Maida sat up suddenly with a snort and rose mumbling to herself to lay more sticks on the fire. She stopped short as she saw the great Hun beside the mare and her quicksilver eyes searched about until she spied Wulfgar beside Aislinn.
“Ha!” she grunted. “You sly Normans can find a warm bed in any thicket, can’t you?” She stamped back to her bed but cast a last glare at Wulfgar. “Turn my back for just one moment! Huh!” She flopped down and pulled the blanket high over her shoulders.
Aislinn smiled contentedly to herself and snuggled more comfortably against Wulfgar. Maida was not happy to see this stalwart Norman in their camp, but her own heart swelled jubilantly within her breast to be once again within his embrace and to have his large hands upon her, holding her close.
“Are you cold?” he murmured against her hair.
She shook her head and her eyes shone with more warmth than the fire offered, yet her gaze was cast downward where he could not see and he had no way of knowing she was deliriously happy. Her slim body was pressed full length to his side, and with her head upon his shoulder she knew the full comfort and security of their bed at Darkenwald.
“The babe stirs,” Wulfgar said huskily. “ ’Tis a sign of strength.”
Aislinn bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. He rarely spoke of the child and when he did, she had the feeling it was only to make conversation with her as if to ease her mind some small whit. Yet she grew more troubled each time she caught him gazing toward her belly in mute consideration of it as if by staring at that slight roundness he could find some assurance that it was his babe who grew there.
“It moves often now,” Aislinn replied, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.
“ ’Tis good,” he said and pulled his mantle more tightly around them, ending the stilted conversation as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
In the early morning hours Aislinn came slowly awake as Wulfgar eased from her side. Through half-closed eyes she watched him rise and go into the woods, then she sat up, pulling his mantle close against the chill and cast a glance around at their camp. Her mother still slumbered heavily on, curled in a tight ball as if she would forbid the world and reality to disturb her.
Running her fingers through her long hair to loosen the soft tangles, Aislinn stretched and grew warm within herself at the beauty of the morning. Dew glistened off leaves of grass and bedecked a spider’s airy web. Birds flittered about through the budding limbs above her head and a soft scurrying in the grass proved to be a small furry rabbit. There was a scent of newness in the air and she filled her lungs on its heady fragrance. She sighed, content with the world and its marvels. Her face shone radiantly as she lifted it to the sparkling rays of sunlight invading the glade. How sweet the bird’s song. How sweet the morning dew. She mused briefly on her feelings and the happiness she knew. Why? When in fact she should be disconsolate at having been intercepted. She might see Normandy after all. Yet her heart sang with the fullness of spring.
The sound of Wulfgar’s footsteps came behind her, and she turned to greet him with a smile. He paused, seeming for the moment confused by her manner, and then crossed to where she sat and dropped down beside her. He took up the small bundle she had hastily prepared upon leaving Darkenwald and sorted through it. Raising a questioning brow, he held up their meager fare.
“A joint of mutton? A loaf of bread?” There was a derisive note in his voice. “You must have planned well for this long journey north.”
“Gwyneth guards your larder well. She counts the very grains for meal and surely would have sent out an alarm had I taken more.”
Waking at the first sound of their voices, Maida now rose and rubbed a hip grown stiff in the night. She sneered through a crooked grin.
“You must forgive the child, my lord. Her mind is weak in these matters. She thought we would have seemed the thieves if we took too much of our food.”
Aislinn pouted at her mother. “We would have found more generous provender on leaving William’s lands.”
Wulfgar sneered. “From your kindly Saxon kin no doubt? Those heroes of the north?”
“Those loyal friends would have welcomed us and seen to our needs as victims of the bastard duke,” Maida scolded, chafing at his scorn.
Wulfgar sneered. “William is the king by all acclaim, save you. Your loyal friends, bedamned. The northern clans exact a heavy duty for passage on their roads and many a far richer band than you has arrived quite penniless.”
“Ha!” Maida waved her hand at him in disgust. “You prattle like a raven with the croup. Time will tell who knows the Saxon breed the best, a Norman rogue or one of true English blood.”
