Love's Captive Heart

by Phoebe Conn

  Appalled by the prospect of receiving any sort of good wishes from Robert, Celiese opened her mouth to remind him just what she thought of the scoundrel and how little she valued his blessing, but then, knowing he would not appreciate a repetition of her opinion, she kept still. “Why was he so insistent that I speak with him before dawn?”

  “Merely to frighten you out of your wits, and I’d say the ploy was a success,” Mylan commented tersely and led the way through the large manor, finally locating the duke at the rear of the garden. He was practicing his skill with the broad sword, using several of his men as sparring partners. When he saw Mylan approaching he tossed him a weapon and invited him to join in their sport, giving Celiese no more than a stilted nod.

  A request from the duke was never refused; Mylan gripped the hilt of the finely balanced steel sword with a confident grasp. Turning to direct Celiese to a nearby bench, he gave her a warning glance to insure her silence, and she sat down to observe as if they were about to provide a spectacle solely for her amusement. After unbuckling his belt and pulling his bliaud off over his head, Mylan laid them upon the bench next to his bride. He did not discard his chainse, however, for the lightweight linen shirt covered the scars he had no wish to display.

  Turning to Robert he responded readily, “I am not dressed for games, but I will accept your challenge.”

  Robert’s ample mouth curved into the slow smile of a spoiled and lazy tomcat who had just cornered a tasty mouse. He nodded slightly, ready to begin, then raised his sword and leaped forward, his eagerness for the warm, sweet smell of blood shockingly clear.

  When the duke came after him immediately, as though they were embattled in a duel to the death, Mylan had no illusions as to who was the more skilled with a sword, but he had no intention of quitting without putting forth his best effort. The older man was heavier, but agile still, a veteran of many years of armed combat. But Mylan outthought his every move and escaped his brutal blows with a grace that made his evasive actions seem effortless, when indeed they required every ounce of his newly regained strength to accomplish.

  He had little choice. He could not wound Robert and escape his wrath, neither could he throw down his weapon and risk being branded a coward. He had simply to continue to defend himself as best he could and hope the man had already been practicing for a sufficient length of time to become quickly exhausted and call off the match himself. At least the sword he had been given was a fine one; for he could block Robert’s blows without fear the steel blade would snap under the intensity of the man’s assault.

  Celiese sat upon the edge of the wooden bench, her heart beating wildly as Robert swung his sword again and again in a powerful downward arc. When they had first entered the garden he had seemed in a playful mood, but when he had realized that Mylan was going to be so wily an opponent his face had contorted in a vicious snarl, all thought of sport gone as the battle became a real one in his mind.

  She was ready to scream, for she could see what Mylan could not—that Robert had expected an easy victory over his young friend, and each second the match continued he was growing more irate at the unexpected difficulty he had encountered. Surely the rest of his men let him win easily, so he was unused to having to apply his skill in so vigorous a manner and did not enjoy in the slightest having to do so now.

  The staged battle took on so vicious a tone both men were soon drenched with sweat. Celiese could hardly bear to watch, and yet she could not turn away while Mylan’s life remained in jeopardy. A keen observer, she noticed the moment he began to favor his right leg and if Robert sensed his opponent had any weakness he would play on it unmercifully.

  Hoping she might stop the fight before such a disaster occurred, she called out in a cheerful tone, “I beg you, sir, to remember this is our wedding day, and I’d like Mylan to save most of his energy for me.”

  At that teasing comment Robert let out a roar of laughter, apparently grateful for an excuse to end a match he must sorely regret beginning. He stepped back and lowered his sword to his side. “I had forgotten the significance of the day, Michael, but I will leave you with whatever stamina you have remaining.”

  Bowing slightly, Mylan handed the weapon he had borrowed to one of the bystanders and joined in the laughter as if he were greatly amused by his bride’s request. “Thank you, sir, as I do not want to disappoint the lady.”

  “Have you ever?” Robert asked in his usual booming tone, his blue eyes alight with mischief.

  “You will have to ask Celiese, for I’ll not speak for her.” Mylan feared he had disappointed her in more ways than the duke would ever consider, but he kept those failures to himself.

  Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, Robert turned his attention to Celiese. She was smiling still, the delight in her expression far different from the usual cool disdain she had once turned upon him. Her fair curls fell about her shoulders in a fair cascade, framing her exquisite features with a glorious silver haze. Perhaps the ice she had appeared to have running through her veins could be warmed with a little effort, and he regretted his haste in setting her free before he had sampled her favors to the fullest.

  She and Michael were in no position to refuse him any request, and he still might have the time to enjoy the charms of her shapely figure if he delayed the meeting he had demanded she attend to a more opportune time. With that thought in mind he gestured at his soiled clothing and said, “I had planned to talk with you earlier in the day, and as you can readily see my appearance is now unsuited for a discussion on any topic with a lady. You will be here for supper, of course, as we all want to celebrate your marriage, so I will talk with you before we dine.”

