“What harm can my brother do to him then, if war is over?”
His hand moved down slowly, fingers spread to settle over her right breast. “Your brother could join the rebels and make trouble.”
“He would not.” She knew Raedwulf was no fighter. He was a peaceable young man, before the Normans came and tore their world apart. “Wulf would not even want his birthright back. All he ever wanted was a quiet life.” Raedwulf was her father’s fourth, least favorite son. He had a gentle way about him and their father had no patience for it. The poor boy loved nothing more than carpentry and was very skilled with his hands. He seldom had a word to say for himself, but he told it all with his eyes and his sister read him easily. They had a bond from the earliest days because she was the youngest and he protected her.
The Norman was looking at her oddly. “His birthright?”
“Wexford. My father’s manor. One of your filthy countrymen has it now, but your king needn’t worry that Raedwulf would fight to have it back. All he ever wanted was to be a carpenter and make beautiful things, but he—”
“Wait…wait.” Guy raised his hand. “Your father’s manor?”
“Wexford. Are you not listening, bird brain?”
Slowly his frown deepened. “Your father was a Saxon noble?”
“He was an Eaorl.”
He stared. “You’re not a peasant.”
“Everything was taken away from us. Whatever we had once is no longer ours.” She sat up, hugging her knees. Assuming he didn’t believe her, she exclaimed, “Why would I be at the convent if I was a peasant’s daughter? My father sent me there until he found me a husband.”
“And he did not find you one?”
“Would I be here if he had?” she snapped.
He reached for her with both arms, pulling her close. “No.” His voice was muffled in her hair. She thought she felt him laughing, but surely not. “You may have your horse, Deorwynn,” he murmured eventually, his voice drowsy. “You won the wager. I had to touch you today.”
It occurred to her that this was his way of apologizing for last night when he tricked her. But did he still think he could share her as he shared his wife?
“Can I ride out with the hunt tomorrow, my lord?” she asked softly.
He was, it seemed, fooled by her demure tone. “If you desire it, I will allow it,” he replied, smug and sanctimonious, planting a quick kiss to her hair. “But you will stay tonight with me and tomorrow you will keep back with the other women and not put yourself in danger.”
Now he thought her tamed to his bidding, his rules.
Deorwynn smiled into the darkening night. She was only just beginning to understand exactly how much power she had over this mighty warrior. Somehow she had to prove it to him too.
Chapter Twelve
Squinting hard he watched the damnable woman race her horse across the field at reckless speed. Her gown blew up over her knees, exposing her riding boots and a great deal of leg. She threw her head back and laughed as Thierry raced at her side, both headed for the same leap over a wide ditch. Her long hair, gleaming in the white winter’s sun, fell loose from its bindings and fluttered behind her like a knight’s pennant.
Guy’s heart lurched up into his throat. Hadn’t he fucked her hard enough to keep her out of the saddle today? Most women would politely decline from riding or any major exertion after a night like the one they’d shared.
She was an excellent rider, fearless. He might have known after the way she rode him.
He shifted in his saddle, readjusting his cock as he felt it thicken at the very pleasant memory of her tight, hot pussy clinging to it. He knew he would never get enough of her.
Deorwynn of Wexford. Could it be true that fate had brought her back to her home and she did not recognize it? Scowling he watched the two distant figures on horseback take off and soar over the ditch, more interested in racing one another than they were in chasing the stag.
He tightened his hold on the reins, eased the restless stallion around and urged him forward, leaving the pack of riders. His own interest in the stag had waned. He had other prey in his sights and she was currently disappearing into the forest riding side by side with Thierry.
Leaning forward, eyes focused on the woman in the distance, he nudged his mount into a gallop. The ground thundered by beneath him, great hooves slashing through the brittle, frost-streaked grass. Fresh wind tore at his face.
Thierry evidently heard his approach and turned, slowing his own horse, but Guy gestured that he should follow. The woman did not look and continued forward at her own pace.