The Viking's Heart

by Jacqueline Navin

  “You have every right to ask anything. Ah, Rosamund, if I could, I would give you anything you ask for.”

  “I would have you be no different.” Fat, shiny tears spilled onto her cheeks and her breath hitched in as her body crumpled forward. He caught her and held her, wondering if he was crushing her and then not caring because it still wasn’t tight enough.

  “Go,” he said again. “If Lucien comes, it will be the end of your dream. Go.”

  He released her and she backed away, crying too hard to do anything but stand there, helpless. He took her by the hand and led her to Davey’s horse. It was his own palm that cradled her bare foot as Davey pulled her up behind him.

  “Wait,” he said. Rummaging around, he found one of her shoes. “Where is the other?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Davey exclaimed with impatience. “Hurry!”

  Agravar gave the young man a blistering stare as he handed him the shoe. “Take care of her. Allow no harm to come to her.”

  “I shall protect her,” Davey said coldly. He made to pull the horse around, but Agravar reached up to grab the reins, stopping him.

  “If any ill befalls her, I shall hunt you down myself and wear your hide as a cloak.”

  The lad’s throat convulsed. He jerked his hands free and turned the horse around. Agravar watched as his heels dug into the beast’s side and the animal reared, then shot off through the trees, disappearing in an instant.

  Agravar took a step forward, his arm outstretched as if in this last moment he had changed his mind. The receding sound of hoofbeats fell to silence and he dropped his hand to his side.

  Agravar dressed. Dusting off his tunic, he put it on. The side was in shreds, but he did the best he could with it. It didn’t matter, it was merely a diversion. Then he rummaged through the bundles Rosamund had left. He ate everything. He was ravenous.

  He waited. If Davey was to be believed—and this was, admittedly, doubtful—then Lucien should be arriving fairly soon.

  As it turned out, the boy was correct. A group of riders could be heard in the forest. Agravar tilted his head back and let out a long, chilling shout. It was his war cry. Lucien would know it. Except today it sounded mournful, not vengeful at all.

  How much time had passed since Rosamund left with Davey? Were they on the ship already?

  It was but a few moments later when Lucien and Robert broke through the trees and reined their horses to a halt before him. Their full complement of men flooded through the thinnest parts of the forest around the ruins.

  Agravar slowly got to his feet. Lucien dismounted, his relief apparent on his face. “Agravar!”

  “My lady, is she well?” Agravar asked.

  Lucien nodded. “She is fine. Fine.” His grin broadened. “And we have another son.”

  Agravar found a degree of tension ease out of him. He hadn’t realized that since Davey’s announcement that Alayna had been brought to childbed, he had been on edge. “Congratulations, my friend. It does my heart good to know all is well with you.”

  Lucien’s eyes peered at Agravar sharply. “’Tis good you are well. I feared…” He stopped, the tick of his that showed whenever he was annoyed throbbing at his temple. “And Rosamund? You never found her?”

  “Nay. I fell under the hands of some thieves. They took my horse and left me for dead.”

  “But we found the horse. It is back home and well tended.”

  Agravar nodded, as if relieved. Strange that even the recovery of his valuable destrier made no impression on him. “What good fortune.”

  “You did battle. What happened?”

  Agravar was somewhat taken aback. Lucien explained, “That wound in your side?”

  “Aye. The little trick I tried on you. As it turns out, it does not work nearly as well as I had hoped.”

  “But ’tis been cauterized.”

  Agravar glanced down at the livid flesh with a dismissive shrug. “I tended it myself. After all the times I’ve been cut open, I should know what to do.”

  Lucien nodded, a bit bemused. “Very good. I…I was worried about you, old friend. When you didn’t return, I thought the worst.”

  Agravar brushed past him. He felt like hell for his deception. “Lord Robert, I regret I was unable to retrieve your betrothed.”

  “’Tis not your failure,” Robert said. “We can only hope she is well and will be returned to us in due time. I am pleased that you are restored to your friends who love you so well.”

