His Enemy's Daughter Read online

  ‘He is offering you the chance to do so. He told me you wish to retire to the convent.’

  She was startled at his words. Lord Soren would allow it? Now that she knew the cause of his hatred and how deeply it ran in him, mayhap he’d realised he would never be able to accept her as his wife?

  ‘Aye, Father. ’Twas my plan on the day he arrived.’ She could not believe it would be this easy to end it. ‘He has agreed to this? Truly?’

  ‘Aye, my lady. And he will provide a donation to the convent to allow your entrance there.’

  All of this sounded too good to her. He did not seem to be the kind of man who allowed a woman to walk away from him. From what Gytha had revealed, he had been used to women coming to him. There had to be…

  ‘What is the price for my freedom, Father? What does Lord Soren expect in return?’

  ‘Truly, lady, he mentioned no such thing to me. He came here with questions about the validity of your marriage and the basis and conditions on which it could be annulled. Then he asked me to speak to you to explain the same to you. And to make certain you know that he will not obstruct you if you choose to pursue such a proceeding.’

  She sat back against the chair and thought about this strange situation. She needed to know more. ‘So, pray thee, Father, explain to me what you explained to Lord Soren.’

  ‘Because of the nature of your impediment, your blindness, the marriage can, in fact, be nullified. Your condition, if permanent, will prevent you from carrying out your legal and marital duties and could harm any children produced during a marriage.’ She gasped at his words, but he was not finished.

  ‘Although Lord Soren did accomplish the taking of vows, even with knowledge of this impediment, it could be argued that he had no knowledge of the permanence of the condition. So, he can file for an annulment at any time without prejudice.’

  ‘Are you saying that at any time during our marriage, so long as we do not consummate our vows, he can ask to set me aside?’

  ‘Consummation will matter not in this situation, my lady. Once he decides that your sight will not return, he can proceed to end it.’

  ‘And if it proves temporary, as I believe it to be?’

  Sybilla did not care who told her sight was gone for ever, she would not believe it so. It could not be. When the swelling in her head and around her eyes healed, her vision would return.

  It would.

  It must.

  It had to return.

  She took in a ragged breath, not wanting to think of such things as remaining in this dark, hellish existence for her whole life. The priest patted her hand once more, but said nothing. He might not believe it, but she did. She would see again.

  ‘If the annulment has been granted before your sight returns, you would be free to marry as you wish, as he will be. If your sight returns before any proceedings, then you remain married in the sight of God and his Church.’

  ‘And he knows this?’ she asked to be certain.

  ‘Aye, lady. Do you have any other questions of me?’

  ‘What does he want, Father?’

  The loud sigh echoed through the stone building. She could almost see the lovely window her father had made in memory of her mother on the west side of it if she thought about it. Her brother’s betrothal ceremony had taken place here as would her own have if death had not claimed her father. He’d spoken of a possible marriage contract on her behalf before Cerdic’s departure at Harold’s call, but she knew nothing more than that.

  ‘Lord Soren did not discuss his preferences with me, only possibilities. I am sure he will speak to you about the details of your situation.’ She heard the priest moving about and realised their interview must be at an end. ‘I will call for Guermont to escort you back to the keep,’ he added.

  ‘Father, pray thee, may I have a few minutes here before you call for him? I have much to think about,’ she said truthfully. She did not want to face her maids or anyone else until she’d pondered on this development. Or be around anyone until she’d sorted things through in her own mind. If she had to speak to him, she needed to understand her own thoughts on the matter first.

  ‘Certainly, lady. I have to finish my prayers, so remain as long as you’d like and just tell me when you are ready to return.’ He started to walk away, but stopped. ‘You are facing the altar, if you wondered about that.’

  She smiled then, for he noticed the small details for her. Sybilla made the Sign of the Cross and then offered up her normal litany of prayers for the souls of the dead, for her family, for her people. When she ran out of prayers, it was time to face the matter at hand.

  But she found she could not do it. Lord Soren held this in his power as her husband and, until she knew his plans, nothing she decided mattered. She would give this a few days and then ask to speak to him. If he had smoothed the way by speaking to Father Medwyn, then he must want it as much as she did. There was no reason to remain here. When she heard a pause in the priest’s murmured prayers, she asked him to call for Guermont.

  The walk back was almost pleasant now with the weight of her future lifted from her shoulders. The air smelled of fresh rain and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of it. The day was warm now that midday had come and gone, but it would cool quickly as the sun set later. So far to the north in England, Alston’s weather was pleasant enough, though quite wet during the spring. Now, as summer waned down and the autumn would begin, they should have a good harvest, as long as war did not visit them again.

  She drew to a halt as the truth hit her—she would not be here to work to bring the harvest in again. Sybilla would never toil to store the grains and vegetables, nor to oversee butchering the stock to use through the winter. She would not be here to celebrate Christ’s Mass nor the New Year. Nor would she be here when spring brought colour and scent to the hillsides and the air.

  ‘Lady?’ Guermont asked. ‘Are you ill?’