She dismissed further argument and made her way into the brush.
Wulfgar tore a piece from the loaf and laying upon it a slice of meat, handed it to Aislinn. He prepared the same in greater proportion for himself and munched thoughtfully on the cold fare, watching her as he did so. His eyes passed briefly over her frayed gown.
“You took no coin nor gold to pay your way?” Knowing the answer to his question before he spoke, he continued with a sour humor in his voice. “I can see some northern laird welcoming you in his chambers, but your mother might have found more toilsome labor to meet the cost.” He laughed low as his gaze raked her again. “Yet had you paid the full toll, cherie, I vow you would have found it difficult to move from pallet to bench.”
Aislinn tossed her head, dismissing his crudities, and daintily licked her fingers. Wulfgar ignored her distain and moved to sit close beside her.
“In truth, my love, why did you flee?”
Aislinn’s eyes opened wide and she turned to him in surprise, but saw the earnest question in his gaze.
“You had everything a maid could desire,” he said, running a finger along her forearm. “A warm bed. A strong protector. A gentle arm to lean upon. Food aplenty and love to keep you busy on a long, cold night.”
“Everything?” Aislinn gasped, finding her tongue in amazed protest. “Oh, I beg you consider what I have. The bed was my father’s who now lies slain in a grave. My protectors I have seen meet the sword or the lash. Indeed, I must protect more than I am protected. A strong arm to lean upon I have not yet found. The ample food is doled out from that which once was mine.” Her voice broke and tears pushed close to the surface. “And love? Love? I am raped by a drunken fool. Was that my love? I am made the slave of a Norman lord. Is this my love? I am chained to the bed and threatened.” She caught his hand and pulled it to her waist. “Feel my belly. Put your hand here and feel the child move. Conceived in love? I cannot say. In truth I do not know.”
Wulfgar opened his mouth as if to speak but Aislinn raged on, shrugging off his hand.
“Nay, hear me out this once and tell me what I have. I am abused in the same hall where I played as a child, any clothes and every treasure taken from me one by one. I cannot call the simplest gown my own, for on the morrow I may see another wearing it. My only pet, a beast of burden, is broken and all be it in mercy, slain. Tell me, my lord Wulfgar, what I have.”
He scowled at her. “You have only to ask and if it be in my power I will bring it to your feet.”
Aislinn looked into his eyes and spoke slowly. “Will you marry me, Wulfgar, and give this child a name?”
He frowned more deeply and turned away to roll a half burned log into the fire.
“The ever-present trap,” he growled, “to snare the unwary foot.”
“Aaah,” Aislinn sighed. “You enjoyed me well enough when I was slim, but now you evade the issue. You need not tell me of your passion for Haylan. Your eyes bespoke the lust as she danced before you.”
Wulfgar jerked his head around to stare at her in surprise. “Lust? I but enjoyed the entertainment.”
“Entertainment, ha!” Aislinn jeered. “ ’Twas more like an invitation to her bed.”
“Upon my word, my lady, I have not noticed you trying to please me half so well.”
“What?” she cried
in amazement. “With this round shape of mine? Would you have me dance and play the fool?”
“You give excuses where there are none,” he retorted sourly. “You are as slim as she and there is naught to stay you. I would enjoy your coddling for once instead of fighting you in bed and being pricked by your tongue.”
Aislinn stiffened and her violet eyes flashed with anger. “Whose tongue does prick, my lord? ‘Twould serve me better to wear your mail than be ever wounded by your jibes.”
Wulfgar snorted. “ ’Tis not my nature to be a cocky swain like Ragnor. I find it hard to cosset a maid, but with you I have been generous.”
“Do you love me perhaps some small bit?” Aislinn asked softly.
He caressed her arm. “Of course, Aislinn,” he murmured. “I will love you every night until you cry out for me to cease.”
Aislinn closed her eyes and from between her grinding teeth an anguished moan escaped.
“Do you deny that my caress awakes in you an answer?” Wulfgar inquired.
Aislinn sighed and murmured simply, “I am your slave, milord. What would you have a slave say to her master?”
