by Darby, Brit
Carefully, Cailin placed the candle in a holder on the table. She would leave it to burn down, as was customary, yet in her heart, she knew it was for naught. The man she now called husband did not love her. Theirs was a bargain, a deal made between them to preserve their cover so he would help to find her father. Nothing more.
Disappointment weighed heavy on her heart, but Cailin refused to examine the possibility that she wanted more from Drake. She understood the danger lay in having hope; she could not afford to waste her energy and time on such nonsense.
Inge hugged her tightly. “I made our own room ready for you two.”
Cailin looked to the back of the hall and saw the doorway leading to their bedchamber. Hawthorn, believed to have powers of fertility, decorated the door frame as it did the table that they feasted upon.
“Thank you, Inge. You and your family have done so much.”
“We welcome any excuse to celebrate. Magnus and I would have it no other way.”
“Again,” Cailin smiled and squeezed the hands now holding hers, “thank you.”
IT WAS LATE. CAILIN fought the sleepiness that descended upon her, as much due to the drink as to tiredness. Still, she refused to be the one to suggest retiring.
Shyly, her gaze drifted to the bedroom door.
“Cailin,” Magnus hollered over the table to her.
She turned her gaze to him. “Yes, cousin?”
“Would you create a ship of Dwarves for us?”
Drake nudged her. “What is a ship of Dwarves?”
Cailin saw the effects of the night’s drinking on Drake, his eyes too glossy and bright, and the smile never left his face now. Such an endearing, brilliant smile. Tomorrow, it would be gone, and in its stead would be the moody, dark eyes of a tortured, angry man.
She sighed. “Magnus wants me to create a poem.”
“Aye,” Drake nodded, grinned. “Tell us a poem, my sweet wife.”
He couldn’t know what pain it caused her to have him call her wife. Drake didn’t mean it, not literally. Not in a forever sense as it should be said. He merely played the game.
Resigned to telling a story, Cailin closed her eyes to gather her wayward thoughts. The room quieted, waiting. She was aware of their anticipation. Cailin’s gift of Sight made her creations special, a prophecy, recited in the revered artistic form of poetry. Quietly, she reached into her inner soul, searched for the words she would give them.
The vision skimmed over her mind’s eyes. Patiently, she waited. Again, it brushed her with its power, its intent. Slowly, the image of a Dragon claimed her soul, the Dragon swords struck her heart with their pledge.
“The hawksfell holds the Fire of Odhinn.”
The whispered translation for Drake and Leo also echoed from Cailin’s lips. “The hand holds the sword.”
“Its Dragon cries for the reddening of spears. The falcon’s tree is strong, it is prepared to feed the raven.”
“The Dragon cries for battle. The forearm is strong, it is prepared for the killing of enemies.”
Silence. None dared breathe.
“The Dragon’s tears of Freyja shall run red with wound-dew …”
“The Dragon’s gold shall run red with blood.”
“The fire of Odhinn shall be satisfied,” Cailin concluded, her vision dissipating into her heart, leaving her silent and pale.
“God’s blood,” Leo mumbled.
Cailin’s eyes flew open and she looked at him. Again, she saw the fear she created with her words.
“My wife seems overwrought. We’ve tired her to the point of her muttering nonsense.”
Drake stood and pulled Cailin up beside him. She swayed and he lifted her into his arms. “The poor lass can barely stand. I’ll say goodnight for us both.”
He carried Cailin to the bedroom, Inge quietly leaving once she had opened the door for him. Drake laid her gently upon the bed, and she smelled incense of wild rose heavy in the room. Her heart ached; Inge had burnt the petals in a symbolic gesture of love. A love she would never have.
“Quite a poem, my dear,” Drake sat on the bed beside Cailin, his hands pushing the tousled hair from her face. “Can’t say it’s the best note to complete a wedding celebration on.”
“It is what I saw.”
A long silence followed. “It seems you are quite obsessed with these Dragons, Cailin. Are all Norse this way?”
