by Darby, Brit
“It’s all so bizarre,” Leo mused. “I guess since the marriage plans for you and Cailin failed, the families sought another union between Shona and Lachlan.”
“I remember seeing Edwin the night Thorvald came and took me away,” Cailin said. “I know he was the one who helped the Vikings breach the keep.”
“You were right.” Drake touched her cheek tenderly. “Your father is alive.” Cailin placed her hand upon his, lifted it and kissed his knuckles. “But for how long? What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. But whatever we do, we will do together.”
THYRA WATCHED GUNNAR AS he paced the floor of their room above the tavern. His movements were agitated, his face mirrored his actions. “What is it, my love? You have said nothing since your return from the village. What provoked such a mood?”
“Mood?” Gunnar crossed the short distance between them and grabbed her face with his hand. “My mood is pure fury. I shall kill that fucking Briton if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
Thyra twisted free of his painful grip, her own anger now riled. She rubbed her cheeks where his fingers had dug in like a vise. “You bastard, why do you hurt me if you are angry with someone else? I am not here for you to abuse, Gunnar. Do that again and I will see you sent to Muspellheim, where you shall burn for eternity.”
“Do you threaten me?”
She shrugged. “You are not the only one capable of murder. Think twice before assaulting me again.”
His growl turned into a howl as he lunged at Thyra. This time she sidestepped him, but he grabbed her wrist. He yanked her tight against him, her struggles futile as his arms wrapped like steel about her. “Are you completely witless, woman?”
“I tire of your sour demeanor and heartless treatment.”
“I tire of seeing your sulky face.” Gunnar struck Thyra on the jaw, sending her flying across the room where she crashed into a corner. In two strides he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her up, then tossed her like a rag onto the pallet. Deliberately, he loosened his trousers. “But I tire more of the fact you aren’t Cailin.”
This time Thyra didn’t attempt to run from his anger or his hurtful words. She lay on the pallet, looking up at him. “It seems Cailin was smarter than me, and saw you for what you really were. Tell me, how is it that you fooled everyone for so long? Especially her father. You are quite the actor, aren’t you?”
“Ja! All those years I waited for Cailin, thinking one day she would come around and love me as I loved her. All those years trying to prove my worth to Thorvald, groveling in his wake, following his orders without question.
“I thought I succeeded when he made me captain. I thought he would give me Cailin as I had pleaded for five endless, fucking years. He owed her to me! But he refused. He didn’t care, not about me or whether I got what I wanted.”
His own words made him laugh, though the sound held no humor, only misery. “The gods are still skull-fucking me, aren’t they?”
Wary, Thyra asked, “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he ground out, “I found out that the fucking bishop didn’t kill Thorvald as promised. Edwin brought him here instead, to parade about like a trophy to disgrace his brother’s widow and son. Cailin’s twin! It seems when Thorvald came to Northumbria years ago to steal his son, he took his daughter instead. A cock-up from the beginning, wouldn’t you say? All at the hands of Edwin, that lying bastard.”
“Cailin knew.”
Gunnar scowled. “Knew what?”
Thyra felt something akin to admiration touch her. “She set out to find her father. Last all knew, he lay dead in Miklagard. Yet she has found him alive as she predicted.”
This seemed to touch off the hot embers within Gunnar again. His face grew red and his eyes bulged as if he would burst open from the building fury. “What is it you are saying, woman?”
“I’m saying you should beware Cailin.”
He scoffed down at her. “You believe her visions are real? That she wields magickal swords and Dragons watch over her like guardians?”
“Something like that.”
“Do not be a fool,” Gunnar yelled. “She is but an ordinary woman — a woman who is going to die soon. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yes, my love,” Thyra cooed, though in her heart she knew it was no longer true.
“SHE IS HERE. I know it, I feel it.” Hours later Gunnar watched Thyra as she poured two pewter goblets full of wine.
“So she knows by now her father is alive,” she mused, crossing their room where Gunnar sat at a table, legs outstretched.
