He stooped to pick up the parka. “I could never forget you, prinsessen Ragna FitzRam.”
He untied his leather headband, then slipped hers from her head and replaced it with his own. It still held the warmth of his body. He clenched her headband in his fist, put it to his nose and inhaled deeply, then strode away.
Buffeted by the wind, she watched his broad back until he was out of sight. A tidal wave of grief threatened to swamp her. She had never surrendered any part of her heart to a man, now he was leaving. He might never return.
She did not know how long she remained on the shore, blindly watching the waves. When the two longboats came around the headland, Reider stood with Kjartan in the stern, his hand raised in salute.
Thor barked frantically. She held on to her resolve not to wave back, but when the boats were specks on the horizon, she raised her hand. “Please come back,” she whispered to the wind. She had not even wished him Godspeed.
~*~
Reider watched until Ragna and her beloved dog were barely visible. Would he ever again run his hands through the beautiful tresses that billowed in the wind like a golden banner? He did not expect her to return his salute. She was too stubborn. He had never met such a wilful woman, but her wild nature excited him. She would be a challenging mate for some man.
The thought of another bedding her filled him with anger, but he had nothing to offer her, certainly not his heart. Margit had destroyed it. He suspected Ragna would expect nothing less of her mate than his whole heart. She was not a woman of half measures, probably because of her Danish blood!
Despite his determination to avoid her, he had been inexplicably unable to stay away from his alcove at night. He had made sure she did not know he slept beside her, stealing into the small space late into the night and leaving before she awoke. It had been torture not to reach out and touch her as she slumbered.
He touched his fingers to his bottom lip, remembering the taste and smell of her—spicy like her nature. He had not intended to kiss her. He had kissed women before, but nothing had prepared him for Ragna’s kiss. Her groan of longing had inflamed him even beyond the rock-hard erection that arose whenever he was near her. It was the kiss of a passionate woman, but an innocent one. He suspected she had never kissed a man. Her warmth as she sucked his tongue and thrust her breasts had sent desire crashing through him. It had taken considerable control not to take her on the shore.
He removed her leather headband from his tunic, inhaled her lingering scent and fastened it around his head.
His heart leapt into his throat when she suddenly raised her hand in salute.
“I will come back for you, Ragna, my prinsessen.”
~*~
Once the boats had disappeared beyond the horizon, Ragna knelt to hug Thor, then wandered slowly back to whatever awaited her at the lodge. The dog whimpered as he kept pace with his mistress. She patted his haunches. “You too feel his absence already, don’t you, my loyal friend?”
She took her time, stooping occasionally to throw a pebble or two into the waves. Thor gave up chasing them, discouraged when there was nothing to retrieve.
When she pushed open the heavy door of the lodge, her eyes widened. The thralls were dressed in their own clothing. One of the Danes explained Reider had freed them at her request.
Needing to be alone to come to terms with this new revelation and her feelings of loss, she hastened to the alcove. Atop Reider’s pallet lay her mother’s dagger, still in its sheath. She grabbed the precious weapon and held it to her breast. Unable to stem the tide of tears any longer, she fell on to the bed and sobbed until exhaustion took hold. Thor curled up beside her, whimpering.
XIII
After days of planning and consulting with locals, Dieter and Magnus came to the conclusion it would be impossible to search the marshy coastline on horseback. They would have to obtain a boat, and a crew, since neither they nor their men were mariners. Local seamen would be familiar with tides and the lay of the land.
In their quest for a boat, they heard reports of a brutal massacre on the island principality of Strand. Speculation was rampant that the heir apparent might have escaped. Dieter paid little attention, preoccupied with fears for Ragna.
Magnus secured a boat and crew, mostly Saxons with some Danes. Their captain demanded what Dieter considered a high price, but Magnus pointed out they may have to go as far as Strand, and that might prove dangerous in the present situation.
The Danish captain, Ivar Sigurdsen, took charge of obtaining and loading provisions aboard the knarr. Dieter and his men embarked from the dock in Hamburg, having stabled their horses at a reputable farm.