“Does it frighten you? It does Leo.”
“Well,” Drake said with a smile, though his look remained serious, “Leo’s more impressionable than I am.”
“But not as honorable?”
Drake’s brows quirked in a silent question.
“You know you didn’t have to marry me, Drake Talorcan.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No,” she said, and yawned widely. “Be assured, I’ll not hold you to it. I’ll not tether you for life for one simple act of kindness.”
“Perhaps I did not act for your sake, but mine.”
Cailin’s eyes grew heavy. She did not fight the warm, drowsy feeling swarming over her. The bed was soft, the sheepskins thick. “Now you jest, Drake. I am too tired for such jokes.”
Unwillingly, her eyes closed but just before she fell asleep, she thought she heard Drake’s voice, a long way away.
“I do not jest, my sweet. Not of things such as love.”
Chapter Twelve
CAILIN OPENED HER EYES. The room where she slept had no windows, but she sensed it was late. Much later than she ever normally slept.
She sat up. Noises from the hall drifted to her, the sound of women working and children playing, accompanied by the smell of cooking meat and baking bread. Her stomach growled loudly. Despite the tremendous feast the night before, Cailin found her mouth watering in anticipation of the warm bread.
At the foot of the bed, neatly folded upon the chest, lay her clothing, washed clean of the salt and dirt. Quickly, Cailin changed, and then joined the other women in the hall.
“Inge, you should have rousted me from bed long ago. You must think me lazy to sleep half the morning away.”
Inge’s soft hazel eyes told Cailin she thought nothing of the sort. “Your husband thought you should rest as long as you wanted.”
Cailin felt warmth move up her neck and burn her cheeks. It was so strange to think she had a husband, even if it was a sham for a short time only. “But there is so much to do before we leave.”
“All has been taken care of, Cailin. You must eat before you go.” Inge pointed to the bench. “Sit. I’ll cut you some fresh-baked bread.”
“You’ve done so much for us already, cousin. How can I ever repay you?”
“Nonsense,” Inge waved her hand in the air, as if it banished any debt owed. “We are family, and it was our great pleasure.”
Guilt swept away any happiness Cailin might have felt, guilt from the lie they perpetrated on their kind hosts. She thought a moment. “I know Magnus will never allow me to pay him for the horses and supplies, but surely you would see the sense in putting some coin away, in case you might ever have need of it?”
Tears filled Inge’s eyes. “You have a good and kind heart, Cailin. But it is not necessary.”
“I know,” Cailin persisted. “It is what I want to do.”
Inge placed a wooden plate in front of Cailin, the steaming bread heaped upon it, honey and goat’s butter beside it. “Then I cannot stop you, cousin.”
Cailin liberally buttered and honeyed the bread, then managed to eat all Inge had served her. She licked the last sticky dollop of honey from her fingers, contentedly full. She fetched her bag and slid a generous sum of silver coin beneath the plate on the table. It was more than the horses and supplies were worth, but the money she left eased the guilt that lay like a weight on her heart.
Just then, the door opened and the men entered the hall. Cailin turned and met Drake’s direct gaze. Her heart fluttered, then quickened into a harried pace within her chest. Just the sight of him this morning
made her feel as weak as a kitten, silly as a goose. Cailin wasn’t used to such an intense reaction to a man and looked away, suddenly uncertain how to act.
“Good morn, wife,” Drake’s voice was soft, a tone that matched the gentleness in his eyes. “I am glad to see you are up.”
Cailin was wary. What had changed him so completely? It was confusing, mysterious. She must be careful of this new, tender side of him. At least the angry, dangerous side she understood. His current mood she did not.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said, her voice coming out a strangled whisper. Cailin drew near him and cleared her throat nervously. “You should have wakened me.”
Drake leaned in close, too close. His hand reached out and a finger twisted a stray curl from her braid about it. “I thought you should rest while you could. The rest of our journey will be difficult.”
