“Of course. There is no need for impudence. I would know how to please my husband to be before he needs teach me. Surely, you have some trick, or secret, you can impart which would aide me in my pursuit.”
“And you believe I will tell you?”
“I believe you have no choice.”
“You believe wrongly. If you wish to know what pleases Mykyl, you’ll have to ask him.” Amoda smiled sweetly.
“I could have you sent from this house. I will soon be Queen of all Woodstown and its surrounding territory and—”
“I think you wish you could be Queen,” Amoda interrupted smoothly. “You will never be any more than Tyr’s whore, bought and paid for with the price of a few bits of silver. You’ll find Mykyl to be much more difficult to sway than Tyr.”
“That is a matter of opinion. A wife holds more sway than a man’s whore.” “I’d rather be his whore than his father’s puppet.” Amoda raised her chin, a deliberate challenge in her voice.
“How dare you? You shall be gone from this house the very day that we are wed,” Lady Mallon ground out, her eyes flashing with fury as she stepped closer to Amoda.
A loud knock interrupted Amoda who choked back her angry retort. Gritting her teeth to avoid choking Lady Mallon, Amoda waited for the door to swing on. Shock tore through her at the sudden appearance of Cahal’s massive frame in the doorway.
“Begging your pardon, Lady Mallon.”
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Lady Mallon snapped as she glared at Cahal and Amoda.
“His lordship has summoned her,” Cahal explained tonelessly. “Amoda, come now.”
“But I have not finished my talk with her,” Lady Mallon protested quickly.
“I am sorry, my lady. The Prince bids her come.”
Amoda caught the dark look on the other woman’s face and hid her grin. She cared little if her nemesis had finished with her or not. She had certainly finished with Lady Mallon. “Should I gather my things? It will take but a moment.”
“He bid you come to him now.”
With a slight bow, Amoda turned and scurried toward the door. Slipping past Cahal, she paused. “Where is he?”
“This way.”
Amoda followed him silently, unease turning her stomach ruthlessly. There had been such a flurry of activity in the past weeks that Mykyl had barely noticed her. He’d sought her out in the darkness of the night, when the torches and flames had cast the room in shadow. Her days however, belonged to the hours of toil she’d undertaken, with hardly a glimpse of him.
Slipping into the warming spring sunlight Amoda frowned and paused. “What does he need with me out-of-doors?”
Cahal turned his head and stared her. “Come, I will explain in a moment.”
Amoda fidgeted at the look on his face. “What is going on, Cahal? My lord would not summon me to the stables,” Amoda snapped as she entered the building, hit by the smell of horses, hay, and manure.
“Nay, Erin said you wished to have some assistance.”
“Not from—” Amoda gasped as a tall, beautiful woman with flowing black hair stepped into view. She stared hard at the woman who eyed her with an assessing glare.
“This is Sodja, high priestess of the third house of Anu.” Cahal made the introductions quickly. “She has been generous enough to offer you sanctuary.”
“At what cost?” Amoda whispered. “I will not part—”
“At no cost, my lady.” Soft, gentle the woman’s voice held a mysterious note. “It will be our honor to provide sanctuary to you and your child.”
Amoda cast a fleeting look between the woman and Cahal, unease settling heavily within her belly. “How can you even think I would leave right this moment? There are people everywhere. It is a certainty that I will be discovered.”
“If you are to get away cleanly, you must go now. Hours of wedding details will keep Mykyl occupied. Lady Mallon and her women are busy with their attire. If you wish to go, you must go now.”
“What of the guards? The moment they see me they will—”
“You will walk with me.” Sodja walked closer to her. “No one will question us. If they should ask, we are simply going to a sacred place to bless your child. No one will notice your absence for hours.”
Amoda looked from Sodja to Cahal. “Why are you willing to do so much? If he suspects anything, he would not hesitate to bring his wrath down on you.”
“Because, Amoda, my dear sister has pointed out to me that you love him enough to avoid dishonoring his son.” Cahal stalked out the door and headed for the manor house.
Amoda glanced down at the slight bump of her abdomen. She’d purposely left her clothing a little loose in the hopes that no one would notice. That Cahal had noticed made her uneasy, and she shivered with fear. Had Mykyl noticed as well? If he had noticed, why had he never questioned her about the child?
“Come, let us go.” Sodja took her arm and led her through the stables, coming out on the far side. “For there to be peace, you must weather this storm.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Amoda whispered softly but made no effort to escape the woman’s grip. Rather, she hurried along in silence. Whatever was to happen would be better than staying behind and having nothing.
“Have faith. This is not the end.”
Amoda stared at Sodja’s for a heartbeat before she sighed in resignation. Perhaps the other woman was right. The gods had to have a plan for her, a future that maybe would allow her son to have claim of his father’s name.
~ * ~
Cursing the insanity of the wedding preparations that had taken over his every waking moment, Mykyl stalked along the corridors. His mood as dark as pitch-black hours of the moonless night. The long hours spent talking to the men of war and allegiances often meant that he went to bed long after the sun had set. It also meant that he had no time nor chance to seek out Amoda. Too many nights he retired to a cold, empty bed, and he longed to forget everything by spending a few hours in her arms. For the past three days now, he’d searched the massive structure he called home for her but to no avail. What could have become of his beloved Amoda? He peered into yet another empty room.
