Soon the charade will begin again, she thought miserably, her eyes upon Hakon as he stood beside the dragon-headed prow, his legs spread wide, his muscled arms folded across his broad chest. Aye, she loved him, that she knew. But like a double-edged sword, she also knew that she could not betray Anora's trust in her. She sighed heavily. Never before had she been faced with such an awful dilemma. She now dreaded the role she must play for her sister's sake, fearful that at any time she might give herself away. Yet she could not deny that she longed for the feel of Hakon's strong arms about her, the scorching heat of his touch, and the warmth of his lips upon her own.
She shivered suddenly. Aye, there was nothing left of the serenity she had felt the last two days. The homeward journey had been a welcome respite from the inner turmoil that plagued her; but it had, too, quickly passed.
It had taken less than two days for the longship to sail southward along the rocky coast to the mouth of the great Sogn fjord. The entire journey had been blessed with a steady north wind, calm seas, and clear blue skies during the day, while at night the longship was guided by the light of a half-crescent moon and thousands of winking stars.
Gwendolyn had actually enjoyed herself during much of the return voyage. Thankfully she had been spared the seasickness that had wracked her body on the way to Trondheim. The brisk wind in her hair and the golden rays of the sun on her face had enlivened her senses, giving her some peace and allowing her to forget, even for a short time, the disquieting thoughts that had been tormenting her so.
She had spoken little during the voyage, preferring instead to sit quietly at her bench to watch the ever-changing scenery of the rugged Norse coastline. But it had also given her a chance to observe silently the easy camaraderie Hakon had with his crewmen. It was obvious that the good weather had buoyed everyone's spirits. Outrageous jests and ribald stories had flown through the air, and hearty laughter had rung out across the waves. A couple of times Hakon had even goaded her with a few good-natured taunts, especially about the slave wench in Trondheim. But she had done her best to ignore him, until he finally shrugged and left her alone.
She noticed that Hakon had said nothing, not even to his trusted crewmen, about the matter of grave importance that had summoned him to Trondheim. And she had not ventured to ask, fearing another sharp rebuttal like the one she'd received in Haarek Jarl's hall. She had also caught him staring at her rather strangely several times, but he had always looked away quickly, avoiding her eyes. She shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps he was puzzled that she had not joined in the merriment of the others.
It was best that way, she decided. If she did not speak, and stayed away from him, something not so easily achieved on so narrow a ship, she would have no fear of giving her emotions away, and perhaps threatening her guise as well.
It was only when they reached the mouth of the Sogn and left the open seas behind them that she noticed Hakon had grown increasingly impatient to reach the settlement. He had been standing alone at the prow for the past hour, his eyes intent on the landscape before him. The sun was sinking behind the surrounding mountainsides in a glowing ball of orange fire when the longship finally rounded the last bend in the fjord.
Hakon whooped with delight as he caught sight of the settlement. His wild cry startled Gwendolyn, though Olav and the crew laughed uproariously. Aye, she knew why he was so elated. Soon he would once again hold Anora in his arms.
"Up with your oars, men!" he shouted to the crew, a broad smile playing across his handsome features.
Gwendolyn shook her head grimly as she complied with his order. No doubt Hakon would rush to find her sister as soon as the ship was moored. If his greeting were anything like the one she had received in his bathing house . . . She blushed hotly, remembering. Nay, she had to find Anora first, and exchange places with her before . . .
The longship suddenly scraped against the wooden dock, jarring her thoughts. There was an instant commotion as the Viking guards onshore rushed to grab the lines tossed to them. With their sinewy muscles heaving and straining, the men tied the ship securely to the dock.
"Welcome, my lord!" Egil called out, jumping down onto the wooden deck. He had been left behind to oversee the settlement and the extra men while Hakon was in Trondheim.
Hakon greeted him with a hearty slap on the back. "Was there any trouble during my absence?" he asked.
"Nay, my lord," Egil replied, shaking his shaggy head. "It has been very quiet these past few days . . . perhaps too quiet."
"How so?" Hakon queried, lowering his voice.