Dieter was apprehensive. He was not a sailor, and had never been on a boat, except to travel from time to time along the Rhine.
They sailed down the Elbe. He found his sea legs and thought it might not be too bad. Once they reached the open sea, uncontrollable retching left him exhausted. Many of his men suffered the same affliction, much to the amusement of the seasoned crew.
They took their time, carefully exploring the shoreline. Dieter appreciated the captain’s knowledge of the area and admitted that he and Magnus could not have undertaken this search alone. He did not hold out much hope of finding Ragna.
As they scoured the miles of coastline, he tried to keep his attention off the movement of the waves. His disordered thoughts drifted to the tale of the flight of the heir of Strand, then to his recollection of the story of the heroic rescue undertaken by the Danish longboat. Were the two events connected somehow? Could the Viking who had come to the rescue of the Norman cog be the Prince of Strand?
If Ragna lived, was she caught up in a dangerous struggle for power? It was reassuring that the crew Magnus had hired was aware there might be conflict ahead and would enter the fray if necessary. If Ragna had been enslaved, they would likely have a fight on their hands to free her.
Dieter did not fear conflict. Hailed as a hero of the battle of Andernach, he had played a significant role in the victory of Köln against the Holy Roman Emperor. But he was glad to have a strong militia with him.
Sigurdsen docked at a village or settlement each evening, and it became apparent he was known and welcomed along the coast. The talk around the campfires turned to the massacre. There was general agreement the Prince of Strand would join forces with a neighboring principality in an attack to regain his birthright. There seemed to be no further doubt that the prince had survived the massacre.
Dieter asked Sigurdsen’s opinion. “If this prince did escape, where would he have gone?”
“Husembro.”
The man had not hesitated. “You seem sure of that.”
Ivar shrugged. “It is the logical place. An inlet with hidden coves, but not far from Strand.”
Dieter gazed out at the black waters, whitecaps still visible in the moonlight. “How long to get there, if we go directly, without searching the shore on the way?”
Ivar took off his woolen cap and scratched his head. “You think the woman you seek is with Prince Reider?”
Dieter felt a pang of doubt. This shrewd seaman probably judged him naive to rely on a hunch. He swallowed hard. “I do.”
Ivar laughed and slapped him on the back. “Me too.”
“You do?”
Ivar lay back to gaze at the stars, his hands behind his head. “Prince Reider is exactly the kind of man who would go out in a storm to save another boat. And if anyone would be likely to jump into a roiling sea to save another person, it would be him.”
Dieter craned his neck to look at the stars. “You know him then?”
“I do, and I know his step-brother, Gorm, who now rules in his place.” He sat up and spat. “Never did trust the man.”
XIV
Margit slapped the thrall hard across the face. “Ouch! Be more careful with the comb.”
Olve scrambled to her feet and retrieved the whalebone comb from the floor, her face reddened with the imprint of her mistress’s hand.<
br />
It gave Margit satisfaction that the thrall trembled as she tried once more to unsnarl the thick curly tangles. She was in a mood to make others suffer. As usual, Gorm had left her bed during the night after satisfying his own needs, leaving her wanting. It amazed her that such a well-endowed man knew nothing about a woman’s pleasure. He had not been persuaded to marry her, though she had tried every ploy in her arsenal to convince him.
The comb snagged again. Margit screeched, leaned back in her chair and kicked the child hard in her swollen belly. The thrall cried out and doubled over, crawling out of the chamber when Margit sent her packing. “Send another thrall, one who is not so careless.”
That should take care of the wretch who had stupidly gotten with child, probably Gorm’s.
Margit seethed as she paced back and forth, tugging the comb through her black hair. Gorm’s smell still clung to her. He treated her no better than a thrall. Worse, because he would kill her if she lay with another man. He seemed to have forgotten that without her help he would not be sitting on the throne of Strand.