Gunnar nodded. “It no longer matters that she knows.”
“And your men? What have you told them?”
He grunted and reached out to take the wine she offered. “They know that the English bishop kidnapped Thorvald, set it up so we all thought he was murdered in Miklagard. They think the bishop was angry over Thorvald’s failure to steal some sacred bones for him as promised. There is no reason for them to think any differently or know I had any hand in the deed.”
Thyra sat across from him, her own wine in hand. She took a sip and set it aside. “So you plan to surprise the bishop before the wedding celebration. Then what? His men are everywhere.”
“I will hear Edwin’s excuse for letting Thorvald live. Before I kill him.”
“Yet you’ll kill him regardless of his answer.”
Gunnar nodded.
“And Cailin?”
“I will find her and kill her as well.” He smiled and she saw an evil glint in his eyes. “Perhaps I will kill Thorvald after I’ve fucked her and slit her throat. I would not wish for him to miss my point.”
Thyra clapped with delight. “May I watch?”
Gunnar lifted his goblet in a salute to her viciousness. “Of course.” But as the goblet touched his lips, he paused, and she saw a sudden glimmer of doubt light his eyes.
Thyra stood, pouting. “Oh, my sweet, I did not mean all those nasty things I said earlier. But you angered me so.”
He merely growled, “Mmmm,” but still did not drink.
With a seductive sway, Thyra walked to his side, took the goblet from his hand and hurled down half its contents before handing it back. She licked her lips and retrieved the wineskin to refill it. Gunnar swilled the remaining wine in the goblet and held it out for her to fill again.
By the time they tumbled into bed, both felt the effects of the wine. Gunnar loosed his trousers before pulling up her skirts to seek his relief between her accommodating thighs. As he pummeled her in his drunken state, Thyra turned her head, looked at the empty wineskin, and smiled.
“LET ME, CAILIN.” NEDAXE took the bone comb from Cailin’s hand and began working the tangles from her hair. The two women sat upon the bed, much as Cailin had once done with her great aunt. But here there were no beautiful tapestries gracing the walls. The inn was humble by any standards, yet Donald had assured them it was a safe place for the time being. It was on the outskirts of Tynemoor, far enough not to arouse suspicion of Edwin’s men, but near enough that any news from the castle traveled fast.
Cailin sighed, the simple pleasure bringing back memories of Hulda and how her dear great aunt used to comb her hair. “You don’t have to wait on me, Nedaxe. You are welcome to spend your time as you wish.”
“It pleases me to do this. You have such beautiful hair.”
Cailin smiled, finding the girl’s demeanor more confident, even happy. When her hair was finished, she turned to Nedaxe and said, “You are a free woman now. You needn’t stay in Northumbria, you know. You can go anywhere you please.”
Nedaxe’s brow furrowed. “I have nowhere to go. You will not make me go?”
“Certainly not,” Cailin rushed to ease her fears. “You are welcome, always.”
Then as an afterthought, Cailin added slyly, “Besides, I would think a certain someone might miss you.”
The blush staining the girl’s cheeks was all Cailin needed to confirm
her suspicions. “Would you miss Leo as well, Nedaxe?”
A little giggle escaped and the girl’s color deepened further. “Yes. He is very kind.”
“Hmmm,” Cailin mused, more to herself than Nedaxe. “I think he feels more than kindness towards you.”
Nedaxe beamed; the amber lights in her dark eyes bright with hope. “More than kindness?”
“Yes, much, much more.”
DRAKE WATCHED FROM THE inn’s balcony as dawn lightened the night, a pink hue cast over the sky he studied. Yet, his mind remained on other matters. The next few days would prove difficult, he knew, but their long journey for justice was going to end soon, one way or another. The final resolution was still to be determined, though, and he worried over the outcome. Of the toll it would take on Cailin.
As if reading his mind, Cailin came up behind him and slid her arms about his middle. He turned and pulled her into his arms, the feel and scent of her comforting. Drake kissed the top of her head and she turned those beautiful violet eyes up to him, filled with love and warmth.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“Very little. There is much that kept sleep at bay.”
