The Conqueror (Hot Knights) by Mary Gillgannon Page A

nervously around the yard.
    “The Normans will molest you no longer.”
    “How can this be?” one of the women asked. “How will you make them leave us alone?”
    “The leader of the Normans has given me complete authority over the running of the manor. If any of his men bother you, come to me and I will take the matter up with him
    “See how cozy she is with the red-haired giant?” Golde, a cat-eyed wench who worked in the weaving shed, stepped forward and planted her hands on her curvaceous hips. “He’s made her his doxy. Why should we listen to her?”
    Edeva tensed. She had warned the Norman this would happen. “I am not his whore,” she said coldly. “And I am still your mistress. If you do not obey me, I will have you flogged.”
    Golde smirked, but moved back, as if accepting Edeva’s authority.
    The group was silent for a time; then the curly-haired girl spoke again. “I, for one, am happy that Lady Edeva commands us. I am tired of the crude Normans and their disgusting, lustful habits. They scarce give me any peace... and I worry... what will happen to me if I get with a babe!” she ended in a wail.
    Two other women put their arms around the girl, who began to weep. Soon the whole group of women had dissolved into tears. For a time, Edeva allowed them to cry and complain and comfort each other. Then she said, “’Tis enough. We have work to do. You can curse the Normans while we clean.”
    * * *
    Jobert gazed in satisfaction around the hall. Only one day had passed, and already things appeared much improved. The sweet scent of rosemary and lavender rose from the fresh rushes, and he could run his hand along the trestle table and feel smooth wood, not encrusted grime.
    Even the food seemed better—the pottage more skillfully seasoned, the bread crustier. The brewer had not had time to make another batch of ale, but Jobert knew Edeva had spoken to Alan and made it clear that certain servants were not to be taken from their specialized duties. Alan had complained to him, grumbling that the Saxon bitch left them with no sturdy laborers. Jobert had pointed out that now that the men weren’t constantly rutting with serving wenches, they had time to do more themselves.
    Things were much improved, indeed. And he had the Saxon woman to thank for it.
    He glanced to where she stood at the side of hall. With her fair hair covered and her simple gown, she looked demure and womanly, like some minor lord’s wife.
    But she was no biddable, dutiful matron, and well he knew it. At any moment, those clear blue eyes could flash with cold fire, those full lips shout oaths to burn his ears.
    Nor was she as plain and ordinary as she sought to appear. He recalled the voluptuousness of her body, the ivory perfection of her skin. His shaft rose at the memory.
    And he was to share a bedchamber with her this night.
    What madness had made him tell her that? Though sharing her bed might intimidate her and keep her fearful, it was going to be pure hell for him. He was not certain he could resist the lure of her beauty, no matter that he had given her his word.
    For a moment, he let his mind linger on the idea of parting her white thighs and thrusting deep. Of feeling her dewy, pink sheath closing tight around him.
    Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, he forced the enticing image from his mind. He dared not lose the only leverage he had over the Saxon. If he could not threaten her with rape, how would he ever control her? He would be a poor commander indeed if he indulged his body’s hunger and lost as strategic advantage over his opponent. Bedding her must wait.
    As he watched, a young woman came up and spoke to Edeva. The girl’s face was pale, her cheeks tear-streaked. Edeva consoled her for a moment, then grasped her sleeve and gave her a little shake. The girl sniffled, and then went off.
    Edeva continued to stand and observe the comings and goings of the hall. Jobert had the sudden thought that she must be tired. He