you blame me because your man put her in the stocks?’
‘Not at all. I merely state what happened.’
She searched his eyes for a moment, and Adam wondered what she saw there. A liar? A hated invader? But there was no telling, and after a moment she looked down and began fiddling with the arrowhead, turning it over in her fingers. The anger, he sensed, was leaving her. She sighed. ‘So you did not order her put there?’
‘No, but I should say that I do not question Le Blanc’s decision.’ Stepping towards her, Adam put his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. ‘You want me to release her?’ he asked softly.
‘Please,’ she said quietly. ‘Lufu is repentant. She wants to make amends.’ Moving out from under his hand and past him to the doorway, she checked the position of the sun. ‘It’s almost noon. If you let her out now, she can help Brian with the supper.’
Cecily Fulford looked delightful in her sister’s gown—so delightful that she almost stole his tongue. A Saxon girl—no, the Saxon girl, the one he was about to marry. That scattering of freckles across her nose was begging to be kissed. That wayward blonde curl was asking to be tugged. If he leaned forward and…But some of that anger still lingered in her eyes, and it checked him. He fought the impulse to take her hand—for this was neither the time nor the place, not with Richard grinning at him like an ass, not with the miller’s boys so close in the stables, the men in the yard…
‘…and they can use the baconflitch to add flavour. If, that is, you like smoked bacon, sir?’ Cecily finished, looking expectantly up at him.
‘Baconflitch? What? What did you say?’
‘I found a side of bacon. Lufu wants to use it for our wedding supper, if you agree.’
He could resist no longer. What harm? They were about to be married. As he took her hand he had the pleasure of watching her cheeks bloom with colour.
Richard snorted. Turning his shoulder on his fellow knight, Adam crowded Cecily back into the armoury and out of sight of prying eyes. She was still clutching the arrowhead. Gently, he removed it and placed it on the workbench. He set down the bow. ‘I thought there was no meat, cured or otherwise?’ He rubbed his thumb over her fingers.
‘Oh. No.’ For a moment she would not look his way, but Adam was so intent on watching her lips that he scarcely noticed. Then she smiled as prettily as he could wish. ‘So I thought, sir. But this morning it…it came to light.’
‘Came to light? Where?’
‘It had…been put into safekeeping.’
The light dawned. Lufu. So that was what they had been talking about by the stocks. And Cecily—with her blue eyes no longer cold, but full of pleading—she did not want Lufu punished further. Hell, neither did he. A resentful Saxon would not advance his cause here. ‘You may order her release,’ he said, keeping hold of her hand. ‘As long as you’re confident she won’t poison my men.’
‘She won’t do that.’ Her brow cleared. ‘Lufu used to be a good cook. I don’t expect that’s changed. If my people learn they can trust you, they will serve you well.’
My people. Here she was, pretty and charming when she wanted to be, and yet always there was this shadow between them, this division. My people. Not your people, even though England’s new ruler had given them into his charge. Would it always be so? My people. Cecily Fulford was about to become Cecily Wymark, but would she ever say our people and mean it?
They stood staring at each other by the armoury door, and even as she made to pull away Adam was hunting out an excuse to keep her with him. He had a thousand things to do before their wedding at three o’clock, but he would happily put them off simply for the sake of her company.
‘About Edmund…’ he opened at random, and then wished he had not, for her face closed. He was instantly on the alert, though he took pains not to appear unduly concerned.
‘Edmund? Why, he’s just one of my father’s housecarls—the most fortunate, since he is alive.’
Adam let her pull free. ‘I mistrust the man. I pray you will inform me if he lets fall anything that might work to my—to our—disadvantage.’
Was it his imagination, or had she gone a shade paler? Her fingers had certainly curled into fists. As though she was aware that he had noticed, they slowly uncurled.
‘You disarmed him?’
‘Indeed.’
‘H-has he done anything since then to rouse your suspicions?’ she asked.
Adam folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not unless you call flirting with one of the village matrons suspicious,’ he admitted. ‘Though I expect her husband might have his objections.’
A look of puzzlement crossed her face and she looked away. ‘A mother with a babe? Not Gudrun, surely?’
‘No.’
‘Then who?’
‘Couldn’t say. I’ve not learned everyone’s names yet. She met him when she came to draw water from the river. Lives down beyond the mill, near the tumbledown cottage.’
‘Lady Cecily!’ Gudrun stepped into view round the corner of the Hall, carrying baby Philip over her shoulder. Matty was trailing after with the other baby, Agatha, on her hip.
Philip. What an odd name for a Saxon housekeeper to choose. It was so very Norman. Adam glanced at Agatha. It was odd, too, how close in age the two babies were…almost as if…He shot a look at his bride-to-be. There was some mystery here, and Cecily was in on it, but…
Cold fingers whispered over the back of his neck. His bride was relieved at the interruption. Yes, something was afoot—but she was not about to take him into her confidence. He sensed no hatred in her—disquiet, yes, mistrust, possibly, but no hatred. Inwardly he smiled. His little novice’s heart was too full of charity for hatred. And she disliked lying to him. And sometimes…sometimes…
Bustling over, Gudrun dropped a brief curtsey. ‘Lady Cecily, we need you in the Hall.’ Her homely face sobered. ‘Shall we be using your mother’s best linens on the trestle tonight? I…I wasn’t sure if you’d think it right, in the circumstances.’
‘I shall come at once,’ Cecily said, lifting the baby from Gudrun. Lovingly, she stroked his cheek and began to sway to and fro, rocking him.
‘And there’s the matter of your gown too, dear,’ Gudrun continued, a pleat between her brows. ‘Which will you wear? That blue one is far too plain, and it’s so big it drowns you.’ The housekeeper glanced sidelong at Adam and took Cecily’s arm. ‘You must excuse us, sir, but I need Lady Cecily’s help. Lady Philippa would not have wanted—’ She flushed. ‘I…I’m sorry, my lady, I know it’s awkward, but your mother would have wanted to see you gowned as a princess on your wedding day, however unhappy the circumstances.’ She flashed an inscrutable look at Adam. ‘I need to measure her up, sir, so I can alter her sister’s clothes.’ Barely taking the time to draw breath, Gudrun tugged at Cecily’s arm. ‘Will you come? We can’t manage without you.’
‘I’ll take my leave, sir,’ Cecily said, hugging
