him, there was a magnetism about him that dwelt in the core of his being. She could not ignore it, and she fought against it with all of her soul.
As they stood, Melville became aware of his breathing: deep and fast. But there was more – he could feel Avis’ ribcage moving in a fluttering motion as she attempted to catch her breath. He looked down at his wife. His Anglo-Saxon wife. Hatred flooded into his lungs, so that every breath that descended from his lips down onto the top of her hair covered her in his loathing. But then Avis looked up. Her eyes widened when she realised how close his face was to hers, and he was struck by her beauty.
A desire to protect her rose unbidden from a deep place within him. This girl was his wife. He involuntarily began to lower his face down to hers – but then just as involuntarily released her and stepped back, almost pushing her away back onto the bed. This was not the time to lose control.
Avis stood where he had left her, gradually catching her balance from the force that he had pushed her with as he moved away. Her gaze followed Melville, waiting for him to make another move – away from her or to bring them closer together.
Melville swallowed, refreshing his dry mouth. His vision was blurred by the lust that had suddenly descended, and he needed to create as much distance between them as possible.
“We are tired.” He managed. “Rest.”
“You lie not with me.” Avis spoke quickly and surely, determined to force her point across to this strange man. “Not tonight. Not any night.”
She was sure that he would refuse this suggestion, and was prepared to fight him – physically if necessary – to prevent him from taking her innocence. But a small smile danced around his lips, and she felt embarrassed, as if he was privy to a joke that she was unaware of.
“If that is what you desire, my lady.” Melville strode towards the bed, pulling off one of the ornate covers and began making himself a bed by the warm embers of the fire. Avis was surprised. She had not expected him to be so quick to agree with her, but was too tired to question him. Unsure that Melville would keep to his word, Avis crept into bed after quietly secreting a dagger under her pillow. No surprises.
Chapter Ten
Avis woke up with her left hand clasped around the handle of the dagger, the sharp metal clinking metallically when she moved her finger with her wedding ring. Wedding ring. She turned quickly towards the fire, and was relieved to see the covers were vacant. Melville must have risen early and left without stirring her.
After dressing and moving towards the Great Hall, she could hear sounds of shouting and chaos emanating from the stables just at the side of the large room. Altering her course to discover what the disturbance was, she walked into what seemed to be every person of the house rushing around carrying chests and bags and completely unsure where they should be going. Weaving her way through the crowd, she eventually found Richard, watching all that was going on with a mocking laugh dancing across his features.
After a short curtsey as greeting, Avis ignored all polite conversation and enquired immediately.
“Good morrow, my lord. What is happening?”
Richard looked amused.
“You are leaving.”
“Leaving?” Avis was hungry, and still tired from the day before, and not in the mood to be teased and bullied by this foreign man again. “Leaving to go where?”
“You and your husband, when he returns from his ride, are going back to his land and property.”
“Where is his land?”
“In the North.”
Avis had never been in the north. She had lived all of the years of her life in the South, and had never ventured far from her home. She had heard terrifying stories of painted men and women who could tell your fortune by looking at you. The land there was said to be barren and miserable, with constant rain and few people at all. But she had also
As they stood, Melville became aware of his breathing: deep and fast. But there was more – he could feel Avis’ ribcage moving in a fluttering motion as she attempted to catch her breath. He looked down at his wife. His Anglo-Saxon wife. Hatred flooded into his lungs, so that every breath that descended from his lips down onto the top of her hair covered her in his loathing. But then Avis looked up. Her eyes widened when she realised how close his face was to hers, and he was struck by her beauty.
A desire to protect her rose unbidden from a deep place within him. This girl was his wife. He involuntarily began to lower his face down to hers – but then just as involuntarily released her and stepped back, almost pushing her away back onto the bed. This was not the time to lose control.
Avis stood where he had left her, gradually catching her balance from the force that he had pushed her with as he moved away. Her gaze followed Melville, waiting for him to make another move – away from her or to bring them closer together.
Melville swallowed, refreshing his dry mouth. His vision was blurred by the lust that had suddenly descended, and he needed to create as much distance between them as possible.
“We are tired.” He managed. “Rest.”
“You lie not with me.” Avis spoke quickly and surely, determined to force her point across to this strange man. “Not tonight. Not any night.”
She was sure that he would refuse this suggestion, and was prepared to fight him – physically if necessary – to prevent him from taking her innocence. But a small smile danced around his lips, and she felt embarrassed, as if he was privy to a joke that she was unaware of.
“If that is what you desire, my lady.” Melville strode towards the bed, pulling off one of the ornate covers and began making himself a bed by the warm embers of the fire. Avis was surprised. She had not expected him to be so quick to agree with her, but was too tired to question him. Unsure that Melville would keep to his word, Avis crept into bed after quietly secreting a dagger under her pillow. No surprises.
Chapter Ten
Avis woke up with her left hand clasped around the handle of the dagger, the sharp metal clinking metallically when she moved her finger with her wedding ring. Wedding ring. She turned quickly towards the fire, and was relieved to see the covers were vacant. Melville must have risen early and left without stirring her.
After dressing and moving towards the Great Hall, she could hear sounds of shouting and chaos emanating from the stables just at the side of the large room. Altering her course to discover what the disturbance was, she walked into what seemed to be every person of the house rushing around carrying chests and bags and completely unsure where they should be going. Weaving her way through the crowd, she eventually found Richard, watching all that was going on with a mocking laugh dancing across his features.
After a short curtsey as greeting, Avis ignored all polite conversation and enquired immediately.
“Good morrow, my lord. What is happening?”
Richard looked amused.
“You are leaving.”
“Leaving?” Avis was hungry, and still tired from the day before, and not in the mood to be teased and bullied by this foreign man again. “Leaving to go where?”
“You and your husband, when he returns from his ride, are going back to his land and property.”
“Where is his land?”
“In the North.”
Avis had never been in the north. She had lived all of the years of her life in the South, and had never ventured far from her home. She had heard terrifying stories of painted men and women who could tell your fortune by looking at you. The land there was said to be barren and miserable, with constant rain and few people at all. But she had also
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