Love's Captive Heart (Author's Cut Edition)

by Phoebe Conn

  Noticing a small bench nearby, she asked shyly, "Could we sit down for a moment?" He appeared to be in the mood to talk and she wanted to give him the opportunity to say whatever he wished. "The night is so pretty."

  "Of course, sit down; I will wait for as long as you wish." Hagen quickly granted her request, but although he walked her to the bench he did not take the place at her side.

  That he would stand so stiffly while she rested surprised her, and she patted the place beside her as she invited, "Won't you please join me here, Hagen, there is room for two on this bench, so you needn't stand."

  He hesitated a moment, and then sat down beside her and leaned forward to rest his forearms across his knees as he gazed at the sea. "I have been meaning to talk to you about something, Celiese. Andrick and I are partners, but since he is so busy I am considering making a voyage on my own. Our crew is experienced, and I can command our vessel alone."

  Sensing that he wanted her opinion, although she could not imagine why, she quickly gave it. "I made a voyage with you once; I'd say your skill is equal to that of your brother. Where is it you wish to go?"

  He sat up straight, his light eyes aglow with excitement. "Do not start screaming, as I have no wish to make you hysterical, but there are many Danes who wish to go to your homeland. We are crowded here, you see, and they say France has land aplenty."

  She gasped sharply, then closed her eyes tightly to shut out the horror his statement evoked. "Is that the tale, that land is free there for the taking now that the Danes have butchered all my people?"

  Insulted by the viciousness of her taunt, he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a sound shake. "A province of France has been given to a Dane, to Hrolf, and he has invited other Danes to settle his land. I will be butchering no one if I take farmers there, and neither will they. Save your hatred for Raktor and his clan, for they are the ones who deserve it."

  She needed no permission to despise Raktor and his kind, but they were not the issue now. "Mylan told me that same ridiculous lie, but I refuse to believe it," she argued. She did not care how angry Hagen got, she would never accept such an outrageous tale as the truth. She held her breath expecting him to slap her for such insolence, but he shocked her far more as he leaned forward to kiss her lightly, and when she was too stunned to draw away he mistook her reaction for acceptance and drew her into his arms.

  She could scarcely breathe as he deepened his kiss. His lips were soft, his mouth warm, his taste sweet, but she was appalled that he would take her affection for granted and struggled to break free.

  "What's the matter? Do I not please you?" He leaned back only slightly, just enough to look into her eyes and judge her true reaction no matter what she might say.

  "Hagen!" she cried sharply, but no matter how hard she attempted to push him away he would not release her. "Let me go!"

  "Why? When you complain your evenings are too long, why not let me fill them?"

  He was smiling widely now, amused by her display of temper, and she struggled to lift her hand to slap his face but he caught her wrist and held it firmly in his grasp. "Hagen, stop it!" For an instant, she was tempted to remind him she was Mylan's wife, but it would be a truly ludicrous claim. She had heard nothing from Mylan in the last two weeks and with each passing day her hopes that he would come for her had grown dimmer. It was clear he planned to live the rest of his life without her, and the sad prospect filled her with pain.

  Thoroughly depressed by Mylan's indifference, she relaxed in Hagen's embrace, but still managed to avoid his kiss. She laid her head upon his shoulder, hoping he would come to his senses rather than try to take things any further. "I should not have come out for a walk with you, but I did not understand what you would expect." He had certainly given her no reason to suspect he even liked her, let alone that he might imagine she would welcome his kiss.

  Hagen caressed her soft curls lightly, content for the moment to let her rest in his arms. "I am a man, like any other," he explained simply, certain she knew exactly what he wanted from her that night.

  "No, you are like no other," she whispered softly. You are my husband's brother she longed to say, but dared not be so foolish.

  "If it is Mylan you want, I'll soon make you forget him." Winding his fingers in her fair tresses, he forced her lips back to his, but his kiss was gentle, soft and subtle with a surprising tenderness. When he saw tears fill her eyes he kissed her damp lashes sweetly. "You needn't weep, Celiese, not when I want so badly to help you."

