“My lord,” Aislinn murmured softly. “You have said we are no more than slaves. It is surely your right to give Hlynn to anyone of your choosing, but I pray you will be merciful with her. She has always served well and is willing to do so again but not in the manner of harlot for your men. Her feelings are tender. Do not tread upon them and make her loathe you as well as the men who take her. Please be compassionate. She has done nothing to warrant such cruelty.”
Wulfgar’s brow lowered. “Are you bargaining for another life, Aislinn? Are you set to share my bed that this girl may not have to yield to Ragnor?”
Aislinn took a deep breath. “Nay, Wulfgar. I am pleading, only that.”
Wulfgar stared at her. “You ask much but are willing to give nothing in return. You have come to me for yon Kerwick, now this girl. When will you come for yourself?”
“Is my life at stake, my lord?” she questioned, her eyes searching his.
“And if it were?” he pressed.
“I think I could not find the way to play the whore for even that,” she answered slowly.
“Would you come freely if you loved me?” he asked. His gaze penetrated into the depths of her soft eyes.
“If I loved you?” she repeated. “My love is all I have left that I can give of my own free will. The man I loved would not have to beg me to be a bride or to give him all the rights that brings. Ragnor took what I held for my betrothed, yet my love is still my own to gift a man or withhold as my heart would bid me.”
“Did you love Kerwick?”
She shook her head slowly and answered truthfully. “Nay, I have loved no man.”
“And I no woman,” he returned. “Yet I have desired them.”
“I desire no man,” she said quietly.
His hand caressed her cheek and moved downward to the slim column of her throat. He felt her tremble beneath his touch, and smiled with a hint of mockery.
“I think you lightly ply a maiden’s dream, damoiselle.”
Her eyes flew to his face and she saw that he was laughing at her. She lifted her chin proudly and would have retorted angrily to his quip, but he shushed her by placing a finger upon her lips.
“The girl, Hlynn is bidden to attend you ‘til Ragnor leaves on the morrow. He will not seek long for her ere he finds another. And unless you wish to act in her stead, I bid you stay close upon my hand for your own welfare. It is common truth ‘tis you Ragnor wants and he is no different in that respect than any man of his camp or mine. While my men will keep their distance, his may not. I think you would soon discover the safety of our nest in yonder chamber if left to your own defenses.”
Aislinn smiled and a dimple flirted at the corner of her mouth. “I am quite aware of the benefits of sleeping near you, my lord, if not with you.”
Wulfgar grinned like a devil, and he rose and walked to the door. “You will soon learn those benefits also, my lady. Rest assured.”
At the evening’s feast, Aislinn sat at her usual place beside Wulfgar but found Ragnor had taken a chair next to hers. He feasted his eyes upon the brilliant hair coiled in a glorious mass upon her head. Her creamy skin glowed with a luster of youth and a healthy blush of pink flushed her cheeks, setting her eyes a-sparkle. As she turned to answer a question Wulfgar presented her, Ragnor’s eyes raked her slender form adorned in forest green velvet and lingered a moment where her hair was lifted from her neck, baring a soft, tempting nape. He knew a deep, fermenting hunger that he could not ease, and he felt cheated, robbed of this sumptuous prize by the bastard’s own greed and lust. He bent to her.
“He sends me to William,” he muttered. “But he will not always be able to keep me from you.” He brushed his knuckles gently along her sleeve. “I can give you more than he. My family is important. They can be counted on when I want to further my position. Come with me and you will not regret it.”
Aislinn pushed his hand away in distaste. “My home is Darkenwald. I seek no greater treasure.”
Ragnor studied her. “Then you will go with the man who possesses this hall?”
“ ’Tis Wulfgar’s and I am his,” she replied coldly, thinking to settle the matter, and turned her attention to Wulfgar while Ragnor leaned back thoughtfully in his chair and mused on her answer.
After the meal Wulfgar left the hall for a short time, and Aislinn sought the safety of his bedchamber as he directed her to. But she did not count upon the fact Ragnor waited for her in the shadows of the narrow hall outside the room. He stepped from the darkness, and she halted abruptly in her stride, taken by surprise. A confident smile twisted his handsome lips as he came to her and took her by the arms.