Seeing Egil and Hakon engrossed in conversation, Gwendolyn seized her chance. She knew there was not a moment to lose. Without hesitation, she jumped up from her bench with her roll of clothing clutched in one hand and bounded over the side of the ship onto the dock. Running up the hill as if the very hounds of hell were snapping at her heels, she did not stop even when she heard Hakon's voice calling out after her. Perhaps Egil will keep him occupied for a few moments, she thought wildly. That Viking was known to be long-winded even at his best moments. Aye, she could only hope he would be the same this day.
Hakon cursed aloud, interrupting Egil's detailed account of the last few days. Where was Garric off to, and in such a hurry? Then he shrugged. No matter. He would see to the lad's impudence later. Now he had other things on his mind. A slow smile spread over his face as he thought of Anora. "We can talk of this later, Egil. From what you have said so far, I see no cause for alarm."
"Very well, my lord," Egil said, noting his impatience. His eyes glinted knowingly. Yea, if he had a wench as beautiful as Lord Hakon's, he would not wish to tarry overlong from her side!
With a nod to Olav, Hakon jumped from the ship to the dock with one agile movement. Whistling, he strode quickly along the path to his hall, his blood beginning to race with excitement.
Gwendolyn said a quick prayer of thanks when she saw there were no guards at the entrance to Hakon's private hall. She pushed open the heavy door and hurried across the main room. Bursting in the door to his chamber, she startled Anora, who was sitting in the leather-backed chair facing the window. Her sister stood up and whirled around, dropping to the floor the fine needlework she was stitching.
"Gwendolyn, you frightened me!" Anora cried out. The look on Gwendolyn's face sent a surge of fear through her body. "How long have you been here? Where is Hakon?"
"I think he is still at the docks! Quickly, Anora, there is no time to talk. We must change clothes . . . now!" Gwendolyn whispered fiercely, pulling off her leather jerkin. But at that moment she heard the door at the entrance to the hall grate open. A familiar, lilting whistle echoed about the main room. God's blood! 'Tis Hakon! she thought wildly. Her heart flew to her throat. Nay, their guise could not end like this! There had to be another way!
Suddenly her eyes flew to the window, and back again to Anora. She rushed over to her sister's side and shoved the roll of clothing into her hand. "Climb out the window, Anora, and do not stop until you get to the stable!" she hissed urgently. "You can change into some of my other clothes once you get there . . . then hide the ones you are wearing under a pile of straw! Now go!"
Anora nodded numbly. She did not hesitate, though her eyes were wide with apprehension. Gripping the roll of clothing tightly under her arm, she hoisted her silken chemise and mantle over her knees and climbed through the window as Gwendolyn held back the leather shade. "But what of you?" she whispered urgently, peering over the wooden ledge of the window, her face pale and drawn.
"I will be fine. Now go, quickly!" Gwendolyn dropped the shade as Anora hurried off. Stepping away from the window, she pulled frantically at her woolen clothes. Truly, she had never undressed with greater speed as she did in those few moments, all the while hurrying to the ornate chest that held her fine clothing. She flung back the lid and dumped her fur-lined jerkin, shirt, breeches, and leather belt into a far corner and covered them quickly with silken garments.
Drawing out a fine, almost transparent che
mise of emerald green silk gauze, she pulled it over her head, then quietly closed the lid of the chest. She could hear heavy footsteps approaching the door. With a last look around the room, she dashed over to the wide bed and jumped under the covers.
"God's blood!" she suddenly cursed under her breath. Throwing back the fur coverlet, she yanked off her fur-trimmed leather boots and tossed them under the bed. She ran her fingers through her short curls, then gathered the thick coverlet up about her shoulders and rolled over onto her side. She forced herself to take several deep breaths until she felt somewhat relaxed, though her heart still pounded madly against her breast. No more than a moment had passed when she heard the door to the chamber open slowly.
Hakon looked about the room, his eyes coming to rest on the slender form lying beneath the fur coverlet. He drew in his breath sharply. He had thought of little else since he left Trondheim but to hold Anora once again in his arms. But if she was resting soundly, he did not want to disturb her. Nay, not yet. First he would have a warm bath and rid himself of the grime and smell of the voyage. Then he would have Berta bring wine and a sumptuous meal to his hall. Only then would he wake her.