Frustrated anger showed in his eyes. “You are not my slave! When I caress you, you come to me in warmth.”
His words brought a deep scarlet flush to her cheeks as she glanced warily toward where her mother had disappeared into the woods, fearful that Maida would return and hear. He laughed in mockery.
“Are you afraid she might learn you relish a Norman’s bed?” He drew up a knee and rested an arm upon it while he leaned a bit nearer to her, bending his head as she bent hers. “You may be able to fool your mother, but I am the one to know. ‘Twas not my lovemaking that made you flee.”
With a cry of rage, Aislinn drew back her hand to strike but found it seized in his. With a quick movement he pushed her back upon the ground and held her there with his weight.
“So, your honor has been abused. Is that why you suddenly flew after these many months?”
Aislinn struggled in vain. His knee was thrust between her own and his arm easily held her immobile. She felt the hard muscles of his body, now tense against her own frame and his large hand pressed against her back. Realizing that resistance was useless, Aislinn yielded and relaxed beneath him. Tears crept from her tightly closed eyes and ran down her cheeks.
“You are cruel, Wulfgar,” she sobbed. “You play with me and decry that which I cannot suppress. I wish I could be cold and uncaring then perhaps your touch would not torment me so.”
He bent low and lightly kissed her nose, her eyelids salty with tears, and then his mouth moved over her lips and even now Aislinn could not withhold the surge within her and answered his caress with passion of her own.
Maida’s voice crackled in the morning air. “What ho! A Norman rolling in the dew? M’lord, should not we mount the steeds instead and be upon our way?”
She cackled in glee at her own words. As Wulfgar sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, he gave the old woman a glare that would have fair split her skull. Aislinn turned her face away from them both and brushed the grass from her skirt.
Wulfgar rose and saddled the horses and brought them forward. His hauberk he folded and lashed in front of the saddle on the Hun, preferring to ride unfettered this bright spring day. Maida groaned as she tried to lift her foot into the high stirrup then found herself seized by the waist and placed astride the ancient mare. Wulfgar stepped around Aislinn, swinging into his own saddle then sat looking down at her. He met her questioning gaze with an amused chuckle.
“The mare is lame and cannot bear you both.”
Aislinn set her gaze coolly upon him. “Am I then to walk, milord?” she inquired haughtily.
He leaned an elbow on the high pommel of his saddle. “Is that not what you deserve?”
Her glare grew hotter but without speaking again she spun on her heels and began the long trek to Darkenwald. Wulfgar smiled and lifted the reins, following her. Maida brought up the rear on the limping nag.
The sun was high and the morning well along when Aislinn halted and flounced down on a log, taking off her slipper to shake a pebble from it.
Wulfgar halted and waited until she looked up, then asked her solicitously, “Does milady weary of this stroll?”
“ ’Twas you who set me upon it, milord,” she replied with much feeling.
“Nay, my love, not I,” he denied innocently. “I but asked if it was what you deserved.”
Aislinn rose and stared at him, then she flushed.
“Oh, you beast!” She stamped her foot but winced as the tender heel struck the ground.
Wulfgar gestured to her and slid back to sit on the skirt of his saddle.
“Come, my love,” he admonished her. “The day will be tiresome as it is and I would soon be home.”
He reached down and Aislinn reluctantly placed her hands in his and with an easy movement Wulfgar swung her up into the saddle before him, guiding her knee around the large pommel.
Maida had drawn up beside them and now sneered at Wulfgar’s attentions. “ ’Tis better to walk than to warm a Norman’s lap, daughter.”
Wulfgar flung a sideward glance at the woman and spoke not gently. “Would you like to escape, old hag? I would gladly turn my back if you will.”
There was a strange sound from Aislinn, but when both turned to her she stared serenely into the distance, yet the corners of her mouth quivered with suppressed merriment.
Wulfgar urged the Hun forward while Maida sulked and grumbled to herself, giving him a snarl behind his back, but otherwise for the next few miles she held her silence.