“Wulfgar is careless with you, Aislinn,” he murmured huskily.
“He didn’t consider you had lost your senses,” she returned icily, trying to pull away.
Ragnor’s hand slowly moved over a rounded breast and came to rest upon her hip.
“I never thought the memory of a wench could haunt me as yours has these past days,” he said hoarsely.
“You only seek me because Wulfgar has claimed me,” she retorted disagreeably, pushing at his hard chest. “Let me go! Find some other wench to fondle and leave me be.”
“None pleases me as well as you,” he murmured against her hair, the hot blood surging like a swift river of passion through his veins. He reached behind him and pushed open the chamber door. “Wulfgar will tarry with his horses and his men, the fool, and Vachel has promised to sit at this door to watch upon his return. He’ll warn us with a rap on the wood when the bastard approaches. So come, my dove, we’ve no time to lose.”
Aislinn struggled now in earnest and sought to claw his face, but Ragnor caught her wrists before she could sink her nails in to do him damage and drew her arms behind her, crushing her against his chest. He held her in a savage grip as he grinned down into her piercing glare.
“Upon my word, vixen, you’re a livelier tart than that simple girl Wulfgar would give me.” He chuckled as he thought of the other man. “He’ll see I am not one to settle for meager fare when a feast of delicacies tempts me more.”
Ragnor swept her into his arms and strode into the chamber with her, kicking the door closed behind them.
“You crawling vermin! You viper from Hades!” Aislinn railed, straining against his overpowering strength. “I’ll die before submitting to you again!”
“Doubtful, my dove, unless you can command yourself to die in the next few moments. Now relax and I will be gentle with you.”
“Never!” Aislinn screeched.
“Then have it your own way,” he replied.
He threw her onto the bed and fell upon her before she could roll away. Aislinn fought him as any wild thing afraid of capture and a fierce battle raged between them. She lunged beneath him in an effort to escape and her hands quickly followed his to replace the clothing he pulled away from her limbs. If her strength would last until Wulfgar came back—But she had no way of knowing when he would return, and she was swiftly losing ground in her struggles to preserve what dignity she had left. Ragnor was tearing at her garments, ripping the gunna from her bosom. She felt his warm, wet mouth upon her breasts, and she shuddered in loathing.
“If you can bed that boar, Wulfgar, with ease,” he murmured hoarsely against her throat, “then you might find real pleasure with a more experienced lover.”
“You stumbling clod,” she choked, straining away from his insistent ardor, “you’re a weedling youth compared to him.”
Suddenly they both started as a loud crash resounded in the room. It seemed to vibrate the very walls of the chamber. With a jerk Ragnor rolled from her and stared agape at the source of that noise. Aislinn struggled up to see the door flung wide and Wulfgar standing inside its frame. At his feet lay the now subdued, limp and moaning Vachel. With a casualness that did not lend to Ragnor’s comfort, Wulfgar leaned against the doorway and placed his foot upon Vachel’s chest. His gaze first swept Aislinn, assessing the damage done to her as she hastily cl
utched her clothing over her bosom and covered the gleaming, pale thighs from his regard, then settled upon her tormentor whose pallor was well justified.
“ ’Tis not my wont to kill a man over a woman,” Wulfgar said slowly. “But you, Sir de Marte, draw my patience perilously thin. What is mine I hold and I can allow no one to doubt my possession. It is good that Sweyn came to tell me of some mischief he perceived brewing here with Vachel lurking in the shadows outside my chamber door. If you had proceeded further on the maid, you might have missed the dawning of the sun.”
Wulfgar turned and gestured outside the chamber and Sweyn came into view. Aislinn sat up and a delicious grin spread across her features as she watched the huge Viking come and drag the well-born Norman from her side. Ragnor struggled and cursed the Norseman and his lord as Wulfgar leisurely smiled.