Yea, it will be a long night. He chuckled lustily, a gleam of desire flaring in his eyes. Let her rest while she may . . . Smiling to himself, he turned and walked quietly back across the threshold and shut the door softly behind him.
Gwendolyn's eyes flew open in surprise. She sat up in the wide bed, then kicked away the fur coverlet and threw her slender legs over the side of the down mattress. Running to the door, she listened until the sound of Hakon's footsteps had died away. Only then did she open the door a crack and peer out, just in time to see his broad back as he stepped from the hall and closed the heavy door behind him.
She shut the door and slumped limply against it. Suddenly she started to laugh, not only from relief, but from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. It started as a snicker, but quickly grew into hearty peals of laughter that, try as she might, she could not suppress. She ran to the bed and buried her face in one of the eiderdown pillows, and still she laughed until the tears were rolling down her flushed cheeks and she was almost choking.
But the tears of laughter soon gave way to hot, wrenching tears of frustration as the tension of the past few days suddenly overwhelmed her. Gwendolyn doubled over, her slender body wracked by silent sobs. Confusion, pain, fear, and intense longing all seemed to erupt within her. Hugging a pillow tightly to her chest, she cried until her tears were spent. And when she could cry no more she lay on the bed for a long time, until she at last fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Chapter 32
"Wake up, my love," Hakon murmured, nuzzling the silky skin at the nape of Gwendolyn's neck. He trailed a path of kisses down the top of her spine.
Gwendolyn's eyelids flickered open, a delicious shiver running through her body. She stretched her slender limbs languidly, unable to suppress a wide yawn. Suddenly she felt herself lifted from the bed by a pair of strong arms.
"Oh!" She gasped in surprise. Her startled gaze met Hakon's.
"If you do not awaken, little one, you shall miss the fine dinner Berta has prepared for us." Hakon chuckled. Holding her close against his bare chest, he strode out of the chamber with her and into the main room of the hall.
Gwendolyn shielded her eyes with her hand until she grew accustomed to the light of the blazing fire burning brightly in the central fireplace. But her eyes widened with astonishment when she finally looked about her.
It seemed as if the far end of the hall near Hakon's chamber had been transformed. The luxurious rug that had been in the center of the room was now stretched out before the fireplace, the flames reflecting off the glistening sheen of the black fur. Pillows swathed in silken fabrics were scattered about the rug, while a low table was set at one end. There were two fine ceramic goblets and a matching vessel upon a silver tray set atop the table. Resting beside the tray was a large covered platter, still steaming hot from the cooking house.
A flush of embarrassment reddened Gwendolyn's cheeks as her stomach growled hungrily and loudly. It had been such a long time since she had last eaten! Hakon threw back his head and laughed.
"Did you not eat while I was gone?" He shook his head in mock anger. "I will have to chastise Berta when I see her for not taking proper care of you!" He grinned wickedly as he set her down gently with her back against a large pillow. "Yea, the food does smell wonderful. I think Berta might have outdone herself this night." He dropped down beside her and gathered her into his arms. "But the meal will have to wait for a few moments, my love."
His blue eyes heatedly raked her slender body. Yea, the emerald silk of her chemise did little to conceal her charms from his gaze. Her silky skin shone like alabaster through the almost transparent fabric, the clinging bodice stretched taut across her firm breasts and pink-crested nipples. Hakon groaned inwardly. It was all he could do not to take her this very moment, but he cooled his growing ardor. Nay, he wanted to savor their evening together . . . slowly.
"I have missed you, Anora," Hakon murmured, his lips warm against her throat. His mouth, searching, insistent, moved to her delicate earlobe. He lingered there, nibbling ever so gently.
Gwendolyn closed her eyes, her body tingling with the sensations that swept through her. She could not fight him, nor did she want to. When they were together like this, it was so easy to forget the awful dilemma that tormented her . . . and to think only of love. Her hand strayed to his broad chest, her tapered fingers entwining in the thick golden curls. When he at last kissed her, parting her lips and tasting the honeyed sweetness of her mouth, she surprised him by flicking the tip of her tongue against his.
