The Viking's Defiant Bride

by Joanna Fulford

  ‘My lord, your men…’

  ‘Let them watch.’

  He kissed her again, slowly, felt her lips yield to the pressure of his and tasted the sweetness of her mouth. Gods, how he wanted her, wanted to throw her down and make love to her till she begged for mercy, but he knew he couldn’t. The damned place was a little too public for that and Elgiva far too shy of him anyway. Reluctantly he drew back, his gaze searching her face. There was a strange expression in those amber eyes, one that he couldn’t quite fathom. What was she thinking? He would have given gold to know. Controlling himself with an effort, Wulfrum slackened his hold.

  Elgiva turned away in confusion, shocked by her own reaction to his kiss. The first had been stolen, the second had not. She should have felt disgust, but she had not. On the contrary, what she had felt was stealthy and growing warmth. Almost she had wanted him to kiss her again. The realisation burned as his former words returned to haunt her: You will come. Humiliated by the memory and by her weakness, she detached herself from his arm and turned away.

  ‘What are you afraid of, Elgiva?’

  ‘Nothing.’ The assertion was belied by the rosy blush on her neck and cheeks.

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘It is the truth.’

  ‘Is it?’ He drew closer and she saw him smile.

  ‘I…it’s the herbs. I was but part way through my work when Hilda came in. I must go and finish it. I don’t want the plants to spoil.’

  The smile widened, telling more than words of his scepticism and his enjoyment of her evident confusion. However, he made no further move to hold her and she turned and walked away, trying to gather her scattered wits, determined to put as much distance between them as possible and aware the whole time that Wulfrum watched her retreat. And it was a retreat. She acknowledged it to herself. Another few minutes and he would have kissed her again and she would have let him. Recalling the dangerous power of his kisses, Elgiva shivered. She would not allow him to manipulate her again. He wanted her surrender and meant to have it, to conquer her as finally as he had conquered Ravenswood. It was a challenge to him, nothing more, and she would not yield herself up as a prize. Women meant nothing to Wulfrum other than as a pleasing diversion, a distraction, and it seemed she was his latest amusement. To her horror Elgiva felt hot tears prick her eyelids and she hastened into the storeroom before anyone could notice.

  Later, when she had calmed down, she cursed herself for her stupidity in seeming to give the incident too much significance. Certainly Wulfrum made no mention of it when they met that evening in the hall, and, if he was angry, he gave no sign. He greeted her with courtesy as she took her place beside him and to her eye appeared quite unruffled by an experience that had shaken her to the core. It seemed to her that it was the practised ease of a man completely familiar with women who took what he wanted and moved on. He might be her husband, but it was foolish to think she could ever mean more to him than any other woman. The only difference was that she belonged to him. He could take her whenever he chose. When she returned his kiss, he must surely have scented victory. Her own weakness appalled her. Had she so little resolution after all, that a man could conquer with a kiss? Elgiva bit her lip. She could still feel the warmth of his mouth on hers. What a fool she was. He would never regard her as anything other than a trophy.

  Chapter Ten

  As the days passed the brooding atmosphere lightened in the warm sunshine and, as the threat of death and destruction receded, the people in the village began to go more freely about their business again. Now the work was in full swing, for, apart from all the necessary repairs, there were crops and livestock to be tended and the work had to be supervised. Since the steward had been one of those killed in the fighting when the war band struck, Wulfrum needed to find another and soon. He decided to consult Elgiva.

  ‘Whom shall I appoint?’ he asked. ‘Who seems to you to be the best candidate?’

  Recovering from her surprise she gave her answer without hesitation. ‘Gurth. He’s got a good head on his shoulders and he’s hard-working. I know my father always considered him to be reliable and honest too.’

  Accordingly Gurth was summoned to appear before Wulfrum in the great hall. A short, stocky individual of middle years, with grey in his hair and beard, Gurth was, nevertheless, an impressive figure, for he had about him an air of quiet assurance. He stood calmly enough before Wulfrum, though he eyed his men with some inner unease, clearly wondering what he could have done to draw such unwelcome attention. He glanced once at Elgiva, though her face gave no clue as to the reason for his presence here, and then listened carefully as Wulfrum spoke. As he heard the words, Gurth could ill conceal his surprise and pleasure.

  ‘I need a man I can trust,’ said Wulfrum. ‘My wife seems to think you are that man.’

  ‘The lady honours me,’ replied Gurth.

  ‘Will you serve me in the office of steward?’

  All eyes were on Gurth and, in the brief silence that followed, he was aware of the intentness of their gaze. It was possibly coincidence that several of Wulfrum’s men rested their hands on their sword hilts. However, Gurth was no fool and this was a considerable promotion. It didn’t take him long to make up his mind.

  ‘I will, my lord.’

  Wulfrum smiled. ‘It is well. You will commence your duties immediately and you will answer directly to me. Tomorrow early we will ride out. I want to know every detail of this estate down to the last cow and chicken, the last sack of oats and sheaf of hay.’

