Deciding it would have to do and that she didn’t have the time to search through the other chest, she put everything else back inside and dropped the key into the corner of the chest where she’d found it. Then she pushed the entire chest back under the bed before tucking the stone between her breasts. Briefly, she considered staying and applying the poultice to his shoulder again so as not to rouse suspicion, but she knew that there was no way she would be able to keep her composure with his blue eyes staring her down. If she didn’t crack under the strain and admit everything, she’d make a fool of herself as her fear got the better of her. She honestly didn’t know if she’d be able to look the man in the eyes, knowing the stone rested against her skin.
It was best to leave and let him make of that what he would. It was better than her giving herself away. She wasn’t made for thievery and deceptions. Opening the door, she glanced out to make certain that no one noticed her and then made her way to the alcove she shared with Ellan. Once inside she let the curtain fall down, hiding her away from the world.
The next morning a harsh shake woke her. She opened her eyes to see Rolfe staring down at her. He was a shadow above her, the only light coming from the fire below in the hall, but there was no mistaking his powerful form. She gasped. Her first thought was that he had found his bloodstone missing and come directly to her. It had to be obvious that she had stolen it. Her hand immediately went to her waist where the bloodstone rested against her stomach. She had tied a purse there beneath her clothes and around her waist where she kept the stone hidden.
‘Please understand that it was necessary.’ Her voice was husky with sleep.
He knelt down, balancing on his heels and leaned close, presumably so that he wouldn’t wake Ellan who was snoring lightly next to her against the wall. ‘Wake up, fair lady. It’s time for your sword lesson.’ There was laughter in his voice.
He didn’t know. The relief that overcame her was so powerful that it left her muscles weak, her body sagging into the straw mattress. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
‘You don’t wake easily.’ The smile stayed in his voice.
‘I never have,’ she said, though it was in no way an explanation for what she had almost confessed, and it came out rather garbled. Pushing herself up, he moved back to give her space.
‘Come, I’ll be waiting outside for you with the horses. I have food you can eat on the way.’
She nodded, too surprised for speech as he turned and left, his broad shoulders nearly filling up the opening of their little alcove. She was caught off guard that he would see to those things for her. She was essentially a servant. She had served the lord and lady last night and he had sat next to them, politely taking the food and drink she’d brought. Before he and his men had arrived, she had often sat to take her own meal with them after serving them, but there had seemed no place for her and Ellan at the crowded table after they had arrived—not to mention the fact that she didn’t particularly want to sit with the Danes.
Yet he’d arranged for food for her this morning as if she were his equal. Or as if she were someone with whom he was attempting to court favour. Her throat went dry at that thought. What would he stand to gain from her favour? She might have the advantage of sharing Lady Gwendolyn’s bloodline, but she didn’t have a dowry to speak of, not one that a warrior such as Rolfe could command. He could take a wife who would bring an estate to the marriage, or at least a hefty amount of silver. Why would he want her? And why did the idea of him pursuing her in that way send pleasure spiralling through her?
It was too early to figure out those things, so she shook her head and looked for her shoes. He was a puzzle she wasn’t quite able to work her way through just yet. She had slept in her clothes precisely so that she wouldn’t have to dress this morning and risk exposing the jewel, so at least there was no need for her to dress. Shoes found, she ran a comb through her hair and quickly plaited the length of it in the near darkness. Grabbing her thickest cloak, she made her way downstairs.
The entire hall seemed to be asleep, so she trod carefully lest she wake one of them. Now that it was colder at night, more of the warriors had begun to sleep inside so she wound her way around them as she walked to the front door. When she opened the door, Wyborn approached, tail wagging, to sniff her palm. She gave the fur on his head a quick pet and he walked back to stand beside his master. Rolfe held the reins of two great horses. Their hooves pawed the ground anxiously. Twin puffs of steam floated up from their nostrils to dissipate in the morning darkness.
‘This is Sleipnir.’ He stroked a hand down the neck of the stallion that he’d ridden into Alvey. His coat was a deep grey that darkened to midnight around his legs. ‘You’ll ride Gyllir. She’s very gentle. I wasn’t certain if you were an experienced rider.’
‘I’ve ridden some.’ Only while travelling occasionally to neighbouring villages or to Alvey. At home there was hardly a need for it.
The mare gave a soft whinny and Elswyth couldn’t resist touching her velvet nose. Her coat was golden and seemed to glow in the pale moonlight of early morning. She rooted in Elswyth’s hand for a treat, prompting a soft laugh from Rolfe. ‘She’s a greedy one.’
Despite the massive beauty of the horses, it was Rolfe who held her in his thrall. Silver moonlight painted him in her generous light, touching his chiselled features with a soft hand so that she was struck anew by his masculine beauty. There was no room in her life for how her stomach fluttered in his presence or the way her gaze was reluctant to leave him. She refused to become what her mother had been.
