by Phoebe Conn
He rose slowly to his feet. "We have never before met together as friends, and I deeply regret what I must tell you now."
Ansgar did not bother to cover a wide yawn, and he finished the last of his ale before he interrupted rudely. "I want only to find a bed, as Oluf must have done." With a sly wink he continued, "Knowing him, it is a bed with a wench in it!"
The Torgvalds' jovial mood had not been dampened by his somber statement, and Mylan looked toward his father for assistance. Aldred shook his head and encouraged him to continue on his own. Clearing his throat, Mylan explained, "That is precisely the problem. Oluf did indeed try to bed a wench, who happened to be most unwilling."
Frowning now, Ansgar leaned forward: "So what? That is not the first time some girl has refused him. Did he fail to change her mind?"
Flanked by Andrick and Hagen, who stood ready to help, Mylan made his point clear. "No, he did not. When I came to her defense we fought and I won. You will find his body at the docks, ready to be taken home in the morning."
Jens leapt to his feet, not so surprised he could not insult an old enemy. "That's a bloody lie! You never saw the day you could beat my brother at anything!"
Sorgen was so drunk he could scarcely follow the conversation, but when he turned to ask Korsor what had happened he found him asleep where he sat and so demanded an explanation from Mylan. "What has happened to Oluf?"
Mylan spoke distinctly to make certain he was understood. "I killed him." He had no opportunity to say more as Jens lunged for his throat, knocking him into the wall where he grabbed hold of the enraged man to ward off his punishing blows. Now that the fight had begun in earnest, he was filled with the same furious anger he had turned upon Oluf. In his mind he saw only Celiese, and how defenseless so delicate a beauty would have been against brutes such as these. He would have swiftly killed Jens too, had his father and Andrick not pulled them apart. Hagen had drawn his knife so rapidly that Ansgar and Sorgen had had no opportunity to leave their seats before they were surrounded with Vandahls, each brandishing a dagger they clearly intended to use at the slightest provocation.
With the help of his kin to enforce his words, Aldred now took charge. "Enough!" he shouted, and when Jens had been forced back into his place beside his three brothers, he demanded their attention. "You have every right to be angry. Oluf's death was a senseless tragedy he brought on himself, but it needn't be the excuse to renew the feud between our families. We have all had too much to drink and are too tired to make any rational decisions tonight. In the morning we will talk again when our tempers have cooled and our alternatives will be more readily apparent."
"What difference will the morning make when Oluf will still be dead?" Jens snarled fiercely. He leaned over to shove Korsor off his stool, finally arousing him from a sleep so deep he had not heard the shouts of the fight right beside him. "We came here in peace, and we'll not go home without having satisfaction for our brother's murder!"
Mylan looked up then to see Celiese standing in the doorway. He wondered how long she had been there and motioned for her to approach them. "Did you tell Olgrethe of her brother's death?"
"Yes, I stayed with her until she had cried herself to sleep, but she knew her brother's vices well and does not blame us for his death." Celiese came close enough to be understood without shouting, but not so near that the Torgvalds could touch her.
Jens's pale blue eyes narrowed menacingly as he looked back at her. "It was you, wasn't it? Oluf is dead because of you!"
Celiese made no attempt to reply, for Jens would never accept her explanation of what had occurred between her and his brother. She simply returned his icy stare with the same bitter hatred reflected in her eyes that shone in his. They were despicable villains all of them, and she was sorry no more than one had died that night.
Mylan watched closely as Celiese stood calmly returning the murderous glances the Torgvald brothers turned upon her. The hatred in the air was so thick he felt as though he were suffocating, yet she appeared to be impervious to their evil gazes. He could not bear to have her in the same room with such filth as they represented; "Olgrethe may awaken and need you, Celiese, please go back to her now and leave this to us to settle."
"No!" Jens shouted hoarsely, "Give her to us—my brother's life is high enough price to have paid for her!"
