Wulfgar

by Wulfgar (NCP)(Lit)

  "We will camp here for the night at least," Wulfgar said shortly when he saw her moving toward the horse that had been brought for her use.

  She turned to look at him in dismay. "But … we are only a few days’ ride from Arrus. I am well enough to go on."

  "The horses are too crazed to attempt it now. You would not be able to handle it."

  Alinor gaped at him for several moments and finally turned to study the frenzied dance of the horse. She knew he was right. She was no horsewoman and could barely stay on the back of a calm horse, but disappointment flooded her all the same. Her shoulders slumped. Nodding, she lifted her skirts and moved to the packs that had been piled on the beach, trying to decide whether there was any point, really, in unpacking anything when they would probably be leaving at first light.

  The very thought of food made her feel distinctly ill, but no one else seemed to have suffered the effects of the crossing quiet as much as she had. They had not eaten since they had broken their fast at dawn. She should see what she could find to cook over the campfire several of Wulfgar’s men had built of driftwood they had collected.

  She yelped, dropping the pot she’d unearthed when Wulfgar swooped down upon her. Snatching her off her feet, he swept her into his arms, carried her to a spot near the fire and deposited her. "Sit!" he growled impatiently.

  Alinor blinked at him in surprise, but he said nothing more, merely turning upon his heel and stalking off. She watched him for several moments as he and his men moved about the beach, setting up camp, but looked away when she realized his men kept throwing curious glances at first her and then Wulfgar. Pulling her knees up beneath her gown, she hugged them to her and propped her cheek on her knees, staring at the fire thereafter and doing her best to ignore everything going on around her. She must have dozed, for she awoke to the aroma of cooking food. At once, her belly was of two minds, the one clamoring for something to fill the empty void and the other rebelling.

  She squeezed her eyes tightly, fighting the wave of nausea while she tried to decide whether to yield to the hunger and appease it or if her belly was merely playing a trick upon her and would immediately reject any attempt to swallow.

  She opened her eyes when Wulfgar sat beside her. He was holding out a trencher filled with huntsman’s stew—that manmade concoction whereupon they threw whatever was at hand into it so that it never tasted quiet the same any two times it was cooked and as often as not was completely unpalatable. Alinor forced a smile, but shook her head. "Merci, but I am not ‘ungry."

  He frowned. "I insist."

  Alinor’s smile fell flat. "I do not think I can eat it."

  His lips tightened with annoyance. "You will try, however. You have my child in your belly."

  She sent him a sullen glance but took the trencher, staring down at it in revulsion for several moments. He speared a chunk of meat with his eating knife and held it to her lips. Alinor shuddered, squeezed her eyes tightly and opened her mouth. To her surprise and relief, it tasted quiet good. She chewed it experimentally and finally swallowed. Her stomach protested immediately, but quieted after a moment and she took another bite. She had managed only a little when she became quite certain that she could eat no more if she was to have any chance of holding what she’d already eaten. She set the trencher aside.

  Wulfgar frowned. "You have barely touched it. You will be no more than breath and bones if you refuse to eat."

  Alinor glared at him, tempted to inform him that she did not care if he found her bones unappealing or not. No doubt his precious Freda had been buxom and well rounded for his pleasure. He could stab himself to death on her bones for all she cared! In any case, it was not she who refused, but her belly … not that she trusted herself even to speak that much. The more tense she became, the more determined her stomach seemed to reject the pitiful offering.

  He picked up the trencher and held it out to her again. "Only a little more and I will leave you in peace."

  Alinor stared down at the congealing food and lost her battle. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she thrust his hand away, leapt to her feet and dashed up the beach. She didn’t notice Wulfgar had followed her until he nudged her shoulder and handed her a skin of water. Accepting it gratefully, she rinsed her mouth and spat before she sat back. Uncomfortable now that the bout had passed, she glanced at him. Even in the dim light of approaching night she could see that he looked nearly as pale and shaky as she felt.

  "I could not help it!" she snapped. "If it makes you feel ill, then go away."

