“The king seeks to back strong men, those strong enough to rule over his far-flung lands,” Duncan explained with a sigh. “Davin seems to be falling out of favor and I would offer my friendship and resources to someone high in the king’s regard.”
Sigurd took and released a breath, forcing himself to remain calm and evaluate the words. Before he could reply, Duncan continued.
“I have been asking about you, seeking information about how you have risen to such a high position. Everyone speaks highly of you and your abilities . . . and your ambitions. I would like to ally myself with such a man as you.”
Compliments aside, Sigurd was pleased his machinations and money worked, guaranteeing that what he paid those he controlled to say, they said. And believably, for Duncan had accepted their word.
“And I gain what from this alliance you offer?” Sigurd waited to see what would be offered and whether the true bargaining chip would be put in play at all or left aside for later.
“I know you have sought to learn about my abilities and I think you know what I offer for your use. Ask your man Godrod what he found.”
“He has spoken of things that seem unbelievable.” Did Duncan know the slut spied for him, too? Sigurd wondered.
“Believe them.” Once more Duncan’s eyes seemed to be on fire but his voice sounded as though more than one spoke. Sigurd shivered as he faced him and felt some power he did not understand . . . or control. He swallowed several times, his mouth going dry at the sound.
“Better still, call Godrod here and let me show you so you can judge for yourself.”
“I do not understand,” Sigurd admitted.
“My man said he bashed Godrod with a branch when he found him assaulting the whore who, I remind you, I’d paid good coin to have exclusive use of. There was a bleeding wound.” Duncan walked to the door and put his hand on the latch. “Summon him and let me demonstrate what an alliance with me could gain you.”
Sigurd nodded. He pulled the door open and tipped his head at his servant to approach from below. Godrod stopped at the door until Sigurd gave permission for him to enter. Duncan waved at his own servant and Ornolf pulled the door closed.
Sigurd had not taken close notice of the wound, but from the look and smell of it, it was infected badly. Pus and blood oozed from the haphazardly-sewn gash. It served the man right for disobeying his orders and trying to sample the girl’s flesh before her task was done.
“What do you need him to do?” Sigurd asked, waiting to see if the slut had babbled the outlandish tale or simply lied outright.
“Kneel here.” Duncan pointed to a spot in front of him.
Godrod delayed, not knowing why he was there and most likely expecting retribution for overstepping. That would come in good time when he least expected it, but Sigurd commanded him to drop to his knees.
Sigurd stood a few paces away, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for whatever the demonstration would be. Duncan closed his eyes and leaned his head back, standing in complete silence for several minutes. When he straightened his head up and opened his eyes, Sigurd knew he was no longer looking at something human.
Flames filled the man’s gaze and his face glowed, pulsing with heat and power. His hands grew bright. Holding them out, he placed them on Godrod’s head. Sigurd expected him to scream in pain, but only their breathing could be heard in the silence. As he watched in total fascination, Duncan’s hands seemed to melt into Godrod’s skin and reform it, from bloody wound to healed, intact skin.
No wonder the stupid bitch had babbled after watching something like that! And she’d been right—Duncan harnessed a terrible power and used it to heal. His hands held the power of life and death in them! As soon as the healing was over, the flames flickered out and Duncan became a man once more.
Godrod stumbled to his feet, touching his head, searching for the wound that had been there just moments ago. Sigurd knew he must gain control over Duncan and use his powers. Never one to dawdle when an opportunity presented itself, Sigurd grabbed Godrod and tossed him into the hall. Matters needed to be concluded rapidly, for he could already see many possibilities. But he was not stupid.
“Why have you offered to aid me?”
“You are a man who knows how to manage people and can help me profit from whatever this power is. It is reaching its peak and I want enough gold and property to keep me comfortable, and protected for the rest of my life. You will see to exploiting my power wisely and arrange things.”
“Why Thora?”
“A wealthy man needs heirs, so I need a wife.”
The man was coldly calculating, just as Sigurd would be in a similar situation. He smiled. “And you would pay for her?”
Duncan stumbled a bit, the effects of exercising such extraordinary power. “Name your price.”
Sigurd quickly calculated an obscene amount of gold and silver and told him.
“Done. Now, I must rest. Ornolf will bring the contracts to you and we will sign them before witnesses on the morrow. I would see this done within two days.”
“Two days? Surely not. Thora is not even here in Duntulm.” What was Duncan’s hurry?
“Bring her to Uig, to my home. Once the betrothal papers are signed, Ornolf will arrange for payment of her bride-price. I am building a new house there and she should have a say in it since it will be hers to control as my wife.”
Sigurd did not speak, not agreeing to the plan or naysaying it.
“If you do not want this alliance, simply say so. I but offered it to you first. There are others . . .”
Of a certain there would be others willing to pay for the chance to use his power. Others Sigurd could name immediately. Hesitation would be costly, so he nodded, accepting the arrangement. It would be difficult to accomplish so quickly, but for so much gold, he would make it happen.
“Ornolf,” Duncan called out. His servant entered at his call. “It is arranged—see to it.” Ornolf glanced at Sigurd and he nodded his acceptance.
