Passion: His Savage Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  “We should never have doubted him, but, Ulf, that day of the raid . . . I saw him go down, too. I thought he was dead. It is a miracle that he is with us.” Parr’s expression was troubled as he thought of that day.

  Ulf looked toward Brage to find his brother watching him again with a strangely blank expression. “It is truly a miracle that he lives,” Ulf agreed.

  When the food had been served, the women were sent out with trays of ale, mead, and wine to walk among the guests. Dynna brought her tray of ale to Brage, and he took another mug and drank thirstily from it.

  “I am enjoying your celebration, Brage,” Inger purred as she appeared before the table, smiling coyly at him.

  “I am glad,” Brage answered simply. He had seen her making her way to him through the crowd and had been wishing for some way to avoid her. She was an alluring woman, but he did not love her and had no real interest in her and her clinging ways.

  After she had served Brage his ale, Dynna remained standing beside him as he had instructed her to. Inger was annoyed at her presence.

  “Woman, go fetch me a glass of wine,” she ordered imperiously.

  “She stays,” Brage said quickly. “If you want wine, fetch it for yourself.”

  “She is but a servant!” Inger’s face turned red at his callousness.

  “She is my servant,” he replied, “here to do as I bid.”

  Inger was humiliated. She knew Anslak and Kristoffer were staring at her, and she knew that the others who had heard his terse comments knew he was deliberately shunning her. She hurried away, her hope to marry him shattered.

  Brage’s mood was tense. He had had little patience with Inger’s prattle and fawning attentions. The more he thought about Ulf’s betrayal the angrier he became. When he saw Ulf crossing the room toward them, he readied himself for the confrontation. He had waited a long time for this moment. He was going to face his deceitful brother down right there in front of everyone. He was going to reveal him for the treacherous bastard that he was.

  “My brother, I would know why you seem so solemn this night?” Ulf asked as he stopped before him at the table. He had carried his own ale with him and took a drink.

  “Is it so difficult to understand when I know that a traitor shares the celebration?”

  Ulf looked pointedly around the crowded room. “You are thinking of the betrayal tonight when you should be celebrating your return?”

  “I have thought of little else since the day I saw my men slaughtered and I was taken prisoner by the Saxons.” Anslak and Kristoffer could not ignore the exchange, and they listened intently.

  “What do you think? Do you know the one? If you know who it is, I will help you take him.”

  “I have had many hours to consider it. I have thought long and hard about it. And I know who would stand to gain the most were I dead.” Brage’s expression was steely as he slowly rose to stand eye-to-eye with Ulf across the width of the table.

  “Who is it?” Ulf asked, seeing his fury and fully understanding it. His men had died because of this traitor, and Brage was not a forgiving man. “I will seize him for you.”

  “It is you.”

  Twenty

  Ulf’s color faded as he stared at Brage in disbelief, stricken by his accusation. “You question my loyalty to you? You think I could betray you? You are my brother! I have fought side by side with you, and now you accuse me of this! How could you suggest such a thing?”

  “I more than suggest it,” Brage countered angrily, rounding the table to stand before him. “I say it was you!”

  A shocked silence had fallen over the crowd. All eyes were riveted on them in disbelief.

  Dynna was still standing back behind the table, watching as the two men confronted each other.

  “You cannot mean this,” Ulf said.

  “You had knowledge of all my plans,” Brage charged.

  “So did others,” he offered in self-defense.

  “You stood to gain the most with me gone. You would command my men; you would have my ship. With me out of the way, Father would look upon you with even more favor,” Brage accused.

  Brage glanced around and saw his father’s and Kristoffer’s swords against the wall. He strode furiously to them and picked them up, tossing Lord Anslak’s weapon to Ulf. It was a beautiful sword with a golden hilt. Each legitimate son had been given a sword with a golden hilt, too. Brage wielded Kristoffer’s now, its hilt a bejeweled dragon’s head.

  “There is our father’s sword. You have wanted it all your life. Use it now!”

