Love's Captive Heart

by Phoebe Conn

  Astonished to have lost the most tender of lovers with a question she had not thought unreasonable, Celiese made no effort to hurry to follow him. The warmth of his love filled her still, and she was sorry hers had meant so little to him. Finally, she pulled the gray wool gown over her head. Leaving her hair free, she went to join him.

  *

  Mylan awoke the next morning to find Celiese sorting through his clothing. She had laid the garments in neat stacks, but what she had hoped to find he did not know. Not wishing to frighten her as he had before, he yawned loudly so she would realize he was awake before he spoke to her.

  “The porridge is ready. I thought if I hurried I might be able to fashion something I could wear today. I want to go hunting with you.”

  He swore under his breath. “When it takes all your talent to prepare porridge, I do not think you can spare the time to hunt, Celiese.” He turned away as he rose from his bed, grabbing his soft suede trousers but not bothering with his tunic as he went outside to the stream.

  Ignoring his taunt, she chose a honey-colored tunic and trousers that appeared to have had considerable wear and laid them aside. She was not at all certain she could make his clothes fit her and did not want to ruin any of his finer garments if she could help it. When he returned, she showed him her choice. “I think you can spare these, Mylan, may I take them?”

  “No, the color is faded, and there is no point in your wasting your time on garments that are already worn out.” Bending to lift another tunic from those she had laid out, he made a suggestion. “This green is nearly the color of your eyes; take this and the trousers that match instead.”

  “But these are new, they do not look as though they have ever been worn.” She looked up, surprised he would want her to have such nice things. “The green would be handsome on you, too, don’t you like it?”

  Laughing, he went to fill a bowl with the bubbling porridge. “Yes, I like the color, but I’d rather see it on you. Now stop arguing and make something that fits by the time I return this afternoon.”

  Putting the other clothing away, she took the things he had offered. “I will try my best. If I have the outfit completed, may I please go hunting with you tomorrow?”

  He watched the pretty young woman’s shy smile widen until he could no longer refuse her politely worded request. “I will decide tonight, not before, so cease your begging, as I am hungry and want to eat and leave without having to listen to any more of your chatter.”

  She saw his smile as he pretended to concentrate on his breakfast and hurried to his side to give him a warm hug. “Thank you! You will not be sorry. As soon as I have weapons of my own I will help you gather all the pelts you want. I will make you rich, Mylan, I promise I will.”

  “Have you forgotten I am already wealthy? This house may be small, but the farmland is large and fertile. I have many trunks at my father’s home filled with riches beyond your imagining.” Realizing he was bragging shamelessly, he stopped in midsentence, for there was no reason to impress a slave with the extent of his resources. Finishing the rest of his porridge in two hasty gulps, he grabbed his tunic and weapons and started for the door. “You will find needle and thread on the shelf above the chest. Now get to work so you do not neglect your other chores.” After striding through the door he ran the short distance to the edge of the woods, then took up a more cautious pace. Celiese was so delightful a companion in bed it was a shame they could not find that harmony after the sun rose—but she had been most agreeable that morning. Perhaps it would not do his cause any harm to take her with him once or twice. She might find his trails too strenuous and ask to remain at the house, or she might actually be of some use, which he doubted, but he decided, to tell her that evening that she might accompany him a few times just so he could see if by some stroke of good fortune she did possess the great skill she seemed to believe she had.

  After washing their breakfast dishes, Celiese studied the cut of Mylan’s green tunic closely to decide how best to make a garment tailored for his broad shoulders fit a woman. Since there was a generous amount of the soft deerskin, she decided to simply take out all the seams and begin anew to cut the pieces to her more diminutive size. She worked carefully to fashion a smaller version of the tunic, then sewed the pieces together with a double row of fine stitches before turning her attention to the trousers. Since they had a drawstring waist, she hoped she would have to do no more than adjust the length, but she found the fit so poor that she had to rip them apart as well. She spent the entire day working diligently on her new clothing and was amazed when she looked up to see the sun hanging low in the west before she was finally satisfied with her efforts to expand her wardrobe. She then had to race down to the stream to bathe hastily before slipping on the new garments and hurrying back to the house. She began the preparations for their evening meal as quickly as she could so Mylan would have no cause to criticize her for being idle.

  Mylan had again been gone all day, but had spent as much time resting while he attempted to find a clever new strategy to use upon Celiese as he had in hunting. When he came through the door he stopped to stare in wonder, for he had expected the attractive young woman to create a gown from his apparel, not a miniature version of his own attire. She looked at first glance like a handsome boy, but the curvaceous lines of her figure made the mistake readily apparent under more careful scrutiny. Even dressed as a youth she was a beauty, and he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “As a seamstress you’re far more clever than I’d imagined. I am glad to see you chose to make a practical suit rather than a merely pretty one.”

  Insulted, she turned slowly, trying to see what he found so amusing. “I want to go hunting, not attract suitors. I thought my work skillful, are you saying that it is not?”

  The slight frown creasing her brow brought a momentary stab of remorse to his heart, but he quickly forced his weakness for her feelings aside in favor of heeding his own. “I just complimented you, do not beg for more flattery until you deserve it.”