  “My thanks,” Agravar replied. Whirling, he said to Lucien, “Let us to Gastonbury. I need a mount.”

  “Gregory!” Lucien called. “Ride with Philip. Give my captain your horse.”

  Going to where he had lain, on that scratchy blanket and pathetic pile of leaves she had lovingly gathered for him, where they had made love together and melded their hearts in a union that would have to last the rest of their lives, he gathered his boots and his sword. He was about to turn back when he spied something half-hidden under the edge of the blanket.

  Her shoe.

  “Agravar? Are you coming?”

  “A moment,” he answered, snatching the slender leather slipper into his fist, concealing it under the blanket, which he tucked into the crook of his arm.

  It was difficult to mount. The steed was not so large as his own horse, but the effort still cost him. Lucien looked on with concern. “When we return to Gastonbury, we must have Eurice tend you.”

  Agravar nodded and followed the procession out of the ruins.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Seven months later, and he could still smell her. If he closed his eyes and thought of her, his head was filled with her scent.

  Memories were like shades creeping around him all the time. It did no good to keep busy, for no matter how long he was occupied, the moment he fell to rest she would whisper across his mind. When he shut his eyes at night, he would see her—her mouth pursed just so, or slightly open as she gasped in passion. The way she threw her head back when reaching the pinnacle of pleasure, with her golden hair all around her.

  After five months, he thought to appease his lust on another. One of the three blond women—her name was Ermengarde—seemed a logical choice. She would certainly be willing, he knew. Agravar had stood in the hall and stared at her for a good hour before she took the lead and sauntered over to him. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, however, he realized it would be no good, and he walked out of the hall. It had been bitter cold that night. He spent the long hours until morning touring the ramparts, fighting the misery, finally deciding he had to get on with things.

  After that, he was a bit better. He simply refused to indulge in the sensual fantasy that had kept him company those first months after she left. If any image came to his brain, he shifted his attention. After such discipline, he found he could bear it much better.

  But he still could conjure the memory of their lovemaking if he wished. He’d try it, once in a while, like probing a sore tooth with a tongue. He knew it would hurt, but just couldn’t seem to help himself.

  And so, now and then, he’d shut out the world and remember.

  Robert and Lucien were playing chess. Off in a corner, Lady Veronica worked at her embroidery. Alayna lay on the floor beside the new babe, named Luke, who was pulling himself about by his meaty fists. Leanna toddled, gently prodding young Luke with trinkets and toys.

  Poor Aric was sulking. Having gotten a sound spanking that day for terrorizing the dovecote and setting half the fowl to flight, he was nursing his wounded pride and a slightly sore posterior. The act had put his father in a bad mood, as well. Lucien loved the boy and hated having to discipline him, but he would never allow these tender feelings to interfere with his duty.

  Robert rubbed his chin. “You have me, I think.”

  “’Tis not check yet.” Lucien’s voice was flat, almost a growl.

  “Only a move or two away.”

  Agravar stood by the hearth, watching the dance of the flames wi
thin it.

  Robert sat back and pretended to stretch, then glanced over at the women. A small, secretive smile trembled at the corner of Lady Veronica’s mouth.

  Robert turned back to the game. “The night is mild. Inviting. Why do we not call the game and take some time to enjoy the air?” He twisted toward the women. “Would either of you ladies care to take a turn on the ramparts on such a fine night as this?”

  Veronica laid down her sewing. “Honestly, my eyes are tired. This light is poor. Ah, I am weary in any case of this tedious work. What did you say, Robert? A stroll? Well, ’twould be just the thing, I think.”

  “Finish the game,” Lucien growled. “I hate not seeing things through.”

  Alayna laughed lightly, coming to lay gentle hands on her husband’s shoulders. “You hate not having your moment of triumph. Lucien, really, where are your manners? Lord Robert is our guest and he wishes a reprieve.”

