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‘You regret your decision now that you have had time to consider your position? You wish to leave for the nunnery, but worry about summoning the courage to inform me?’
The sun made it impossible for her to see his eyes. All she knew was that he wanted her to give up and admit defeat. That wasn’t going to happen. Retreating would be a defeat, not only for her but for everyone she cared about. Despite what Hilda thought, she could be a concubine even to a man like Brand Bjornson.
‘Not in the slightest.’ Edith tilted her chin upwards and met his penetrating blue gaze full on. ‘Were you searching for me? Has something happened?’
His dark blond hair fell in disarray about his shoulders and he’d shed his axe and overtunic, but that only emphasised the way his shirt clung to his chest. She was more aware than ever of the power in his shoulders. He was most definitely not a man to cross lightly. ‘Nothing unexpected.’
The strange warm tingling feeling invaded her body. This was the man she would have to play the concubine with, if she could. Her heart sank. Hilda was right. What had she been thinking of? The enormity of the task crashed into her. She should have taken the easy route out and saved her own skin. What if she didn’t please him? What would happen to everyone then?
‘It is good to know.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘Did you think something would be wrong?’
‘Why should there be?’ She hurriedly smoothed her skirts and her hand touched the circlet of keys that she always wore. The tiny action gave her courage. She was doing it for her home. The keys were a comfort. She had them and it meant certain things were safe and hidden.
‘You are very quick with your answer.’ He regarded her with speculative eyes.
‘How long have you been standing there?’ she asked with a faint breathless catch in her voice, swallowed hard and tried again. This time her voice sounded firmer. ‘Is there something you require?’
‘Long enough.’
Edith rubbed the back of her neck. He’d overheard her conversation with Hilda, but she had to hope it was only the tail end. ‘It’s been a tiring day and your men will need to be fed. I have to make sure the servants understand the new situation. I wish to keep the incidents to a minimum.’
‘It is kind of you to be concerned, but my concubine doesn’t give the orders to any member of the household. She exists only to please me.’
Edith pursed her lips together—a subtle way of saying she lacked power. ‘I’d considered ordering a feast was pleasing to the master.’
She hated how the word stuck in her throat and how the sound of it brought home the precariousness of her position. She was little better than a shackled slave.
He raised his eyebrow. ‘It is good that you so readily acknowledge who I am. I had wondered if you would have to learn a hard lesson.’
‘I’ve never been a concubine before.’
A ghost of a smile flickered in the corner of his mouth. ‘I’d never have guessed, my lady.’
‘Spare the laughter and jest. I fail to find the joke amusing.’
‘Perish the thought.’ He inclined his head, but the twinkle in his eye deepened, turning his irises to the colour of the sky after weeks of grey cloud. A blue so vivid it hurt to look at it. ‘Maybe a little, but I enjoy teasing my women. But I remain serious about our bargain. I want you, Edith of Breckon, in my bed.’
Edith concentrated on a spot just above his shoulder, rather than gazing into his eyes. His woman. One of many? She could well imagine the sort of women they were. She had experienced Egbert’s parade and found positions and marriages for them after Egbert discarded them, so they wouldn’t suffer humiliation.
‘You should know that I am not very good at being a decorative object.’ She allowed her mouth to turn upwards. ‘I’ve never seen the point of flirtatious teasing.’
‘You’ll have to learn.’
‘I’m far too practical. If I see a thing that needs doing, I do it. I like to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied.’
‘But not with spinning. My men uncovered a number of broken whorls from the hall. Do they have a purpose?’
‘Spinning is not my best skill,’ Edith conceded with a shrug. Explaining about Hilda’s drama of this morning was beyond her. ‘I do try, but my mind wanders and the tread tangles. I prefer writing and reading.’
‘Unlike the woman who just left for the kitchen.’ His eyes flashed with barely concealed contempt. ‘I do not believe she makes a good scullery maid. Her dress is far too fine and her accent refined.’