  ‘It shall be as you wish, my lord.’

  There being little else to say, Gurth was dismissed shortly afterwards. He made his bow and left the hall.

  ‘I think he is a good choice,’ said Wulfrum as the man disappeared from view.

  ‘Well, if he isn’t, I’ll spill his tripes for him,’ replied Ironfist.

  Seeing Elgiva’s startled look, Wulfrum concealed a grin. ‘You need have no fear, my lady. If he serves me well, Gurth will thrive.’

  ‘He will serve you well,’ she replied.

  ‘Good, for I would have this estate restored to order.’

  ‘I also. As it used to be when my father was alive.’

  ‘I promise you it will be so again.’

  Elgiva believed him. Already the signs of his rule were everywhere in building and repair work. It gladdened her heart to see it. More than that, it pleased her to know he had asked for her advice and acted on it.

  ‘Gurth will be a real asset,’ she said. Then, throwing her husband a sideways glance, ‘Would you really have Olaf kill if him if he were not?’

  ‘Of course. I will have no truck with treachery or incompetence. Olaf here will keep an eye on the man, and he does not suffer fools gladly.’

  ‘Gurth is no fool.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. In that case he may live.’

  Wulfrum caught Ironfist’s eye and the two of them laughed out loud. Realising too late they had been teasing her, Elgiva glared at them.

  ‘Why, you…’ Words failed her.

  Wulfrum’s amusement increased. Elgiva shook her head, annoyed with herself for falling into the trap, and annoyed with him too. Then the funny side of it struck her and she began to laugh, albeit unwillingly. Wulfrum stared at her in surprise and his own laughter faded a little—he had not thought her beauty could be improved. Seeing her now, he knew he had been wrong. Feeling the intensity of that look, Elgiva felt suddenly self-conscious and her own amusement ebbed. It was definitely time to leave.

  ‘My lord, I fear I am no match for you today. With your leave, I have matters to attend to.’

  Disappointed, he nodded. ‘As you will, my lady.’

  She nodded to Ironfist and then crossed the hall and made her escape, knowing as she did so that every step was observed.

  In fact, Elgiva had not lied when she said there was work to be done and she determined to turn her attention to it now, returning with swift steps to the bower. She entered and heard the door shut behind
her. A man, garbed in the manner of a serf, stood in the shadow behind. Elgiva caught her breath.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

  ‘Do you not know me, Elgiva?’ He lowered his hood and she found herself staring at Aylwin.

  ‘You.’

  ‘Did I not promise I would come?’

  Elgiva swallowed hard. ‘My lord, you must not be found here. The Vikings would show no mercy.’

  ‘Brekka keeps watch. He will warn if any approach.’ Aylwin smiled. ‘But danger or no, I had to see you.’ He surveyed her critically. ‘You look well, Elgiva.’

  ‘I am well enough,’ she replied. ‘And you, my lord? Are your wounds healed?’

  ‘Aye, for the most part.’

  ‘Then I beg you to go. Leave this place while still you may.’

  ‘And abandon you?’

  ‘You must. I am Wulfrum’s wife now.’

  His brows drew together. ‘The Viking may have forced you to wed him, but your captivity will be over very soon.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I shall not tamely give up what belongs to me.’

  She shook her head. ‘I do not belong to you any more, Aylwin.’ Even as she said it, she knew she never had.

  ‘You will be mine again, Elgiva. I swear it. I will free you from the accursed Viking’s yoke.’ He took her by the shoulders and looked into her face. ‘I have dreamed of this moment for so long and yet now I am here with you I can scarce believe it.’

  Appalled by the tenderness in his voice and the almost fanatical light in his eye, Elgiva trembled. As Aylwin drew her to him, she turned her head aside so his lips only grazed her cheek.

  ‘My lord, you must not.’ She took a step back.

  His hands dropped to his sides and he frowned. ‘What is it, Elgiva? What is wrong?’

  ‘Don’t you see? I can never be yours. Wulfrum will never let me go. Even if you were to steal me away, he would find us, no matter how long it took, and his vengeance would be terrible.’

  ‘I will find a way.’

  In desperation, it was she who now gripped his arms. ‘There is none. You must believe that.’

  For a moment he was silent. ‘No way?’ he asked. ‘Or is it rather that you do not wish to leave the handsome earl?’

  ‘That isn’t fair, Aylwin. I did not choose my fate. It was forced on me and I cannot change it.’

  ‘You mean, you would not.’

  ‘Ravenswood is my home. I will not abandon it or its people.’

  ‘A noble sentiment and a convenient one.’ His gaze bored into her. ‘You hide behind it to avoid the truth.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Aye. How long did it take the Viking to win your heart? Or is it the pleasures of his bed that draw you?’

  Elgiva’s cheeks grew hot, but she kept a hold on her temper.