She hugged him even tighter. “It has been a long while since you saw your father. Does it cause you worry?”
“Mmmm, our parting was not joyous. I was young and foolish. Do you think he will have forgiven me?”
“Have you forgiven him?”
Drake pulled back and asked, “Forgiven him?”
“Yes, for whatever he said or did that caused you to leave home.”
He sighed, sadness troubling him once again. “Whatever slight there may have been on his part, was mostly my own imagining. He was but trying to be a father to me. Protecting, guiding. But I would have none of it.”
“Then all will be well between you. He is your father, and he loves you. To have you home again will be all that matters.”
He hoped so. “And what of Thorvald?”
“What of him?”
“You’ve traveled a long way and battled great odds to find your father. Will you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“That you forgive him.”
“Have I?”
“Yes,” Drake whispered, “even if you don’t know it yet.”
“YOU ARE A LUCKY man.”
Somehow Leo’s words did not seem to ease the Scotsman’s troubles as they all gathered early the next morning in the inn’s back room. Donald shook his rusty head. “I should’ve been there. It’s not right that my men lay rottin’ in the dungeon an’ I do not.”
Cailin laid her hand upon her kinsman’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “Do not think such thoughts, Donald. Your wife needed you. I’m certain there isn’t a single man that begrudges you your freedom, or the son you helped bring into this world.”
“Was a blessing, a son so late in life. But was not easy for my missus.”
“If we can get to your men, we will right this wrong.”
“Aye,” Donald agreed readily. “There are also the guards that came with the Pictish lord. They were allowed to stay the night in town, considerin’ the lord and his daughter were under the protection of the castle guard.” He shook his head in dismay. “We ne’er expected that bastard bishop t’ come a callin’ with mercenaries at his back.”
“Then I think you can use more men to cover your back, yes?”
Kasimir strolled into the inn’s back room, drawing everyone’s surprised looks.
“I thought you were anxious to resume burning and pillaging upon the high seas, my friend,” Cailin teased him, making Kasimir’s smile widen even further.
“I changed my mind, and are you not happy I did?”
“Yes, very happy.”
“So, my sweet lady,” he said as he laid his elaborately feathered hat upon the crude table in the room, “now we fight?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Now we fight.”
Chapter Thirty-six
EDWIN OPENED HIS EYES, but it took a moment for him to see clearly. He rolled over and pushed the young man from his bed. “Get up, Charles,” he mumbled as the boy stretched, like a lazy cat awakened from a nap. “And get out,” he snapped, irritated by the sunlight that splashed in through the window onto the bed.
A half-smile tilted his bedmate’s lips. “Perhaps I can make you less grumpy.” He started to crawl back in to bed, his nakedness clearly showing his intent. “I believe I am still hungry for your ass, Your Grace.”
Edwin considered his offer, finding the size of Charles’ cock tempting. For such a slender lad, he was prodigiously endowed. “No, you’ve had all night to fulfill my desires. I need to sleep a few hours, it would not do for the presiding bishop to be hung-over and spent at the ceremony. And I must conserve my energy for the little bride-to-be tonight. So begone with you.”
A jealous look came into the youth’s sweet brown eyes and his full lips pursed in a pout. “Surely that girl won’t please you tonight like I do.”
With a deep sigh, Edwin rose from the bed and pulled his robes on. “No, that is true. But there is something about fucking a tight little virgin that even I cannot resist.”
“Well,” Charles quipped, “tight little virgin girls are easily spoilt. Then what will you do to keep it up?”
“Perhaps while I busy myself with her, you will be occupied as well. I think that might please us both enough.”
Edwin grabbed Charles around the neck and pulled him tight against him, his lips seeking the lad’s in a long kiss goodbye. When he let Charles go, the look on the young man’s face told Edwin he would be anxiously awaiting his beck and call this night. “Now go, lest I change my mind about your hungry cock.”