  Ulf was astounded by all he was saying, and he stared at his brother in astonishment. He had caught the weapon and held it in his right hand, but when Brage came at him, ready to fight, Ulf knew he could not risk harming the one he had sworn to protect. He stood tall, his head high, as he said, “I will not fight you, Brage.”

  Ulf took the sword and stabbed it into the tabletop so it stood upright for all to see.

  Brage advanced on him, the sword he held at ready. “Pick up the sword. Fight me like a man.”

  Ulf merely stared at him. “It is true, I knew guilt after the battle when I thought you were dead. But the guilt came from my failure in my sworn duty to protect you. I had allowed harm to come to you and to the other men. I would have welcomed death on the battlefield myself that day. I would have preferred Valhalla to living with the knowledge that I had failed you. So kill me now if you must. Pierce my heart with the sword, as you have already pierced it with your words, but know this. I would die, here, now, a death without honor, before I would allow you to go on believing that I betrayed you. It would be worth the sacrifice of my life for you to know the truth, Brother. I was not the one who betrayed you to Lord Alfrick.”

  Brage was even more furious at his denial. He closed on him, murder in his eyes. He wanted the traitor. He wanted him now. He looked as if he were going to run Ulf through.

  Matilda had been in the kitchen when she realized things had gone suddenly silent in the main room. She came to the doorway to see Brage confronting Ulf. As Brage seemed to be about to attack him, she cried out, “No! Wait! Ulf was not the man!”

  Everyone in the room gasped at her cry and turned to look at Matilda. She ran forward and stood before Brage, putting herself between the men.

  “Do not do this, Brage. I know Ulf was not the one. I was there that night!”

  “You were what?” Brage demanded.

  “Matilda, what are you saying?” Dynna asked from where she stood.

  “I was in the Great Hall the night the Viking came with news of your coming raid.”

  “You know who the traitor is?” Anslak had risen and was coming to join his sons.

  “I watched and listened, and when the man left, I followed him,” she quickly explained.

  “Who is the betrayer?” Brage demanded. “Name him!”

  “I do not know who he is exactly, I only know that he was not Ulf. He was smaller than Ulf, more slightly built. He wore a beard, full and blond, and . . .”

  She looked around the room, trying to match the glimpse of the face she had seen in the moonlight that night with one of the men there, but to no avail. And then her gaze fell to the sword Brage was holding, and she gasped.

  “The sword! That is the one the man was carrying! I saw that dragon’s head in the moonlight, and I remember thinking how wicked it looked with the jewels gleaming in its eyes!”

  A totally stunned silence fell as Brage stared down at Kristoffer’s weapon. He turned slowly to find his brother getting to his feet and backing away.

  “She is daft!” Kris said. “What has she to gain by telling such lies? Is not her mistress a liar, and she has now proven herself to be one, too?”

  “Kristoffer!” Anslak pulled his sword free from the table-top.

  Kris glared at his father, hatred gleaming in his eyes.

  It was then, as she caught a glimpse of his profile, that Matilda realized it was Kristoffer. “It was him! I recognize him
now! He is the one who visited Lord Alfrick that night!”

  Kris started to bolt from the room, but Ulf went after him as did Lord Anslak and Brage. He got no farther than the center of the room, when several of the men grabbed him. They dragged him back before the others.

  Brage looked at Kristoffer in shock. Hurt and anger filled him. “Why, Kris? All those good men dead . . . They were your friends . . .”

  “Friends!” Kris spat at him venomously as he thrust himself forward and slammed his hands on the tabletop. He glared at all three of them—Brage, Ulf, and his father. “Your ship! Your sword! Your shield! Your friends! Everything was yours, Brage! The only person anybody cares about around here is the famous Black Hawk. You can do no wrong.”

  “What are you saying?” Anslak bellowed, barely able to keep his hands from him. “You did this thing? You turned traitor. You warned Alfrick of your brother’s raid?”

