Page 25 of Unconquered

"God save us, but it is cold," Godwin muttered as he entered Old Edith's cottage and hurried to warm himself by the central hearth.

Eada stirred the pot of stew cooking over the fire.

It had been almost a month since they had left London, and she felt they had succeeded in making themselves secure and comfortable for the winter.

Godwin had hunted down eight chickens and four pigs, which meant that they could use a few for food and still have enough for breeding in the spring.

Most of what Edith had stored away was still there, and although it was not much, it would certainly keep starvation from their door.

Although they occasionally saw soldiers, no one troubled them, the little cottage promising no gain to anyone with a covetous eye.

If her heart did not ache so for Drogo, she would have been happy.

"Have you heard anything today?" Godwin asked as Welcome crawled onto his lap.

She grimaced with a mixture of irritation and her own deep sense of unhappiness over the apparent failure of her unwanted gift.

"Nothing.

No warnings, no promises."

"I really thought he would come after you."

"He has what he came to England for.

I can give him nothing.

Godwin, even people like us do not always have the freedom to follow our hearts.

A man like Drogo has even less.

He is chained by birth and obligation.

Yes, I am heartsore that he has not come; but if he now has a wife, I am glad that he has shown the kindness to leave me alone."

"And you have had no warning that someone would come to claim these lands?"

"None." She looked at the small box she had set on a shelf near the door.

"I think that when spring comes I will go to William myself and tell him of these lands."

"But if he does not know, why should you tell him?"

"Because he will learn of them some day.

There is no stopping that discovery.

If I go and tell him myself, I will lose nothing and I might actually gain some say in my future."

"As you say, you can lose nothing." He set Welcome aside and stood up.

"I will just fetch some wood and make certain that our stores of firewood are still full and dry."

Eada watched him leave and sighed.

He was good company, as were the children, yet she still ached with a loneliness she suspected nothing could cure.

Nothing except Drogo.

She missed him so much that some nights she could not sleep she was so twisted with longing.

Even though all their time together had been spent in the very heart of the war, of the defeat of her own people, she easily recalled quiet times, happy times, and, especially, passionate times.

She tossed some herbs into the stew and once more tried to convince herself that she would never see Drogo again.

Eada knew that, as long as she still hoped, she would still hurt.

One day, she prayed, she would be able to think of Drogo without pain.

Godwin cursed and, after tossing the kindling into the small shelter on the side of the cottage, he tried to pull the splinter out of his palm.

He was so intent upon extracting the sliver of wood from his wind-chilled hand that the sudden loud snort of a horse right behind him startled him and he whirled around so quickly he stumbled and fell.

As he slowly got to his feet, he stared up into the grinning faces of Drogo and Serle.

Godwin felt a confusing mixture of elation, caution, and fear.

Eada would be happy that Drogo had come after her, but only if he had come for the right reasons.

In the back of his mind Godwin was also painfully aware that he had walked away from a Norman knight's household without permission.

"Sir Drogo," he began and hastily cleared his throat when his voice cracked embarrassingly.

"Actually, son, it is now Lord Drogo," drawled Serle, idly tugging forward the extra horse they had brought with them.

"Oh." Godwin bit his lip, but thoughts of Eada's happiness gave him the courage to ask, "I am pleased that you got the reward you sought and deserve, Lord Drogo, but have you come here as a free man?"

Drogo stared at the youth with surprise and an increasing amusement.

Godwin was still a slightly built youth, and his skin was pink with cold and his own blushes.

He stood firm, however, prepared to protect Eada.

The boy had to know how easily he could be brushed aside, and Drogo admired his courage as well as his loyalty to Eada.

He wondered if the Saxons in his household would ever be as loyal to him as they were to Eada, doubted it, and immediately decided that it did not matter.

Once Eada pledged herself to him, he knew she would never turn that deep loyalty against him.

"I am free, boy," he answered.

"Very free, but not very wealthy." Drogo decided that the boy deserved the full truth.

"I was offered an earldom, Godwin, with all the lands, wealth, and power any man could want."

"An earldom?" Godwin was stunned, and intimidated.

"Are you an earl now?" he asked in a small voice.

"No.

I refused it." He laughed at the look of openmouthed astonishment on the youth's face.

"To gain that I had to take the earl's daughter as my wife.

There is only one woman I want, and that is why I stand before this meager cottage in the cold and argue with you."

Godwin grinned.

"So what did you gain, my lord, besides a fine title?"

"All that Eada and her family hold." He frowned when Godwin just grinned wider.

"Eada is within, my lord."

"There is one thing we must do first."

Eada frowned at Godwin as he slipped into the cottage and went immediately to the children.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he began to put cloaks on the children.

