Her Father's Daughter Read online

  "Is this a hint I stink?" he asked when they arrived.

  "Very clever of you to notice," she replied as she pulled off her tunic at the water's edge and dove in. Watching her, he could hardly get his clothes off fast enough. His injured body could not deal with diving. He slipped in and let out a gasp at the frigid water. The wound had not yet healed enough to let him soak in his earlier swim.

  "Damn, woman. If I knew it was going to be this cold, I would have heated a bath for you myself."

  Her voice appeared in his ear out of nowhere, her nipples hard from the cold rubbing against his back as she did so. "But there is not room for two in the tub."

  "You're not going to get much out of me at this temperature even if we have more room."

  Despite the brownish hue to the water disguising him, her eyes raked down every angle of his form. "I can have a good view. I am tired of nothing but my own reflection." Gwenhyfer turned him toward her, and, from the warmth in her eyes alone, he almost overcame the frigid water. Almost but not quite. Reaching into the hidden folds of the tunic, she pulled a cloth out and proceeded to remove his bandages. She checked the wound carefully. Being a tease would not distract her from his welfare. With a wicked grin, she scrubbed his back slowly, down to his buttocks. "Now the front. There is still blood I never got off the first time. A wash basin is just not doing the job."

  He turned for her and closed his eyes as she gently worked around the gash across his chest. She cleaned him thoroughly, and then her cloth moved lower. As much as the will was there, the temperature was too cold. Robert picked her up bodily and sat her on the bank. She stared at him, eyes wide that he had lifted her so easily.

  "There's more than one way to see to you, if you're going to tease," he growled as he pulled himself closer and spread her legs wide. At the first touch of his tongue, he chuckled when she fell against the ground and lay there moaning. Tease he did, sucking until she just about came and then backing away. Each time she groaned in frustration, he made it last even longer.

  "Robert?" She spoke between moans as he brought her close yet again.

  "Hmm?" He murmured without breaking his stride.

  "Teasing? I planned to warm you up properly in a little while. It is just that you smelled..."

  With only a few flicks of his tongue, she came hard, and, knowing the forest held many ears, she shoved her dress in her mouth to muffle the sound. Robert watched her lying there, recovering, his hands still feeling the silky skin she bared for him alone. Then he heard a faint sound and pulled her off the bank into the water.

  "What..." all she could utter before his hand clamped over her mouth. She must have heard the horses too. Her eyes questioned his.

  His head showed direction before he even spoke. "Mon ange, go hide behind the fallen tree on the other side until we know who it is." He did not take his eyes from the direction of the sound, even as he pulled his sword from the clothes discarded on the bank. He slid it in the water as Gwenhyfer disappeared beneath the surface. Hearing only a few drops falling betrayed that she surfaced again out of sight. Then he could only wait. It seemed like forever before the horses appeared.

  "There you are, Robert. We found your horse at the house and knew you had not left yet, or at least your body was not far otherwise."

  Robert let out a sigh of relief as he saw some of his own men through the trees, but, behind them, he caught a far better sight. Gwenhyfer ran through the underbrush as naked as a jay. "I should think I have not left yet," he said pulling himself out of the pond as a distraction, just in case anyone thought of looking around. The barely fused wound stood out red against his skin.

  "Good God, man. Why are you not dead?"

  "The lady of the house tended the wound and hid me when the Saxons we fought came looking for me." He could not smile, even a hint of one, or they would know exactly what happened in the woman's bed.

  "Well, thank God and her skill. William ordered us to find out what happened to you. We were not to have a warm bed until he knew."

  "There is room enough in the house for warmth, if not exactly beds, and she is a fine cook. Said I stank, though. Perhaps you could do some washing of your own before you head back. I'll find her, and let her know she will have company."

  Gwenhyfer sat in the kitchen braiding her hair looking as proper as could be. If Robert had not seen it himself, he would never have guessed she had been running through the woods buck-naked only five minutes before.