“Throw his carcass in the nearest sty,” he bade Sweyn and then gestured toward Vachel. “Then come fetch this one here and do him the same. They should find sweet companionship there and reminisce upon the hazards of trespassing upon my property.”
When the room was emptied of their presence, Wulfgar closed the door and turned to Aislinn. She wore a bright, happy smile of gratitude but as he came forward, she quickly vacated his bed.
“Sir Ragnor will surely have reason to want your hide after this injury to his pride,” she grinned, her face beaming with her delight over his humiliation. “Without running Ragnor through you have served his pride a hearty blow. I could not have thought to settle my revenge upon his frame with such thoroughness.”
Wulfgar continued to view her lithe form as she strode jauntily past him like some regal wench, carefully holding the shreds of her bodice together.
“And that must certainly please you well, Aislinn, to have us quarreling over you. Which one of us, I pray, will you be most pleased to be rid of? I am more a threat to your peace of mind than he.”
Aislinn faced him and smiled slowly into his gray eyes. “My lord, you think me a fool? I do not dare walk the simplest path without being assured your claim upon me is my protection. That I have not yet paid for that defense I well know and am grateful for, but I continue to hope you will be of a gallant nature and not demand such unworthy payment from a lady unwed to you.”
He snorted. “My nature is never gallant, Aislinn, least of all towards women. You may rest assured that you will pay and pay well.”
Her lips remained curved in a beguiling smile and her eyes were aglow with a sparkle that would have bedazzled a man less fierce. “I think, my lord, that your growl is worse than your bite.”
His tawny brow arched. “Think you so, damoiselle? Then one day you will wish you had given me more credence.”
With that he blew out the candles and undressed by the glow of the fire, then flung himself upon the bed to take his rest. In the shadows of the room, his voice came stern and harsh.
“On the morrow you will wear a dagger for your protection. Mayhap it will discourage other attacks upon your person.”
With a shrug and a smile Aislinn nestled down upon her bed of furs and sought the benefit of slumber, thinking dreamily of how the firelight played upon his bronze skin and the way the muscles of his back rippled with every movement.
There were only a few descriptive words that floated to Aislinn’s ears of Ragnor’s departure the next morning. Rumors were that the manner of his going was hurried, angry, and darkly silent. Aislinn grinned to herself as she heard, gloating over her good fortune to have seen his put down and went merrily about her duties with a lighthearted mood and step. The familiar and welcome weight of her girdle about her hips and the accustomed dagger in its sheath added to her confidence. She did not feel quite as naked wearing the belt. Wulfgar, himself, had brought it to her as she dressed that morning, and in his usual manner, brushed away her thanks with a satirical quip that spurred her anger.
It was late in the afternoon when Aislinn, sitting beside Erland’s grave with her mother, glanced up to see a man wearily trudging his way through the woods toward the hall. She watched him for some moments sensing there was something odd about his appearance, when suddenly she realized his hair was shaggy and long and his chin was wreathed by a beard. She gasped in surprise but abruptly hid her astonishment from her mother who looked up at the sound. She smiled reassuringly and shook her head and Maida bent her head again to gaze sadly upon the mound of dirt, rocking back and forth as she continued with her low, whining song.
Aislinn cast anxious glances about to see if some Norman had also sighted the man, but no one stirred. She rose with an air of calm that she struggled to attain and strolled leisurely toward the back of the manor. When she was reassured no one watched or followed her, she turned and darted across the clearing into the thickest edge of the swamp then made her way back toward higher ground and the place where she had seen the man, paying little heed to the sharp branches and small shrubs that tore at her mantle as she ran through the woods. She caught sight of the fellow still plodding along through the trees and recognized Thomas, the knight and vassal of her father. With a cry she hailed him, overcome with joy and relief, having thought him dead. He stopped and on seeing her, began to hurry toward her, meeting her half way.
“My lady, I despaired I would ever see Darkenwald again,” he said, tears coming to his eyes. “How is your father? Well, I hope. I was wounded at Stamford Bridge and could not travel with the army when it moved south to meet William.” His face saddened. “These are bad times for England. It is lost.”