“You thought?” Cailin pulled him aside, away from the others. Anger splintered inside her, fueled by the shame and guilt already festering within. She was normally not one to lose control of her emotions, but they flared into a hot, uncontrollable fire. “Why would you presume to make decisions for me?”
The softness in Drake’s gaze vanished and in its stead was the hard stare she expected and preferred. It did not disarm her quite so much. She was used to Thorvald’s coldness and indifference, and found it easier to reconcile a man’s behavior when he behaved true to his kind.
“Forgive me,” he muttered. “I had no idea it would cause such dismay.”
“Do not let this farce go to your head, Drake. I do not want, nor do I need, a husband to rule me.” Cailin knew she sounded unreasonable, haughty even. But, she couldn’t stop herself.
“Of course not,” Drake agreed, then walked away, leaving Cailin to stand alone, awkward and distressed.
It was Leo who tugged on her sleeve. “We’d better get going, Cailin.”
DRAKE WATCHED AS CAILIN said goodbye to her family. While Magnus presented them with horses and supplies and they prepared to ride out, he thought upon the previous night. He had allowed himself to be drawn into an atmosphere of love they created. What possessed him to marry her?
The ache in his head reminded Drake that he had drunk too much last night. After all, he and Leo had not imbibed strong drink for nearly two years. He should have been more careful, kept control. Instead, he became foolishly sentimental, caught up in the joy of the occasion, the mirage of a family.
His own lovesick words came back to haunt him. I do not jest, my sweet. Not of things such as love. God’s blood, what made him say such an idiotic thing? He must have been drunk. He did not, could not love this Viking wench. He knew nothing of her, only that she had a sensuous, enticing body, and made love passionately, wildly. What else did a man need to know about any woman?
Lust alone might drive a man to declare his love. But Drake reminded himself he was not a callow youth, uneducated in the ways of women. They were cunning creatures, created specifically to tempt men, to beguile them with beauty. It was in their nature to use sex as a weapon, to toy with men’s needs, to bend men to their will. They feigned virtue and innocence, all the while teasing and wicked of heart.
He had to be more careful, lest he lose his senses to a temptress again. One like Boann, or worse yet, Zoe.
As they headed out, Leo rode between the couple, his attention shifting between him and Cailin. He leaned towards Drake and whispered, “What happened to the merry bridegroom?”
Drake’s concentration was broken by his cousin’s question. “What?”
“Last night, this morning, you were smiling, even jolly. I haven’t seen you that happy in a long time, Drake. What happened to break the mood?”
“She happened,” Drake growled, nodding in Cailin’s direction. “That’s what.”
“Oh,” was Leo’s only reply, and as if she had overheard, Cailin touched her heels to her mount’s side and took the lead in a burst of speed. Soon Drake saw the damned raven appear out of nowhere to settle upon her shoulder. She said nothing, setting the standard for the day with her silence.
CAILIN STUDIED THE DARK sky, her back braced against a tree. She drew her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around her legs and huddled to keep warm against the chill of night. Stars glimmered against the black background, the cloudless sky hosting a silver moon.
Winter would not be far off, it warned her even now as the evenings grew colder. It was a difficult journey at any time, perhaps impossible this time of year. Her mind understood this, yet her soul felt the pull of the Dragons. It was unmistakable, undeniable.
After they had stopped for the night and eaten supper, Disir settled in the tree above them. Drake stalked off by himself, his mood surly. Cailin knew she was the cause of it. But she didn’t know how to make it better between them. Perhaps it was better that she not try.
Leo came to sit beside her near the fire. They sat for a long time in silence, but she sensed Leo had something on his mind. Patiently, she waited for him to speak.
“You two haven’t spoken a dozen words between you today,” he blurted at last.
Cailin forced a smile. “I’d think you’d be used to silence by now. Drake doesn’t strike me as a talkative type.”
“Aye, but that doesn’t make him a bad sort, you know.”