He searched his mind, hoping to recall a detail that he had forgotten or ignored. Their last conversation she’d mentioned that Erin had offered a room, perhaps she had retreated to the slave quarters. With the wedding drawing near it would be impossible for her to remain in his bed. His father would expect an heir soon after the marriage. To produce one would mean spending at least a month in his wife’s bed. It irked him that Fiona Mallon was here. It was rare for the bride and groom to be in the same household before the wedding. Usually, they remained apart so the marriage bed could be pure. A bed he loathed the very idea of crawling into. Nay, it was not the bed so much, he realized but the woman who would be in it. His only option was to creep into Amoda’s bed, and he refused to shame her by sneaking about in the daytime.
Inwardly, he flinched as thoughts of the upcoming nuptials filled his mind. He knew his father expected him to wed. Many a marriage held no love; rather they were a means to an end, solidifying deals, contracts, and alliances. Still he could not bring himself to contemplate such an empty union.
To live a life with a woman he didn’t know, didn’t respect was to him a sentence of drudgery. Nothing stirred within him at Fiona Mallon’s appearance, no fire, no desire to claim her. She left him as cold as a block of ice.
“Something troubles you, my lord?”
Mykyl startled at the interruption to his thoughts and stared at Lady Fiona. “What do you mean?”
“You seem troubled about something. Is there anything…?”
“Nay.”
“If I may be so bold to ask it of you, could I mayhap have a few moments with your concubine this afternoon? I wish to conclude a conversation between us, yet I have not seen her in some days.”
“Conversation?” he asked haltingly, a prick of unease within him.
“Aye,
a rather personal topic, my lord.” Lady Fiona’s flush climbed into her cheeks as she lowered her eyes demurely. “One best suited to my women and myself.”
“Indeed.” Mykyl shrugged. “When her other duties have been completed, I will inform her of your desire to conclude your business.” After I’ve managed to spend a little time with her myself. Right after I find her stubborn hide.
“Thank you, my lord.”
Mykyl watched her curtsy before darting down the corridor, two of her ladies a few steps behind her. He frowned at the guilty looks they flashed at him, even as his mind wandered. What could Lady Mallon want with Amoda? There had been no warmth, no friendship between the two. There could be none. He’d seen the hate-filled looks cast at his fiery Amoda from the Irish woman. Nay, something else lay tangled between them. His unease grew as he stared down the now empty corridor, doubts hovering about him like insects.
With a quick shake of his head, Mykyl turned back to his search. He would deal with his betrothed later. Now he had to find the woman who held his soul within her hands. Prowling through the corridor, he passed Cahal and Erin who both looked at him then away, guilt flushing their faces. Muttering about stubborn women, he headed for the kitchen.
He’d swallow his pride if that’s what it took to—Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at the pair easing down the corridor, hunched together like guilty children. Narrowing his eyes, he appraised them. Neither willingly met his gaze, and Erin looked ready to bolt.
“What is going on?” he demanded.
“What do you mean, my lord?” Erin squeaked.
“You know exactly what I mean. You two look like you’ve stolen the keys to the larder.” Mykyl stalked back to stand directly in front of her, using his imposing height to intimidate as he waited impatiently for her reply.
“I have work that awaits me,” Erin whispered softly and turned toward the weaving room.
“Perhaps you do, but not right now,” Mykyl ground out, snagging her arm in a firm grip. “I wish to know where Amoda is.”
“Amoda, my lord?” Cahal shifted uneasily.
“My Karras, you know her well. You’ve spoken your opinion of her numerous times. Where is she?”
“I have not seen her yet today.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Not for a couple of days.”
Mykyl glared at Cahal. “Where did she go?”
“I do not know.”
“Erin?”
“I have not spoken to her in some days, my lord.”
With a muffled curse, Mykyl turned to stomp off. That they hid something became evident in their hesitancy, in the way they both acted like reprimanded small children. Nevertheless, what could they be hiding? Could it be that they knew something, but not all? Had they discovered some ill will toward Amoda from the Mallon house?
Mykyl slammed an angry fist into the wall, swore at the sharp agony that ripped through his hand and up his arm. He stood and glared at yet another empty room. He’d been through every inch of his residence, even been to the quarters of several servants who had taken ill. No one had seen or heard from Amoda in a few days. “She is gone, my lord.”
Whipping around, he stared at Byrne who leaned on his walking stick, an unreadable expression on his face. “What do you mean she is gone? Gone where? Did she go to one of the farms to help an illness or a birth?”
“Nay, she is gone. You did not believe she would stay here and watch you wed another. Did you?”
“She is mine. I did not give her permission to leave.”
“I am aware of the laws, as is she. She is gone, and you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Where has she gone? Tell me.”
“I do not know where. Cahal does, as does that girl, Erin. Both helped Amoda in her escape.”