‘Come, I’ll help you.’ His low voice moved right down inside her to settle deep in her chest. When he moved around his horse to stand beside Gyllir, he held out his hand to her. She took in a deep, wavering breath as she touched his palm with hers. His long fingers closed around hers and he tugged slightly, bringing her to stand before him. There was no explanation for how protected he made her feel. In one easy movement he put his hands to her waist and lifted her to sit astride the horse. She tugged her tunic upward, leaving her leggings exposed from the knee down.
‘I thought you might need this.’ He tossed a thick fur up and around her shoulders before she could say anything. It smelled like him and she had to close her eyes for a moment to savour it. She should push it away and give it back to him, but it was deliciously warm in the morning’s bitter cold. Her own cloak was no match for the frigid air without sun.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered, tying the thick folds closed around her body.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said and pulled a small sack from Sleipnir’s back, pulling out a honeyed cake. Her mouth watered at the sight. How had he known they were her favourite? Lady Gwendolyn always made certain that they were filled with the most deliciously gooey mixture of honey and walnuts. ‘To break your fast.’ He smiled as he held it up to her.
She took it, hardly able to find the words to thank him, but he didn’t wait for her to say anything. He turned and pulled his powerful frame easily atop his horse, the perfect balance of power and grace.
He offered her a nod as he set his heels to the horse and led the way out of Alvey. She followed with Wyborn trotting along at her side and they rode in silence for a while as they both nibbled their honey cakes.
Finally they moved past the small city of tents and made their way into the forest. The silence was broken by the happy calls of the migrating thrushes beginning their day. Their songs were filled with a cheeriness that Elswyth was far from feeling. That blasted stone burned against her belly like an ember that only roused her guilt.
She needed to know something about him, something that would make her feel better about what she’d done. Something that would remind her that he was a ruthless Dane. Of course she wouldn’t go back and not take the stone—Baldric needed to be saved from the Scots—but if Rolfe was really a ruthless warrior, then the knowledge would help to soothe her conscience.
&
nbsp; ‘Why are you taking up so much time with me? Why teach me the sword and bring me honey cakes and be so nice to me?’ That wasn’t precisely what she’d meant to say when she’d opened her mouth, but that’s what had come out and she couldn’t take it back now.
The path was wider here, so when he looked over at her he slowed his pace to allow her horse to come abreast of his. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were soft. ‘Why shouldn’t I do these things for you?’
Infuriating man. ‘You know very well why. You are the commander of one of the most powerful armies in the north.’ It nearly choked her to say those words, but they were true. ‘I am the daughter of a farmer.’
He was quiet, so after a few moments passed she dared to glance over at him to see that he was studying her. His eyes were intense, but she couldn’t begin to fathom what he was thinking. ‘You sell yourself short, Elswyth. You are far more than that. Besides, your father’s farm is the largest in Alvey. He produces enough food and wool to feed and clothe an army. Without that farm, Alvey is weak.’
She had never considered their farm that important to Alvey, but she knew that he was right in his assessment. She’d simply never viewed it in such mercenary terms before. It had always simply been her home. Slightly mollified, she said, ‘Is that it, then? You want to align our farm and village more closely with Alvey?’ It made sense. It was no secret that her father didn’t care for the Danes.
‘It’s what Lord Vidar wants. He and Lady Gwendolyn both want to align all the villages with Alvey. They can see the potential risk in losing your farm.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘You’ve spoken to Lord Vidar about me...about us?’ They must have spoken of marriage. Had anything been decided? Did she even have a say in the matter? Her mind whirled with a hundred questions, only stopping when Rolfe reached over and touched her shoulder through the fur.
‘Only for a moment. He plans for me to wed this winter and he mentioned several names for consideration. Yours was merely one of many.’
One of many. Somehow she hated that even more than she hated the fact that they had spoken of her. Rolfe would wed this winter and it might not be her. She could only sit for a moment as that thought washed over her.
Unreasonably, that cold fist of jealousy tightened in her chest the same as it had the previous morning when the servant had left his room. Someone else could be the recipient of those breathtaking smiles very soon. Someone else could lie upon those warm furs in his bed alongside him, touching and...she couldn’t let her thoughts go so far. But she did recall very vividly how he had looked when he’d stood from the tub. Nude, his skin golden in the candlelight. In her mind’s eye, she imagined him walking towards his bed, only the woman waiting for him wasn’t her and she hated it.
The bitterness with which she hated it surprised her. This was absolute madness. She would not allow herself to be seduced by a Dane, but somehow she was having these thoughts and they were far from pure.
Realising that it had been some time since she’d spoken, she forced herself to nod, not caring that it was a bit jerky and ungraceful. ‘Did you plan to let me know that I was being considered?’
He shifted at her side, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. ‘I thought it best to allow you to get to know me before approaching the subject. If it turned out that you hated me—’ the smile was evident in his voice as he said it, as if she couldn’t possibly hate him ‘—then there would be no need to talk further about it.’
‘I suppose I should feel grateful that you planned to consider my wishes.’
He laughed. ‘The truth is that you had already lured me in before Lord Vidar mentioned your name.’
With wide eyes she looked over at him and he said, ‘I noticed you on the wall the evening I returned. You looked so fierce and resolute, I took you for a lady warrior like Lady Gwendolyn. Then later when you came to my chamber you spoke to me so boldly as if you had no fear.’