He would have to send his fastest men to his keep in the south and get the girl there quickly. By sea, he thought, as he turned and walked to the door held open by the servant. So many arrangements to be made in so little time. Just as he reached the door, Duncan called out to him.
“Sigurd, one more matter.”
Lost in his calculations and estimations and with plans already spinning in his thoughts, Sigurd faced him, wondering what else there was to discuss.
“You have not mentioned Thora’s dowry.”
He had already determined what he would offer as her dowry when considering negotiations with other rich lords, so he offered the same. Duncan shook his head. “You can keep her inheritance, I want only the whore.”
“Isabel? As Thora’s dowry? That is not possible!” Sigurd claimed. Who ever heard of such a thing?
“Either she is given to me or I will seek an ally elsewhere.”
Sigurd had a sinking feeling in his gut that he had been played. No woman, especially not one used as Isabel had been, was worth the amount of gold, silver, animals, and cloth Duncan was passing up. No matter that she had earned Sigurd much. To him, Isabel was not worth it. Duncan could buy a dozen bed slaves a month for several years with what he was giving up in that dowry.
“Why do you want her?”
“She pleases me.”
Sigurd thought of the other complication. “Thora will not be happy to have her sister as your bed-slave or concubine.” The girl was so naïve and innocent, she did not even know what the marriage bed entailed. But she loved Isabel and Sigurd knew the arrangement would not work. No woman would want to share her husband with her sister, though it mattered little to Sigurd if Duncan slept with them both, separately or at the same time or gave them to his men and servants for their pleasure. He cared not what the man did in his own household.
“And that matters between men of business? You control the whore so well, surely you can make your well-raised and obedient daughter see the good in
this arrangement?”
Standing, half in the chamber and half in the hall, Sigurd could feel their deal slipping away. Not willing to lose such wealth and power over a young girl’s sensibilities, he nodded. “I will see to it. The whore is yours.”
He hurried from the chamber motioning to Godrod to follow him. Out of the keep Sigurd shielded his eyes against the light, peering up to estimate the position of the sun in the sky. The day had about six more hours of light and he needed to get Thora to Uig. By nightfall, the contracts had been delivered and his men were well on their way to take the girl to Uig to be handed over to her betrothed husband.
Once the contracts were signed and the bride delivered, he would begin to control something other men only dreamed of. If he laughed aloud later that day, who could blame him?
Ornolf had barely closed the door behind Sigurd when Duncan collapsed to the floor, his head burning and throbbing with unbearable pain. Ornolf helped him to the bed and gave him a draught against the pain.
“It went well,” he said after swallowing down the putrid concoction.
“How did you do it, Duncan? You have never been able to control it before,” Ornolf asked as he helped him to lie down.
“I know only that Isabel is the difference.”
“You are depending on her for much. Should you place so much importance on a wh—?” Ornolf stopped before uttering the word.
“She is the key, my friend. Doubt it not.” Duncan began to slur his words; the brew was already taking effect. “Since she appeared, I have learned how to let only a sliver of the power through. And she’s tempered the aftermath. She is . . .”
As he fell asleep, he hoped the numbness would follow the pain for seeing her face when she found out he was marrying her sister would only be manageable without his emotions to tear him apart.
He signed the betrothal contracts in the morning before Davin and five other men. He did not dare tell Davin too much, so the look of betrayal on his friend’s face was terrible to behold. Davin trusted him though and did as he’d asked him in serving as a witness. He would send Ornolf to explain everything later. In the meantime, he’d told Davin to send his wife to her relatives on Lewis and to be on guard.
Four days had passed since he’d left his farm and as he sailed back to Uig with Sigurd and the others who would witness the exchange of vows, all he could think about was Isabel.
There would not be time enough to explain things to her, so she would hear of his betrothal when they arrived. He did not want to die knowing she hated him, but Duncan thought that might happen. He dared not explain anything until Sigurd and the others were gone, but by then it might be too late. A marriage feast, even the small one he planned, would last for days and they would be under scrutiny at every moment. Now that she was his, he could take her to his bed without anyone looking twice at them, but he doubted she would sleep with her sister’s husband.
And he needed her more than ever before.
His body was readying itself for the ritual, two weeks away, even though he had called forth the tinest bit of power to heal Godrod. What did she have within her that enabled him to control the healing? As he’d told Ornolf, he knew she was responsible for the change in him—allowing him to pull the power in as though gathering the reins of a runaway horse and bringing it under control. Even as it bucked and tried to throw him off, he held it, feeling it flexing and stretching under his hold.
If only he had found her sooner . . .
If only he understood how he received the power or why . . .
If only their love could save them from the disasters that waited for them in the coming days . . .
The boat turned south, following the coast and he saw the bay tucked in ahead. Sigurd looked far too pleased with himself and Duncan hoped he was not making a terrible mistake. His new will was signed and left with Davin who would see it executed. Under usual circumstances, if he did not consummate the vows, the marriage would be invalid and Thora would have her dowry returned to her. Her bride-price would return to him, leaving her to an angry Sigurd’s control. Consummated, their marriage and his death would leave her a widow, protected by his name and with enough wealth to live without Sigurd’s interference.