“No, I wouldn’t think the measure of a man can be judged by such a thing. I don’t think he is a bad man, Leo. Is that what is bothering you? What I think of Drake?”
“Partially,” he confessed, “but mostly I worry about you.”
Cailin turned her gaze to Leo, his sincere look touching her. “You needn’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
Leo nodded. “I’ve no doubt of that. But Drake’s a hard man to figure, Cailin. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, but I wouldn’t count on …”
He didn’t finish, but Cailin didn’t need him to. “I’m not counting on anything. Like I said, I can take care of myself.”
Leo was silent a while but soon made another abrupt statement. “You must love your father very much.”
“My father?” The sudden change in topic caught her by surprise.
“Aye. You are endangering your life to find him, even when everyone else believes him dead. You must love him dearly to take such risks.”
Cailin knew he waited for her answer, for confirmation that she indeed did love Thorvald. All these years she had longed for her father to be proud of her, true. But love?
“I … I don’t know, Leo.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered in confusion. “I assumed …”
Again, he didn’t finish. “Of course you would assume it so, it’s only natural.” Cailin searched for the right words to explain how she felt about Thorvald. Why she undertook such a dangerous journey. She sighed and plunged into as much of the tale as she could bear to tell.
“I am Thorvald’s bastard, and came to be with him by mistake. He felt great disappointment that I was a daughter, when his heart longed for a son. His legitimate sons died years ago, you see.”
Her own heart ached in the old way at the telling. “I’ve longed for him to be proud of me, Leo, that is true. But it is more my great aunt’s grief I seek to ease by finding Thorvald alive. It is Hulda to whom I owe my life. I will do anything to ease her pain.”
Nearby in the darkness, Drake was returning to the campfire and froze as he overheard Cailin and Leo talking. Something in her voice, the quiet resignation, the weariness, wreaked havoc on his heart. In the still night, their conversation drifted to him so clearly, as clear as the pain imprinted on her soul.
“Sometimes men aren’t good at telling the people they love how much they mean to them.” Leo, as always, tried to see the positive side. Drake smiled in the darkness.
“So I’ve been told.” Cailin sighed.
“It’s true. Not every man’s the sensitive, romantic sort like me,” Leo joked.
Drake couldn’t see the two but knew a silly, lop
sided grin broke across his cousin’s face. He nearly held his breath waiting for Cailin’s response. She gave a wry chuckle.
“Then why did I choose the angry Dragon over the gallant knight?”
Even Leo had no answer this time.
She sighed again. “Good night, my friend.”
Quiet steps approached him and Drake tensed. Cailin materialized in the moonlight before him, but she did not seem surprised to find him there in the shadows.
“Drake, I need to apologize for my harsh words this morning. I sounded like a shrewish fishwife. I don’t like myself much for it now, as I’m sure you didn’t then.”
Every word of her soft and sincere apology vibrated through Drake. It disturbed him to know her presence set him on fire so easily, so quickly. Over and over the entire day he swore he would keep his distance, not allow her under his skin. He was a man of great determination and strength; he would resist her tempting little siren’s song. But he heard himself say, just as softly:
“I’ve already forgotten what was said.”
“We’ve a long journey ahead of us. It would be best to make it as friends.” Cailin offered her hand to him.
Drake accepted her peace offering and took her hand into his. An innocent handshake, yet so deadly to his convictions. He froze, fighting the desire to pull her into his arms. He felt her trembling from the cold, or, perhaps, she too, fought her own secret battle of wills.
Slowly, against his greater judgment, he drew her to him. “Friends,” he whispered. “It doesn’t seem possible, does it?”
“We agreed that husband and wife is out of the question. What else does that leave us?”
“Lovers?” Drake wrapped his arms about her tightly.
She shivered but he knew it was not from cold. “I am afraid. And I’m never afraid.”
“What is it you fear, Cailin?”
“I fear loving you, Drake. I must not. I cannot.”