"She is a free woman, not for sale at any price," Mylan vowed promptly, somewhat surprised by how easily that truth came to his lips, but he did not like the hostile expression in his father's eyes and hastened to enforce his words. "My father was right, this matter is too important to be settled tonight. You will be shown to a room, and do not try and leave it before dawn, as the door will be well guarded." Signaling to his cousins, he ignored the loud curses sent his way as the Torgvalds were escorted from the hall.
Estrid was among the few ladies remaining in the room, and she had drawn close in order to hear what was being said. Clearly Celiese was the cause of all the mischief, and in her opinion the young woman should have been given to the Torgvalds in appeasement for Oluf's death. She licked her lips slowly, and prayed Aldred would soon come to the same conclusion, for she had seen his reaction to Jens's demand and thought it a strong possibility she might soon be rid of Celiese for good. Surely Mylan had defended her because he was a gentleman, but he would soon forget her charms when he had an equal for his wife.
She would go to him as soon as his father bid them all a good night. He had fought bravely and deserved the generous reward she planned to give. A wicked smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Yes indeed, she would bed Mylan that very night, and he would call her wife in the morning, or her family would demand that he did.
Without the Torgvalds present to argue Aldred was free to speak his mind. "Leave us, Celiese; this discussion no longer concerns you."
Since there were still a dozen or so guests looking on, Celiese had no intention of leaving the hall when it seemed obvious Aldred had something important to say. "I prefer to stay," she announced calmly, her tone not argumentative, but confident and proud.
Drawing himself up to his full height, Aldred dealt with her defiance swiftly. "You have brought disgrace upon the name of Vandahl not once but twice. I am tempted to hand you over to Jens right now, but that seems too cruel a fate even for you to suffer. I will send the Torgvalds on their way at first light, but you must leave here as well. You are no longer welcome in my home, and I want you gone for good by noon."
"No!" Hagen shouted instantly. "You'll not send Celiese away, for I want her as my wife!" His knife still drawn, he was determined to fight if there were no other means to get his way.
"What! That woman is no fit bride for you!" Aldred was appalled. He looked for Thulyn, but she had turned and hurried away, leaving the matter entirely in his hands to settle. He saw Erik pushing his way closer and feared his youngest son would speak for the former slave too, but it was Mylan who ended the controversy abruptly.
"If Celiese is any man's wife she is mine," he declared emphatically, challenging Hagen as well as his father to dispute him. His defiant glare and proud stance made them both back away, for neither cared to be his second victim that night.
Large tears welled up in Estrid's eyes as she saw the man she wanted so badly state openly that he wanted another. Furious that he preferred a pretty slave to her, she ran from the room, all her hopes dashed for a secure future as the wife of the enormously wealthy Mylan Vandahl. She felt the same terror she'd known two years before when she'd broken her engagement to him when she'd thought he would not live to see their wedding day. Her delicate features contorted in a vicious mask, she fled from the people she was certain would be laughing at her, but none noticed her sudden departure, nor cared.
When Celiese realized all eyes were upon her, she responded in the most tactful and gracious manner possible. First she approached Hagen, and seeing his confusion finally understood that he truly did care for her, even if he had never been able to state his feelings in words. She
did not want to hurt him now, but knew she must.
"I am greatly honored that you want me to be your wife, Hagen, but I cannot marry you when your father has banished me from his home. I will not be the cause of such unbearable strife in your family, and I beg you to accept my refusal and understand its cause." When he nodded slightly, his cheeks burning with a bright blush, she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss upon the cheek before turning to look up at Mylan. She had prayed that he would come for her, take her back to his home and make her his wife, but he had ignored her and clearly he had no wish to include her in his life. All day she had watched him laugh and flirt with Estrid, so obviously he had not missed her, and only his pride had prompted him to challenge Hagen for her hand.
She could not hide her tears, and they slid down her flushed cheeks, glimmering brightly in the soft light that still filled the large room. "When I wished with all my heart to be your bride, you refused to accept my love. It is too late now for us to find happiness together, so if that was a proposal you made just now I must refuse it. I ask only that you help me return to France, so that my presence here will no longer create such a painful embarrassment to you all."