As the door clicked shut, Edwin poured himself a cup full of wine and downed it in one long drink. God help him, he felt like shit. But well fucked. Very well fucked, indeed.
When Edwin turned, the man standing in the shadows of his room startled him. The Vik’s large size towered over him as he looked up the broad spanse of chest.
“Saint Theresa’s tits,” he ground out, teeth clenched against the pain of his sudden movement. “Where did you come from?”
Gunnar displayed no visible threat and did not explain his presence, but Edwin was uneasy just the same and babbled on. “I must admit, Gunnar, you are probably the last person I ever expected to see again. So why am I so honored?”
There was only silence at his sarcasm so he poured himself another generous drink. “May I offer you some wine?”
Without even waiting for an answer, Edwin filled another goblet and handed it to the silent Vik. “Oh, pray tell what it is you want, Gunnar. My head is splitting and I really need to get some sleep. You may have heard I am presiding over a wedding tonight.”
“Aye,” Gunnar spoke at last, his deep voice heavy with meaning. “I am well aware of what you have been up to.”
Edwin’s eyebrows rose. “Then out with it, man. What is it you want that brings you sneaking into my bedchamber at this ungodly hour of the morning?”
“I came to speak with you. I thought you would be alone.”
“Really?” Edwin glanced at the door, recalling his lover’s kiss goodbye. “Perhaps if you had come a little earlier, you might have witnessed firsthand why I am so fond of Charles.”
A ruddy stain colored Gunnar’s face as he fought to control his anger. Maybe even his embarrassment. “How is it that Thorvald yet lives, rotting in the bowels of this castle, and is not the carcass you showed me in Miklagard?”
The change of subject challenged Edwin, but he shrugged. “It’s simple. I decided he had more value as my prisoner than a corpse. You were provided with what you needed, proof of his death to his men so you could return home and claim the girl. Did they not believe it?”
“They did. Even I believed him dead.”
“Then our bargain was met. So why are you here?”
Gunnar did not reply, merely grimaced as he drank the sour wine down in one
swallow and set the goblet aside.
Edwin grew suspicious, but the wine and lack of sleep made him careless and cocky. “If it’s your intention to kill me, then do so. At least my fucking head will no longer hurt.”
Gunnar’s continued silence made Edwin feel more at ease. He shuffled across to a chair, the night’s raucous activity leaving him stiff and sore. He should call for his guard and be done with the annoying Vik, but curiosity overran caution.
“Tell me, Gunnar, did you wed and bed that pretty little virgin you were sniffing after? No? Is that what has you so upset? Afraid she may find out the truth concerning your involvement in the whole sordid plot?”
“Cailin was the only one who never believed her father was dead.”
“Yes.” Edwin wasn’t surprised to hear that unnatural girl was somehow the cause of all of this trouble and his mood soured. “That girl has a way of ruining my plans. But there is no possible way she knows the truth of what happened.”
“Then why is she here?”
“You’re the one who’s been drooling after her for the past decade. You fucking tell me!” Edwin grabbed his pounding head and moaned. “No, it doesn’t matter. I want that Thorvald bastard dead. You want him dead. So what the hell is the problem here?”
“That he is not dead. As long as he lives, his men may discover the truth. Then I will have nothing. Not Cailin, nor her father’s ships and wealth.”
Edwin closed his eyes to ease the burning, waving one hand impatiently. “Then I will kill him sooner rather than later. I already planned an execution that will be remembered for years to come.” There was only silence. When he looked at Gunnar again, he saw sweat beading on the other man’s brow and the Vik seemed unsteady, swaying a little. Gunnar was glassy-eyed. Drunk, no doubt. Amused, Edwin felt magnanimous.
“Gunnar my boy, you do not look well. Since you are already here, you may as well be my guest. There are plenty of rooms, even in this little castle. Why don’t you pick one and rest until this eve? I will send for you when the entertainment begins. Let me assure you, Thorvald will not suffer an easy death.”