. Neatly stitched, it showed the lovely fall of the fine material, and the contrasting thread decoration at the borders brought out the full effect of the deep hue.

  On impulse, she tore off her old dress and pulled the new material over her instead. It was warm, resting around her like an affectionate embrace. She trailed her hands over it, and marvelled at how soft and clingy it felt under her touch.

  Pity her shift did not match the quality. But there was fresh linen also in the pile that Guy had sent. She could make herself a new one out of that. And a belt that made her gasp at its beauty, sleek leather with an intricate silver buckle, the kind any noble lady might wear. Aelfid fastened it around her waist, where it promptly slipped to her hips. It was made for a man, not a woman. But she didn't mind, just left it there to glitter in the gloom.