Married To Her Enemy. Jenni Fletcher

      ‘Henri went after them this morning. He speaks some English and he knows what to say. If anyone can persuade them to come back, it’s him.’

      ‘You did that?’ She sagged forward, breathless with relief. ‘Why?’

      ‘Why wouldn’t I? I told you—I don’t believe in revenge.’

      ‘And you won’t tell the King?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘What if someone else does?’

      ‘Who? My men know better than to spread rumours. Unless you’re planning to?’

      She shook her head vehemently and he gave a dismissive shrug.

      ‘Then there’s nothing to worry about.’

      ‘Nothing to worry about?’ Anger took over again. ‘Then why did you scare me like that? How could you be so cruel?’

      ‘Because you need to understand what you’re dealing with! You can’t go to Redbourn and threaten the Earl. You can’t speak of rebellion so lightly. Whether you like it or not, Lady Cille, the conquest is over and we have won. And I’m not your enemy—not unless you want me to be.’

      He spurred his destrier forward then, cantering away as she stared helplessly after him, trying to make sense of her jagged emotions as they veered from anger to gratitude and back again. She was still furious, but if he’d sent Henri to rescue her people then she was in his debt too. Indebted to a Norman! The very idea made her blood run cold. How would she ever repay him? How could she repay a Norman?

      She sat completely still, looking around at the narrow confines of her world, at the village and the valley where she’d spent most of her life. Etton and England would never be the same again. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but it was true. The Conquest was over and the Normans had won. Even if she came back—even if her people came back—nothing would ever be the same again.

      And if Svend du Danemark wasn’t her enemy, who was he?