“They are here, Thomas,” she murmured. “Erland is dead.”
His face twisted in his grief. “Oh, my lady, ‘tis sad news you bear.”
“We must hide you.”
He glanced up in alarm toward the hall, his hands upon his sword, only now realizing the import of her words. He saw the enemy about the courtyard and where some had approached nearer to where Maida sat.
Aislinn dropped a hand upon his arm in an urgent manner. “Get to Hilda’s and hide there. Her husband was killed with Erland and her daughter slain by thieves. She will welcome your company. Go now. I will follow when I am sure no one watches and bring food.”
He nodded and hastened to escape through the trees. Aislinn stood watching after him until he was well out of sight, then made her own way back to the hall. With Hlynn’s help she quickly gathered bread, cheese and meats and hid them beneath the folds of her mantle. In her haste she passed Kerwick, forgetful of his presence, but he reached out and grabbed her skirts, almost making her drop the food.
“Where is it you go in such a flutter?” he demanded “Is your lover waiting?”
“Oh, Kerwick,” she cried impatiently. “Not now! Thomas is back. I go to see him.”
“Tell me when your lover will loose me.” He held up his chains. “These chains are burdensome and my mind grows weary and dulled. I would have some task to occupy me besides keeping the hounds from my neck. They loose them before me.” He indicated the dogs roaming the empty hall, and asked in desperation, “What must I do to get free?”
“I will speak with Wulfgar this eventide,” she replied.
“What sweet thing will you promise that you have not already given him?” he questioned bitterly.
She sighed. “Your jealousy eats at you.”
Angrily Kerwick yanked her down to him, causing her to drop her bundle, and pulled her roughly across his lap. His mouth crushed upon hers, bruising her lips as he forced them apart. His hand ripped at the fabric over her bosom.
“Oh, Kerwick, no!” Aislinn gasped, tearing her mouth free. She pushed against his chest. “Not you, too!”
“Why the bastard and not me?” he demanded, moving his hand over her bare breasts. His face appeared pinched and hard, contorted by desire, and his caress was rough and brutal. “I have the right, not him!”
“Nay! Nay!” she choked in rage, pushing at his hands. “No words were spoken by a priest to seal our bonds! I belong to no one. Not you! Not Ragnor! Not even Wulfgar!
Only myself!”
“Then why do you crawl into the Norman’s bed like some docile bitch?!” he hissed. “You sit with him and dine and your eyes are only for him. He gives you the slightest glance and your tongue stumbles over words.”
“ ’Tis not true!” she cried.
“You think I don’t notice, when there’s naught else to entertain me?” he railed. “My Lord, you crave him as any starving man craves food! Why?! Why?! He is the enemy and I, your betrothed! Why do you not show me the same kindness? I have need for your body, too. All these months I have remained chaste to honor you. My patience is at an end!”
“Do you take me here with the hounds then?!” she questioned furiously. “Do you care so little for me that you must satisfy yourself as your lowly bedmates do—those hounds?! With no regard for their bitches?! At least Wulfgar does not treat me so!”
He gave her a violent shake. “Then you admit you prefer his embraces to mine?”
“Yea!” she blurted out, tears of pain and anger springing forth. “His touch is gentle! Now loose me before he comes.”
Abruptly he did so, flinging her away with an oath. In the past days as he sat chained with no other distractions for his mind to rest upon, he had watched her with Wulfgar and sensed her affections slipping from his grasp. Always proud and distant with other men, the winsome woman came to surface when she was in the presence of that devil Norman. She was like an unlit candle, slim, cool, remote until that one called Wulfgar entered and set her aflame, and then she became a light that enchanted and beguiled. It was doubly hard for him, her betrothed, to watch, knowing he had never been capable of the feat which seemed so easy for the Norman. And that knight did not treasure his wealth but vowed his contempt for women in a language he thought not understood. That man had stolen his love from him without the simplest effort. Yet if there was a chance of winning her back, Kerwick promised himself, he would take it and snatch her from the wolf’s power.
The Wolf and the Dove Page 11