She nodded. ‘It’s my thought he may stir trouble if he can.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on him,’ said Ina.
‘Do that,’ she replied. ‘We cannot afford internal quarrels now.’
Ina bowed then and left them. Anwyn rose from her seat, by no means sorry to vacate it, and glanced around. Wulfgar’s men were talking quietly among themselves, but their chief was looking at her. In that brief keen regard she surprised a look of warmth that she had not seen there before. It both gladdened and perturbed.
‘What will you do now?’ she asked.
‘Forge a united fighting force,’ he replied.
‘Quite a challenge.’
‘I’ve always enjoyed those—in whatever guise they might appear.’
‘I find it hard to believe that even you could enjoy a challenge that came in the guise of Grymar.’
‘He’s the exception that proves the rule.’ He grinned. ‘A truly ugly challenge.’
Anwyn laughed. ‘A cruel but accurate description.’
Wulfgar had not seen her laugh; it lit her face and made her eyes sparkle, enhancing beauty and rendering it stunning. Her lips might have been formed for a man’s kisses; almost invited them. Moreover, now that he was standing closer, he caught a hint of floral scent from the folds of her gown. It was light but sensual as well and unexpectedly arousing, like the soft curve between her neck and shoulder, a warm hollow just made for a man’s lips. If they’d been alone he might have put that theory to the test… He pulled imagination up short. They weren’t alone and he had no business thinking in those terms. His business was war, a mistress who suffered no rivals.
‘My lord?’ The green eyes met his, their expression puzzled now. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Er, no. Forgive me, I was thinking about military matters.’
‘Of course. It is I who should apologise for detaining you.’ She smiled. ‘If you will excuse me, I have a feast to arrange.’
With that she left him. Wulfgar let out a long breath. Then, having regained his customary composure, he turned and rejoined his men.
Chapter Seven
Jodis regarded her wide-eyed. ‘You’ve really done it, my lady?’
‘Yes. I can only pray that it was the right decision, though in truth I think I had no other choice.’
‘Lord Ingvar isn’t going to like it.’ The maid paused. ‘Lord Wulfgar’s very handsome, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘A pity he were not Lord of Drakensburgh.’
Anwyn stared at her. The maid reddened.
‘Beg pardon, my lady. I meant no offence, I’m sure. I was thinking aloud.’
‘A bad habit, Jodis.’
In fact, the remark had not caused offence; rather it led Anwyn’s thoughts in an entirely different direction. If Wulfgar had been Lord of Drakensburgh… Just for a moment she indulged the thought. The result was a strange fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. How would it be to share his bed? To surrender to his will? The notion did not engender the feeling of instant antipathy that it should have. What she felt was more like wistfulness. She drew a deep breath. Such thoughts were foolish and irresponsible. She had no wish to be a whore, and she had found out the hard way what it meant to be a wife; she would not give a man such power over her again.
Anwyn turned her mind to the matter of the forthcoming feast. It was short notice, but Drakensburgh was well supplied and she was sure that something creditable could be achieved. Accordingly she spent the rest of the forenoon speaking to the servants. If all went according to plan, then it might bring both sides together in amity. Perhaps even Thorkil and his friends might come round after a few mugs of ale.
Wulfgar and Ina took it upon themselves to organise the seating at the feast, arranging matters in such a way that the company was mixed, giving both sides the chance to meet and talk. If they were going to work together, it was an important requirement. Anwyn had made no demur, letting them have complete freedom in this. Her contribution to conviviality was to ensure substantial amounts of food and drink. To this Wulfgar had contributed several casks of mead from the ship’s store. It seemed to be working, too, for the flow of conversation was more or less continuous, and punctuated at intervals by good-natured laughter. It pleased him to hear it. If things went as he hoped, then it would smooth the way for what was to come.
A movement in the doorway caught his eye and he glanced in that direction. Then he was quite still, forgetting even to breathe, his gaze fixed on the woman who stood there. Nor was he alone in this; more than a few covert glances went that way and then lingered. Anwyn seemed not to notice. He saw her glance around the hall and then, apparently satisfied that all was well, she made her way towards him. He took a breath then and found his feet, rising to greet her.
To do honour to the occasion she had dressed with more than usual care that evening. The blue gown was one of her finest, richly embroidered at the neck and sleeves with a pattern of leaves and flowers picked out in green and gold. Matching blue ribbons adorned her hair. It was, she knew, a most becoming outfit, an effort justified by the need to do honour to Drakensburgh’s new allies. However, as soon as she entered the hall she knew there was only one man present whose opinion mattered.
He had risen to meet her and her heartbeat quickened as she crossed the space between them, aware that she had his full attention now. His eyes appraised every detail of her appearance and the blue depths warmed. She saw him bow.
Wulfgar, too, had changed his habitual garb and was now clad in a fine shirt and a tunic of deep blue wool worn over dark leggings. His shoes were of good leather, and a tooled-leather belt rode his waist from which hung his magnificently wrought dagger. The costume was at once simple and elegant, a perfect foil for his warm colouring and dark hair. Looking at him now, Anwyn could only conclude that Jodis was right. He was a very handsome man, dangerously so.