  "Help me?" she saw only the golden sheen to his gaze and remembered another man entirely, although she was still dazed by his gentle kiss.

  "Yes. If I take Danes to France, there will be room for you to make the journey as well. Does that prospect not interest you, even if I do not?"

  Celiese's long sweep of lashes touched her brows as she stared up at him, astonished by his question. "You would take me home? I could return home?" She had not dared hope such a possibility even existed, but she saw clearly in his expression that it did.

  Hagen waited a long moment, enjoying the light filling her sparkling green eyes with unabashed delight. "Yes, I will take you home, but we needn't make our plans tonight. Come, let us walk back to the house before it becomes too dark for you to make the way safely."

  She sprang to her feet, nearly dancing with joy as she moved down the path beside him and when he paused at her door she knew he was waiting for a kiss and lifted her lips shyly to his. He drew her into his arms, his gentle kiss growing passionate, but he left her blushing brightly with embarrassment rather than pleasure. He walked away, as though he had given her no more than a light kiss upon the cheek, but she knew exactly what he would expect were she to travel with him to France. Tears again filled her eyes, but she blinked them away, uncertain now if going home meant more to her than her pride.

  Chapter 14

  Celiese stretched languidly, pressing her silken skin against Mylan's broad chest as his kisses moved slowly down her throat. His kiss tickled at the curve of her shoulder, and she purred with a playful giggle before coming fully awake with a startled gasp, "Mylan?" She sat up then, looking around anxiously, but the pale light filling the room revealed no trace of the handsome Viking.

  Flopping dejectedly across the bed with a frustrated moan, she longed to go back to sleep but an escape into the oblivion of slumber proved impossible. The dream had been much too real, too tantalizing a reminder of Mylan's generous affection for her to force his compelling image from her mind. His memory filled her senses to overflowing, and she rested her cheek upon her arms as she relived in her imagination each moment they had shared. She had wanted him to love her, to be as proud to call her his wife as she had been to call him husband, but it had proven to be a hopeless dream. Perhaps her cause had been doomed from the very beginning, but she had no regrets. Even knowing how furious Mylan had been that she had prized her freedom so highly, she could not have remained his slave forever.

  "I am no slave," she whispered hoarsely, her voice ringing hollow in the early morning air. No indeed, she could no longer be called a slave by anyone, but the freedom to love the man she had chosen had eluded her with a suddenness that left her reeling still with the harshness of his rejection. "Why couldn't you have really been my husband, Mylan?"

  Her dark mood had not lightened by the time she joined Olgrethe later that morning. The enthusiastic young woman had tried to interest her in a fine bolt of red silk, but when she made no favorable comment upon the luxurious fabric she was asked pointedly, "Where is your mind today, Celiese? I am trying to help you create the most stunning of gowns, and you act as though we were sorting rags."

  "I beg your pardon?" Celiese leaned forward, forcing herself to pay more attention. "All the fabrics you've shown me are lovely, but red is so ostentatious a color, and I'd prefer not to attract such notice as surely a gown of so bright a hue would."

  Tossing the silk aside Olgrethe frowned petulantly. "It isn't the silk at all, is
it? I saw you laughing happily with Hagen last night—what happened between you two that your mood is so downcast today?"

  Celiese shook her head slowly, uncertain as to how to relate her latest problem, but, hoping Olgrethe might possibly be able to help her, she described her predicament. "Hagen said he is considering a voyage to my homeland, but, while I want so desperately to return to France, I do not believe I should make the journey with him."

  Olgrethe's honey-colored curls flew about her head as she leapt to her feet, her shock at Celiese's announcement unhidden. Married women were expected to wear their hair covered by a scarf, or at the very least pulled atop their heads in a confining bun, but Andrick considered his bride's glowing tresses too pretty to hide and she had readily agreed to wearing her hair in the carefree style she always worn to please him. "You want to leave me now when I will need you the most? How could you abandon me when I'm expecting my first child? Am I to face giving birth all alone?"