  “Yes, I did it! And if it had worked, I would have been your sole heir. Both Ulf and Brage would have been killed, and I would have had Brage’s ships and his men. Then I would have been even more successful than the Black Hawk!”

  Anslak could not stop himself from hitting Kris. He back-handed him. “You are a niding, the lowest of the low, a coward among men. I would kill you myself right now, but you do not deserve anything so honorable as death! I would not honor a coward so! I sentence you to banishment for the rest of your days! Be gone from my sight. I do not ever want to see you again. You are no longer of my flesh and my blood!” he finished in disgust.

  “Do you think I care now? Having lived in the shadow of the magnificent Black Hawk for all these years, it matters not to me to be sent from here! Never did I do anything to earn your praise! Never did I please you as Brage did!”

  His hatred, unleashed now for the first time was a vicious, consuming thing. Anslak never before had suspected that young Kris harbored such violent emotions. Never before had he believed the boy capable of such madness.

  “Take him from my sight! I have only two sons. I have only Ulf and Brage.”

  Brage turned away from Kris and went to Ulf. He stood before his brother, his friend, his ally. His expression was grave. “I have done you a great wrong, Ulf.”

  Ulf looked Brage straight in the eye, respecting him for his courage in admitting he was wrong. All this time, he had been feeling guilt over his inability to have saved his brother’s life that day. It had weighed on his soul and had haunted his every waking hour. “And I did not keep my vow to protect your back. I thought you were dead. In the beginning, I would rather it had been me slain on the field of battle. Then when we learned you were alive, it was almost worse for me, for I had sentenced you to imprisonment by abandoning you in your time of need.”

  “No, it was never of your doing. You did not fail me. I failed you. To doubt you as I have after all these years . . .” Brage put his hand on his shoulder. “It was wrong. I am sorry.”

  “Treachery and hatred conspired against us. You are my brother. You are my friend.”

  “To show you my thanks, I would give you anything I have. You have but to name it, Brother, and it is yours,” Brage offered.

  “There is no need to make such an offer. This was a misunderstanding, nothing more. All is well between us.” Brage had been prepared to hand over his longship, his sword, his home. His refusal to take anything just reinforced all the good things Brage had always known about him. They embraced.

  As they moved apart, Ulf grinned and said, “There is one thing I would ask of you.”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you sell the slave Matilda to me? I want to free her so I can take her as my wife.”

  “Sell her? Nay, I free her now. It is done. I announce before all that Matilda is freed. I think you must be the one to make her your wife. I have no such power.”

  Ulf and Brage embraced again. Peace was restored between them.

  Ulf turned toward Matilda and gestured for her to come to him. She was blushing and her heart was beating a frantic rhythm as she flew into his arms and hugged him.

  “I was so afraid something was going to happen to you. I knew you could not be the traitor. Your heart is too pure.” She gazed up at him, loving his scarred face, loving his kind spirit and good heart.

  Ulf was touched by her words. “What of it, woman? You are free now. Will you marry me?”

  Matilda looked up at her fierce warrior and smiled gently. “I will marry you, Ulf. I will make you a good wife.”

  A cheer of happiness for him went up around the room. But Kristoffer, who was still being held by the others, broke into the festive spirit abruptly. “You sicken me!” he said coldly, having listened to Brage and Ulf as long as he could. “There were always just the two of you. I was tolerated only because we shared the same sire, never for myself! Remember this, my plan almost worked!”

  “You are a fool, Kris!” Brage turned on him. “Neither of us sought to take anything from you. We sought to give to you, to teach you the ways of honor and battle.”

  Kristoffer glared at them. “You sought to keep me out of your way so you could claim all the glory and riches for yourselves!”

  “Enough of your ugly words and viciousness!” Anslak bellowed. “Take him from this house. See him bound overnight. In the morning, we will take him into the countryside and release him to his fate of wandering with no family or friends. Perhaps then he will realize what he has lost.”

  Two of the men started to lead Kristoffer from the room. He went easily, not fighting or protesting their hands upon him.

