Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(44)

“When we are in the presence of my men, you will address me as ‘my lord’,” he told her. “You seem to be rather relaxed on the respect you show those above you.”

Ghislaine blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected a tongue lashing, nor did she like it. “If that is the case, then you will address me formally as well, my lord,” she said, unwilling to submit to the man’s pride. “I am the sister of two earls and the sister-in-law to a king. I do not believe I am beneath you in rank.”

Something flickered in those bronze eyes. He suddenly remembered that he had a suspicion of her true identity when they first met. He had a feeling that those suspicions were about to be confirmed. He decided quickly that he wouldn’t let on. “What king?” he asked, dubious.

It took Ghislaine a moment to realize that, in fact, she hadn’t told him anything about her relation to Harold. She had purposely not told him, but his ego-driven scolding had brought forth her tongue which, at times could be unrestrained. But she realized there was no point in trying to deny it. In fact, it was probably better if he did know so he didn’t go on thinking she was “beneath” him.

“My sister is married to Harold Godwinson,” she said, somewhat softer. “Was married to Harold. Now, she is his widow.”

Gaetan had a strange look on his face. “Your sister is Edith the Fair?”

Ghislaine nodded. “Aye,” she said. “She is my older sister.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“One.”

Now his expression became suspicious. “Edith the Fair has a sister only known as The Beautiful Maid of Mercia,” he said. “At least, that is all I have ever heard about her. Pulchra ancilla Merciae, they called her.”

Ghislaine nodded, not at all impressed with the name. “I was given that moniker as a young girl, but people still use it,” she said, looking away. “It remains with me.”

Now it was Gaetan’s turn to be surprised. Even beneath the helm, Ghislaine could see his eyebrows lift from the shape of his eyes.

“Why did you not tell me any of this?” he asked, somewhat aghast. “I have heard of The Beautiful Maid of Mercia but I never heard a name associated with it.”

“I am curious as to why a Norman should hear of me.”

“Much as I know your language, it is wise to know one’s enemy, and that includes family members. We Normans are not so ignorant as you would like to think.”

“I never said you were. But you seem to know a lot about us.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Mayhap that is so, but I did not know enough to know that you were The Beautiful Maid of Mercia.”

Ghislaine wondered if he was on the edge of ridiculing her the way he said it or if he had already known her identity. “I am,” she said, then quickly added: “My lord.”

Gaetan stared at her a moment longer before finally shaking his head. “Now I can see why you have been given that name,” he said. “You have beauty that is beyond compare, but your manner of dress and behavior leaves something to be desired. You could command the finest husband in all of England if you would only brush your hair and dress like a woman should.”

It was a compliment and an insult at the same time. Ghislaine felt more than a little self-conscious. Reaching up a hand, she touched her hair as if to feel how messy it was; it was plaited into several braids that were gathered up at the base of her skull by a strip of leather. Her hair was very long, and somewhat thick, so she often braided it up tightly to keep it out of the way. But from the way Gaetan spoke, he made her feel as if she did nothing at all to make herself attractive, as a woman should. Not that she’d ever really cared… until now.

“I was married,” she said before she could stop herself. “I do not wish to be married again, so you need not be concerned over how I dress.”

Gaetan’s attention lingered on her. “What happened to your husband?”

She was feeling embarrassed at her outburst, even a little wounded. “I thought you knew everything about my family.”

“I did not know you had a husband. What became of him?”

She thought she heard some concern in his tone. Was it even possible that he would be concerned with such a thing? Even so, she wasn’t sure she wanted to answer him but she supposed it didn’t much matter. Hakon was gone and talking about him would not make the longing for him any less.

“He drowned,” she said simply. “But surely you did not call me up to the front to ask me personal questions. Did you have business to discuss with me?”

There was a rebuke in her statement. Snappish, even. Gaetan would have dismissed her immediately for such a thing but he didn’t and he truthfully had no idea why. Any snappish woman deserved to be sent away. But he’d sent for her because he wanted to discuss their surroundings and any potential allies or enemies up ahead, but now they were on the subject of her relationship to the dead Anglo-Saxon king and the fact that her husband was dead.

Gaetan wasn’t a man to get too close to people and especially not too close to someone he considered the enemy, but he couldn’t help his curiosity about Ghislaine. The Beautiful Maid of Mercia. He’d spend two days not talking to her, trying not to look at her or think about her, but he found that she lingered heavily on his mind no matter what he did. Even when he rode at point as he was, knowing she was back behind him, his thoughts lingered on the woman with the perfect buttocks. But it was more than his obsession with that body part; it was an interest in the woman herself.