  Sybilla had been so intent on escaping him that she’d never considered that she would be leaving here. Though she knew when her father spoke of a betrothal that she would eventually travel to her new husband’s lands and live there, her brother’s death had left her as heiress and now that arrangement would change. Guermont touched her hand to draw her attention.

  ‘Lady? You have become very pale. Was this too much exertion for you?’ He placed his arm around her waist, supporting her as they walked. Sybilla shook to clear her head. What a time for such a realisation to happen.

  ‘Give me a moment, Guermont,’ she said.

  Sybilla waited for that attack of panic to pass and then let Guermont guide her back inside. The rope along the stairs aided her climbing them and soon they stood before her chambers. She thanked Guermont and was prepared to enter her chambers alone, when the door opened from within.

  ‘Soren,’ Guermont said.

  ‘Come in, lady,’ he greeted her, inviting her into her own room.

  As she took the first steps inside, the smell of some of her favorite foods greeted her, making her mouth water in anticipation. Roasted quail? Could it be? Venison? Even the cakes the cook made for special occasions? How could it be? Lord Soren clasped her hand in his and drew her into the chamber and closed the door behind her.

  ‘What is this?’ she asked.

  He guided her to a chair and helped her to sit…at a table. She felt in front of her, rubbing her hands around the surface and bumping into plates and bowls of various sizes. Lord Soren began calling out the contents of each as she did so.

  She’d been correct—all of her favorite foods.

  ‘This is supper. I thought that we could talk while we eat,’ he explained.

  To her, talking about ending their marriage and eating did not go together, but it did not seem to matter to him. She had eaten very little in the last weeks, mostly broths and stews that she could manage without being able to see them. A cup, a bowl with a spoon, she could do. More involved eating, she simply could not manage and had not tried.

&n
bsp; ‘I am not hungry, Lord Soren,’ she began, shaking her head. ‘But I thank you for going through this effort.’

  Her words were clear and decisive and would have persuaded him or anyone else of her uninterest had two things not happened: her stomach growled loud enough to echo across the chamber and he slipped a small piece of the roasted quail into her mouth.

  It was juicy and well seasoned and succulent and delicious.

  And the instant it touched her tongue, she wanted more.

  ‘Good, is it not?’ he asked, now at her side. She heard the scrape of a chair being brought closer. ‘Here, I have more ready for you here,’ he said, taking her hand and guiding her fingers to a metal plate in front of her. ‘Try that.’

  He did nothing else until she did as he directed. She slid her hand slowly to the plate and felt on its surface for the pieces of fowl he’d torn for her. Sybilla hesitated, fearing she would drop it on herself or the floor, but he urged her on in a tone she’d not heard from him before.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I see the cause of your concern. You do not wish to wear the food or soil your clothing.’ He moved away from her, walking around her to the other side of the table, before standing behind her. ‘Let me fix this.’

  Without another word of warning, he gently removed her veil and tossed it aside. Then he lifted each arm and tugged her sleeves up until they were tight against her forearms. Lastly, he encircled her neck with some cloth and she felt him tie it behind her. ‘Your garments are now safely out of the way or covered, Lady Sybilla. Carry on.’

  Playful. He was being playful with her. Mayhap now that he knew he could get an annulment, he felt that he could put aside the intense hatred he’d expressed? This was no Lord Soren she’d ever encountered before and she had no way of knowing how to approach him. Another growl from her empty belly took the decision from her.

  ‘Here is more,’ he said. She could smell a variety of aromas as he placed more foods on her plate. ‘We can talk after you have eaten your fill. There is a cup of ale to the left of your plate when you need it.’

  Once begun, it was difficult to stop. She had not realised how much she’d not eaten until she began to eat. He tore the meat and fowl into small pieces for her, refilling her plate numerous times as she consumed them.

  ‘And you, Lord Soren? Do you not share this meal?’

  Silence met her words. Had she said something wrong? Again?

  ‘I must remove my hood to do so,’ he explained. When she shrugged, he went on, ‘I wear a hood to cover…my injuries, lady. I care not to be gawked at for the way they appear.’ His voice had changed then, back to the Lord Soren she knew. ‘I cannot eat with it in place.’

  Sybilla did not know what made her do it, but it felt right.

  ‘Then remove it, Lord Soren. I will never notice and you will be at ease.’

  After a pause, she heard fabric being untied, heard the rustling of clothing and the sound of something landing on the floor between them. And then, a most disconcerting sound—he released a moan that whispered of pleasure and relief. Though she knew the cause of it, it made her belly tighten deep within.

  Then, without further words between them, he went back to sharing food with her, pouring more wine—watered, since she was unused to the strong type he’d brought for her—and offering tastes of all the dishes prepared for them. She tried to slow down, fearing a sore stomach from eating too much at one time, but each taste tempted her to another and another.

  The final foods offered to her were some sweet wafers and small, flavoured cakes, both in a size that she could manage without any utensils. She ate only one of each before shaking her head to refuse more.

  ‘My thanks, Lord Soren, for arranging that,’ she said as she pushed the plate back away from her. Reaching down, she took hold of the linen napkin so that she could clean her hands and face. After she’d wiped her hands, it was taken from her.