  Dynna had been afraid that Brage was going to be injured. She watched him now, knowing that she loved him. As she had watched him reconcile with Ulf, she knew for certain that she had never met a better man. She only wished that there was some way she could prove to him that she had been forced to betray him.

  It was then that she saw Kristoffer jerk forcefully away from the two men who were holding him and trying to escort him from the house. It was then that she saw him grab one of the men’s daggers from his belt and turn, ready to throw it at Brage.

  “Brage! No!” she cried as she ran toward him, wanting to push him out of the way, to save him from harm.

  As she called out her warning, the others did, too. Brage heard the urgency in her cry and pivoted, ready for trouble. He turned just in time to see Dynna take the knife that was meant for him. It struck her in the back, as she had thrown herself before him.

  “Brage . . .” Dynna gasped his name as her eyes met his and she collapsed toward him.

  “Dynna . . .” He caught her as she fell and lowered her gently to the floor as around them chaos broke loose.

  The Vikings subdued Kristoffer by force and dragged his unconscious body from the house to leave him bound and gagged and locked in a storage room nearby.

  Brage was cradling Dynna in his arms as Matilda came running to kneel beside her.

  “Lady Dynna . . .” Matilda was crying as she stared down at her.

  Brage drew her across his lap, and it was then that he saw her blood staining his hands. He pulled the knife from the wound and cast it aside like a hated thing.

  “You are bleeding . . .” His voice was choked with emotion. “You saved my life . . .”

  Dynna opened her eyes to gaze up at him as he hovered over her. “Far better it be my blood that is shed. I would give my life for you. I would have that night in the tower, but I was given no choice. My mother would be killed if I did not tell Edmund of your hiding place.”

  Brage stared down at her, the dawning of horrible understanding showing in his eyes as he realized the terrible choice she had been given. Edmund had lied and manipulated them both. “I am sorry . . . I did not know . . . I have been a fool not to believe you.”

  “I love you,” she whispered, and then her eyes closed.

  “Dynna?” Brage stared down at her, terrified for one moment that she had died, there in his arms. He held her to him, close to his heart. “Dynna . . . no
. . .”

  It was then that he realized she was still breathing, and he vowed, “I will not let you die, Dynna. I want you with me . . . always.”

  Brage ordered that the healing woman be brought immediately as he lifted her in his arms and carried her through the crowd that parted for him to his father’s bedroom. He laid her upon the bed, then knelt beside it, taking her hand.

  “I love you, Dynna. If you live through this, I will never let anything hurt you again. I swear it.”

  Brage remained there until he was forced to abandon the bedside when Olga, the most skilled Viking healer, appeared. He refused to leave the room, and waited, watching all that was happening. He looked up once and saw Ulf in the doorway. He went to him.

  “She will be fine,” Ulf said reassuringly.

  “She has to be. I knew I loved her, but I did not know how much until now . . . Now that I fear I might lose her.” Brage raised his tormented gaze to his brother.

  “Edmund was a vicious man. He would have stopped at nothing to take what he wanted, and if he could not have it for himself, he wanted to make certain that no one else could claim it either. It is good that you know your heart now.”

  “It is very good. Where have they taken Kristoffer?”

  “He is locked in the storage area, and Father has posted a guard at the door. In the morning, he will see to his banishment himself.”

  “I have always thought I was a good judge of men, but I never suspected that Kristoffer hated us so.”

  “Nor did I. He was a good actor, hiding his true feelings from us all these years.”

  “If Dynna dies . . .” Brage’s unspoken threat to Kristoffer was understood by Ulf.

  “Brage . . .” Matilda came to him.

  “How is she? Will she live?” Brage asked quickly.

  At last a smile softened Matilda’s expression. “It was a mere flesh wound. Lady Dynna will live.”

  “Thank the gods . . .” he breathed.

  She nodded in agreement, and he smiled, relieved. She looked up to see Ulf there. When he held out his arms to her, she went to him. As she rested in the haven of Ulf’s powerful embrace, she said a prayer of thanks that everything had turned out so well.