'Ailith was quiet tonight,' Aubert remarked.

Rolf shrugged. 'She was brooding about Julitta.' He pulled a face. 'I sometimes think that all women are the same, not a hair to choose between any of them.'

Aubert raised his brows, inviting confidences.

Rolf drank from his cup and let out a deep sigh. 'I love Ailith, but sometimes she is so impossible that I cannot bear to be in her company. It is like being caged.'

'And of course your own nature is so perfect that you are never the cause of her contrariness,' Aubert said neutrally.

'I know I have my faults, but of late, whatever I do or say is wrong in her eyes.' Rolf scowled at his cup, and then at Aubert. 'You said you wanted a word in private. If it's about myself and Ailith, I might as well take myself off to bed.'

Aubert just looked at Rolf and beneath the sharp, hazel stare, Rolf's indignation crumbled to be replaced by embarrassment. 'Very well,' he said with a grudging smile, 'I have no redeeming features and the fault is all mine.'

'Just have a care, Rolf. Some broken hearts mend, but I doubt that Ailith's would, or yours for that matter. And there endeth my sermon. I'm not here to preach what you already know. Besides, I need you in a listening humour and not out of sorts with me.'

'Indeed?' Rolf raised an eyebrow and felt a pleasant curiosity. Conversations with Aubert, whatever else, were never boring. Although Aubert had mostly given up the more questionable activities attached to his wine trade, he still dabbled here and there at the request of the King. But what Aubert said next took Rolf completely by surprise.

'I have been deliberating upon approaching you for no small time; I would not have you think this is lightly suggested out of a moment's folly. I have a business proposition to put to you concerning Benedict's future.'

'Oh?' Rolf folded his arms.

'What would you say if I offered for your daughter Gisele in marriage on his behalf?'

At first Rolf could only gape at Aubert in astonishment. He did not know what to say; then several things, all contradictory, crowded onto his tongue at once and rendered him incoherent, which was just as well since some of the comments would have irrevocably sundered the friendship between himself and Aubert.

'Gisele and Benedict,' he finally managed to croak out. 'You aim high indeed.'

'My son is never going to be more than a mediocre wine merchant; he has no interest in the trade, but it is as if he was born knowing horses. You have seen it yourself.'

Rolf rose to replenish his cup and remained standing, for Aubert's words had kindled his restlessness. His friend was wily; he would not have broached the subject without first considering it from all angles and weighing up the risks of rejection. 'I have noticed that Ben does have a talent that way,' Rolf said cautiously, 'but how far it will develop is a point of chance, nor is it a recommendation I can give to my wife. I have always promised Arlette that our daughter will make a great marriage. I cannot go to her and say that for the sake of friendship I have accepted the offer of a Rouen wine merchant.'

Aubert drew himself up. 'I do not ask you as a boon for friendship's sake. I know full well that you have the wealth and position to make a high marriage for Gisele. While I cannot match your rank, I can easily match your wealth, so I count the scales even. You were never one to stand on ceremony, Rolf.'

Rolf's eyes became dry with staring and he blinked rapidly several times.

Aubert hunched forward in his seat and eyed Rolf intently, his own gaze unwavering. 'You know that I have risked my neck for William both as Duke and King. After the great battle at Hastings, he rewarded me in coin and English booty and I bought land and houses in London and Rouen. People pay me rent and my wealth increases. I have two wine galleys, one trading out of London, the other out of Rouen, and a merchant vessel, the Draca, to be ready in the spring. Benedict will be very rich one day, but I would like him to be content too.' Aubert shrugged, and spread his hands. 'That is why I made you the offer. If you do not think that our differences are negotiable, I'll look elsewhere and take no offence.'

Rolf shook his head, totally bemused. 'God's nails, Aubert, I need time to think, and for that I have to gather my wits, which you have scattered to the four winds.'

Aubert smiled, a decided gleam in his hooded hazel eyes. 'I knew that one day, I'd see you at a loss for words.'

Ailith felt Rolf raise the covers and slide into the bed. One sinewy arm came across her body, and he pressed close, touching the tip of his tongue to the tiny hairs on her spine. Ailith had been pretending to be asleep, but a small, sensuous shiver gave her away and with a sigh, she rolled over to face him.