  "I'll have to go," Robert whispered.

  "I know."

  "I do not want to."

  At that, Gwenhyfer turned and faced him. "But, like my father, you always will go when you're called. It matters not what you wish, another makes the decisions. That is the final reason I would never marry the men offered to me. I make my own decisions."

  "Then you regret us?"

  "I offered for what time I had. No, I do not regret it, only that now the loneliness will return, and I'll have to go to the pond to see my reflection once again. I'll miss our nights talking." She walked out the door as she tied the braid into place.

  He watched her walk to the garden and start pulling vegetables for the pot. Robert cursed his cousin William.

  * * * *

  The fires burned low when Robert knocked faintly on the door. "Come." Gwenhyfer called, and he slid the door open to her room. She lay in bed, but in no way asleep, her dark blue eyes glowing in the firelight. Without a word, Robert took off his clothes and lay next to her, pulling her into his arms.

  "Talk to me. We have all night. If I fall asleep on the journey tomorrow, I'll claim it is from the wound."

  Gwenhyfer rolled to face him when the tears started to fall, and he pulled her close. "Hush, mon ange. You do not want to waste our last night crying. Talk to me, or take my heart, but do not cry." He kissed the tears from her cheeks. He held his breath when she slid onto him.

  Her nose rested against his. "Do not move. When I am alone, I'll be able to remember the feel of you. When dawn is here, you have permission to move. You can leave with your men freshly spent." Gwenhyfer settled back down, lying against him.

  Several breaths later, Robert forced back the urge she gave him in that one moment. "Will you have enough food for the winter? How is the harvest going?" The first thing he could think of that did not involve descriptions of the woman killing him slowly.

  "You know all of that. Tell me of your growing up, of Normandy."

  "I suppose you never went there."

  "My father did several times, but he never took me or my mother. What is it like?"

  * * * *

  Every man in the yard turned when the door opened, and Gwenhyfer emerged. She carried a bundle of food for the journey, no sign of tears.

  Her mouth crooked into a wry smile. "Robert, you may be a Norman, but I am glad you came to my house to keep me company for a while."

  "Company? One day I am going to come back and make a married woman of you, so do not go and accept another's offer," he whispered as he took the bundle from her.

  Her eyes closed at his words. A movement she hoped none of the others could see. Her words spoke far differently than her face. "A Norman as important as you with an idea like that in your head. William is likely to die laughing."

  "Promise me you'll take care of yourself, mon ange, and I'll see your lands are safe," he said seriously. It broke his heart to do such a thing, knowing she would be left alone, but he could not stop the words from coming out. "You think I joke, but I am a man of my word. One day when I am free of my duties, I'll return." He whispered in her ear as he placed a ring in her hand. "If there is a child, send for me, but I would prefer to be done with my work rather than subject you to a soldier's camp again. I have no house of my own. When we wed, you're not leaving my side. This is your home. Someday, God and King willing, I hope you'll let me make it mine as well. You offered me a great gift for the time I had. I am saying that our time is not up." He traced her cheek lightly, but when the tear s
lid down, he could not stop himself. He kissed her in front of the men. It lasted much longer than he intended.

  Gwenhyfer did not try to stop him as he rode off. She knew what duty meant. Several weeks after Robert left, a messenger arrived at the house. He presented Gwenhyfer with a charter to the land and properties already hers under King Edward. In fact, he enlarged it by another one thousand acres. William himself had signed the charter. She was safe once again, but still alone.

  PART 2

  In the year of our Lord 1069, the Normans remained almost undisputed in their rule. William found only pockets of resistance to contend with. For two years, Gwenhyfer never saw Robert once, though messages arrived telling of the latest with him. She sent back replies.

  Gwenhyfer called out when she heard the knock on the door. She stopped speechless when she saw the messenger and soldiers come in. She imagined the worst at their presence. The messenger she knew. It was Godwin, the same man that brought her the charter to her lands.