Hakon drew away suddenly, his breath ragged. He was almost trembling with desire. By the blood of Odin, what this woman could do to him! "Perhaps we had better eat," he muttered thickly. "It seems I have taught you too well, my love. One more kiss like that and the food will be long cold before we even look to see what lies beneath the cover!"
Gwendolyn smiled, strangely pleased at the power she had over him. "Aye, my lord, let us eat."
Hakon almost could not tear his eyes away from her face. He saw her smile so rarely, and when she did he never ceased to be stunned by her exquisite beauty. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Odin as he got up from the rug and walked over to the low table.
Gwendolyn's eyes moved appreciatively over his body as he bent to pour some red wine into the ceramic goblets. She watched the play of rippling muscles across the broad span of his shoulders and back, and admired the burnished bronze of his skin. His silken trousers barely concealed the tapered lines of his hips and his taut buttocks. Every sculpted inch of his body bespoke power and strength. He was so magnificent . . . so virile . . .
She could not believe the wantonness of her thoughts. Why, only a few hours ago she had cried agonized tears into her pillow, cursing the cruel fates that had brought them together. Yet at this moment for the first time she was truly glad— glad for the wild delight they found in each other's arms, glad that she belonged to him, and, most of all, glad that he loved her and would make her his wife. She shook her head, perplexed. When would she ever understand her feelings? How could this one man so completely overwhelm and conquer her sense of reason, just by his touch? He was unwittingly enticing her to betray her sense of duty to Anora, the sister she also loved with all her heart!
Hakon handed her a goblet, interrupting her jumbled thoughts. "Why do you frown so, little one?" he asked softly. She started at the sound of his voice. She had not even noticed he had returned.
"'Twas naught, my lord," she murmured, blushing warmly. She reached up and took the other goblet of wine from him. He then walked quickly back to the table and returned with the large covered platter. He set it gingerly in front of her, then sat down cross-legged close by her side, his hard, muscled thigh brushing against her leg.
"Nay, 'twas something, I know it," he insisted gently. "I have seen you fro
wn so before, when you were deep in thought." He smiled rakishly, his blue eyes burning into hers with heated desire. "I forbid you to think of aught else but me this night," he said huskily. "Now drink with me, Anora."
Taking one of the goblets from her hand, he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. Gwendolyn did the same, her eyes not leaving his. It was more of the same red wine they had shared in the bathing house, she thought, savoring the heady sweetness. Memories of that long night flooded back to her, and she hoped that tonight would be as passionately fulfilling.
Hakon set down his goblet and lifted the cover from the wooden platter. As the steam escaped from under the dripping lid, the mouth-watering aroma of roasted pheasant filled the air. There were four of the delectable birds arranged on the platter, surrounded by pit-roasted small potatoes and steamed figs.
He smiled at Gwendolyn's gasp of pleasure. Breaking off a well-browned leg, he handed it to her, then tore another off for himself. Berta had even provided a crusty loaf of rye bread slathered with golden butter, and several moistened towels for their hands.
They ate in contented silence, Hakon handing Gwendolyn choice pieces of roast pheasant and the plumpest figs. One ripe fig burst when she bit into it. The sweet juice ran down her chin and on to the bodice of her chemise, soaking through to her skin, before she could wipe it away. She giggled as Hakon drew her to him and kissed the nectar from her mouth.
"I will savor the rest of it later." He grinned lustily, his eyes on her breasts. The thought sent shivers of anticipation racing through her. He was about to rise to fetch more wine, but Gwendolyn stopped him. Rising to her feet, she walked to the low table, very much aware that his gaze was following her every movement. She picked up the tall vessel and turned around, a faint smile on her lips.
Hakon almost choked. Her silken garment was so sheer, it was as if she were standing before him with no clothes on at all! The leaping flames in the fireplace cast a glowing aura about her slender form, accentuating her delicate curves. She seemed bathed in light, from her head to her toes. The delicate beauty of her features shone with ethereal radiance, the soft curls of her silver-blond hair glinting with shimmering highlights. If Hakon had not known she was a flesh-and-blood woman, he would have thought for sure she was a goddess sent down from the high throne of Odin himself! Overwhelmed by raging desire, he knew he could wait no longer.
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