He nuzzled her throat. 'We shouldn't have parted in anger earlier,' he murmured.

Only moments before Rolf had come to bed, she had been imagining a scene where she necked Inga's cursed gander herself, and perhaps Inga too into the bargain, but she grasped Rolf's olive branch eagerly. 'I'm sorry I was a shrew. I was worried about Julitta.'

'I was too thin-skinned myself. Call it even. I promise I will speak to Inga and make her do something about those geese.'

Ailith snuggled against him, breathing in his familiar scent. He stroked her hair, her spine, her breasts, and she felt his erection strain against her belly.

'Aubert desires a marriage between Benedict and Gisele.' His words came muffled as he buried his lips in her cleavage. 'I do not know whether I should accept or not. What do you think?'

'Benedict and Gisele?' she said, as surprised as Rolf had been. 'Are they suited?

'As well suited as any couple are when their parents arrange a marriage. Aubert, as it turns out, is a very wealthy man, and I like the boy's spirit. Gisele is like her mother — biddable, pious, and very pretty.'

'Perhaps you should let them meet and see how they respond to one another.'

'That would not be so bad an idea, and in the meantime, I could give the proposition due consideration.' He moved lower, softly pinching her skin with his lips.

She touched his hair, feeling beneath her fingertips the springy curls that he had passed on to Julitta, making her longer tresses such a bane to comb. 'But they will meet on Norman ground, you will not bring your wife to Ulverton?' she said, suddenly anxious.

He ceased what he was doing, and the muscles tensed across the back of his neck. 'I am not a complete fool,' he murmured against her flesh.

'I could not bear it if you did bring her,' Ailith whispered.

He sighed, and for a moment she thought that he was going to turn away as they trammelled the same old ground whose ruts they both knew because they had worn the path so often and so painfully before. 'I won't,' he said. 'On my soul I swear I won't.'

'It is forever.' Her hands remained in his hair, gripping him. 'Say it is forever.'

He hesitated again. 'It is forever,' he repeated, and broke her hold, pinning her beneath him, assaulting her senses until she sobbed aloud, half with pleasure and half with pain.

CHAPTER 32

Two days later, Rolf gave Mauger instructions to spruce up a young grey stallion which was to be inspected for the royal stables by a representative of King William, and rode out in the misty, gleaming dawn to keep his promise to Ailith.

Smoke twirled from village cooking fires and the people were already up and about their daily business. He was greeted according to each individual's adjustment to the fact of a Norman lord, but mostly with respect. Curious stares followed his progress down the village street to the house at the end where dwelt Inga, the woman from the north, and eyebrows were raised when he dismounted and tethered his horse to the low palisade surrounding her property.

Inga herself was just emerging from her house. She had a knobbed walking stick in one hand, although she had no need of it, the item was just a matter of habit, a prop to make people keep their distance. Over her other arm was draped a fine, dark blue cloak. Her small terrier growled at Rolf, but she commanded it to silence. Her cool hazel stare assessed him.

'How may I help you, my lord?' Her voice was cool too, but like Scots usquebaugh, it possessed an afterburn that set his nerves tingling.

'I want to talk to you about your geese… about your gander in particular.'

Inga pursed her lips. Her gaze flickered beyond him to the interest being generated in the village street and turning back, she reopened her door. 'Then you had best enter,' she said and commanded the dog away to his kennel in the yard.

Feeling uncomfortable, Rolf followed her into the house. The beaten earth floor had been stamped solid and covered with a layer of rushes. There was a bedding bench along one wall, piled with goatskins, and shelves upon the wall boasted an array of jars and pitchers. It was far from poor, but much less than that which had been her due in the north.

'They don't like me, your villagers,' she said, depositing the cloak, and gesturing him to be seated on the bedding bench. 'I don't fit in with their customs or their ways.'

'You don't try to like them,' he answered. 'Your son Sweyn has been accepted easily enough.'

'He's a man now, and they're short of men. I'm a rival for the few available — my own house, an income of sorts. They're jealous.' She reached down a flask of mead and poured a measure into a round wooden cup, then held it out to him. 'What about my gander? I suppose Widow Alfric's been complaining again.'