  Something flickered in his eyes, but Alinor was far too distressed to take not of it, or even to try to understand it. His lips tightened. "You are an ill tempered wench!"

  Alinor glared at him. "I am not ‘a wench’!" she snarled. "I am your wife."

  "Then obey me," he snarled back at her. "Your parents will be wroth with me if I arrive at their door with you nigh dead!"

  Alinor gaped at him, outraged. "You think I did this on purpose?"

  He stared at her a long moment and then looked away. "Nay. But you must try harder. If you continue this you will not be able to eat at all and you will not have the strength you need for the babe in your belly."

  "I am a brood mare then? I must suppose that is better that being of no consequence at all!" Alinor said hotly, well aware that she was goading Wulfgar into anger, but uncaring.

  He flushed. "An heiress is always of importance," he said tightly.

  Alinor flinched at the comment. She had forced him to admit his reason for wedding her and she should be fiercely glad. She was. It was completely unreasonable that she also felt a desire to burst into tears. She fought a round with her wayward emotions and finally subdued the urge. "I think I will rest now," she said finally, rising with an effort and making her way back to the tent that had been set up for her use.

  She was asleep when Wulfgar crawled beneath the furs with her sometime later, but roused sufficiently to move closer to his warmth. Slipping an arm beneath her head, he snuggled her tightly against his length. Alinor murmured sleepily, lifting her head to nuzzle his neck. He stroked her hair and along her back and she felt a stirring of desire. Gliding her hand downward, she pressed her palm against the hard ridge that had been nudging her belly. He groaned, but caught her hand, and placed it firmly on his waist. "Be still, love. There will be time enough for that when you are well."

  Alinor frowned, vaguely disappointed, but finally decided she was too comfortable and too sleepy anyway.

  To her surprise, she woke the following morning as Wulfgar entered the tent. Settling beside her, he wordlessly handed her a portion of bread and a skin filled, she discovered, with warm milk. She looked up at him in surprise as she sat up and accepted them. "Angus says his woman finds this easier to eat when she is breeding," he said gruffly. "Eat it slowly and do not get up until you do not feel ill."

  Alinor stared at the tent flap when he departed as abruptly as he’d entered. Slowly, a smile curled her lips and warmth suffused her. It was a thoughtful gesture. She decided to accept it and enjoy it, refusing to allow her fertile mind to suspect his motives.

  To her relief, she found that Angus’ wife had been right. The goats’ milk and dried bread went down easily and barely gave her a quiver of doubt that it would remain.

  Regardless, she ate sparingly. It would be better to keep only a little than to keep none at all by trying to eat more than she felt like eating. She lay still for a time after she’d eaten, listening to the men as they broke camp and began loading the horses. Finally, she rose and dressed, rolled the furs and tied them and dragged the bundle outside.

  Wulfgar, she discovered, was waiting outside. Handing him the bundle, she went in search of privacy for her needs. When she returned, the tent had been struck and loaded and the men were already mounted and ready to depart. Wulfgar studied her searchingly for several moments and finally lifted her onto her mount, waiting until he was certain she was firmly seated and had her mare in hand before he mounted his
own horse.

  "We will go first to the home of your father," Wulfgar said as he pulled his horse along side her own.

  Alinor nodded, feeling at once a surge of both happiness and dread. Her father was not going to be pleased that she returned home with a far different husband than the one he had arranged for her.

  "Your father is more like to disown you than negotiate peace," Wulfgar murmured, as if to himself.

  "He will not like it," Alinor said. "But he will accept it."

  Wulfgar’s look was dubious, but he did not argue the matter.

  Chapter Ten

  "What!" Chrétien d’Arrus bellowed furiously.

  Alinor set her jaw belligerently. Beside her, she felt Wulfgar tense. She stepped in front of him. She was fairly certain he would not come to blows with her father, and he had disarmed when he entered the keep, but there was no sense in taking the chance.

  She was glad they had a private audience—courtesy of her mother, who had insisted that they go to her solar for refreshment.

  "He is my husband," she said tightly. "My choice."

