She sighed with relief. At least this battle had ended without bloodshed. One of the Vikings had collapsed in a drunken heap on the floor, unharmed, and the other warrior had sat down on top of him, laughing uproariously, another full goblet of mead in his hand. Aye, they were barbarians, she thought heatedly.
The air in the hall was becoming increasingly warm and stuffy, dense with smoke from the blazing fireplaces and the sputtering torches. Gwendolyn coughed, her eyes smarting. Where was Hakon? It had been at least two hours since he had left with Olav. Rising to her feet, she wrapped her cloak about her and walked quickly to a side door leading out of the hall. She had to get some fresh air, else she would surely faint.
Gwendolyn pushed open the door and stepped outside. The air was cold and frosty, but it felt wonderful. She drank it in with deep breaths, immediately feeling refreshed. Leaning against the rough-timbered wall, she looked up at the night sky. Countless winking stars glittered like so many jeweled stones, covering the heavens as far as she could see. It was a clear night, with a half-crescent moon that shone in a long sliver of light across the surface of the fjord. The ground was lightly dusted with snow that had fallen earlier that day, glowing white in the moonlight.
A bright orange glow burning atop a distant mountain caught her eye. So, that must be the bonfire, she thought. And there were others dotting the rugged peaks all along the fjord as well. She could see a large group of men gathered near the docks, and from what she could tell, they were loading casks and other supplies aboard Hakon's longship. Suddenly she heard his voice carry out across the hillside.
"Yea, and we will need plenty of fresh water and food for the journey. I leave that to you, Olav. Egil, see to it that the men who sail with me on the morrow are not too far gone in their cups to pull the oars. 'Twill be a long, hard row in front of them. Now, it is time I returned to the feast."
Hakon, sailing in the morn? Gwendolyn's forehead creased in thought. What could be of such urgency that he would leave in the middle of Yuletide celebrations? Well, whatever it was, she would find out soon. At least he was finally returning to the hall.
Aye, it was time she also went back inside, she thought. Shivering, she reached for the door. She was beginning to feel cold, and she knew that Hakon would no doubt be displeased if she was not in the hall to greet him. She had almost opened the door wide enough for her to slip through when it was suddenly slammed back into place.
Gwendolyn gasped as two large hands gripped her about the waist, spinning her around. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened in horror at the grinning ram's mask that loomed above her. She heard low, throaty laughter as the tall man wearing the mask captured her in his arms, drawing her slender body crudely against his own. He clapped a hand over her mouth.
"What a fair prize I have found this night," he murmured huskily. "Odin could not have blessed me with better fortune!"
Gwendolyn struggled wildly, but he pressed her back up against the timbered wall, pinning her arms cruelly between their bodies. She could not move. Suddenly he tore the mask from his face.
She blinked in astonishment at the resemblance the man had to Hakon. He was taller and of broader build, with a ruddy complexion and long, flowing red hair and beard, but his startling blue eyes gazed at her with a heated intensity that was achingly familiar.
"Would that I might see the expression on my brother's face when he finds I have taken his favored wench," the man muttered fiercely, "but we shall be far from here by then."
Sweet Jesu! 'Tis Rhoar Bloodaxe! Gwendolyn thought, her mind racing. It must be! Hakon had told her much of his bastard brother during one of their nights together; how he had hated and despised his younger brothers, almost drowning Hakon one day in the fjord when he was just a lad, and of the oath of blood vengeance he had sworn against them when he had learned he would not inherit the wealth and power of their father, Magnus Haardrad.
Rhoar brought his face close to hers, his warm breath fanning against her flushed cheek. "Come now, wench, don't look so frightened. I'm sure my caresses will please you far more than those of my brother," he sneered, putting special emphasis on the last word. The depth of his venomous hate for Hakon flashed from his eyes.
Nay, this cannot be happening! Gwendolyn once again tried to twist free of his grasp, but he was so big, so powerful, that it was impossible. Suddenly she sank her teeth into the palm of his hand, drawing blood. He grunted in pain, moving his hand from her mouth just long enough that she could scream. And scream she did, with all the force she could muster.