For a long moment Mylan could not find his voice, for he knew Celiese had loved him once and could not understand why she did not love him still. He had not thought her as empty-headed and fickle as Estrid, but perhaps all women were the same and he was better off without them. No matter what he thought of the fleeting nature of her affections, he knew she could not simply be shoved out the front door and left to wander Denmark with neither friend nor kin to take her in.
She had been miserable in his homeland, and he quickly agreed to her request, but his amber eyes glowed with hatred as he did. "If that is what you want, you shall have it. We will depart as soon as my ship can be made ready to sail."
"You cannot make such a long voyage now," Aldred protested heatedly. "Winter will arrive before you can return, and the trip will be needlessly dangerous. I forbid it, you may not take this woman anywhere but to the crossroads where she might find someone willing to take her wherever they are bound."
Mylan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know the perils of making a voyage in the autumn, but I have given my word and will not go back upon it unless you have changed your mind about sending Celiese away."
Aldred was seething with rage, Mylan wished to force him to change his decision and he would not do so. He wanted Celiese out of his home before Raktor and his sons returned looking for her and one of his own sons might be killed protecting her. He could see the deaths multiplying; like ripples in a stream the killings would continue unless he put a stop to them now. Suddenly the obvious solution came to him, and he regretted he had not pursued it when Jens had first presented it.
When the Torgvalds left the next morning he would send Celiese with them, at dawn before any of his sons were up to stop him. The fact that she was no longer a slave would not trouble the Torgvalds in the least, and he knew they would kill her at Oluf's funeral and let him deal with her in the next world as he had failed to do in this one. Sighing sadly as if he had no hope of solving so difficult a problem, Aldred lied convincingly. "Mylan, it is too late for us to argue this point further. I am going to bed and will speak with you again tomorrow, for I am certain we can come to a solution that will please us both." He walked from the room, hoping to find Thulyn still awake, for he was positive she would welcome his idea with enthusiasm, for she had no love for Celiese either.
Chapter 17
Pacing the close confines of her cramped quarters, Celiese could not forget the rage that had filled Mylan's golden gaze as she had declined his offer of marriage. Actually, she was not even certain he had proposed to her, he had spoken so quickly, responding angrily to Hagen's proposal rather than making one of his own. All they had done that evening was fight, but at least he had not carried out his original plan to face Jens alone, and whether that was because of her advising him to do otherwise or mere happenstance did not matter, the result had been the same.
As the hour grew late, Celiese still could not rest. Her mind as well as her supple body churned with with torment, but she had had no choice in her actions that night. After she had been ordered to leave the Vandahl home, she could scarcely marry into the family. She had done no wrong, yet they constantly blamed her for the evil deeds of the Torgvalds. It was all so unfair! She could not stop her restless pacing, her rage growing more deep with each passing step. Why did her life continually run to tragedy, when to win Mylan's heart was all she had ever wanted? Was the love of that proud man so unattainable a prize that she would never be his no matter how greatly she longed to call him husband? He had not understood why she had refused him, that had been plain in the darkness of his glance, but he had understood none of her dreams when they had been together either, and she had been a fool to hope he would be sympathetic now.
Her hand tightened around the small silver hammer she still wore suspended upon its pretty chain, her fingertips caressing the cool metal in a vain effort to affect a calm as icy as the delicate charm. She had never removed the pagan symbol, although Olgrethe teased her constantly for wearing it, but it was the only thing she had of Mylan's and it provided the sweetest of memories. Knowing his room was nearby, she could not help but wonder if he had been able to fall into his usual untroubled sleep, when she could not even bear to lie down long enough to close her eyes.
