Malia Martin by Her Norman Conqueror Page A

you? And I am glad. You give me thefreedom I have not had in so long. With you I don’t have to constantly be on guard.”
    He moved, picking her up and taking her to the bed. She kept her face buried in his chest as they lay down together. “I am so afraid. And yet, the fear seems conquerable now.”
    Cyne stroked her back, her hair, rocking her slowly back and forth. “I loved my father so much. He was so strong.” Aleene smiled as she thought of her father. “He protected me from everything. It wasn’t until he died that I realized I was different, that I didn’t belong. And then my mother married Tosig, and . . .” Aleene stopped, her breathing coming in sharp, painful bursts as the image of Tosig emerged from the darkness of her mind. “And the people, they loved him. But I didn’t, couldn’t. And then . . .” But she stopped there. That part of the story she just could not say aloud.
    “I fight for Seabreeze because my father is still here. He built it, and I feel him in the very wood. But I want it to be mine alone. I will not share it with anyone, especially Aethregard.” Aleene shook her head as Aethregard’s cold gray eyes materialized in her thoughts. “I cannot bear it.”
    Cyne began to hum. It was a deep sound, re-verberating through his chest and warming her own. Aleene blinked, her memories receding at the sound. She was not used to sound from her husband and for a moment fear tickled the back of her neck and made her tremble.
    And then she recognized the song. It was the lullaby her mother had sung to her at night. It was the song Aleene had sung that first night of their marriage. She tightened her arms around Cyne, letting herself float on the beautiful tones of her husband’s voice, turning away from the dark, ugly memories of her stepfather’s abuse.
    Aleene fell asleep in her husband’s arms, her cheek against the hard wall of his chest, without consummating their marriage. When the light of the morning sun played against her closed lids, Aleene took a deep breath and wondered if she might not mate with her husband now, with the light of day full on them. The wicked thought came, she was sure, from the desperate need to get with child. She did not wish to mate with her husband for any kind of pleasure. No, never that.
    She did desire to see him, though, constantly. With a small smile she opened her eyes and turned onto her side, seeking the golden glory of Cyne. Her husband was gone.
    In terror, Aleene jumped out of bed and pulled on a gown. She searched the hall, finding only Berthilde. “Cyne.” Aleene gulped in air so that she could continue. “Have you seen Cyne?”
    The furrow between Berthilde’s eyes deepened. “No, milady.”
    Aleene did not allow the old woman to say anything more. With an agonized groan, she ran for the door and raced across the outer bailey, interrogating everyone she saw. Finally someone pointed to the gates that led outside the walls.
    Aleene’s heart seemed to stop and she had to close her eyes and take a few deep breaths before she could find the strength to take up her skirts and leave the safe confines of the castle compound. With head bent into the relentless wind, Aleene nearly hollered herself hoarse bellowing Cyne’s name.
    When she found him on the wall walk of the old Roman fort, she couldn’t decide whether to kiss him or kill him.
    “Cyne!”
    He looked up, surprise registering in his blue eyes before that horrible blankness took its place.
    “Cyne, you are never to go anywhere without me!” She took his arms in hers and shook; he barely moved. “Never! Do you understand?”
    He blinked, then looked into the air. Aleene sighed and followed his gaze to see a pigeon swoop down, circle over their heads, then head across the cliffs and out to sea. Aleene stared at it, puzzled. “Where on earth does that bird think it is going, France?” She laughed and shook her head, looking back at her husband. He stared at her, warily.
    “Cyne,