  Celiese instantly regretted having confided in the self-centered young woman and attempted to soothe her injured feelings. "I am not an experienced midwife. It will be no great tragedy if I am not with you." Indeed, other than a cat or two, household pets, she had not seen any creature give birth, so she did not understand how she could prove helpful.

  Her pretty face contorted in an angry pout, Olgrethe continued to fume, "If I mean nothing to you, what of Mylan? How can you leave the man you love without the slightest regret, without even telling him good-bye?"

  It was Celiese who tossed her silken curls this time as she scoffed at the question, "Mylan cares little what happens to me, as should be obvious. It has been more than two weeks since I came here and he's not come for me nor given me any hope that he will. He's thrown me away as if I were trash, and if Hagen will give me the opportunity to return to France, why shouldn't I seize it eagerly?"

  "Because it is Mylan you love, not Hagen!" Olgrethe proclaimed loudly, the logic that seemed to have escaped Celiese so extremely plain to her.

  After a long pause, Celiese began to laugh with a delicious giggle that bubbled up from deep within her, for Olgrethe's show of temper was so very amusing. "Yes, I do love him, and most dearly, but of what value is love if it is not returned?"

  Again taking her place beside her friend, Olgrethe offered more advice, but with a surprising twist. "I've not once heard you mention Erik, but didn't you notice how black his gaze grew last night when Hagen asked you to accompany him on a stroll?"

  Confused, Celiese gestured helplessly. "What has Erik to do with this?"

  "It is plain you do not appreciate his attempts to impress you with his wit. He is not yet grown, and his feelings are therefore more easily bruised, but I thought you were merely being aloof so as not to encourage his infatuation. Are you telling me now you had not even noticed how he adores you? You've always been so perceptive in the past. Has your rudeness been unintentional?"

  "Have I been dreadfully rude?" Celiese asked regretfully. "Erik is so lively and good-humored I did not dream he had grown overly fond of me." Indeed, she had no experience with young men, for she had gone from slave to wife in the space of one day, without ever having been courted.

  "Well, he most certainly has," Olgrethe assured her confidently. "If Hagen offers to escort you home, then his feelings for you are just as plain."

  Celiese felt certain Hagen had no feelings for her other than lust, but she would not reveal that opinion to Olgrethe and risk the questions she would be sure to ask. "Please stop. I've done nothing to encourage the affections of either of Andrick's brothers."

  "How can you be so foolish, they are Mylan's brothers too!" Olgrethe pointed out heatedly.

  "So?" Celiese responded, deeming their conversation pointless.

  "So why don't we think of some compelling reason for Mylan to come home, and he's sure to be driven mad with jealousy in less than one day."

  A sudden chill shot up Celiese's spine, instantly filling her with a dread so deep she could barely find her voice to argue. "Never, Olgrethe, I'll never stoop to such treachery, for Mylan would only despise me all the more were he to think I was using his brothers' devotion to inspire his."

  Alarmed by Celiese's dramatic tone, Olgrethe sat back. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while she attempted to rephrase her suggestion in more acceptable terms. "It is not all that easy for me here either, Celiese. I often think of how I was cheated out of having the wedding celebration I deserved. Time for the harvest is nearly here, and it will be such a fine one this year, Aldred might be convinced to host a party that Mylan can be enticed to attend. There will be no treachery involved, only an opportunity for the two of you to be together again, and once the man is here, who can say what he will see for himself?"

  "No!" Celiese insisted, her fists clenched tightly in her lap so she would not be tempted to slap the triumphant smirk from Olgrethe's face, but she knew the willful girl would do exactly as she pleased no matter how she pleaded with her to do otherwise.

  * * *

  As always Olgrethe was clever, making the most of her feminine wiles. She spoke first with her husband, casually mentioning what little opportunity she had had to meet his kin at their wedding, revealing that the lack of warmth she had experienced as she had joined his family was a slight which still caused her pain. With a downcast expression and a soulful glance she readily convinced him she had been insulted most rudely and hoped sometime soon she might meet his relatives again, when they would be in a more festive mood and show her the courtesy she deserved.

