Malia Martin by Her Norman Conqueror Page B

I am sorry for yelling, but you must be careful. Aethregard, the short, ugly man, does not like you.” She ran a hand up his arm and cupped his cheek. “He would do you harm, given the chance.”
    Cyne nodded and turned his face away from her, looking out to sea. The wind whipped his long, blond hair around his head. Aleene sighed.
    They stood there together for awhile in silence. And then Cyne laid his hand on the back of her head. She looked up, surprised, but he did not return her gaze, keeping his face turned toward the sea. His hand felt heavy as he cupped her head, then trailed his fingers through her hair and down her back. Taking her hand, Cyne turned down the walk. Aleene followed, wondering at the melancholy way Cyne continued to stare at the sea.
    They went back toward Seabreeze Castle, passing a lookout, one of Aethregard’s menthis time. Aleene frowned at the man, her heart happy that he and Aethregard would be gone soon, that this summer of worry, fear, and endless waiting would be over.
    “We shall be happy, this winter, Cyne,” she said aloud, tilting her head to catch the warmth of the sun and letting Cyne lead her along the rocky coast. “The men from the town will be home within a fortnight. Aethregard’s men shall be gone. We can bring in the harvest and be secure that the Bastard Duke shall not come from across the sea to claim a crown which is not his.”
    Cyne stumbled, and Aleene quickly looked at the trail, holding onto her husband. “I’m sorry, Cyne, I am not watching where we are going.” She patted his hand, looking then at her castle. There were only a handful of castles in England, most of them belonging to royalty, except this one. She admired the tall, wooden walls closing in the bailey and the tower at the gate; this one belonged to her, a woman.
    She smiled again as they passed by the gatehouse, then she frowned. “Where are we going?” She tried to stop, tried to turn back to the gate, but Cyne continued past, headed toward the town of Pevensey. “Cyne!”
    He didn’t stop or turn his head.
    “We cannot spend another day playing, Cyne.”
    He looked at her then, finally, but the grin and mischievous glint in his eye only made Aleene groan. “No, Cyne, I cannot! The candles will never be made if I continue to shirk my duty!” But as she spoke, she walked along beside her husband. “I have not even put on my veil, Cyne.” She touched her hair tentatively.
    Cyne stopped then, turning to look at her. He smiled, and something in his eyes fanned a fluttering spark deep in her belly. Swallowing, Aleene searched her husband’s face. He reached out and fingered her hair, twirling a dark, ebony curl around his large hand. Then he brought it to his mouth, inhaled as if taking in her scent, and kissed.
    Aleene felt faint as Cyne, again, took her hand and continued toward the town.
    Her head rebelled at the idea of spending another carefree day ignoring necessary preparations for the oncoming winter. Her heart rebelled against her head. And so a war thrived in her breast, until they reached the town and Cyne kissed the tip of her nose. Her heart won.
    They spent the morning in town, shopping among the stalls. Aleene selected fish to be sent to the castle, and cloth from a woman who watched her with suspicion, and seemed nearly faint with fear at the look in Cyne’s blank eyes. As Aleene browsed among the produce at another man’s stall, she could feel the anger building within her. It had abated the day before, with the new experience of speaking to someone of her feelings. But now, she felt it again, the suffocating fear and anger that had lived in her heart for so many years. Would the people ever accept her as lady of Seabreeze?
    A shout broke into her thoughts, and Aleene whipped around, searching for Cyne who had wandered from her side. The shout came again, and she found Cyne.
    He was playing with the children, a rousing game of ball. They laughed as they played. The people