He gave her no say in the judgments he rendered, did not allow her a seat on the dais beside him. She would have been better off marrying Reider. She cupped her breasts, remembering with a shiver how Reider’s big hands had fondled them. She barred the door, took a deep breath and brushed her palms over her hard nipples, frustrated that she would have to once again take care of her own needs.
~*~
Reider choked on his response when Dagfinn Alfredsen embraced him, uttering words of condolence he knew were heartfelt. His father and Dagfinn had been friends and allies for many years. The two neighboring principalities had supported each other for generations. The Hall in which they stood had witnessed many marriages between the two peoples.
Dagfinn looked him in the eye. “I never trusted your step-brother.”
Resentment stuck in Reider’s throat. “Was I blind? Why did everyone else see his treacherous nature, but I didn’t?”
The older man put his hands on Reider’s shoulders. “Because, my boy, you see the good in people, but sometimes you are blind to their faults. Your father was the same. He became so determined to make a strategic marriage with Gorm’s mother, he failed to see the son’s greed. It cost him his life.”
Reider let out a long breath. “My life too, had it not been for Kjartan.”
Dagfinn shook Kjartan’s hand and embraced him. “Welcome, Kjartan. Your cousins are anxious to renew acquaintance. It’s been too long since you visited your family here.”
Kjartan smiled. “I agree, and it is to my shame that it is tragedy that brings me here this time. With your permission I will seek them out.”
Dagfinn slapped him on the back. “Go now. Bring them.”
Reider watched his friend leave, envious of Kjartan’s extended family. Dagfinn eyed him curiously. “What of Margit?”
A worm coiled in Reider’s bowels. “She betrayed me. Her betrayal cut deeper than Gorm’s. I will never trust a woman again.”
But as he swore, his thoughts went to Ragna. He sensed she cared for him. Would she betray him, if he trusted her with his heart?
A thrall approached with tankards of ale for Reider and his men. Others brought victuals. “Sit! Enjoy our meagre fare,” Dagfinn declared.
Reider gazed at the haunch of venison and inhaled deeply. “My lord, we have dined on naught but fish for a month. This is ambrosia.”
Dagfinn chuckled. “Eat then! We’ll fill our bellies and talk of how we might defeat this murderous usurper.”
They sat down to feast. Kjartan entered the Hall with uncles, aunts and cousins in tow. He had not seen them for several years, and their boisterous joy was evident. He reintroduced Reider to two female cousins, little girls when Reider had last seen them. Now they were alluring young women. Reider winked at his friend.
“Never mind that,” Kjartan said with a shrug. “I have something to show you.”
He placed a cloth-covered bundle on the table and carefully unfolded the wrapping to reveal a small dagger. Reider’s mouth fell open. How had Ragna’s dagger come to be here? He frowned and glanced up sharply at Kjartan. “How—?”
His friend picked up the dagger and handed it to him. “Almost identical, wouldn’t you say?”
Reider accepted the weapon and ran his fingers over the intricately carved Viking on the handle. Emotions warred within him. The same artisan had carved this dagger and Ragna’s. “Where did you get this?”
Kjartan pointed to one of his cousins. “It belongs to Dagfrid, my beautiful cousin. It is a family heirloom passed down from generations ago, but only to the women. It was made for a woman’s hand. When I saw Ragna’s, I knew I’d seen something similar before.”
Reider’s thoughts were in a whirl. “But this means—”
His comrade finished the thought for him. “Ragna and I are somehow of the same blood. Probably second or third cousins many times removed. We may have shared a grandfather four generations ago.”
Anger crept into Reider’s soul. “She lied then. She must have known.”
Kjartan took the weapon from him and wrapped it in its covering. “Lied? How could she know? Do you think she arranged the storm so her boat would be blown off course and she could leap into your life and mine? Be reasonable, Reider. Take care that grief and hatred do not make you doubt everyone. Ragna has never given us cause to believe her a liar. She is an honorable woman. Fate has brought her back to the land of her ancestors. She is one of us.”