  Suitors! The word exploded in his mind with the pain of a thousand knives being turned in his flesh. That men might make offers for Celiese with marriage in mind was a possibility he had not even considered, but it was obviously a most likely happening in her view, or she would not have mentioned it. That was all he needed, men coming to court her!

  He had so little control over her behavior now he could scarcely bear it, but she would be impossible then. Perhaps the fact that his farm was so remote from any others would finally have some value, at least he hoped it would, for he had no intention of allowing her to entertain male callers. He tossed the small birds he had shot upon the table, then went to place his bow and arrows in the corner to gain the time he needed to control his temper. When he turned he spoke far more softly than he had.

  “Those are tasty when roasted. Pluck them clean and I will build the fire outdoors. Since you are doubtless a fine shot with a bow, I will expect more variety to our meals in the future.”

  “I may go with you tomorrow, then? You promised to tell me your decision this evening.” She held her breath, not daring to hope he wasn’t simply teasing her again.

  “I have much to do here which I’ve neglected, but we’ll go out for a while at dawn. If you are up when I am ready to leave.”

  “Oh, you can be certain I will be,” she purred coquettishly as she carried the fowl through the door. “I’ll be waiting for you—so see you are not the one to oversleep.”

  He chuckled at her jest, but when he awoke the next morning he found Celiese curled up in a chair at the table. She was already dressed in the green suede outfit and was eyeing him with a mischievous delight he found most disconcerting. Stretching to flex his muscles, he wondered how long she had been sitting there waiting for him to awaken. Perhaps hours, she was so determined a creature, and he admired that trait greatly, although he doubted he would have left without her regardless of how late she had slept.

  She had again made a p
aradise of his night and therefore deserved some consideration from him, and he would have shown it. Yet the fact she did not realize that pleased him as well, it was an advantage he would not waste. “Give me a moment, Celiese. Stir the porridge so it isn’t filled with lumps for a change, and I will be grateful.”

  The tall Viking was out the door before she could grab a bowl to hurl at him, but she was certain he had never found a single lump in the porridge she served him. He never seemed to exhaust his list of complaints, however. He claimed the porridge was either too hot or too cool, too thick or too thin, never properly made, but she noticed he always ate his fill and knew his stomach appreciated her cooking even if his pride would not allow him to admit it.

  When Mylan finished his breakfast they left the house, searching for straight branches to make weapons for Celiese as they walked. She went skipping with the enthusiastic gait of a child as she bounded ahead of him, and any game they might have sighted she scared away, but he could not bring himself to call her back. Her joy was infectious, and he counted his pleasure in watching her well worth the cost of a few missed birds. Finally, reminding himself he should be instructing her in the proper techniques of skillful hunting, he caught up with her and bent down to whisper softly in her ear.

  “Let us rest for a few moments, the hour grows late and we need to find something soon or we’ll go hungry tonight.” He stretched out in the closest patch of shade and patted the grass beside him to invite her to join him. “That you are so at home in the forest is more than I’d dared hope, but there is something to be said for approaching prey stealthily rather than dancing over the ground while you sing to yourself. I fear there is no animal, nor fowl living nearby who was not warned of our presence long before we could be sighted or our scents perceived.”

  Sinking down beside him, she realized her delight in his company and the beauty of the day had influenced her to exceed the proper limits of cautious behavior. She brushed the stray curls away from her eyes as she apologized. “I have been very foolish, haven’t I? Would it be better if I followed you?”

  “Not for me it wouldn’t,” he admitted slyly. “But you must not make so much noise, or we will have no hope of having a successful hunt.”

  “I will be so quiet you will forget you brought me along,” she promised sincerely. “Shall we continue?” Seeing his frown as he hesitated to rise, she touched his right knee lightly and wondered out loud. “If your leg pains you, I will massage away the tension in the muscles. That will surely help.” Before he could offer any protest, she began to run her fingers down his thigh with a slow, easy rhythm, her touch that of an expert as she concentrated upon her task unmindful of the effect she was having upon him.

  When the dull ache that seldom left his leg began to subside, Mylan found Celiese’s nearness, as well as her tantalizing touch, impossible to ignore and spoke crossly as he pushed her hands away, “If you are as intent upon going hunting as you claim, rather than merely arousing me, I suggest you stop what you’re doing so we might continue with our original purpose, which was a quest for game!”

  Blushing deeply, she scrambled to her feet and backed away. She had meant only to soothe away his discomfort, not to create far more for herself. It was ridiculous of her to react with such modesty after she had lain with him so often, but still she considered herself to be a lady and expected to be treated as such, no matter where they were or what they might be doing.

  He threw back his head and howled with laughter, for her embarrassment was so greatly amusing he forgot why he had scolded her and could not contain his mirth. “Here, help me up.” He extended his hand, but when she took it he pulled her down across his lap, catching her in an affectionate embrace as he nibbled her ears playfully.

  “You are all the game I want now, for you are far more delicious a treat than any prey we might encounter.”