"There is a lot of kindling upon the ground," Godwin replied.

"The strong winds of last night gleaned a lot of deadwood from the trees.

I thought the children could help me collect it."

"Do you wish me to help as well?"

"No, there is no need, and I know that you would not wish to leave the meal unattended." Godwin shepherded the children and her dogs toward the door.

"It will be good for them to help and to get outside."

"Do not let them become too chilled," she called after him.

Barely a minute had passed when Eada heard the door creak open again.

She turned to ask Godwin what was the matter and gaped.

It took another full minute for her mind to accept what she saw.

Drogo shut the door, removed his cloak and tossed it over a heavy chest near the wall, and then sat down next to her.

He smiled and reached over to gently close her mouth.

Eada struggled to say something.

"Where is Godwin?" she finally managed to ask, her voice hoarse with surprise and emotion.

"He, the children, and your dogs have gone to Pevensey with Serle," Drogo answered as he took the wooden spoon from her lax hold and helped himself to a taste of the stew.

"Good.

I am glad to see that you are not yet in danger of starving."

Eada gave him a weak smile.

She was both elated and afraid.

He had come after her, but was he free? As she looked him over with a greed she was sure was reflected in her face, noticing that his thick, black hair now hung to just below the neck of his heavy jupon, she realized that she felt something else—a strong need to be in his arms.

Although she knew it was a poor time to be seized by her passions, she was unable to push the feeling aside.

Since she had ridden away from him, her thoughts and dreams had been crowded with sweet memories of their lovemaking.

As it became increasingly difficult to think of anything besides how badly she needed him, Eada decided that, at the moment, she needed the answer to only one question.

"Are you married?" she asked, startled at how low and husky her voice was, and the way Drogo's eyes grew even darker told her that he was fully aware of what afflicted her.

"No.

I have no bride," he answered and leaned closer to her, removing the pot of stew from the fire.

"You are promised to no one?"

"No.

I am a free man."

"Then I believe we can do all the rest of our talking later."

"I have always considered you the cleverest of women."

Eada laughed shakily and flung herself into his arms.

A soft sigh of contentment escaped Eada as she stretched and smoothed her hand over the broad, hard chest of the man at her side.

Old Edith's bed had never been so comfortable.

A brief grin touched her face as she looked at their clothes strewn all over the room.

They had cast them off so quickly and blindly, she suspected that only good luck had kept any of them from landing in the fire.

When Drogo turned, draped his arm around her waist, and kissed her shoulder, she fought to shake free of passion's lingering mists.

It would be nice to simply spend the night making love to each other; but she could not allow that to happen, at least not until they had talked.

Sensing that he was watching her, she cautiously met his dark gaze.

The seriousness of his expression told her that he had come to the same decision.

"That was very rewarding, but it was not what I came here for," he said and then laughed when she quirked one delicately arced brow.

"Not fully.

Why did you leave London, Eada?"

She found his habit of surprising her with blunt questions irritating.

"It was evident that William was eager to marry Saxons to Normans.

Saxons were eager to marry their women to one of the victors.

The chance that you might have to take a bride to gain the land you sought was so great that I could not ignore it."

"And your voices told you that I would be offered a bride."

"So, you did speak to my mother," she murmured, shifting closer to his warmth as he combed his fingers through her hair.

"Yes, I was told that you would be offered a bride.

As is its wont, my voice chose not to tell me whether or not you would accept that bride."

"And so you fled?"

"I felt that I had no other choice.

As you can see, I have a certain weakness for you—" she ignored his grin, “—and I knew that I could easily become trapped into being your leman."

"You would consider that a trap?"

"That is exactly what it would be.

The moment I became your leman, all of my other choices would be gone.

The war made us lovers and, strangely, it made it acceptable to most people.

I was a captive in their eyes, and if they gave the matter any thought at all in the midst of all of that death and destruction, it was only with a touch of sympathy.

Once the war was over, once I became a leman and not a captive, that acceptance would have been pulled away.

Then it would have been seen that I had made a choice and that that choice was to be your whore, to be a partner in adultery.

I would see myself in the same way and I would find that very hard to bear.

It is almost funny.

I would stay because of this great passion we share, yet eventually, it would be that passion which would destroy me."

"It was that same fear that made your mother reluctant to tell me where you had gone," he said, as he touched a kiss to her forehead.

"I wish I could say that I would never have asked that of you, but that weakness you speak of is a shared one."

"And was I right? Were you offered a wife?"

"Yes, and a very fine one, too," he replied as he sprawled on his back and crossed his arms beneath his head.

"She was fair, had a firm, full shape and a becoming modesty."