  Celiese looked up at Mylan, knowing he wanted to leave immediately, but he did no more than narrow his eyes in the slightest of frowns, and she saw he expected her to agree. “Thank you, I will look forward to speaking with you then.” Picking up Mylan’s cast-off clothing, she walked ahead of him up the path toward the imposing home. “What shall we do? I thought he knew you wished to leave immediately,” she whispered anxiously.

  “I said only that I wanted to leave as soon as you were free to go. Perhaps he did not think we’d wish to spend our wedding night on board the Falcon.”

  She frowned impatiently. “This is not our wedding night. Why didn’t you tell Father Bernard this was our second wedding?”

  “That we were married in what he considers a pagan rite would not have mattered to him. In his view we were not married, and now we are. Did you not feel the same way?” They had reached their room and he held the door open for her to enter.

  She walked to the bed and folded his bliaud neatly upon it before she turned to face him. “I had spent five years in your country, and while I did not fully understand your beliefs, I thought the fact that you held them to be true gave them value. I have always considered us to be married, it was only you who continually said we were not.”

  He could do no more than stare at the bewitching creature who stood so proudly before him. He could detect not the slightest bit of hope or happiness in her emerald gaze. She was regarding him as though they were strangers discussing a topic of only slight interest, and he found her cool detachment impossible to return.

  “Well, Lady d’Loganville, you are now truly my wife in the opinion of those who matter most to you, your beloved countrymen. Regardless of what I now call myself, or to whom I choose to pray, they will forever see me as a Dane and distrust me, but at least whatever sons I give you will be legitimate and free. That was your greatest worry at one time, or at least that was what you gave me to believe.” His amber gaze had a mocking shine, taunting her again with the unspoken accusation that her words had been lies.

  Startled by the unexpected turn of the conversation, she swallowed nervously. “I not only said that, but I meant it. Perhaps you do not prize your freedom as highly as I do, because you have never lost it.”

  “Have you forgotten the brief time I spent as Raktor’s prisoner? Be
fore then, I had been too badly injured to enjoy most of life’s privileges that freedom affords. Perhaps that was the same desperate feeling of helpless rage you felt at being my slave.”

  “Your slave?” she responded bitterly. “I have never been your slave, never! In every way I was a wife to you.”

  He shrugged, as if the truth of what their relationship had been held little interest for him now. “Whatever. Since we now share the same faith and have been married by a priest there should be no further need for discussion of the subject.” He began to walk away, then turned back as an afterthought. “I want to bathe, can I trust you to remain here while I do?”

  “Of course,” she answered as though insulted, but she had not forgotten how desperate she had been to escape the house that morning, and obviously neither had he.

  “Take another nap, if you wish, or send Marcela to bring you something to eat. We have hours to wait until Robert will be ready to see you.” He hesitated to leave her when she seemed so unsettled, but he wanted to change his clothes and go out to the Falcon to alert his crew to their unexpected change in plans.

  “I will be all right,” she promised, her mood too guarded to allow him see how greatly she needed his courage to face what still lay ahead. Even when things did not go in Mylan’s way he had a quiet confidence she envied, for none of her dreams were coming true as she had hoped they would, and she was simply worn out by troubles that never seemed to end. The bed had been a comfortable one, and she would lie down again rather than pass the hours pacing up and down attempted to find some way to outwit the villainous duke when none existed.

  “I think I will take a nap. You’ll find me here later.”

  “Just see that I do.” Mylan strode into the adjoining room so as not to disturb her rest. He bathed quickly, and then dressed in his own clothing for a change and went down to the docks to speak with his men. He wanted them to be ready to sail at a moment’s notice. The river would be difficult to navigate at night, but if they had to flee under cover of darkness his ship would be ready.

  *

  When Mylan returned from his errand Celiese was still sleeping soundly, but the two damp trails her tears had made showed clearly upon her flushed cheeks, and he stood beside the bed wondering what more he could possibly do to insure the delicate beauty’s happiness. He seemed to have succeeded only in depressing her thoroughly, when he had thought marrying her in a Christian ceremony would finally make her content.

  She did not appear to be in the least bit grateful that he had saved her life with his wits alone and with promises to Robert that would take him a lifetime to fulfill. Despite his best efforts, they could not converse without arguing no matter what the subject, and he felt the same sense of hopelessness he had battled all week. He had missed her terribly, but she had apparently dismissed him from her mind, undoubtedly blaming him for the misfortune she had caused herself. Even after he had explained how hard he had labored to save her she had tried to run away from him at her first opportunity. Nothing he did pleased her, not one single thing!

  As he watched her sleep, he recalled there was one time they enjoyed the harmony that should exist between a man and his wife. Unfortunately, the tender peace they found in each other’s arms eluded them with astonishing speed during the rest of their waking hours. Seeing no reason to wait any longer to capture what pleasure he could from his willful young bride, he hurriedly cast off his clothing and slipped beneath the light blanket. He drew Celiese into his arms, covering her face with sweet kisses until she opened her eyes and smiled.

  Snuggling against him to get more comfortable, the pretty young woman’s expression took on a seductive glow as she greeted him. “Mylan, I…”

  “Michael,” he corrected her softly, and then lowered his mouth to her throat to nuzzle her silken skin with playful nibbles. He enjoyed the sweet, warm softness of her skin so greatly that his play swiftly turned to passion.