  Astonished to find his bride so unhappy, Andrick went quickly to his parents, who listened attentively to his complaint and with only gentle encouragement on his part, agreed to invite their relatives and friends for a party as soon as the harvest had been gathered. When at the evening meal Aldred suggested having a harvest celebration the idea seemed to come from him, and Celiese could only stare at Olgrethe, certain the inspiration had come from her, but not knowing any way she could either stop or avoid it.

  Hagen had no objection to a party; he liked them as much as any young man, for there were always races that would provide ample opportunities for him to win praise for his horsemanship. He had often found pretty young women easily impressed by such skill, which made the evenings far more profitable in terms of romance. Turning to note Celiese's reaction to the prospect of such an amusement, he saw her worried glance and realized she had not once looked in his direction all evening, while she had laughed frequently at Erik's jokes. That had only made the young man's humor that much more outrageous, until finally Thulyn had given him the choice of being quiet or leaving the table. Since neither option appealed to Erik, he had grown sullen, and the conversation about the upcoming party continued without any more of his interruptions.

  Obviously feeling sorry for his younger brother, Andrick suggested his favorite board game as soon as the meal ended, issuing a challenge to which Erik readily responded, leaving Olgrethe talking with Aldred and Thulyn about the harvest festivities while Hagen quickly excused himself and went to Celiese's side.

  "I want to speak with you for a moment, come with me into the garden." His request was more of a command than an invitation, but he saw no need for flattery or flirting where she was concerned.

  Having no wish to risk another romantic encounter with the young man, Celiese offered an excuse, "I'm sorry, but I didn't sleep well last night. I'm afraid I'm more tired than usual and would be poor company for you. I'd rather just go on to my room."

  Smiling slightly, Hagen reached out to take her arm in a firm grasp as he helped her from her chair. "The garden is not out of your way and the fresh air will help you sleep all the better." Giving her no time to disagree, he propelled her through the open door out into the gathering dusk. As soon as they could no longer be overheard by those still inside, he took her hand and drew her around to face him.

  "I did not realize I'd been too forward with you last night, but I must have been, for you've avoid
ed me all day."

  Pulling her hand gently from his, she denied his assumption. "I have not been avoiding you, not at all. It is only that Olgrethe has been helping me make a new gown. You know how little I brought with me from Mylan's house, so we have been very busy." While she did not want Hagen for a lover, she dared not make an enemy of him either, and hoped he would accept her explanation as the truth.

  Hagen shifted his weight, his stance turning from relaxed to militant as he put his hands on his hips. "That is the only reason I've not seen you about, or that you spoke not one word to me while we dined?"

  Rather than lie, she changed the subject to the one she needed to discuss. "I have given a great deal of thought to the voyage you mentioned last night. Have you told Andrick your plans?"

  "No," he admitted reluctantly.

  "If you two are partners, don't you think you should?"

  Though she knew he would not want to leave Olgrethe, were Andrick to go along she would not have to be alone with Hagen, and that thought gave her hope the voyage home might still be possible.

  Impatient to resolve the issue, Hagen drew her into his arms, his embrace confining as he explained. "We will be busy with the harvest; by the time it is over I will have all my plans made, our provisions gathered, and my crew ready to sail. I will simply tell him I am leaving, and he will not object, for he seems to grow more enamored with his bride each new day."

  "Don't you think a man should love his wife?" she asked softly. She made no move to resist his touch. She wanted to push him away and run, but dared not be so rude when it would cause a dreadful scene between them.

  Hagen paused a moment too long, then agreed. "Yes, if a man must have a wife, then he should love her."

  As he bent down to kiss her, Celiese turned her cheek, and slipped from his grasp before he could stop her. "I must go; it would not be pleasant for either of us if your parents thought your interest in me were other than a friendly one." She hurried away, passing through the hall where the others were still talking or playing the game that involved moving brightly colored pieces of glass across an ornately carved wooden board.