  ‘Here, let me do that since I can see what a mess you have made of yourself,’ he teased.

  ‘That badly?’ she asked, as he dabbed the corners of her mouth and her chin and wiped across her lips. She slid the tip of her tongue out and licked her lips. Then she felt his thumb slide over it, retracing the path of her tongue. Her belly reacted again, feeling the light touch deep within her body. She shivered and he dropped his hand from her.

  She decided it was time for that talk between them and not waiting for him to begin, Sybilla did.

  ‘So tell me, Lord Soren, what has made you decide you do not want me any longer?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  God save him from innocents and fools! he thought as the words passed her lips. The lips that drove him to drink throughout the meal they’d shared. The lips he wanted to place his own on and taste. Not want her?

  Right now, and with little more provocation than she’d already given him, he could lay her on that inviting bed near them, peel off the rest of the layers of clothing that covered her and kiss and lick and taste every possible inch of her skin. And once he was satisfied that no part of her had gone untouched by mouth and hands, he would place himself between her thighs and lay claim to the rest of her. His prick lengthened even now in anticipation and desire.

  Not want her?

  Soren leaned back in his chair and stared at her. If she ever had an idea of the amount of time and effort it had taken him to stay out of her bed and to speak to the priest about annulling their marriage, she would never think that. His mind understood her question, even if his body wanted to misunderstand it.

  ‘The words of a child, lady.’ He shifted in the chair to accommodate his erection, which she thankfully could not see, and continued. ‘While instructing Raed on his duties to his lord, I was reminded of a lord’s duties to his lady.’ He must not think on those duties or he’d never get through this!

  ‘I confess I do not understand, Lord Soren.’ Her expression was one of puzzlement, disgruntled for some reason and puzzled for the obvious one.

  ‘I told Raed that it was a man’s duty to take responsibility for his actions and to admit when he erred. That is what this is about, Sybilla.’

  ‘Lord Soren, forgive my impertinence, but why should you care what happens to me? You made yourself and your reasons for hating me very clear. I understand your hatred. I understand your need for vengeance. But this, this…’ she motioned at the table and him with her hand ‘…I do not.’

  He stood and pushed the chair back from the table. She tensed, preparing herself for whatever he would deliver to her. He’d seen her do it before.

  ‘The blow from your father should have killed me, Sybilla. No one, not the healers, not the priests, not even William’s physician himself, can explain how I survived. But I know how—I needed to live to seek vengeance on him. That alone kept me alive, through every excruciating hour, through every surgery to repair the damaged flesh of my body, through every time I tried to give up and die. Vengeance pulled me along and made me live.’

  She shivered at his words and clutched the napkin in her hands. But it did not stop him from saying the rest.

  ‘I came here to kill you and to destroy everything that belonged to Durward,’ he said, not sparing her the truth.

  Sybilla pushed back in the chair and tried to stand. He grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her. Guiding her back to sit, he explained, ‘You are safe from me now, lady.’ But she shook as she sat there before him. He could see the terror return to her face.

  ‘Alston and you were not what I expected,’ he revealed. ‘I forgot for a long time that my men fought with me, dreamed of a place of their own with me and accompanied me for that chance. I was quite ready to kill you until your people showed me what loyalty was. When they put themselves between you and me, it tore from me my resolve to kill you.’

  He paused and watched a myriad of expressions move across her lovely face, each one exposing more about her to his scrutiny. The one that lasted was something he should recognize, for he wore it and felt it often
enough—anger.

  ‘So you married me instead?’ she asked, tossing the linen aside now and clasping the arms of the wooden chair.

  ‘It seemed the better choice at the time, lady.’

  Then it happened for the first time since he’d met her—she laughed. Not a chuckle or smile this time. Sybilla laughed aloud and it was a sight to behold. ’Twas difficult to believe she was sightless, for her eyes sparkled and her cheeks flushed. Then the laughter softened and stopped and he missed it the moment it fled her face.

  ‘And now, now you wish me to go?’

  Soren had sidestepped explaining the real reason he’d married her, but now needed to reveal more about his plans than he wanted any one person to know. Could he trust her?

  ‘Alston is a pivotal crossroads here in the north, Sybilla. It must be held to secure the entire border with the Scots and to keep Northumbria from absorbing William’s lands.’ He paused to let her absorb that part of it. ‘William sent me here to take and hold these lands and to assess who was loyal and who sought to overthrow his rule, both here and in the south.’

  Soren knew that Morcar and Edwin believed William would keep to the lands that belonged to the Godwinsons, but Soren knew differently—William intended to rule over as much of this isle as he could. Holding the western half of the north was only the beginning.

  ‘And…?’ Clever girl, she knew there was more.

  ‘The traitors are closer at hand than even I imagined,’ he said. ‘I need Alston settled so that I can focus my efforts on the threats from the outside.’

  ‘So, my seeking the convent will rid you of problems here at Alston?’ she asked, a suspicious glint in her eyes now.

  Soren ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. She really thought he wanted her gone. Apparently his plan made sense to no one but him.

  ‘Nay, I need you here. Though once things are settled, I am willing to seek an annulment if that is what you wish.’