His Enemy's Daughter. Terri Brisbin

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      ‘My lord?’ the woman asked before he could turn away.

      ‘What part of my words do you not comprehend? I made no secret of the only use I have for the traitor’s daughter. Once I have secured the land, I will consummate our vows.’

      Lord Gautier would have taken a cane to his back for such flagrant words of disrespect, but Soren could not help it. And, as usually happened with such ill-spoken words, the bitterness of them burned his tongue before they even left his mouth. Still, he would not, could not, relent in this, so he glared at the woman until she nodded her understanding.

      ‘See to it,’ he ordered as he strode from the hall into the yard to sort out a different kind of chaos than the one that now made his gut clench.

      Sybilla barely heard a word or sound around her. The pain pulsed through her head and burned her eyes, making it difficult to even remain standing. Instead of fighting the strong grip of the men holding her, she let their strength keep her on her feet. It was wrong, so wrong, to speak vows before a priest to a man she had no intention of marrying, but the shock and sorrow of the day crushed her into compliance.

      To his will and not her own.

      One day she would need to answer for her failure to object when asked by the priest if she consented to this marriage, but now she felt too overwhelmed to dwell on it much. And Sybilla found she had not the strength of body or will to focus her efforts on anything but not being dragged like a sack of flour through her own hall.

      The soldiers said nothing as they followed Aldys to the stairs and then up to the second floor where her chambers were in the corner tower. When she tripped for the third time, unable to judge the height of the steps and to adjust her pace to those hauling her along, the tears began. This was her home, the place she knew better than anyone, yet she could not tell how many steps there were or how steep they were. By the time they reached her chambers, the fear about her fate and her injury and the possibility of being blind for the rest of her life took control and she collapsed in a crying heap when the soldiers released her.

      Nothing had intervened in her despair for what could have been minutes or hours and then she drifted back to an awareness of herself and her surroundings.

      To the sound of her maid and Aldys both praying for her!

      Sybilla tried to raise her hand to her face and the source of her pain and found she could not move.

      ‘My lady,’ Gytha whispered. ‘You are awake!’

      Sybilla nodded, but tears threatened again so she did not even try to speak. A hand behind her head supported her as a cup was placed at her mouth and she took a few sips. Watered wine eased the dry tightness in her throat.

      ‘We feared you would not wake,’ Gytha whispered again. From the sound and tone of the maid’s voice it was clear that there was a need to remain quiet.

      ‘Where am I?’ she asked. Without sight, everything felt different to her. Unable to see her surroundings, even her bed, if it was hers, did not seem familiar at all. ‘Are we alone?’

      There was a pause before Gytha answered and Sybilla could almost imagine the two women exchanging glances between them before speaking. It was something they did frequently now that they both served her needs and when they felt the need to soften the coming blow. Sybilla had seen it when the news of her brother’s death at Stamford Bridge came, then when her father’s fate further south at Hastings arrived here months later. Their wordless exchange was so filled with sympathy, she could almost feel it now. Sybilla tried to push herself up to sit, but her arms and body did not obey her.

      ‘Hush now, lady,’ Aldys soothed. ‘We cleaned the wound and there is a new dressing in place. The bleeding is almost ceased.’ Sybilla felt the soft touch of a hand across the bandages now in place. ‘We are in your chambers.’ Then Aldys’s voice came from closer to her ears. ‘We are alone, but his lackeys check often and watch everything we do. They probably listen for our words, so have a care.’ Sybilla tried to nod her understanding of their situation.

      ‘Where is he?’ she whispered, knowing he would have to come here sooner or later now that their marriage had happened. She swallowed against the fear of what would follow.

      ‘He left the keep after … after …’ Sybilla nodded—she knew when he had left. ‘He can be heard calling out his orders in the yard and even beyond the wall.’

      A strong shudder passed through her then, remembering the sound of his voice as he called for Alston’s surrender. And as he’d demanded she step forwards to face his death sentence. She shook again. Not death now, but something she imagined he would make worse than death. As a vision of him in his black armour flashed in her memory, she trembled as the thought of what she would suffer at his hands became clear to her.

      ‘I … cannot …’ she stuttered without thinking. Shaking her head, Sybilla felt the fear take hold of her. ‘I cannot do this.’

      Aldys and Gytha leaned in close, each taking her hand and squeezing it. ‘Hush now, lady,’ Aldys repeated. ‘Rest and gain your strength.’

      Because you will need it later were the unspoken words in her warning. But later came much too soon.

      ‘Lady?’ a voice called from the hallway. Sybilla could not identify the person behind the call.

      ‘What do you want, boy?’ Aldys asked.

      ‘Lord Soren sends me to bid you make ready for him.’

      ‘He sends a boy to tell you such things?’ Gytha whispered.

      ‘Monsters such as him will use anyone they can to do their bidding—women, children, whoever!’ Aldys’s anger made her voice low and almost unrecognisable.

      ‘Lady?’ the boy asked.

      ‘Aye, lad. I heard your message.’ Sybilla nearly could not get the words out, but she asked one question. ‘Are you of Alston?’

      ‘Nay, lady. I am Raed of Shildon.’

      ‘Shildon?’ she asked. A village some days’ journey to the east from Alston.

      ‘Aye, lady. My lord Soren took me from there to serve him.’

      Sybilla sank deeper onto the pallet, her head pounding now from the injury and from all that faced her. Dear God in Heaven, he was a monster! He stole children from their families and forced them into his service? She shook her head, unable to say or think anything more.

      Agitated by this news of how Soren acted, Sybilla could find no rest. She tossed and shifted on the pallet, for both comfort and ease escaped her. Nothing eased the pain in her head or in her heart. She felt the tenuous control she’d managed begin to wane as the hours passed. When she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching down the corridor outside her doorway, she wished she could have fainted and not faced what would follow his arrival.

      But the saints above and even the Almighty seemed to ignore her prayers and kept her from sinking into oblivion. Sybilla hoped only not to disgrace herself and her name when he touched her, but from the way the fear took hold, she knew any control she had would end the first moment he came close.

      Chapter Five

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