  Lucien made a harrumph that displayed his opinion of polite banality. Alayna stroked his chin and it seemed to soothe him. He shrugged. “Very well, I suppose.”

  The door opened with a bang. A soldier came in, casting his gaze about frantically. “Captain!” he said, spotting Agravar. “There are travelers at the gate. They say they are from—”

  He was cut off by the arrival of another soldier. “My lord, my lady, I must—”

  And then he was interrupted, as well. A third soldier rushed in and shouted, “They are coming!”

  In the confusion, Lucien had sprung to his feet. Agravar’s sword hand came to rest on his hilt, and the two men instinctively positioned themselves side by side, a gauntlet against any danger.

  Then a man walked into the room and Agravar felt his entire world suddenly spin off-kilter. A ghost, a memory. Impossible.

  It was Davey.

  All he could think of was that Rosamund was dead. He moved, wanting the scrawny man’s neck in his hands.

  There must have been murder in his eye, for Davey stammered and stared in terror as Agravar came at him.

  “Nay,” a female voice said, and it stopped him in his tracks.

  He didn’t dare look, didn’t dare believe what he had heard. Thought he had heard. How many times had her voice come to him in his mind in the time since she had been gone?

  But then Veronica cried, “Rosamund!” and flew past Agravar, and he knew it was no trick of his brain. He slid his gaze from the mingling of resentment and fear that played on Davey’s face to the door.

  Rosamund was there.

  Veronica held her, hugging her, but Rosamund’s clear brown eyes looked over her shoulder and straight at Agravar.

  Something strange happened to his legs. They would not move. When they did, he got two steps closer when a hand closed over his shoulder.

  He looked to find Lucien beside him. “’Tis not your place,” he said softly.

  Robert strode past, going to Rosamund and waiting until Veronica set her aside to brush away her tears. He took Rosamund’s hands and said formally, “My dear, I am delighted to have you safely returned.”

  “Thank you,” she answered calmly.

  Alayna embraced her next, and the two of them laughed with joy at their reunion. A small body brushed past Agravar’s thigh and he saw Aric rushing up to fling himself into Rosamund’s arms.

  Agravar took a step toward her. Lucien’s grip tightened.

  Agravar jerked forward, breaking out of his grasp. Rosamund watched him approach with stony composure.

  “Welcome back, my lady,” he said evenly.

  Her answering smile was genuine, full of secrets that only he would know. “Thank you, Agravar. ’Tis most grateful I am to be returned to Gastonbury. Where I belong.”

  His throat tightened. Robert frowned, and Agravar could almost hear his puzzlement at her reference. She was not destined to belong at Gastonbury.

  Veronica took Rosamund in hand. “My dear, I am sure we all have a hundred questions. But for now we shall simply give thanks to the Lord that you are safely restored to us.”

  Rosamund was brought to the dais with Veronica’s protective arm around her. On her other side was Robert. Alayna was close behind, with Aric skipping by her side. Lucien gave Agravar a meaningful look and followed his wife and son, scooping up his daughter on the way and leaving the babe in the care of his nurse.

  Agravar shifted his gaze to Davey, who stared back with eyes blazing with resentment.

  “I wish I had been allowed to go with the search party,” Aric fretted, his wooden sword dangling in his small hand. “I know I would have found the bandits that took you.”

  Rosamund laughed as tears pricked her eyes. It was the first wave of emotion since she had entered these doors and seen all the people she had dreamed of for seven months.

  She hadn’t even wept when she saw him.

  Grabbing the boy, she clasped him close in a quick hug. To her surprise, he didn’t struggle.

  “Come,” Alayna commanded. “You must wish to rest.”

  “Aye,” Rosamund agreed, grateful for the opportunity to duck out of her obligations.

  There would be, in time, many questions she would have to answer. Thinking about it brought a flutter of trepidation. Then she remembered the look on Agravar’s face and knew she had made the right decision in returning.

  She had a new plan. And it was going to work. But for now, she would take her respite while she could.

  The training field was lit with countless torches. Lucien thrust Agravar’s sword into his hand.

