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beasts.
    Meeting her at the bottom of the stairs, he
bowed deeply. “My lady.”
    She nodded formally. “My lord.”
    He held out his arm for her. She hesitated a
brief moment then with a small tremor placed her hand on his
sleeve. Upon reaching her seat at the head table, he pulled out her
chair. He knew it was an act of chivalry she hadn’t expected.
    Trenchers overflowing with food were placed
before them. Dominick saw longing in Eleanor’s eyes and wondered
how long it had been since she’d seen a good meal, or a piece of
meat. While Godwin was under siege food must have been scarce.
Empathy for what she had endured pulled at his heart.
    He pushed the trencher closer to her. “Eat,
Eleanor. There is plenty.” She hesitated for a moment then began to
eat in earnest.
    While watching her pull the leg off a roasted
pheasant, he noticed her wedding ring rolled around her finger and
was at risk of falling into the food. She jumped, pulling away when
he touched the ring.
    “Please, give me your hand.”
    She reluctantly placed it in his. He removed
the ring then pulled a gold chain from around his neck and strung
it through. Her body was rigid as he put the chain around her neck,
and he watched the muscles in her jaw work together as though she
forced herself to keep still.
    “This should do until we are able to put some
meat on your bones.”
    Looking down in surprise at the intricate
gold chain, she traced the delicate pattern with her fingers then
eyed him suspiciously. “What will this gift cost me?”
    “It’s only a trinket, Eleanor. One which you
may return once the ring sits securely upon your finger.”
    When he reached to fill her cup, she quickly
covered it with her hand. “I don’t drink wine, or ale. Water will
do.”
    He turned the carafe to his own cup and
filled it. She watched him like a doe watches humans—with a great
deal of caution—as he drank the wine. Reluctantly, Eleanor picked
at her food. He noticed her watching him from the corner of her eye
as he drank. It occurred to him what she feared.
    Compelled to ease her fears, he faced her. “I
don’t drink to excess, Eleanor. I believe a man who does cannot be
trusted.” He saluted her with his cup and took a short draw on it
then set it back on the table, hoping to relieve her fears. “I
won’t drink any more this evening.”
    Wordlessly, she went
back to eating, but the stiffness in her spine relaxed slightly,
and she attacked her pheasant with new vigor. This pleased him. It
was one step toward winning her over.
    A fter some time her
stomach was pleasantly full, but Eleanor couldn’t resist the
pastries.
    As she bit into one, Dominick leaned close
and whispered, “Your things have been moved to the master’s
chamber.”
    She dropped her food and reached for her cup
of water to try to wash down her fear. It resisted her
attempts.
    When she thought it was safe to speak without
choking, she said, “We are married in name only.”
    “We are married, Eleanor.” He rose and pulled
her chair out for her. “Come, it’s time we retire for the
evening.”
    As much as she wanted to protest, she refused
to appear cowardly. Her people needed reassurance that all would be
well. Stiffly she accepted his arm. Her steps felt rigid and slow,
as if she were going to her own execution. Her mind whirled, trying
to find a way out of her dilemma. She could charge ahead and bolt
the door behind her. But she had vowed not to show the warrior her
fear and dismissed the idea.
    As they approached the chamber door, her legs
seemed to bend with each step, like willow branches, and her skin
grew cold and clammy.
    Dominick towered over her as he pushed the
door open. A large fire burned in the hearth, illuminating the room
and the floors had been swept and scrubbed. All her father’s
possessions had been removed, transforming the room from his to
Dominick’s. An enormous oak bed stood against the far wall to
accommodate Dominick’s great size, the