‘That’s hardly—’
‘Nay, it’s true. This may seem insignificant to you, but hardly any woman has spoken so boldly to me since I was a boy.’ The dimple shone in his cheek as he explained. ‘I grew up the younger son of a farmer with no prospects.’
She had to stop her chin from dropping. If what he said was true, he’d grown up much like she had. He was a fierce and respected leader, and she had rather blindly assumed that he always had been.
‘It took dedication and years of relentless training to become the leader I am today. I’m told that many find me intimidating. But not you. You’re honest about your feelings, Elswyth, and I like that about you.’
But she wasn’t honest. She wasn’t honest at all. The bloodstone seemed to warm against her as if it had its own internal heat meant to remind her of her duplicity. ‘Do you miss home?’ she asked, because it was the only thing in that entire speech that she could latch on to without feeling even worse about what she had done. Baldric needed the stone, she had no qualms about saving him. Only she despised that she had to lie to Rolfe to do it.
‘Aye, sometimes. I had a happy childhood...for a time, then I left to join with Jarl Hegard, Lord Vidar’s father,’ he supplied.
‘Why did you leave home?’ she asked, sensing he’d left something out.
‘There was nothing for me there. My older brother was married with children of his own and he stayed to work the farm. There were six of us and my parents needed the silver I could send home to them. I craved adventure, anyway. Leaving suited me.’ A thread of bitterness had entered his voice before he went quiet for a moment. Finally he added, ‘For a while now I’ve found myself remembering my childhood and all the trouble I caused my parents. I once thought it was homesickness, but I have no particular desire to go home. I like Alvey. Now I realise that it’s the desire for my own family that’s calling to me.’
She was struck by two things. The first was that he was being more honest with her than she ever thought he would be. The second was that he was being so honest with her because he wanted her to share the life he had made for himself. She could hardly fathom that they were having this conversation when she hadn’t even known him two days ago. He had been but a faceless warrior who would brutally end her people’s struggle for independence. Now he was real and kind and not at all what she’d expected. She had to put a stop to what he was thinking before things went too far.
‘I cannot wed a Dane.’
The words settled between them with a thud, making the silence seem louder and more obtrusive until he finally said, ‘It’s true, then, that you share your father’s feelings about us?’ His voice was low and even, making it impossible to tell his feelings. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.
‘Not precisely...’ She realised that those words at least were true. She didn’t hold the hatred for the Danes as she might have had she not spent months in Alvey. ‘But neither do I welcome you here.’
He was quiet as he mulled that over. Finally the silence became too much and she had to look over to see what he was thinking. She was surprised that he didn’t seem hurt, angry, or even confused by her words. There was a slight heat in his eyes, but it wasn’t fury. ‘Lord Vidar believes that our joining could bring peace. What do you think?’
Would it bring peace? ‘Father would never agree to a marriage, so, nay, there could be no peace from our joining.’
Chapter Seven
Rolfe didn’t respond to her, so they rode the rest of the way in silence. Elswyth had been chastising herself for turning him down with such finality, afraid that he would take them back to Alvey immediately. After all, if he was not attempting to win her favour, then what was the need to spend time with her? She was certain now that’s what this sword practice was about, but when he made no move to turn around she kept quiet, afraid that to displease him further would mean she wouldn’t be able to finish her task.
The sun began to crest
the horizon, throwing the world into shades of grey as she followed him to the edge of the clearing where he stopped his horse and dismounted. Her gaze immediately took in the trees nearest them, looking for one large enough to hide behind so that she could rid herself of the bloodstone. A tall poplar stood about forty paces away. It was easily large enough to shield her and the evergreens crowded around it would help as well. Her palms were sweaty as she dismounted and made sure to lay his fur over the back of her horse. She missed its warmth already as a shiver ran through her.
Rolfe was busy lashing the reins to a tree so the horses wouldn’t wander off to look at her. Thank goodness, because she could imagine how guilty she looked standing there, shifting from foot to foot, already breathless because her heart was pounding so hard. He must have noticed her stare, because he glanced over his shoulder at her. She said the only plausible thing she could think of to explain her fidgeting, ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to use the... Do you mind if I take a moment before we start?’ She glanced towards the tree.
He nodded, turning back to start unstrapping the wooden swords from his horse. She breathed a sigh of relief and hurried off in the direction of the poplar. It wasn’t nearly far enough away to put her at ease, but her fear of discovery only made her move faster. Lifting her skirt once she was safely behind it, she reached beneath to untie the leather purse and breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled it free. At least now she could drop it beneath the limbs of a nearby tree if he came over. Just to make certain, she peered around the trunk of the tree, spying on him through the limbs of an evergreen to make sure he was still busy. He had finished untying the swords and was swinging one, she assumed to loosen his muscles, with his back to her.
Satisfied that she had a few more moments to herself, she brushed the leaves and needles aside with her foot and looked for a stick with which to dig a hole. If she came back with dirty fingers, she didn’t know how she would explain that.
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