  She knew better than to pretend an indifference she did not feel and snuggled against him, the pleasure his nearness brought lighting her smile with an irresistible warmth. She wanted so badly to say she loved him, it was nearly impossible to swallow the words as they leapt to her lips, but she did no more than smile as she reached up to kiss him.

  He had never known a more affectionate woman, and he planned to enjoy her favors endlessly, but the lazy warmth that enveloped them turned his thoughts to such sweet ones he was content to do no more than hold her in his arms while he kissed her flushed cheeks lightly. He liked the long sweep of her lashes as she looked up at him, for the dark fringe made her glance all the more inviting, but as he watched her expression the clear green of her eyes darkened noticeably, as if the most disturbing of thoughts had crossed her mind. He drew back, startled that she did not share his euphoric mood.

  “What troubles you, my pet, there is still time to hunt, we’ve not wasted the entire day.” Not yet at least, but he now counted no time he spent in her company wasted.

  Perhaps it was the gentle nature of his embrace, or the keen interest in his gaze, or merely the freshness of the spring day that overcame her usual reserve, but she responded truthfully with a growing worry. “If I were to have your son, would you set him free?”

  Astonished by that totally unexpected query, Mylan grabbed her more securely, nearly shaking her as he asked, “What are you telling me, Celiese? Is this child a reality, or no more than a suspicion?”

  Suspicion was scarcely the word, for she was terrified she might already have become pregnant and wanted to know exactly what sort of life her child would have to face. “I am only asking the question because it is so strong a possibility, not because it has already happened.”

  Relieved, he relaxed his hold upon her slightly. “I see.” Chuckling softly to himself he then offered what he thought to be the most sensible reply. “Just bring me the child when he is born and I will decide then.”

  Infuriated that he would laugh at a matter that was so important to her, she broke away from him and leapt to her feet. “I know a slave’s babe is a thrall too, a slave from the first breath he takes, but I had hoped you would think as much of our child as I will.” The man gave affection in such abundance, but why was it so empty, without the love she craved to inspire? Searching her mind for a way to gain her own freedom and therefore free all her unborn children, she stood proudly as she asked, “If I kill your bear, will you set me free?”

  Getting to his feet and rising to his full height to give himself every advantage in their argument, he continued to scoff at her fury. “Bring me his pelt and I may just do it.”

  “No! I must have your word now,” she demanded emphatically, not in the least bit intimidated by his height and strength as he towered above her.

  That a mere woman, and a slender, pretty one, would suggest such an impossible task was so absurd he felt safe in agreeing. “I’ll give my word then, bring me proof the beast is dead and you shall be free.”

  “It is agreed, then.” She turned away to gather up the branches she had found to make arrows, but her mind was already busily planning strategy. She lacked the strength to shoot arrows with sufficient power to slay a bear, so what weapon could she use?

  Confused by the intensity of her manner, Mylan shook his head in frustration. He knew he should have simply made love to her again rather than catering to her whims by answering her fanciful questions. Her figure bore no sign of incipient motherhood as yet, but he could not help count back over the days since their farcical wedding had taken place. Had she become pregnant that blasted night she would know it by now, and he hurried after her, wondering how he could force that truth from her lips when she had spoken few credible words in the entire time he had known her.

  Chapter 11

  The fields of grain were flourishing, the summer was full upon the land, and Mylan paused in his labors to wipe his brow. He had been chopping the firewood needed to roast the meat for their supper while Celiese had gone to bathe. She would have his bath ready when he finished, but she still preferred the fresh running w
ater of the stream to soaking in a warm tub as he did. Her fair hair sparkled in the sun, her skin glowed with the pretty bloom of youth, so obviously her preference for the chill water of the stream harmed neither her health nor her beauty in any way. He had often invited her, but she would never join him in a hot bath, and the mere thought of their attempting to bathe together brought a mischievous grin to his lips. But in truth, he could not think of the lovely young woman without smiling widely.

  She had mastered each lesson he had presented, and he no longer even considered the prospect of going hunting without her by his side. She had listened carefully to his instructions, and practiced so diligently with her newly made bow and arrows that she had soon proven astonishingly proficient. Were there ever a need, he would not hesitate to send her out alone to bring home game for their table, but the need had not arisen, and he preferred that they hunt together. Her lively wit lit his days with laughter, while her delicate beauty continued to fill his nights with the indescribable joy of love.

  “Love.” He whispered the word softly to himself, knowing her love was merely an illusion, a spell she wove with no more than a seductive glance as she came to his bed, but it was a magic he would never tire of sharing. Despite his every attempt at caution, the delightful young woman had simply bewitched him. But too often of late she had been so lost in her own thoughts she had seemed unaware of his existence. He could fault neither her behavior nor her housekeeping, but he worried still that she held secrets in her heart that might again prove disastrous for them both.

  “Mylan?” Celiese shook out her damp curls as she called his name. He had split enough logs to last them for many weeks now they no longer needed a fire for warmth in the evenings. She could not understand his purpose. “Are you preparing for winter already?”

  Finally noticing he had greatly exceeded his needs; he turned her question aside with good humor. “It is never too early to begin the preparations for winter, for it is long and harsh here, far different from those you’ve known on the coast.”