  “Michael, then,” she replied as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck. She loved his strength, which he held in check to enfold her in the fondest of embraces. She slid her fingertips across the taut muscles of his broad shoulders to enjoy the fiery warmth of his deeply tanned skin. At least he had not been furious with her for the manner in which she stopped his mock battle with Robert, but she had not wanted to see him hurt, no matter how slightly, and the possibility he would suffer a severe injury had been too great.

  “I want to leave here as swiftly as possible,” she urged. “I fear your life is in grave danger as well as mine.”

  “Am I the reason for your fears?” Although he could not believe he was, he leaned back, watching her expression closely as he lifted his fingertips to wipe away the last drop of moisture from her cheek.

  She felt no need to reply to so obvious a question and pulled him into a loving kiss, the only response she would give. She had missed the closeness they had shared during the voyage, when their entire world had existed of no more than the deck of the Surf Falcon and the small stretch of beach where they had made their camp each night. She wanted to return to that joy, to a far simpler time before their lives had become so unbearably complex.

  Mylan sensed the same urgency in her enticing affection that throbbed within his own heart and tightened his embrace, pulling her supple form firmly against his own to savor each marvelous curve of her lithe figure. He spread her shining curls out upon the pillow and kissed her eyelids gently before he brushed his lips against hers. He lost himself in dreams of desire, drawn closer and closer until they were no longer two separate souls but one vibrant being whose heart beat in time with love’s most ancient rhythm. A thousand pretty verses came to mind and yet he gave voice to none, afraid to speak for fear of breaking her captivating spell.

  She hugged him even more tightly, longing for the pleasure that swelled within her to sweep them both away. His touch teased her senses; drawing the joy he had begun with his gentle kisses to the blissful peak of rapture. This was the reason they had been born, to become as one, and she spoke his name in a deliriously happy sigh, remembering this time to call him Michael.

  Mylan could not bear to release his bride when the love they had shared had again been perfection. It had been the same tantalizing ecstasy for them both from the beginning. He had promised to teach a young woman he had thought little more than a beautiful child the wonders of passion, but she had known far more than he of the gentle art of love. That was her secret; he realized with a sly grin, her tender touch seared his flesh with the heat of flames. He could think of no way to inspire the same devotion in her heart, if the depth of his emotions were not returned in kind.

  “That is a marvelous smile, are you at last content?” Celiese purred softly as she lifted her fingertips to his lips, gently outlining their shape.

  “It is you who must be content to give Robert the answers he seeks. I wanted only to put you in so blissful a mood, if such a thing is even possible, that you will please him.” He meant to tease her, but had to grab her wrists to avoid being slapped for that jest.

  “I want your affection to be for me, not for his benefit!” she cried out indignantly, crushed that he had be so underhanded in his purpose.

  “Why do my words always confuse you so when my kiss never does?” he inquired thoughtfully. He lowered his mouth to hers, stilling her complaints with a slow, sweet kiss that left her again languidly relaxed in his arms.

  Her luminous green gaze swept his tender expression, hoping for some sign of agreement as she asked, “Must I see that horrible man again? Couldn’t we simply leave Rouen now?”

  “Yes,” he responded agreeably, but he explained the conditions. “If you’ve changed your mind about wishing to remain here in France, then we can walk out of his house now and be gone before he has sense enough to realize what we’ve done. We would have to make haste for Denmark and never return to these shores. Are you now prepared to abandon the cause that brought you home in the first place?”

  He held his breath
, praying she wanted only to return to his farm and be his wife, as if no other consideration would ever occupy her heart or thoughts. She still wore Thor’s small silver hammer and he brought it to his lips, kissing the charm for good luck, despite his recent conversion to her faith. He would gladly seek help from whatever sympathetic source he found available, if he could win her for his own.

  She gave his words careful thought, and then shook her head. “That would be a cowardly thing to do, and neither of us lacks the courage to follow through on our convictions.” She saw his gaze darken as he moved away and knew her answer had displeased him, but it had been the truth and she could not avoid speaking it.

  Their loving mood shattered by the response she had given to her own question, Mylan spoke gruffly as he gathered up the clothing he had scattered about the floor in his haste to join her in the high bed. “When you are dressed we will seek out Robert, and I hope your common sense rather than your courage will prevail.”

  Recalling the way the duke had looked at her that day with a lust he had made little effort to conceal, Celiese grew even more apprehensive about their meeting. “Michael?” She sat up, clutching the lightweight blanket to her breast as she called to him. “You will stay with me, won’t you? I won’t have to face him alone?”

  Not understanding the reason for her concern, he returned to sit upon the edge of their bed. “It matters little whether I’m there or not when you must speak for yourself. He will not accept my answers as yours.”

  “But you can’t leave me alone with him!” she implored him frantically, making no effort to be brave now.

  Suddenly understanding her worry, he had little patience with her fears. “Don’t be ridiculous. He knows you are my wife and he would not take advantage of your situation to satisfy his own desires.” He thought her idea ludicrous until he realized Robert had undoubtedly raped dozens of women in the years he and his men had spent pillaging the French countryside.