  "Godwin, what brings you here?"

  "Your presence is requested at court. The King himself ordered me to come and fetch you."

  "The Count d'Urbanville, he is safe though?"

  "Oh, yes, Milady, Robert is as fine as he can be. He sends his regards that he is well and waits to see you again. He will be there to greet you. You must have made quite an impression two years ago, judging by the look on his face at the thought of meeting you again."

  "I saved his life, Godwin. That usually makes an impression on a person. Do you know why I am to present myself to the King?" she snapped, a bit annoyed at what Godwin must think went on all that time ago. Then she bit the inside of her cheek as she realized she could not refute the gossip.

  "I am sorry Milady, but I am not privy to such information. No one knows why You're to come, save the King himself. Count d'Urbanville is wondering the reason the same as you."

  "When do I have to be there?"

  "We are to escort you back personally, at the Count d'Urbanville's orders, as soon as you have readied yourself. He has received reports that there are thieves working along much of the way we take," the head of the soldiers announced.

  "There is food over the fire, and you can show the others where the blankets are, Godwin. I have much to do before we leave in the morning." She headed upstairs to pack. Two damn years. Like Hell she wanted to go, but it was not even Robert's bidding. The King ordered it. She could not defy the command.

  * * * *

  The soldiers seemed surprised that Gwenhyfer possessed no carriage to take her the long way. They looked even more surprised when she rode a horse the same as they, a war horse no less. The trip to London took little time since the weather stayed surprisingly decent for that late in the year.

  On the way through the city, Gwenhyfer stopped at the cathedral. The men might have assumed there was no church in Wulfgren as the reason why, but, if they had walked in with her, they would have seen her visit her parents' graves and light candles in their memory before moving on their way again.

  Soon reaching the castle, just as they prepared to cross the drawbridge, Gwenhyfer stopped.

  "An impressive sight the first time, is it not?" Godwin asked with a smile as he gazed on the sight himself.

  "It has the same foul stench it did when I lived here." Gwenhyfer continued riding after her escorts looked at her oddly. In all their conversation on the trip, the fact never arose that she may have even visited the castle, let alone lived there.

  * * * *

  The soldiers trained in the courtyard, practicing their craft of war, with Robert at their head. All turned when she appeared.

  "You made good time," Robert called with a wide smile as he walked over to them.

  "The weather held, considering it is fall," she answered as he helped her from her horse and did not let her go until he gave her a long hug, attracting stares from all assembled.

  "Robert, this is the Saxon wench that saved your life? All of us should be so lucky," one man called, and the rest smiled in agreement.

  "That she is," Robert announced proudly.

  "As beautiful as she is, though, I find her so-called talents at archery a crock of shit," another added.

  "Perfection comes in many forms. Choose your words wisely," Gwenhyfer replied, meeting the man's gaze without looking away. He finally pulled his stare from her. Robert tried to hide his grin but could not hold it in.

  "You think she is funny, Robert? I think your tale is crap."

  Crap? Gwenhyfer held out her hand to one of her escorts, an archer. He looked at Robert for guidance. She would not be moved unless physically picked up, and she knew he would not do that. Robert nodded, and the man handed over his bow and quiver of arrows.

  "It is hard for women to do. You do not have to embarrass yourself just because you have seen your father practice. Give it up, wench," her antagonist called as she pulled back the string. Without a word, warning or lengthy aim, she turned and fired. Between two of his fingers, the arrow struck the handle of the pike her heckler held. In rapid succession, several more shafts hit up and down the pike. Not a scratch or drop of blood showed that she hit him.

  "In the future, I ask that you address me as is my due. I am the Lady Gwenhyfer of Moerhab, and I am here at your King's invitation. 'Wench' is not acceptable, even for Norman manners. And remember one thing, if you wish to doubt any of the stories you may have heard, do so. I do not care, but my father did see I knew how to deal with the likes of your sorry ass, if nothing else." He withered under her glaring eyes as she handed back the bow. She turned her glare to Robert, "Do you know why I am here?"