Hakon stopped in his tracks along the path to the great hall, then broke into a run. That was not the pleasured scream of a serving wench enjoying a tumble with one of his men, but an anguished cry for help. He ran swiftly up the hill, drawing his broadsword from the scabbard at his belt as his keen eyes searched the darkness. The scream was cut off abruptly, though it still echoed eerily about the surrounding mountainsides.
Rhoar had clapped his huge hand back over Gwendolyn's mouth, but he knew it was too late. Looking over his shoulder, he cursed violently. He could see Hakon's form rushing toward the great hall. Thor's teeth, he was not prepared to take on his brother this night!
He had only sneaked into the settlement to see for himself the strength of Hakon's forces, joining in the Yuletide festivities as part of his guise. He had almost been ready to ride out to meet some of his men, who were waiting for him in the dense trees surrounding the settlement, when he spied the wench leaving the hall through the side door. It had been a temptation he could not refuse. He had desired her from the first moment he had seen her in the hall, swearing to himself that she, too, would one day be his. But now he knew that he would have to leave her behind if he was to make good his escape. Her kicking and struggling would only slow him down.
"Your scream has saved you from me this day, wench, but soon you will be mine!" Rhoar whispered fiercely. "Give my brother this message. Tell him the days are few before I will seek my revenge!" He crushed her to him, seizing her lips savagely with his own, plundering her mouth with his tongue.
Gwendolyn could not breathe. Choking from the force of his kiss, she tried to fight against the blackness that was beginning to overwhelm her. With one last effort she brought her hand up and raked her nails down the side of his face.
Rhoar started and drew back, though he still held her tightly with one strong arm. He rubbed his stinging cheek. A wolfish grin spread across his bearded face as he looked at the red blood staining his fingers. "I prefer bedding a wench with fire and spirit, and shall consider these scratches only a promise of the pleasure you will give me!" He released her suddenly, laughing. She fell back heavily against the timbered wall, then slipped to the cold ground. When she looked up he had disappeared into the night, though she could still hear his crude laughter growing fainter and fainter.
Hakon felt a cold chill course through his body at the sound of the laughter. It was vaguely familiar, but he could not place it. Yet he could swear he had heard it somewhere before. Dashing around the corner of the great hall with several of his guards now accompanying him, he saw a huddled figure struggling to rise from the ground. He held his sword in front of him, his eyes darting about warily as he and his men approached what now appeared to be the cloaked form of a woman. A flash of terror seized him. Thor, it couldn't be! His heart jumped to his throat. Anora! He quickly slid his broadsword into the scabbard at his belt, then bent down and gathered Gwendolyn up into his arms.
Chapter 28
"'Twas Rhoar, my lord!" Gwendolyn moaned softly. She felt suddenly safe as he held her tightly against his broad chest.
Rhoar! Hakon's face set in hard lines, his mouth grim. He turned to his men. "Search the grounds. If you find him, bring him to me," he commanded, his voice low. The Viking guards rushed to obey.
So, he had known the laughter, Hakon thought fiercely, though he had not heard it in more than ten years. He looked down at Gwendolyn, alarmed by the ashen pallo
r of her skin. He felt shaken to the depths of his being. Thor, if he had not heard her scream . . . if he had lost her . . . He could not bear to finish the thought. Yea, by the blood of Odin, for this Rhoar would surely die! He strode angrily toward his hall, clutching Gwendolyn to his breast.
She looked up at him. His handsome face was inscrutable in the faint moonlight. "But what of the Yuletide celebration?" she asked faintly, listening as the raucous sounds from the great hall faded away into the distance.
"'Twill go on without us, my love," Hakon replied, brushing a gentle kiss upon her forehead. He kicked open the door to his hall and strode quickly across the main room into his chamber. The room was dark except for the reddish glow from the large bronze brazier in the comer. He lay Gwendolyn gently upon the wide bed and covered her with the thick fur blanket, then went and lit several of the small oil lamps about the room.
