was up against a tree, Vitalis’s hand over her mouth, his body pressing her hard to the trunk.
Were he any other man, she would fear for her virtue ahead of believing he protected her. Were he any other man…
She looked up. Though the hair fallen over his brow cast a shadow between them, what little light there was found its rest in his eyes.
“Good girl,” he rasped.
Girl. Another reason her virtue was not in danger.
Breathing through her nose, feeling her chest expand against his, expelling air on the edge of his thumb, feeling his chest expand against hers, she strained to hear what he heard.
Men’s voices, their accents her own, and the nearer they drew, the clearer those voices. Norman-French words. Norman-French laughter. Doubtless, Norman-French mounts who plodded the wood.
What sounded half a dozen riders approached from the left in the direction of Thetford but below the ridge by which Vitalis and she returned to camp. Hopefully, the enemy had not passed near enough that place to stir horses whose nickering and whinnying could cause the pursued to lose all but their lives. And even those the enemy might take if—
A mewl of distress spilled into Vitalis’s palm. Nicola knew there were bad Normans, but since they were her people, she did not count them enemies. However, as long as she was with Vitalis and Normans were his foes, they were hers. Certainly, those led by the Saxon-turned-Norman who had murdered Zedekiah.
Her next breath was less easily drawn, Vitalis having pressed more of his weight upon her and tightened his hand over her mouth. Though more uncomfortable, she did not attempt to dislodge him.
Deep laughter resounded around the wood, then a Norman asked, “What say you, Prince? Are women dark of hair or fair of hair more desirable?”
Had Prince Canute come to Thetford? If so, because he pursued her to gain her ransom? That made no sense. Or did it? After all, once before the Danes had abandoned their Saxon allies in accepting King William’s bribe.
Dread poured through her, but its flow was interrupted when proof was given the prince was not Canute but one whose voice was that of a Norman youth. “In my sight, women fair of hair are loveliest, my lord.”
Nicola swept her gaze to Vitalis, and saw he had also identified the prince. But who was the man titled a lord?
That one chuckled. “Methinks, Prince Richard, you speak with the experience of one who looks often upon Saxon women though your sire would not approve.”
“No harm in laying eyes upon them,” the youth said.
“Ah, but where the eyes go, there go the feet, next the hands. Then come misbegotten babes a man can never be certain are of his loins. Not that it is of much consequence with these English women. Indeed, great favor we Normans do in breeding the Saxon out of them.”
Nicola’s stiffening hardly compared to Vitalis’s.
More Norman laughter, but it ended abruptly, and the prince said with the rebuke of one certain of his power over older men, “I am my sire’s son. Thus, I shall make no babes on a woman not my wife. Now, as I find this wood exceedingly dull, I shall return to Red Castle, Lord De Warenne.”
Nicola drew a strident breath through her nostrils. She knew the name as surely Vitalis did.
Then came the sound of a horse spurred back the way it had come, followed by those of the prince’s escort. What had taken several minutes to pass by took far less to depart.
Removing his hand from Nicola’s mouth, Vitalis stepped back.
Am I depraved to miss being so near him? she wondered and determined she was not. She but liked the safety of his arms.
“As De Warenne’s men and those of the prince shall require much game to fill their bellies, ’tis unfortunate that malefactor is in residence at Red Castle,” Vitalis said with loathing for the Norman who believed English women so inferior they should be grateful the enemy was willing to breed the Saxon out of them.
He reached down and retrieved the hare he had dropped. “You know your king’s second son?”
Nicola pushed off the tree. “I met him when we were children and he preferred girls dark of hair who were two years older than he.”
As if Vitalis sought to lighten his mood, he raised an eyebrow, but there was no teasing about him when he said, “An older girl with silver amid dark hair?”
“Not then. It was another year or so ere the