Finally, deciding to seize the initiative, Celiese slipped silently out of her room and tiptoed down the hall. Finding the door unbarred she entered Mylan's room quietly and slowly slid the bolt into place so they would not be disturbed while she was with him. She waited a moment, wanting to be certain he was alone in the comfortable bed, and when she heard the easy rhythm of his breathing she knew the dilemma that had plagued her mind that night had not troubled his. She approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to startle him by waking him suddenly. Finding room on the bed, she sat down upon the edge. Mylan lay upon his stomach, his cheek resting upon his arm, and she leaned down to kiss his shoulder lightly, letting her lips caress his warm skin while he continued to sleep, unaware of her gentle touch.
Enjoying herself too greatly to stop, she slid her fingertips down his back, and then over his narrow hips. His skin was smooth, taut over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, and she savored his warmth as she cast off her light shift and stretched out beside him to cuddle close. Winding her fingers in his soft curls she bit his earlobe playfully, and hoped he would awaken in an affectionate mood regardless of how little he liked or trusted her.
Mylan was exhausted. Oluf had hurt him more than he let anyone see, and his whole body ached from the brute's punishing blows. As if that were not enough, Jens had struck a glancing blow to his left cheek. His eye was swollen and would be black by morning, but that was so minor a discomfort he had simply ignored it. He had fallen across his bed, wanting to sleep for days rather than contemplate for another agonizing moment what he was to do with Celiese.
When his father wanted her gone and she wanted to leave, why was he filled with such terrible dread at the prospect? He had to keep his promise, however, and escort her safely to France, even though she would then be lost to him forever. He knew he would never be able to forget her astonishing beauty nor the exquisite rapture they had shared far too briefly, but she was a liar, who possessed a heart made of a substance more unyielding than the finest steel, and those were faults he could not forgive.
When Celiese's light kiss moved across the back of his neck Mylan stretched slightly, his sleep lightening by degrees until he came fully awake and realized the enchanting creature who so often filled his dreams was once again in his bed. He rolled over slowly upon his back, staring into the darkness as he reached up to touch her curls. She had such beautiful hair, such silken strands that tickled his bare chest as she leaned down to kiss him, her lips brushing his only lightly until he pulled her down into a far more erotic embrace. He swore to himse
lf he would never let her go; she had slipped into his bed of her own accord, but she was a captive now, a prisoner of passion too strong to deny, and he felt her relax, her lithe body melting into his own, her mouth opening eagerly to accept his deep kiss, and all thought save one left his mind.
To have hoped for affection and be welcomed with such delicious ardor was more than Celiese had dared expect. Mylan was so alive, his strength and tenderness so finely meshed she could not seem to hold him tightly enough to enjoy all he wished to give. He caressed her soft curves as if memorizing every contour, gently fanning the glowing embers of her passion until they leapt into flames. She slipped from his grasp and trailed sweet kisses down the scars that ran across his broad chest, wanting only to give him the deepest of pleasures, the same glorious thrill he gave to her.
She knew the pattern left by the bear's claws—the long sweep of the animal's paw had slashed his bronze skin ruthlessly, yet the deep scars were as unique a part of him as his golden curls or his amber eyes, and she whispered softly, "You are the most splendid of men, Mylan, truly you are, and I have always thought you far more attractive than merely handsome." Before he could argue with her sweet compliment, she slid her fingertips up the inside of his thigh, her tantalizing touch a promise of the love she longed to give him.
As she moved alongside his lean body her tongue sent a flickering flame through the muscles of his flat stomach, teasing his senses until she felt him shiver. Driven on by the untamed desire his mere presence kindled within her heart, she moved lower still, longing to bestow a gift of love so magnificent that the memory of her would fill his heart forever. Her lips burned his flesh with a fiery kiss, flooding his powerful body with a torrent of ecstasy so wild that he wound his fingers in her shining curls to make her finish what she had begun. He drew her close, savoring each delicious ripple of the joy shuddering through him, exploding at last in a shower of such brilliant rapture he could no longer keep silent and called her name in a low, slurred moan, his pleasure so close to madness he could not keep the delectable insanity from resounding in his deep voice.