Beguiled By The Forbidden Knight. Elisabeth Hobbes
a smile and for a moment they felt like compatriots, their shared secret a private amusement. She pressed her lips together firmly.
Oblivious to this, Hilde continued. ‘In the morning we shall talk again and see if we can come to some arrangement. Let me escort you there.’
Hilde folded her hands and walked serenely down the centre of the refectory, heading for the small door at the end that led to the outside courtyard. The Norman followed, taking long, easy strides and moving with a languorous grace. He slowed as he neared the women, passing so close to Aelfhild she could reach a hand out and touch him. Could stroke her fingers down his tunic where his broad frame tapered to a lean waist and feel the muscles concealed beneath the cloth. A shudder went through her.
His eyes slid rapidly sideways to land on her once more and he paused for a heartbeat. Had she inadvertently spoken her secret thoughts aloud or were they evident on her face? Shocked at the thought he could discern the unseemly acts she was imagining, she lowered her head and held her breath, only releasing it when he had left the room and disappeared from her presence.
Aelfhild leaned against the wall. Her legs were distressingly shaky and the cold stone did nothing to ease the heat that curled about her throat. She realised Sigrun was talking to her, pulling at her arm.
‘You’re white as ash!’
‘That was the man from the river.’ She was finding it hard to speak without her voice shaking.
Sigrun began to speak, but at that moment Hilde returned. She stopped in front of the gathered women.
‘Why are you not in your seats? Have you forgotten yourselves so much that you are happy to let the food you are graced with turn cold! Be along now, all of you.’
The women settled at their places. Aelfhild barely registered the customary prayers of thanks for the watery gruel. Meals were eaten in silence. Usually Aelfhild disliked this, missing the easy laughter and discussion that had filled Herik and Emma’s house. Now she relished the silence because it meant she was safe from having to make conversation. The meal ended and the women rose to begin their final tasks of the night. Sigrun was the last to leave the table and Hilde drew her aside.
‘Our guest needs serving. Take him bread and stew. He already has wine.’
Aelfhild lingered as she piled the bowls on to the table.
‘Why me?’ Sigrun whispered, voice sticking in her throat.
‘I do not have to explain my reasons to you. Don’t speak to him. If he tries to talk to you, ignore him.’
The prioress swept out. Sigrun looked close to tears. ‘I can’t do it. He looks too terrifying.’
The thought of being alone with him made Aelfhild’s stomach churn with a mixture of trepidation and desire. She doubted Sigrun felt the desire, only the fear.
‘I’ll go instead. Keep out of sight in the courtyard so Hilde doesn’t realise you disobeyed her.’
Aelfhild filled a bowl from the large pot on the table and balanced a hunk of bread on the rim. She paused outside the quarters outside the main building where the occasional guests were housed. She could pretend she was doing a favour to her mistress, but for once Sigrun’s feelings took second place to her own. She wanted to see the Norman again.
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