Crossing back over to the bed, he sat down and gathered her into his arms, resting her tousled head against his shoulder. His strong fingers gently stroked her silver-blond curls. "Tell me what happened, little one."
Gwendolyn sighed raggedly. Even now she could not believe how close she had come to being abducted by the renegade Viking. "I saw him first in the hall this night, though I did not know then who he was. He wore the mask of a ram, and drank from my goblet."
Hakon started in surprise. Thor, the bastard had walked to within three feet of him, and he had not known it! How he must have gloated! Rage swelled within him, yet it was tempered by his own humility. He recalled an old saying that Ansgar had taught him once: Let whoever opens a door make certain there are no enemies hiding behind it. Yea, he had learned an awful lesson this night. And it could have been far worse . . .
"It grew so warm in the hall, and the smoke from the fireplaces was burning my eyes," she murmured, shaking her head. "There was so much yelling and fighting, I had to get some fresh air."
"So you disobeyed my orders, Anora," Hakon said softly, though he knew he could not blame her. He had not planned to be gone so long, but there were so many preparations to be made. If he had been there with her, he could have accompanied her outside, and perhaps none of this would have happened. "Why did you not call a guard to accompany you?"
"I planned to be outside for only a few moments," she replied. "I did not see any harm in going alone." She continued, relating her story, while Hakon listened grimly. He did not say another word until she had finished.
The thought of Rhoar's hands roaming at will over her body, his mouth upon hers . . . kissing her . . . ravaging what belonged to him, filled Hakon with jealous rage. He had come so close to losing her. Surely Rhoar would have raped her before the night was through, then possibly might even have killed her as another act of his blood vengeance. Yea, if that had happened, a part of him would have died with her. Hakon knew he could no longer deny to himself how much she meant to him.
"I heard you speak of sailing on the morrow," Gwendolyn said softly. "Does this have aught to do with the bonfires Olav mentioned in the great hall? I saw them myself, burning brightly atop the mountains."
"Yea, my love. In the morn I must sail for Trondheim, to the north. The bonfires are a summons by my liege lord, the Jarl of Lade. It is a signal for all the Jarls under his rule to gather at his estate, and I am one of them. It must be a matter of great importance, for travel at this time of year is treacherous at best."
Hakon sighed deeply. The Jarl's signal could not have come at a more inopportune time. Yet he had already made provisions so that the settlement would be well protected while he was gone. As soon as he had seen the bonfires, messengers had been sent out, seeking reinforcements from many of the petty chieftains under his own rule. The added strength would be needed, especially now that he knew Rhoar's threat of revenge was close at hand. It would serve to hold his bastard brother at bay, discouraging an attack until he could return. But when that would be, he did not know. He only hoped it would not be too long.
"Shall I accompany you, my lord?" Gwendolyn did not know why she asked, but it seemed natural that she would go with him.
"Nay, I cannot take you with me, Anora. The rough winter seas are a trial for even the most seasoned crew, and I will not subject you to such a dangerous voyage. You will be well protected here, and far safer, despite Rhoar's threat. There will be twice as many men here to guard the settlement until I return. I shall have only enough men to row my longship, and Garric will accompany me to serve as my page at the Jarl's court."
He paused, noticing that Gwendolyn had stiffened in his arms. He drew her closer. "Do not fear, little one," he murmured. "Would that I might remain here with you, but I cannot. It is my duty to answer the Jarl's summons. As for Rhoar, he would be a fool to attack the settlement while I am gone, for he would be far outnumbered. Nay, I believe that he will wait until he can meet me in battle face to face."
But Gwendolyn had not even heard his last words. Her mind was racing at the news that he would be taking Garric with him on the voyage. Nay, it would not be possible for Anora to accompany him as Garric!
It was true Anora had done well so far in the guise of a boy. Her sister had quickly learned the skills she needed to work in the stable, and had discovered in herself a natural ability with horses. Yet she had not been able to match the boyish mannerisms Gwendolyn had displayed as Garric, or the same swagger and biting tongue. Fortunately, this had not posed a problem, for there had been very little contact between her and Hakon during the past few weeks. But to serve as his page, to be in his presence constantly . . . nay, it was not possible! Gwendolyn was sure it would not be long before her sister's guise would be discovered. All that was needed was one misstated word, one highly feminine expression, and all would be lost.