  Her father glared at her. "You were betrothed to Jean-Pierre! As good as wed-- or my word is nothing! The contracts have been signed and witnessed!"

  Alinor shrugged. "I wed Lord Wulfgar of my own free will, before a priest, father. It can not now be undone."

  "Indeed it can!"

  Alinor’s heart skipped a beat. She had not anticipated that her father would refuse to see the inevitability of the situation. "Indeed it can not! I am with child! Wulfgar’s child. The church would not grant an annulment and I would not ask for it."

  Her father gaped at her as if she had lost her mind. "A captive bride, wed against her will! I will petition for an annulment. Under the circumstances…."

  Claire d’Arrus laid a hand on her husband’s arm. "Think of the child, Chrétien," she said quietly. "Jean-Pierre would not welcome the child of his enemy, even if you succeeded in having your way. We must accept this and make the best of it. Jean-Pierre is not unreasonable. We can make some sort of restitution for the loss."

  Chrétien glared at her. "Mind your needle, woman, and leave business to men!"

  "My daughter is my business!" Claire snapped. "I told you she was not happy with your choice and no good would come of it. I have no doubt she did it to spite us."

  "I did no such thing, mother!"

  "I took her captive! She had no choice in the matter!" Wulfgar said tightly.

  Alinor gave him a look. "I could have refused to say my vows!"

  "I would have wed you anyway! You would not have been the first bride to take her vows bound and gagged." Wulfgar snarled.

  "Mayhap, but you did not have to!"

  "Peace!" Chrétien d’Arrus demanded. "I know nothing of this man."

  "I am Wulfgar, late of Chittenhold—Saxon," Wulfgar said stiffly.

  Chrétien’s lips tightened. "Landless—and so you seized an heiress to replace the lands you lost."

  Wulfgar’s eyes narrowed. It went against the grain to explain his actions to any man, but he was obliged to consider the rights of a father. "I seized the bride of my enemy, Jean-Pierre, in retaliation for … what was taken from me. "

  "My daughter!" Chrétien growled, glaring back at him. "You made war upon my daughter—you should have challenged Jean-Pierre like a gentleman."

  Wulfgar gritted his teeth. "I did challenge Jean-Pierre … to single combat, to settle the issue."

  Chrétien was taken aback. "You’re saying you bested Jean-Pierre?"

  Wulfgar flushed. "He did not meet me. He sent a dozen knights to take me prisoner."

  "And yet, you are here."

  "Your daughter warned me that he was not a man of his word and would lay a trap for me. Because I was warned, I was able to win free."

  Chrétien glanced from Wulfgar to Alinor and back again. Finally, he sat and gestured for Wulfgar and Alinor to sit, as well. "He speaks the truth, daughter?"

  Wulfgar ground his teeth. He was not accustomed to having his word questioned by any man. Father or not, he was of more than half a mind to return to England at once. He might be landless now, but he was no beggar.

  Alinor laid a hand on his arm. "He is my husband, father, and a man of honor. He brought me here only because I begged him to. I … told him my dower lands would be my husband’s and that he would have his revenge upon Jean-Pierre if he married me. He refused them … until he learned that I carried his child.

  "Where is the difference? You can not tell me Jean-Pierre would have wed me without the dower lands!"

  Her father frowned at her. "If you can not understand the difference, child, then I will not try to explain it."

  "I do not understand the difference because there is none! If he had come to ask for me before the Duke of Normandy invaded his lands, he would have been as eligible as any other … more so that some others. If we had been wed, and then he had lost his holdings in England, we would still only have had the dower lands!"

  Chrétien stared at her a long moment and finally looked at Wulfgar. "Women have no logic."

  Wulfgar’s eyes gleamed. "They do not."

  Alinor looked from one to the other indignantly, but her mother caught her eye. "Come, Alinor. Sit closer to the fire with me. I feel a bit of a chill."

  Chrétien turned a piercing eye upon her. "You are not ill?"

  Claire smiled at him. "No, my love. But I was certain that you and Wulfgar would have more important things to discuss and I wish to speak to my daughter about woman things."