“Her escape! This is her home; her people are here. She belongs here with me. This is her place!” Mykyl raged as he paced across the floor and back. How could she leave him? What would make her run from him after all this time? Mayhap, she’d simply been waiting for this moment. Mayhap, she had never intended to stay here, to remain with him.
What of their deal? What of the bargain she’d agreed to? He frowned as he considered the situation. It mattered little to him if she kept her end of the bargain. He prayed to the gods that if she bore him child it would be a daughter, thus he could bind her to him a little longer. Time was all he needed to make her love him.
Given the choice, he’d rather have her here with him. Gods above, how had this happened? How could he be so blind that he had not realized such an important event? She’d seemed even more sensitive to sensations around her breasts these past weeks, and she’d taken to wearing looser clothing. A brightness, a glow seemed to wrap itself around her that he had not seen before.
Awash in nausea, he sank into a chair and stared at Byrne who watched him dispassionately. “She is with child, isn’t she? I have lost her and my son?”
“You had no intention of letting her go. Why does it seem so hard to believe she would learn to be dishonest from you? Why should she not be just as willing to back out of a bargain as you?”
“I couldn’t let her go,” Mykyl whispered tightly. “Don’t you understand? I need her!” “Nay, you do not. You used her to get back at Olaf for Darina. The thing is, my lord, she is smarter than you gave her credit for. She grew tired of being a pawn between you and Olaf any longer. If she is with child, she put the needs of her offspring before your pride.” Byrne paused, shifting his weight more easily. “She left before your bride could sell her off! I heard Lady Mallon’s tirade the other day, threatening to rid the house of her because she would not reveal what you wanted in a bedmate.”
Mykyl sat frozen as Byrne retreated, leaving him alone. The weight of what he’d done sunk in, twisting his stomach into knots. They did not understand. None knew in her he had found peace. In her willingness to do what was necessary to survive, he’d discovered that there was more to a woman than just her body.
It had been in her arms that his soul had healed from the deceit that plagued his relationship with his brother and father. Greed and revenge had controlled him so long he had not known how to live without them until the gentle touch of a woman who longed for freedom.
No matter the cost, he would right this wrong. Lady Mallon would return to her previously betrothed and Amoda would return to his manor, his life, and his bed, regardless of his father’s will.
Seventeen
The echo of horns in the early morning mist had Mykyl bolting upright, the empty chalice near his arm flying off the table. He rubbed at his tired eyes, his fingers scratching through the rough bristling at his jaw. In the days since Amoda vanished from his life, he had not spent any time within his chambers.
No visible outward signs marked that anything had changed. The bed still sat where it had, furs and linens piled on it. The table and chair sat by the hearth. Yet the room seemed robbed of all warmth, of comfort.
Cahal stepped into the room and bowed slightly. “You slept here again last night? You’d best clean yourself up, Mykyl. Banners approach from the north. They bear the mark of your father.”
“My father?”
“Yes, my lord. They’ll be riding through the gates within the hour.”
“For the love of Odin, have Byrne find them chambers. I have no desire to house them,” Mykyl snarled angrily.
“Knowing your brother, you won’t have to provide a chamber for him.” Cahal drawled. “He’ll simply take yours.”
“Shut up.”
Cahal grinned at the order before darting out the door, leaving Mykyl to simmer in his own anger. That his father saw reason to come made him more than a little uneasy. Lady Mallon, it seemed, had become aware of his dark mood and made herself scarce in the days since Mykyl learned of her actions.
His hatred and anger with his father had not lessened; rather, time had increased these feelings. He did not want anyone from Bratthl’id within the walls
of his manor. He wanted Amoda where he could see her, touch her, not out where he could do nothing to protect her. With Olaf’s arrival, he knew the risk to her increased greatly, and he would not allow Olaf to steal her back.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Mykyl’s attention, and he glanced at the open doorway. Spotting Erin and several other serving women, he sighed, “What is it?”
“The guests have come through the gates. They have several women with them.”
“I’m certain that my brother’s wife has come. They are probably her serving women. Do we have a small house available?”
“There is the old druid monastery.”
“Make it ready for the guests. Knowing Olaf, he has left his mistresses back in Brattih’id. I’d just as soon not have my women treated as his personal property.”
Erin bowed low and darted off with her aids.
Mykyl stalked through the corridor until he stood at the top of the entry steps. He watched as a myriad of men, some in armor and others in heavy robes dismounted. Assessing the group, he easily spotted his father and brother.
“Mykyl, my son!” the loud, boisterous shout had him grinding his teeth.
“Father.”
“I do hope our arrival does not come at a difficult time.”
“I have ordered a private house for you while you remain,” Mykyl declared dispassionately.
“Where?” Olaf demanded, his eyes scanning the milling crowd with cold intent.
“The old druid temple is prepared. It is not a sacred spot and will afford you as much privacy as you wish,” Mykyl replied coldly. He turned away from the older men, intent upon distancing himself from them.
“And your brother and his wife?” Tyr demanded.
“Shall be staying there as well. I am afraid that there is so very little room within these walls—”
“Where is my slave woman? The red-head?” Olaf interrupted.
Mykyl sucked in a breath before facing Olaf. “Amoda? She is no longer a slave. I released her from her bonds.”
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