"Will you sail at dawn, my lord?" she asked, fearful of his answer. If they left that early, she would have no hope of venturing unnoticed to the stable to exchange places with Anora once again.
"Nay, though I had hoped we might," he answered, somewhat surprised by her question. "I shall wait until the reinforcements from the surrounding settlements have arrived before we sail." He put his finger gently to her lips. "Enough talk, little one. It will be many nights before I shall hold you in my arms again. All that matters now is that you are safe, and here with me."
Aye, then, there would be time, Gwendolyn thought, a surge of relief coursing through her body. But it was quickly replaced by the kindling of desire as Hakon lifted her chin and brought his lips down upon her own. His mouth moved against hers, warm, tender, in a breathless kiss that caused her to tremble uncontrollably. She could feel her body yielding to him, relaxing in his arms. All thoughts of the Yuletide feast, Rhoar, and even Anora flew from her mind as she returned his kiss, her delicate fingers entwining in the soft waves of his hair as she held his face in her hands.
Hakon drew away from her and gazed into the emerald depths of her eyes, dark with passion. He exulted in the desire he saw reflected there. An intense wave of emotion suddenly welled up within him that was so strong he could have cried out, his heart pounding madly against his chest. Yea, he knew now that he loved her, more than life itself . . .
Perhaps he had all along, Hakon thought with a sense of wonder, since he had first found her aboard his ship. Perhaps that was why he could not take her against her will that night in the bathing house, though his body had ached to possess her. This beautiful woman, like a goddess in the perfection of her face and form, had so captivated his soul with her passionate spirit that he knew he was lost to her forever.
Hakon lay her back gently on the bed and began to draw the silken garments from her one by one. Murmuring soft words of love, his strong hands caressed her satiny-smooth skin as her lithe body was slowly revealed to him. She writhed luxuriously from his touch, arching her back as his mouth briefly teased her pert nipples. His lips burned a molten path between her breasts to a delicate shoulder, then along the alabaster column of her throat until he once again captured her mouth with his. She w
rapped her slender arms about his neck, pulling him to her.
Hakon chuckled from deep in his throat. Her wild response never ceased to delight him. "One moment, my love." Suddenly he moved away from the bed. Gwendolyn opened her eyes in surprise. Then a faint smile curved her lips. He was quickly stripping away his own garments, until his powerful body was bared to her gaze. Truly, he was a magnificent sight!
Delighted by her admiring and lusty perusal, Hakon did not tarry from her side for long. Before she could blink she was once again wrapped in his strong arms as he drew her against him.
He traced his finger slowly down the side of her face, his hand stroking the small of her back and her slender, curved hips. "I want you to touch me, Anora," he whispered huskily, brushing his lips against her long, gold-tipped lashes.
She blushed heatedly at his request. He had never asked this of her before!
"'Twould please me," he murmured, sensing her obvious embarrassment by the flushed rose color of her cheeks. Still she hesitated, unsure of herself, so he gently took her hand and guided it down his taut, sculpted belly to between his sinewy thighs.
Gwendolyn gasped as his manhood seemed to leap into her hand. Then, emboldened by her desire, she tentatively caressed the tip. It was smooth to her touch. She wound her fingers around his growing hardness, not knowing quite what to do. Slowly she began to caress him.
Hakon groaned with pleasure, the pressure of her hand stoking the burning fire that was raging in his loins. Suddenly he drew her hand away and pressed her back against the eiderdown pillows. Nay, he could endure her sweet torture no longer!
"Have I displeased—"
Hakon cut off her whispered question with his kiss, determined to erase the memory of Rhoar's touch from her lips, her body, her mind. "Nay, my love, never . . . never," he replied, his voice low, emphatic, as his kisses seared like wildfire across her slender body.
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