  Chrétien nodded and flicked a hand dismissively toward her and Claire gave her daughter an amused look. Alinor glanced at Wulfgar a little anxiously, not at all certain that she wished to leave him with her father, but her father had engaged him in conversation and he did not look her way. Claire slipped an arm around her waist. "You have not been well," she murmured consolingly. "It is the babe?"

  Wulfgar glanced toward the two women as they settled near the hearth. At a little distance, they were as two peas in a pod, of much the same height and build, the same dark hair, the same large, brown eyes that gave them a look of wide eyed innocence, whatever mischief they might be about. Alinor’s mother could have as easily been thought to be her sister, for she still retained a youthful look about her.

  "She was of much the same age as Alinor is now when Alinor was born. I’d hoped for a son, of course, but I have not been displeased with Alinor."

  Wulfgar dragged his gaze from them with an effort. "Alinor has never spoken of brothers or sisters."

  Chrétien sighed. "Because there are none. Claire bore three sons for me and two daughters besides Alinor, but none lived more than a few years. One never drew his first breath, a second died within a few days. The others were carried off by fever.

  "This is why it was important to me to settle Alinor well—with a strong warrior, capable of defending her and her holdings. I do not have great wealth, but the lands I hold are fertile enough to tempt our neighbors. I would not have been against a love match if Alinor’s heart had settled upon someone suitable, but she favored none above the rest and Jean-Pierre, whose land marches with her dower lands, is widely known as a warrior of merit." He looked Wulfgar over with a slightly more favorable gaze. "You look to me as if you have a good sword arm."

  "I am accounted capable."

  Chrétien shrugged. "We’ll know soon enough."

  Wulfgar’s brows rose questioningly.

  "Jean-Pierre placed a man on Alinor’s holdings before he left to join Duke William. Like as not the man will not yield willingly."

  Wulfgar’s eyes gleamed. "T’would be a pity if he did."

  Chrétien frowned, but in a moment a chuckle escaped him. "You were hoping for as much."

  Wulfgar eyed him speculatively for several moments. "Aye. There is more than one way to draw a serpent from his hole."

  Chrétien grunted. "You will need more men that what you have brought with you."

  Wulfgar shrugg
ed. "I have faith in my men. They have fought many battles beside me."

  "Hmmm. All the same, you and I will have to consider this matter carefully before we leave. I’d just as soon take the land with as little damage as possible. If Jean-Pierre has no notion of what you are about, then he will not have sent word to warn them."

  "I make no doubt Jean-Pierre believes me dead," Wulfgar said grimly. "For I was sorely wounded ‘ere I won free of the trap he’d set for me."

  "But you are fit for fighting now?"

  Wulfgar shrugged. "Well enough."

  "There is no great rush, surely? If he thinks you dead then that is to our advantage. We can bide awhile, give you time to heal as you should and regain your strength."

  Wulfgar frowned, turning to look at Alinor. "Alinor is not well. I would like to settle things and have her comfortable in her own home as soon as possible."

  Chrétien said nothing for so long that Wulfgar became aware of the prolonged silence and glanced at him.

  "Is that the way of it, then?"

  Wulfgar flushed uncomfortably. He could see what was in the man’s mind and his first impulse was to deny it, but it occurred to him quite suddenly that the denial would be a lie. "Aye. That is the way of it."

  * * * *

  Alinor had been in bed for quite some time before Wulfgar joined her.

  Her mother had arranged a small celebration in honor of her marriage and they had feasted long into the night. She had not wanted to leave when her mother had suggested that they retire for the evening, but she was weary from the travel and the events of the day. In any case, she had thought Wulfgar would surely follow her when he saw that she was going to their apartments.

  They had not coupled since they had begun the journey and Alinor had taken great pains to prepare herself for him. She had been anxious that he would come before she had had time to complete her preparations, but when the maids had left at last he still had not come. Finally, she had settled herself in bed to await him.

  In the end, she had dozed despite her determination to wait for him. Despite her exhaustion, however, or perhaps because of her determination, she had woken when he had come in at long last.