Plans spun in his head, each one with its weaknesses and strengths, each one ended to the advantage of someone, but never to Isabel. The boat’s crew prepared to dock and Duncan took a deep breath, readying himself to hold all the threads together while he tried to weave an end that would leave Isabel whole and happy again.
As they climbed on the dock and found Sigurd’s daughter waiting there, he also heard that eerie laughter echoing around them. No one else seemed to hear it, but he finally knew what it was—the laughter of the fates as he tried to outsmart them and control his own ending.
Chapter Twenty
Duncan’s farm, near Uig
Isabel had tried to keep busy as she waited for Duncan’s return and word as to whether Sigurd had agreed to his request or not. If Godrod had passed on her words to Sigurd, he would want to know more about the power Duncan possessed so he could plan how to control the man who possessed it. If allowing Duncan to use her for a few more weeks was the price, Sigurd would acquiesce to the request, knowing a larger prize awaited him.
Two days had passed, then a third and Duncan still did not arrive. With only two weeks left until the next full moon, she grew restless knowing how he must need her. On the fourth morning after his departure, she decided that walking to Uig with Gunna and Harald would ease her. So, they set off in mid-morning for the village.
When they reached it, Gunna and Harald walked on without her. Gunna tried to convince her to accompany them, but Isabel was content to go only that far. The day was a pleasant one, though the cooler autumn winds warned of the impending change of seasons. The harvest was complete, and a feast would be held amongst those who worked the farm for Duncan to celebrate the success of the year’s crops. As the year rolled on, Isabel had lost track of the time until Gunna mentioned Samhain’s approach.
And the anniversary of Duncan’s birth.
He’d shared so few personal details and the fact that he was born on the ancient pagan feast day was one he’d forgotten to tell her. Gunna had planned something to mark the day until Harald pointed out it was also the day when the moon would reach its fullness.
And Duncan would suffer the very torments of hell after using his gift to heal any number of people in need.
If he was correct, their physical relations had eased the effects of the torment caused by the flaring of the power in him. He could not explain much more than that, but it gladdened her heart to think she did help him. The pleasure they shared was something she would always treasure.
Her cheeks felt hot as she thought on that last day together. She would like to think he’d looked at her with love but she did not want to fool herself in that way. He cared. He was considerate in his own way. That was enough and would always be.
Someone approached on the path and Isabel stepped into the shadows, fearing a repeat of Godrod’s attack. He had not been seen or heard from since that day, but she knew his methods and ignoring an insult was not his way. He would retaliate at some point. Just as she pushed back into the bushes, Gunna came running up the path.
“Isabel, Duncan has returned. He is on a boat that just docked. Come, let’s greet him!” she called out to her, waving her forward. “Harald waits for us ahead.”
Isabel considered refusing, but changed her mind. Duncan had been gone for two days more than he’d said and the bed had been empty and cold without him. She followed along, keeping her gaze on the ground ahead of her, not looking at the people they passed. Soon, the noise of the port made her glance up at the comings and goings all around her. She’d never dared to venture that far into Uig. It was an interesting place, even though it was a small village.
“There he is!” Gunna pointed to a large boat being tied up to the dock. A number of men climbed from it and made their wa
y up the wooden path to the main street. Duncan walked next to Ornolf, speaking to him as they moved through the crowd.
And Sigurd followed close behind them.
Her ears buzzed as if a thousand bees were trapped inside them, and she found it difficult to breathe. Sigurd came to Uig? Had Duncan been unable to negotiate as he’d planned? Had Sigurd come to retrieve her? Her hands began shaking and she could not stop them. Then her whole body trembled, stopped only by a voice she’d never expected to hear.
“Isabel? What are you doing here?” Thora asked.
Isabel turned to her sister, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you come with Sigurd? How did you get here?” she asked in reply.
“Nay, not with him, but to meet him. Father sent word that I was to meet him here.” Thora leaned closer and whispered to her. “He has signed betrothal contracts, Isabel! I am to be married!”
Though Thora tried to hug her, Isabel backed away from her. It was too much of a coincidence for Thora to be there just as Sigurd and Duncan arrived from Duntulm together. “I do not understand, Thora. Who are you to marry?”
Before Thora could reveal his name, Sigurd barreled into Isabel, sending her sprawling on the ground. “Whore! I told you not to approach my daughter,” he shouted. Placing himself between Isabel and Thora as though even Isabel’s glance would contaminate her sister’s innocence, Sigurd took Thora by the arm and led her to Duncan.
In shock, and in the midst of the gathering crowd, Isabel climbed to her feet and brushed the dirt from her gown. Gunna was on the other side of the street, unable to get to her. Harald stood on the other side of Duncan. Duncan said nothing to her, his gaze filled with sadness until Sigurd brought Thora to stand before him.
No!
It could not be!
“Duncan, this is Thora, my daughter.” Sigurd took Thora’s hand and placed it in Duncan’s. “Thora, Duncan is your betrothed husband. I wish you much happiness together.”
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