He met her eye and held it. ‘You look like a queen.’
His expression was demonstration enough that the praise was sincere, and the result was to create a real sense of pleasure. He took her hand, guiding her to the chair beside his. The touch burned. To cover her confusion she feigned to look around the room, though in truth she was aware only of the man beside her. A servant approached to fill her cup. With apparent casualness she took a sip. The mead was sweet and mellow and it steadied her.
‘The mood seems convivial enough,’ she said then.
‘That it does. It was a good idea to bring everyone together thus.’
The words were mildly spoken, but they warmed her anyway, like the apparently casual regard he bent on her now.
‘I hope it may create a bond of friendship between us,’ she replied.
‘I also hope for a closer bond between us.’
The words carried an unmistakable nuance and all at once the spectre of temptation reared its head. A temptation she couldn’t afford. This man was a mercenary and she was paying for his strength and his sword. She mustn’t allow herself to forget that if she hoped to remain in control of their relationship.
Fortunately the servants brought in the food just then and diverted attention away from what might have become a difficult conversation. Although she was faced with a succession of savoury dishes, Anwyn ate sparingly. For some reason her appetite was less than usual so she contented herself with watching others and sipping from her cup. The men around them ate with apparent enjoyment, a sight which pleased her greatly. At least they could have no doubts of her ability to run her household well and would be more reconciled to staying awhile.
Her gaze flicked to Wulfgar. He seemed quite at ease, occupying his place as though he had been born to it. In truth, he might have been the Lord of Drakensburgh. She sighed inwardly. If it had been he and not Torstein, she might have been more easily reconciled to her situation. As it was, their lives were destined to touch only briefly. The knowledge brought an unexpected sense of sadness.
Unaware of her thought
s, Wulfgar leaned across his chair towards her. ‘An excellent meal. You are to be congratulated, my lady.’
She rallied and returned his smile. ‘I thank you. The effort has proved worthwhile.’
‘Indeed it has. If this is a foretaste of things to come, my men will never want to leave.’
Her pulse quickened; while they stayed so would he. ‘If so, then the way to men’s hearts really is through their stomachs.’
‘Do you doubt it?’
‘In my experience men have no hearts.’
His eyes narrowed a little, regarding her more closely. ‘Not even your husband?’
Every sign of amusement vanished. ‘Especially not him.’
‘Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She met his eye squarely. ‘Our match was arranged by my father because it suited his purpose. I had no say in it.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’
He could hardly miss the sarcastic edge to the question but, though he knew he ought to let the matter drop, he was curious. ‘How old were you?’
‘Fifteen. Torstein was forty.’
‘Hardly an ideal combination, and yet with good will on both sides it might work well enough. Such things are not unknown.’
‘It may be as you say. I have no idea.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘I was sorry, too,’ she replied. ‘Every day I was with him.’ The tone was unwontedly bitter, quite unlike her usual manner. Then she collected herself and smiled. ‘But let us not speak of unpleasant subjects. This is supposed to be a celebration after all.’
Wulfgar took the hint and the conversation moved into other channels. All the same, her words had given him plenty of food for thought. They also explained her earlier comment about a husband’s tyranny. Again he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Earl Torstein had been that he would so crassly alienate a lovely woman. Most men would give their eye teeth to possess such a jewel and, possessing her, treat her well. It occurred to him then that he was hardly in a position to criticise. Had he not once possessed a fair wife and treated her ill? He winced inwardly. It seemed he might have more in common with Torstein than was comfortable.
Anwyn drained her cup, annoyed with herself for blurting out the details of her marriage thus. She didn’t know why she had done it. Now he knew even more about her while she knew next to nothing about him. What had his life been like before? He had given her a few small details, but otherwise seemed unwilling to speak of the past. Perhaps in that he was right; there was no point in dwelling on what was done.
‘Do you not find it lonely to be on your own?’ he asked.
‘I have enough to keep me occupied.’
‘Work doesn’t take up the whole day, though.’
‘No, it doesn’t. Sometimes I sleep, too.’
‘Only sometimes?’
‘In the first months after Torstein’s death I found it hard,’ she replied.
‘And now?’
‘Less so, now I know that he isn’t coming back.’
He surveyed her steadily. ‘Did you never think of finding a more congenial bedmate?’
‘I have no wish to remarry.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that you should.’
Anwyn’s gaze locked with his, her eyes a dangerous shade of emerald. ‘Nor do I have any intention of taking a lover, my lord.’
‘What a pity.’
For a moment or two she was speechless, hardly able to credit the blatant boldness of that remark. Yet she could see no sign of contrition in his face; on the contrary, the gleam in his eyes suggested keen inner enjoyment.
‘Do you have any idea how provoking you can be?’ she demanded.
‘I have the feeling that you want to tell me.’
‘Had we been alone I would already have done so.’
‘Well, my luck really is out, isn’t it?’
‘It’s no use. I shall not rise to the bait.’
‘Worse and worse—I must try harder.’
‘It seems to me that you are trying enough, my lord.’