  “I remember what ’tis like.” His tone held as much kindness as was possible for him. “Come, swing the sword. You will find ’twill do you good.”

  Agravar felt numb. His fingers had no feeling.

  Lucien swatted him with the flat side of his sword.

  Startled, Agravar looked at him. “Come, you womanly knave,” Lucien taunted, “and let us see how soft your bewitched heart has made you.”

  “How did you know?” Agravar rasped.

  Lucien scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I do not care how many wounds you’ve had sewn together, or how many you’ve stitched yourself. Pressing burning steel to festering flesh—that one I would not believe of the very devil. She was with you.”

  “You knew all along?”

  Lucien swatted him again. This time it hurt.

  “Come, then, you addle-brained idiot. Swing the damned sword!”

  He struck again and Agravar’s limp fingers closed like steel around the worn hilt as he raised the weapon as familiar to him as his own hand. He brought it down with such force that Lucien buckled, going down on one knee. Lucien merely laughed and drew back for another go.

  Agravar fought. Lucien had been right. He did feel better.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Veronica trod gently. While they were in her chamber, attending Rosamund’s bath with Hilde rushing about making great clucking noises and weeping, Veronica suggested that Robert would want an explanation. Rosamund pretended not to hear.

  Alayna, who was more direct, sat down beside her once she had emerged from the water and was having her hair brushed, and asked outright. The door was open as the servants lugged the big tub down the steps. A draft came in, pricking Rosamund’s skin into gooseflesh. She was immediately wrapped tightly in a plush dressing gown.

  All eyes were on her, waiting. Rosamund bowed her head and took in a long, bracing breath. “I know Lord Robert has the right to know what happened to me. And your curiosity, I know it comes out of love and not malice, but ’tis a matter I would rather not speak of unless absolutely necessary.”

  A masculine voice cut in. “If ’tis painful to you, then we shall not mention it.” Robert was standing in the doorway. He entered. “Pardon me for coming upon you in your chamber, but I wished to speak with the Lady Veronica, to inquire as to your good condition, and found the doorway open.”

  Veronica stood and folded her hands in front of her. Rosamund noted the gesture. Why was Veronica so nervous?
r />   “Enter, my lord,” Veronica said, “for we are done with our chores.”

  “I will take but a moment of your time. You look well, Rosamund. Beautiful as always.”

  “My thanks at your kindness, my lord,” Rosamund murmured.

  “There is something I wish to be known. Your trials at the hands of the miscreants who took you from here are of no consequence. The important thing is that you are here with us again. I imagine ’tis painful for you to speak of, thus I forbid any inquiries.”

  Rosamund met his eyes. They looked on her kindly and she felt a pang of remorse for how she had betrayed this good man. She said nothing.

  He continued. “If you choose to impart your confidences to someone, that is your affair, Rosamund, but neither I, nor anyone else, shall demand any explanations. And…” He seemed to falter in this. His gaze flickered to the side of the room where Veronica stood rigidly. “There is no question that our betrothal contract is still honored. I fully intend to put it into effect as soon as can be arranged. Then I can take you home with me, and you can begin a new life away from these painful memories.”

  Before Rosamund could reply, he turned with stiff precision and exited the room.

  “There, how splendid Lord Robert is to see your discomfort and care for you in this way,” Hilde exclaimed.

  Alayna stroked Rosamund’s shoulder and added softly, “He is a most kind man.”

  “Aye,” Rosamund agreed.

  Seeing him again, with the haze of panic removed from her vision, she saw a noble-featured man who was quite pleasant to look upon. A bearing that was almost regal and gentle manner that made him instantly likable. He was a good man, a kind man. But she didn’t want him.

  What he had just done was indeed quite noteworthy. No doubt, all at Gastonbury assumed she had been raped by her captors. This would have been grounds to nullify the betrothal. Many men would not want a sullied bride and if Robert had wished to put her aside, it would not have reflected badly on him at all.