  "The King has not told me that but come, I'll show you to your room. William left orders that you were to be presented to him at the banquet tonight. You'll want to bathe and change before you see him. I did not know if you still owned suitable clothes for court so the seamstress made a few dresses until you can have some more made." Robert summoned a page to carry her bags and sent a message to have her bath drawn. As they walked off, the knights in the courtyard began to applaud the skill they had just seen. She curtsied as prettily as any damsel inside before she took to the stairs.

  The page deposited her bags in a room and left them alone. Robert went to the fireplace and built up the small fire. When he turned back, Gwenhyfer stood in the doorway as still as a statue.

  "What is wrong, mon ange?"

  "Why was I put here, of all places?"

  "What is wrong?" he asked, again. She gave him an odd look, and his smile died. He seriously worried about her then. "This room is second only to the King's. It used to belong to one of Edward's advisors. He moved its tenant just for your visit." Robert looked over at her as the words came out of his mouth, realizing what he said. He pulled her inside and closed the door.

  "Yes, this is ... was the room I lived in. The one I lived in with my parents before being given my own. I saw my parents die here. The things at the house used to decorate this room. I lived seventeen years of my life in this castle except when we were at Moerhab once or twice a year. I know this room as if I know myself. I miss them enough as it is. Why, Robert?"

  Robert turned her head with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. "I only know that the King has asked about you. Perhaps he thought it would make you feel more comfortable. This is where he ordered me to bring you, that is all I know." He bent his head and kissed her lightly. She remained as if a statue, and he pulled away to look at her. "You have accepted another?"

  "No, there is no one. I remain alone."

  "Then what is wrong?"

  The look her heckler endured returned to her eyes, and this time Robert was on the wrong end of it. "Two years I wondered if you joked. The notes you sent spoke nothing of returning, only that you're well, you're busy. The King has done this. You returned to Normandy for a time. They arranged a marriage for you, but you turned it down. This fight happened; you were wounded once again. They are the notes one would send if you never spoke such words
before you left. Now I am to rush into your arms because you're here, ready to pick up where you started? Will it be for a day or a month this time? When do you leave again?"

  "In a week," he whispered, not wanting to admit it. "Gwenhyfer, I tried to come back and visit for the last two years, but William always came to me with another assignment. My father died, and I returned home. I turned down the woman they wanted me to marry so I could come back to you. I wanted time and time again to leave my duty behind. But my cousin depends on me, and I can't run from that."

  "You could have said that in your messages. You could have sent some clue that you meant what you said. I felt the same as you did the day you left. But two years with no mention of it at all, even when I wrote that the village very nearly starved to death over the winter after most of the food and money was confiscated by the King's own men. I expected no help, but your next message only said that you're well. I tried to put it behind me, figuring that you meant nothing of your declaration."

  "Please, I have never forgotten. I did not get your letter until after I sent mine. I..." The knock on the door interrupted his words, and her bath was brought in. He left her, but there was no smile on his face. Weapons were not the only things she could wield with deadly accuracy. Her words cut just as deep.

  * * * *

  Robert returned several hours later when he was told that she was ready to see the King. Clean himself, he wore a deep royal blue cotehardie, his family crest embroidered in gold. There was to be a banquet that evening; the reason for it, no one knew.

  She greeted him, a sight like none he had ever seen before. Gwenhyfer stood dressed in the finest of cloth and none of it the clothes he provided. She obviously did not need his help as far as clothing for court went. The gown of the finest wool and dyed deep red pooled at her feet and fanned out in a train when she walked. A sleeveless tunic of off-white hung, bound at the waist by a gleaming girdle of gold, fashioned to look like long vines of ivy. Her hair was tied with golden thread to match the gold circlet. Bracelets and rings of gold, pearls and rubies matched her dress. He never thought she could be more beautiful.