Eada slowly sat up, clutching the coverlet to her breasts, and frowned down at him, fighting a touch of jealousy.

"If she was such a beauty, where is she?"

"Right now she is probably on her father's vast lands becoming acquainted with her new husband."

"Vast lands? You were offered vast lands?"

"An earldom." He grinned at her look of astonishment, a look that closely matched Godwin's.

"You are an earl?" she asked in confusion.

"No.

The title of earl only came if I wed the woman, and I said no."

She rubbed her forehead as she struggled to understand what he was telling her.

"You refused William when he offered you an earl's seat with all of the lands, wealth, and power that goes with it?"

"And the woman.

Do not forget the woman.

I could not accept one without the other."

The amused look on his face began to annoy her.

"Why do you not just tell me all that happened in your meeting with the king.

This conversation has become so confusing that I have an aching head."

He laughed but told her about his meeting with William.

Eada could not believe it.

William had offered Drogo everything he had fought for, far more than he could have ever hoped for, yet Drogo had said no.

It was clear that he had said no because he did not want to marry the woman.

Eada was almost afraid to guess what that meant.

"Was William angry that you refused him?" she asked quietly, a stab of fear briefly pushing aside her other concerns.

"No.

He expected it.

At first, I feared that I would insult him by turning aside such a generous gift, but then I saw the amusement on his face.

He was not surprised and said his only regret was that, at that time, he had nothing else to offer me."

"So you got nothing?"

Eada was torn between elation and utter dismay.

It truly appeared that Drogo had done exactly what she had convinced herself he would never do.

That made her heart pound so hard and fast it was almost painful.

What upset her was the enormity of what he had turned aside.

It also frightened her.

If he had refused such a wealthy prize for love of her, would it become a poison that would finally kill that love?

"Drogo, why?" she asked before he could answer her first question.

"It was all you had fought for; it was why you came here; why you risked dying in a strange land."

He sat up slowly, grasped her by the shoulders, and kissed her.

"Eada, my sweet, when William offered me that woman as my bride, I knew only one thing for certain.

I could not bind myself to another woman.

She could have held the crown in her soft, white hands and I would still have had to say no."

She placed her unsteady hand over his heart and prayed that she continue to restrain the tears that were choking her.

"But to cast aside so much—"

"The cost was too high.

Eada, I could not take the woman.

I knew, at that very moment, that I could only pledge myself to one woman and no other." He smiled when she fell into his arms, but his smile faded when he felt the dampness of her tears on his chest.

"This makes you weep?"

"It makes me afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what, cherie?"

She took a deep breath to control her tears and looked up at him.

"What if, one day, you decide that I was not worth such a great sacrifice? What if you are never able to gain all you have sought and the realization that you pushed aside your only chance for such gain because of me becomes a slow poison to all we share?"

"Eada, my mind and heart were clear when I said no.

I have no regrets now and I will never have any regrets.

In truth, the only thing that has troubled me since that day is the knowledge of how cruelly I have treated you.

I gave you nothing." His eyes widened when she placed her fingers over his mouth.

"You gave me honesty.

I have known since the day I first met you that you were here seeking all that birth had denied you.

If I hoped to have some part in that, it was not because you led me to think so.

You gave me no false promises, no empty assurances.

No, it was not what I wanted or longed for; but then again, it was.

You treated me most fairly."

"You are too forgiving."

"Not at all.

You are just too determined to don a hair shirt."

He grinned and hugged her before growing serious again.

"I heartily cursed William for each day that I was forced to linger in London.

I was never sure what I feared, yet each day that passed made me even more afraid.

I had seen what I wanted and I needed to tell you, yet you were not there and I could not pursue you." He brushed the last of her tears from her cheeks.

"You seemed surprised to see me.

Did your voice not say that I would be coming after you?"

"Yes, but it did not say when or if you would be free.

And when it tells me things that I desperately wish to hear, I am not able to trust it."

"And why did you desperately want me to come after you?"

Eada blinked and stared at him.

She suddenly realized that, for all of their talk and emotion, neither of them had said the three little words that would ease any lingering doubts and fears.

What he had done certainly showed that he loved her and she was sure that he could sense how she felt, but it was far past time that they spoke openly about what was in their hearts.

She smiled inwardly, prepared to tell him of her love for him, but curious if she could get him to do it first.

"Why did you refuse an earl's daughter, title, and lands?"

Drogo traced the delicate lines of her face, amused at how timid he suddenly felt, even shy, both feelings he had not suffered since he had been very young.

All the emotion she had revealed told him that he had nothing to fear, yet he hesitated.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he cupped her small face in his hands and brushed a kiss over her upturned mouth.