Wulfgar laughed. It wasn’t what she expected, nor was the way in which it transformed his face, like the expression in his eyes now. Unable to withstand their scrutiny, she lowered her own lest he should read too accurately the thoughts she tried to hide.
As the evening wore on and the men continued to drink, the jokes became lewder and the sound of ribald laughter increased. The heat mounted with it and the room became stifling, reeking of roast meat and ale and male sweat. Anwyn began to feel the effects of the mead she had drunk. It was sweet and smooth on the tongue but, evidently, much stronger than she’d thought, even taken with food, and she’d had several cups. Any more would be a mistake. She had played her part tonight and to all intents and purposes the occasion had gone well enough. Perhaps better than expected. It was time to leave them to it.
As she rose, the room lurched. She checked, holding on to the arm of the chair, waiting for it to stop. When she opened her eyes she saw that Wulfgar had risen, too.
‘I will escort you as far as the women’s bower, my lady.’
‘I…it’s all right. There’s no need.’
He glanced at her and then towards the company. ‘I think there is.’
She didn’t bother to argue further. He had clearly made up his mind, and the men were fairly drunk. His presence would ensure their behaviour remained within bounds.
Walking with exaggerated care, Anwyn made for the nearest exit, a smaller side door. He opened it and stood aside to let her pass. The night air hit her like a slap, but after the heat and fug of the hall it was blessedly cool. It was full dark now and the breeze tossed the flames in the lighted cressets nearby, sending dancing shadows across the timbered wall and the ground beyond. In the flickering light she could just make out the dark shape of the women’s bower. She turned to her companion.
‘There is no need for you to come further, my lord. It is but a short walk from here.’
She took a step away from him, but the path tilted under her feet. A powerful arm caught hold of her waist and steadied her.
‘The mead is strong, isn’t it?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, really.’
The arm remained round her waist. He was so close she could feel the heat from his body through her gown and, though his face was lost in shadow, she felt the intensity of the gaze bent on her face. Her heart missed a beat. Another arm slid around her shoulders, drawing her against him, and then his lips brushed hers. The pressure increased a little, encountered resistance, became more gently insistent until her mouth opened beneath his. She shivered, but not with cold. His mouth tasted of mead, sweet and strong, as heady as the brew she had drunk earlier. It sent flaring warmth the length of her body as though, deep within, a dormant fire had been kindled. The kiss grew deeper, more intense, seeking her response. As of its own volition her body relaxed against him and yielded itself up to his embrace.
In some part of her mind she could hear a distant faint alarm. This was madness. It was dangerous. She tensed, drew back, turning her head aside, panting. The stars spun crazily overhead.
‘Please…’
‘What would you have, Anwyn?’
His lips grazed her cheek and nibbled gently at her earlobe. The touch sent a delicious tremor to the core of her being. In that moment she wanted to surrender, to let this run its course, and give herself up to the demands of that inner fire. Yet still she could hear the faint warning bell at the back of her mind. She shook her head.
‘I cannot…’
She tried to draw away, but her legs would not support her properly. Without his arm she would have fallen. Moments later another slipped under her knees and then heaven and earth tilted and swayed together as he carried her the remaining yards to the bower. He shoved the door open with his shoulder and followed the passage within, coming at last to the room he took to be her chamber.
S
omeone had lit a lamp and the room was bathed in a soft glow. Wulfgar laid his burden on the bed. For a moment or two he remained still, looking down into her face. The green eyes were wide, their colour deeper now, her lips slightly parted. Recalling that stolen kiss, he knew an almost overmastering temptation to follow it up, to pursue this to its conclusion. He wanted her as he had not wanted a woman for a long time. He wanted to unfasten her hair and remove her clothing, piece by piece, until she was naked; wanted to join her there and make love to her through the night and let the fire consume him. It would be easy. She would not resist: she was lonely and she needed the temporary solace he could give her—solace offered with gentleness. Her whole being cried out for it. The defences she had erected were down now and she was more than ready for him; the mead had seen to that.
He closed his eyes and drew in several deep breaths, wrestling for self-control. He wanted her all right, but not under the influence of mead when she was scarcely aware of what she did. When he took her—and he meant to—it was going to be with her full knowledge and consent. When he took her he wanted her to remember every part of it and to leave her craving more. Her kiss had let him glimpse the passion of which she would be capable, and he knew that nothing else would do.
He bent and drew off her shoes, setting them down beside the bed. Then he pulled the coverlet over her and dropped a kiss on her forehead.
‘Good night, Anwyn.’
She smiled, half-asleep now, and murmured something he didn’t catch. Wulfgar sighed and retreated to the outer door, closing it softly behind him.
When Anwyn woke her mouth was dry and her head pounding. Squinting against the light, she realised that the sun was already high. However much had she drunk last night? Slowly she eased herself onto one elbow and looked around. It was then that she became aware that she was still fully dressed. She had no recollection of how she had got to bed.
Gingerly she swung her legs over the side and stood up. The thumping in her head intensified a little. Crossing to the far side of the room, she reached for the ewer and poured cold water into a horn cup and gulped the contents down. Then she poured some more into the bowl and plunged her face in. The shock revived her a little and she repeated the exercise several times.
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