XV
Ivar coaxed his boat slowly into the mouth of Husembro cove before dawn, admonishing everyone on board to remain silent. They had anchored off shore overnight. Dieter’s heart throbbed in his ears. He had lain awake, listening to the creaking of the ship’s timbers as it floated in the mercifully calm sea. Unlikely as it was that he would find Ragna here, hope surged within him. He had to cling to it.
The weak rays of the rising sun barely penetrated the fog on the water. He peered into it. Was there a crude shelter tucked into the forest beyond the beach? He tapped Ivar’s shoulder and pointed.
“Looks like a lodge,” Ivar whispered. “Not been there long I’d say. Might be we are on the right track, but I don’t see any boats. That concerns me. We’ll wait until there is more light before we make a move.”
As the knarr rocked in the waves, Dieter’s belly turned over. He did not want to be seasick now of all times. He took a deep breath and concentrated on the barely visible shoreline, looking for movement.
“There!” Ivar pointed. “Men on the beach.”
Dieter made out two or three dark figures. One of them lit a fire. A woman emerged from the building, accompanied by a black dog. She was bundled in furs, but there was no mistaking the banner of blonde hair. The fog lifted as though her arrival had heralded the sun, and excitement bubbled up in his throat. He gripped Ivar’s arm. “It’s her.”
Ivar narrowed his eyes. “We must be careful. We cannot assume she is with friends, but there seems to be only a handful of men. However, we do not know how many are inside the lodge. We’ll approach slowly and I’ll hail them. I still see no boats.”
Timbers creaked as the knarr strained closer to the shore. The noise caught the attention of those on the beach. The men drew daggers. One of them motioned the woman to return to the lodge. She seemed ready to obey, but then turned to look out to sea, shielding her eyes.
Dieter chuckled. “Definitely Ragna.” He waved and shouted her name.
~*~
Emerging from the lodge, Ragna inhaled the damp air, dreading another day with no word from Reider and his men. She had lost track of how many days they had been gone. Where were they now? Had they persuaded their old allies to help them?
The men left to guard her were friendly and the freed thralls treated her with respect, grateful for her part in their liberation, but she was still the only woman among them. How long would she be safe? They were vulnerable here. She sensed it, though the Danes doub
ted Gorm would attack, especially with the persistent fog.
Suddenly, Torgrim drew his dagger and ordered her back to the lodge. A boat had pulled into the cove. She shielded her eyes to determine the threat. As the fog lifted she saw that it was not a longboat.
Someone waved. She narrowed her eyes and gasped. “Dieter?” she whispered. She had not seen her brother-by-marriage for several years, but was sure it was he waving frantically. Then she heard his voice on the wind. “Ragna!”
Relief surged over her. “Dieter has come to our rescue, Thor.” She would not be marooned on this lonely shore. She would see her family again. Waving both hands high over her head, she jumped up and down. Thor ran round in circles, barking loudly. “Dieeeeterrr!” she bellowed, running into the waves. Torgrim ran after her, trying to pull her back. “No, no, Torgrim, it’s all right. It’s Dieter. I know him. Put away your weapons.”
Her excitement spread to the other survivors and they too waved their arms, shouting and beckoning for the ship to come into shore.
Dieter leapt into the waist high water and strode towards the beach. Ragna waded out to meet him and collapsed into his outstretched arms. “You came,” she sobbed. “You didn’t give up.”
Dieter grinned broadly, hugging her tight. “Ragna! I am relieved to find you.”
Laughing, they waded out of the water, Thor leaping in the waves and chasing his own tail. Dieter’s hand went to the hilt of his dagger when he saw the Danes with their weapons drawn, but Ragna reassured him. “We are safe with them. They were left here to protect me.”
The shipwreck survivors mobbed Dieter, shaking his hand and thanking him.
Ivar’s crew came ashore and introductions were made. The Danes knew Ivar and obviously felt comfortable with him. They too became swept up in the celebration. Ragna had not given any thought to how isolated and vulnerable they too must have felt. They had been left behind because of her, when they would rather have gone to fight with their leader, their prince.
Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 75