"I did it because I love you, because I knew that I could never speak my vows to another woman no matter how weighty her dowry or fair her face.

I but regret that I was so slow to see it and that my ignorance may have served to hurt you."

"You saw it in time and you came to me," she whispered.

"Nothing else matters except that I love you as well, Sir Drogo." She readily accepted his fierce kiss, returning it in full.

"We must be wed as soon as possible," he said when the kiss ended, his voice hoarse from the strong emotion coursing through him.

"I wish I had some dowry," she murmured, recalling her lands and suddenly not sure that he would be able to keep them.

William would still have to be told about them and, despite the high favor in which he held Drogo, it was possible that he would have to give her lands to another.

"You should not be left poor and landless after all you have done."

"Oh, I am not poor and landless; I am now a baron.

William gave me your home in Pevensey and said that I could lay claim to all you and your family held." He frowned when she suddenly tensed, staring at him with her mouth slightly agape.

"Your mother was not upset by the news, especially when I told her I would claim only what was there when I arrived, that she could keep all she had fled with.

Because she had married Serle and I was hopeful that you would marry me, I saw no harm in accepting," he added, afraid that she was angry and feeling a need to justify himself.

Eada waved aside his explanations with one sharp gesture of her hand.

"Our home was certain to go to some Norman.

I am pleased that it was you.

Only one thing you just said concerns me.

William granted you all that I or my family holds claim to? Are you certain that he said it just that way, that everything which is ours is now yours?"

"Yes.

I now hold all that was your family's or yours.

All he asked was that I send him a full accounting when I discover what that is.

Did Old Edith grant you this cottage?"

"Yes," she replied absently as she picked her chemise up off the floor and tugged it on.

"Where are you going?" he asked as she hopped out of bed and walked away.

"Do you remember that small carved chest that I carried with me?" she asked him as she reverently took the box off its shelf, carried it back to the bed, and held it out to him.

Warily, Drogo took it, frowning as she climbed back onto the bed and wrapped the heavy coverlet around her chilled body.

"It was when you finally looked inside this that you found out Vedette was your foster mother."

She nodded, her stomach twisting itself into knots as she worried about how he would react to her news.

"There was more than that in that little box.

See for yourself."

It was hard to sit quietly as he carefully looked over everything in the box then looked it over again.

What made Eada really nervous was the lack of expression on his face.

No matter how good her reasons had been for keeping silent, she had deceived him.

She was not sure how he would judge her.

"You have lands," he finally said in a flat, tightly controlled voice.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because I wanted you to want only me and not my lands." When he looked at her as if he were having difficulty deciding whether she were mad or an idiot, she cursed softly.

"Drogo, from the moment you set your feet on English dirt, you spoke of needing and wanting land.

I never told you, but Old Edith said that we were fated to be mates." She saw his eyes widen as the ghost of a smile touched his lips and decided with an inner sigh of relief that he was not as angry as she had feared he would be.

"I was thinking of fate and destiny, and you spoke only of lands and wealth.

When I realized that I loved you, there was still no word from you about what part I might play in your life once the war had ended."

"Eada, I—"

"No," she said and shook her head, silencing his apologies.

"I am neither condemning you nor blaming you.

I am just telling you what was in my mind and my heart when I decided not to tell you about those lands.

As I have said, you were always honest with me, Drogo, and I never told you any of what I felt, so how could you have acted upon it?”

"When I first learned of Old Edith's bequest, my first thought was to run to you.

Then pride and, mayhap, vanity possessed me.

I did not wish you to keep me just because I had the lands you craved.

I wanted some sign from you that I was in your heart.

Do you understand?"

"Very well."

The tenderness of the kiss he gave her made Eada tremble.

She clung to him before carefully putting everything back into the box.

It was difficult to believe that she could be so blessed.

Drogo loved her and, through him, everything her father and Old Edith had left behind would still be hers.

She set the little box on the floor and laughed when he pulled her back into his arms, playfully wrestling with her until she was gently pinned beneath him.

"Do you think William will be angry that I have kept such a secret?" she asked, a hint of worry intruding into her sense of contentment.

"No.

I believe William will be both amused and relieved." He touched a kiss to the tip of her nose.

"After all, you have given me the boon he feared he might not have to give me and he will have an exact accounting of a very large area of his new kingdom.

Now, my little and very wealthy bride, I am not in the mood to speak of kings and lands and conquests."

Eada grinned as he moved against her suggestively, but then grew serious.

"You have conquered me, my fine, dark Norman."

"No, and I do not wish to.

All I ask of you, my lavender-eyed Saxon, is your love."

"And that you have in full, for now and for forever."