Page 9 of The Red Wolf’s Prize

Geoff stood, casting a regretful glance at his trencher andthe still uneaten venison.

“Your food will keep, Geoff. Let us see what the woods havereturned to us.” Renaud was anxious to get a look at the women. He hoped LadySerena was among them.

Curiosity compelled him forward, and with Geoff at his side,his long strides soon covered the distance to the wide doorway leading from thehall to the manor.

Crossing the threshold, he saw a small group of womengathered around the brazier. Two bearded men stood in front of them, theirstance that of protectors, no matter they had been relieved of their weapons.They wore the shorter tunics of the English and both had shoulder length hair,one brown and the other fair with a golden mustache. Among the women, heglimpsed a redhead and several with hair in various shades of brown. Not aflaxen one among them.

Disappointed, and angrier than ever that his bride hadescaped, his eyes narrowed on the women. “I am Sir Renaud de Pierrepont, nowEarl of Talisand by King William’s decree. I understand why you fled but youneed have no fear for your virtue. Any who ride with me know my command in thismatter. Return to your work; you will be safe for I protect what is mine.”

His task done, Renaud turned and confidently strode back tothe hall, dismissing Sir Maurin with a flick of his wrist.

* * *

A great wave of weariness swept over Serena as the twoNormans turned their backs and, with long strides, returned to the hall. Shehad walked for most of the day and then been forced to ride in the lap of theknight who brought her back to the manor. Night had descended and the spring airgrew chilled. Yet she knew the weary feeling was due to more than the longjourney or the cold. She was anxious and angry with herself.

They should have left days earlier.

Serena had watched the two Normans approach from where shestood behind the other women. Leppe had placed her there in an attempt toprotect her from the probing eyes of the new Norman lord. The moment she hadset eyes on the knights, she knew which of the two was the Red Wolf. He camethrough the door wearing a fierce scowl as his eyes roved over the women like abeast seeking one to devour. She had known he was looking for her and haddropped her gaze to her stare at her feet.

But when he began to speak, she could not resist raising herhead to look at him. He was different from Sir Maurin, the knight with theweathered face who had carried her back to the manor and spoke to her instilted English. This one, who claimed to be the Earl of Talisand, was used togiving orders, his air of command proclaiming it so in English any would understand.

He had glowered at them, his piercing gray eyes like athreatening storm. Power like soundless thunder emanated from his lean muscularbody as he stared at the small group huddled in front of the brazier.

Unlike Englishmen, his face was devoid of any beard and hisdark reddish brown hair fell in waves only to his nape. He stood erect as ifsurveying a battlefield but he wore no knight’s mail, only a dark green tunicand a leather belt studded with silver. His legs spread apart and his handsfisted on his hips, he stood like a Viking on the deck of his ship. Shesupposed that he was. The Norsemen who invaded Normandy had left their markwell enough. And now one of their descendants had invaded Talisand.

She was glad she had not willingly accepted her fate ofbelonging to him for he had the undeniable look of one who tolerated noweakness and no dissent. A warrior who demanded his due. It gave her a secretjoy to know she defied him and the Bastard King. Yet despite that, she wasintrigued. He was undeniably handsome in a raw sort of way, and now he was themaster of all that was hers. She was more determined than ever to despise him.

The knight who had stood next to the Red Wolf was unlike hislord, so fair as to appear nearly Saxon, save for the shorter hair and the lackof a beard. He was not so tall, either, and carried more weight. The linesaround his mouth and eyes suggested he laughed often.

She remembered well the Red Wolf’s words. They had been few,as if he carefully doled them out, telling the women they need not fearravishment, that he protected what was his. She wondered if his words weretruth. If the messengers had been correct, the Normans had raped, burned andpillaged half of England. It vexed her that this Norman knight considered the menand women of Talisand his, no matter it was now true. Once free, now they werereduced to mere possessions. She hoped it would not always be so.

She turned from the entry and, with the other women, headedto the kitchen. Worry dogged her as she thought about the fate of her people.She decided to stay, at least for a while, to see how the Norman lord wouldtreat them. But how long could she maintain her disguise as a servant when allthose at Talisand knew her to be their lady? They would risk all to concealher, but could she ask such a thing of them?

* * *

“Faith!” Serena shouted as the heavy kettle slipped from herhands and crashed to the floor with a loud clang, splashing hot liquid onto hertunic. Exasperated, she wiped her hands on her apron, and bent to clean up theremains of the broth. “Oh, Maggie, it seems I have little talent for kitchenduties.”

Serena’s insides churned in frustration. She had beenworking in the kitchen and serving at the tables in the guise of Sarah for aweek, diligently trying to blend in as one of the servants. But untrained forthe work, she had little patience for mixing, lifting and serving. Her talentslay in the managing of the household and in other pursuits not so typical of athegn’s daughter.

“Ye’re trying, m’lady,” said Maggie. “’Tis all that matters,truly. Most of the lasses assigned to the kitchen have been raised to the worklike me own daughter. Mayhap yer father shouldna have indulged ye by allowingye to hunt. Yet ye do sing like an angel and that always pleases a man.”

Serena looked up at Maggie from where she had stooped toclean up the mess. She would have rolled her eyes had she not seen the smile onthe older woman’s face. But she must correct the manner in which the cook hadaddressed her. “Just call me Sarah, Maggie.”

The housekeeper reached down and helped her to rise. “Dinnaworry about the broth, Sarah. Leave it be. I can make more.”

Cassie left the bread she had been preparing for the noonmeal and came to kneel beside the spilled broth. “I will do this.”

“Cassie, you are ever kind, but you know as a servant, Imust do my share of the work.”

The sound of skipping feet drew Serena’s attention to thesmall boy with blond hair who had entered the back door left open on warm daysfor access to the herb garden.

“’Tis young Jamie!” exclaimed Cassie.

“Ser...Sarah!” The boy ran to Serena and wrapped his armsaround her tunic, joy lighting up his young face. “Sarah, see what I havebrought ye?” He pulled a bow from his shoulder where it rested with a quiver ofarrows and proudly thrust it upon her. “Yer bow.”

“Jamie, you prince!” she said, taking it. “Where did youfind it?”

“When the knights brought ye back, they put it in thearmory. I recognized it from the Welsh symbols Rhodri carved in it when he madeit for ye. I knew ye’d want it.”