As the Hun finally slowed and plodded along, Aislinn began to feel a great drowsiness creep over her. The saddle was worn smooth and far too roomy, thus she found it difficult to hold her place upon it. She felt the close warmth of the man who rode behind her and looking down could gaze musingly at his hands holding the reins. They were strong and capable of wielding a mighty sword, yet his long fingers were lean and supple and even gentle when the moment warranted. A sly smile spread her lips as she thought of their strength. With eyes aglow she leaned back full against him and pulled his mantle about her shoulders, laying her head against his neck with her face hidden beneath his chin. The smile stayed as she relaxed and left it up to his strong arms to keep her there. Wulfgar found the chore not unrewarding. Her softness and fragrant scent teased him, yet he wondered again at her sudden change.
It seemed like only a short time had passed when Maida rent the silence with a whining screech. Aislinn came upright, startled out of her dozing, and glanced around at her mother.
“ ’Tis naught but dust I’ve swallowed these many miles,” the woman wailed. “Would you have me die of thirst, you hedge lord, so that you can have my daughter when is thy wont without my bridlings to keep you in check?”
At Maida’s complaints, Wulfgar turned his steed off the road beside a swift flowing stream and pulled him to a halt. Swinging down from the stallion’s back, he reached his hands up to catch Aislinn around the waist and drew her down beside him, lingering a moment to wrap his mantle about her shoulders. He gave Maida a look askance before he went to her side and reluctantly helped her down.
“Huh,” she snapped. “You have much to learn of gentleness, Norman. ’Tis no doubt that rape got my daughter with child, ‘twas naught else from your hand.”
“Mother!” Aislinn scolded, but Wulfgar looked at Maida pointedly.
“How came you by the assurance, old grouse, ‘twas me who sired the babe and no other?”
Maida peered into his face and cackled gleefully. “Aaah, if the wee one comes with the black of a crow’s wing in his hair, then ‘tis Ragnor who played the maid rightly, and if the summer’s wheat falls upon the babe’s pate and disappears into the tuff, then ‘tis bastard’s brat for sure. But—,” she paused, seeming to sample each word with delight. “If the child’s crown springs forth with the red of the morning sun”—she shrugged and hugged he
rself joyfully—“then his sire is not known, of course.”
Wulfgar’s brows drew together before he turned abruptly away, brushing past Aislinn, and led the horses to water. Aislinn frowned at her mother who giggled her delight and scampered off into the woods by herself. Aislinn glanced uncertainly at Wulfgar’s broad back. It seemed now so cold and forbidding that she knew he wanted no company save his horses which he stroked distractedly. With a sigh Aislinn turned and slowly entered the thicket herself, knowing he must settle the problem himself within his own mind.
He was waiting for her when she returned and had sliced bread and meat for them. Her inquiring look found him still broodingly silent and no further words were exchanged between the three as they dined. Maida had noted his temperament and for once carefully held her tongue, desiring no bruises from this Norman knight.
The ride home continued in the same manner, though Aislinn dozed in Wulfgar’s arms and drew some comfort from his gentleness with her. His deep voice speaking low against her ear woke her as they reached the hall of Darkenwald. With an effort Aislinn straightened, blinking away sleep and found that darkness had fallen. Wulfgar swung from the saddle and Aislinn dropped her hands to his wide shoulders as he reached up to help her from the Hun. He set her carefully down beside him and turning to her mother, saw that Maida’s small frame sagged wearily upon the mare. The torches burned beside the great door and by the light Aislinn noted her mother’s face was drawn and bespoke of her fatigue. Aislinn took Maida’s thin arm and spoke softly in her hear.
“Come, I’ll take you to your hut.”
Wulfgar stretched out a hand, stopping her. “I will take her. Make your way to our chamber and await me. I will be there soon.”
Maida looked at him suspiciously before moving slowly ahead of him into the dark. Aislinn paused, listening to the sound of Wulfgar’s footsteps following behind her mother, then fading slowly. After several long moments a dim light was seen in the distance from Maida’s cottage window, and Aislinn finally turned and with lagging steps, trudged into the hall and up the stairs to their bedchamber.
The Wolf and the Dove Page 42