Free Conquests: Hearts Rule Kingdoms by Emily Murdoch Page B

up!”
    When she had arrived the high walls of the hall had been bare and unwelcoming – but now they were covered with tapestries and hangings of bright colours and golden silks. The light from the hundreds of candles reflected brightly on the expensive twists of thread, and in turn illuminated Avis’ golden hair, only just visible beneath her veil. She smiled.
    “Perfect.” Avis turned on the spot, taking in the beauty and elegance that she had created. She sighed, smiling. This was now a hall worthy of being her home. Already she felt more comfortable, and it showed as she relaxed and flexed her aching shoulders. There was little that women like her could do, but in this small way, her acts of rebellion were mounting.
    Shouts of men and barks of dogs heralded the entrance of Melville, who had once again been hunting all day. Avis surreptitiously caught the tangles of hair that had escaped her veil and trapped them once more in its folds, preparing herself for the verbal onslaught that she had come to expect from her tall and brooding husband. She had not seen him since their last, very public argument, and she would be astonished if she survived punishment.
    “Out.” Melville ordered the servants, not even looking at his wife. They obeyed him, terrified of his shouting voice, but Avis stood her ground. Once all others had gone, he slowly walked up to her, stopped about a foot from her, and lowered his deep voice.
    “What do you think you are doing?”
    Avis wanted to hate this man, but found that she could not. Her dislike was still strong, of course, but she could not hate a fair person. He was a just man, and his dark eyes were never happy but always sad. She had known much sadness, but could not comprehend how a Norman could know the pain that she did.
    “Making a home, my lord.” Avis spoke softly, hoping not to arouse his anger which – although she had never seen its full extent – she imagined rivalled hers.
    “This is my home, Avis.” His voice gently caressed her name, and she shivered. How could this man have such a physical effect on her?
    Melville noted the shiver, and strove with himself not to take this luscious woman into his arms. He had been watching her the few weeks that she had entered his life, and had been amazed at the strength and resilience that she had shown. Ever since their encounter at the river, he had observed Avis, and noticed many instances of kindness towards these people, and many times he had caught her smiling.
    Many people were afraid of him, and his coarse manner of speaking, and this did not surprise him. But she had matched him – and always with that subtlety and beauty that in his mind was found nowhere else. He watched the flutter of her throat. She was frightened of him. He was almost glad; glad that he seemed to have just such a strong effect on her as she did on him.
    “My home also,” she replied. “Whether you enjoy that fact or not, my lord, you are married. I live here too, and I prefer to live in somewhere more…” she savoured the moment of offending him, “refined.”
    This cut Melville more than she could know, and the light in which he saw her extinguished. He would not be taken in by her tricks, and her beauty.
    He laughed. “You don’t know the meaning of refined,” he spat. Saxon.”
    Melville turned and strode out of the room, laughing. Avis sat down suddenly on a nearby chair, and put her head on her hands. Why was what she considered to be a badge of honour suddenly the best insult that any man could throw at her? How much longer could she continue in this tortuous marriage?
    But she shook her head, and stood up again. No matter what happened, no matter what this brute threw at her, she was married. Nothing was going to change that, and all she had to do was survive.
    The next day was Sunday, a day to go to the local village church. It was built in the new Norman style, a style that Avis was not familiar with but sadly admitted was indeed