  ‘Insulting me will not change anything, my lord. For good or ill Wulfrum is my husband now and my first loyalty is to him.’

  His lip curled. ‘I had not thought you so faithless, Elgiva, or so treacherous.’

  The words stung and brought tears to her eyes. To conceal her hurt, she turned away from him. Aylwin moved towards the door. As he reached it, he paused.

  ‘I see it was a mistake to come here.’

  ‘Just go, my lord, while you may.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ His voice was soft and bitter. ‘But I’ll be back. And with an army to rout these Danish scum once and for all. Then I will slay your husband with my own hands.’

  Elgiva heard the door open and close. Then she was alone. Heart pounding, she leaned against the wooden planks in trembling relief. For some minutes she remained thus as the enormity of the situation was borne upon her. Then, unable to bear the close confinement of the room any longer, she quit the place and went out into the fresh air. She needed space to think. Without conscious choice her feet turned towards the burying ground.

  How long she remained there she had no idea. All she could see was Aylwin’s face as he turned from her in disgust. She had betrayed him and sided with the enemy. Yet what else could she have done? Made him false promises? She did not love him and never would, but she wanted him safe all the same. If he continued on his present course, it could only end in disaster for all concerned.

  A footfall behind roused her from the reverie with a start and she looked round to see Wulfrum approaching. Did he know? Had he seen? Her heart thundered in her breast. Only with an effort did she force an outward semblance of calm. If he had seen anything at all, or even suspected, then Aylwin and Brekka would be prisoners now.

  Wulfrum halted a few feet away, his gaze taking in her evident agitation.

  ‘Your pardon, I have startled you,’ he said. ‘You looked so rapt in your thoughts I did not wish to intrude.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘Was there something you wished to speak of, my lord?’

  The tone was courteous enough, but there was a tension beneath that Wulfrum caught immediately. He excused it. Given the place, it was perhaps only natural under the circumstances.

  ‘Nothing of importance,’ he replied.

  By tacit consent they walked back to the hall together, but he was aware that she had withdrawn from him somehow.

  ‘What is it, Elgiva?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she replied. ‘Or nothing that can be helped.’

  ‘Grief is not soon healed,’ he acknowledged. ‘Nor can one set a time on it.’

  Elgiva threw him a searching look, wondering what he might know of grief or loss. Surely that was what the Vikings inflicted on others. They walked on in silence for a little way.

  ‘But life goes on,’ he continued, ‘and the living must learn to deal with their loss.’

  ‘I cannot forget.’

  ‘No, but you can move on. Besides, what is the alternative—to brood continually over the past until we grow old and withered?’

  ‘You are an optimist.’

  ‘No, I am a realist.’

  ‘The Danes have made the reality we live in now,’ replied Elgiva.

  There was an unaccustomed bitterness in her tone and he eyed her shrewdly.

  ‘You still feel anger in your heart, do you not?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So would I, but destiny is a strange thing.’

  ‘It was not destiny brought the Norsemen here,’ she replied. ‘It was a thirst for revenge, revenge and greed.’ She turned to face him. ‘That’s all the Danes know, isn’t it? Killing and destruction and the use of force.’

  Wulfrum’s gaze met and held her own. ‘That is past.’

  ‘Is it? I think that memory is not so soon erased.’

  ‘No, it is not.’

  ‘How would you know?’

  His expression altered and for a moment she saw both pain and anger in the blue eyes. ‘I discovered it early.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘As a result of a blood feud. One night his enemies came to my father’s hall and surrounded it. Then they set it alight and waited for those inside to come out. When they did, they were cut down. None escaped.’

  ‘But you—’

  ‘I wasn’t there. I had gone with one of the men to a neighbour’s farm to deliver some things for my father. It being winter, the days were short and we remained overnight. When we returned next day, we found the hall a smoking ruin and my family slain.’

  Elgiva had heard of such things, though never till now from one who had experienced them, and she felt pity in her heart for the frightened and bewildered boy he must have been on that terrible day.

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘That is young to be cast adrift on the world.’

  ‘Aye, but I was fortunate.’

  Suddenly she remembered the words he had spoken that fateful morning when she had examined the sword, Dragon Tooth.

  ‘It was Ragnar who took you in, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, my father was one of his closest friends. He sheltered me, brought me up. Fro
m him I learned the warrior code—in fact, just about everything I know. When I grew to manhood, I avenged my family and slew those responsible for their deaths, all still living anyway. I slew them with the sword Ragnar gave me. Then I took back the title that was mine.’

  ‘And when Ragnar was killed, you came to avenge his death.’

  ‘That’s right. As I told you, it was a matter of honour.’

  As she listened it seemed to Elgiva that many things had become clear. In her mind’s eye she could see the small boy standing alone amid the ruins of his home and the bodies of the slain. She could imagine him growing up, passing from childhood to manhood, learning the skills of the warrior, his rage becoming a cold, implacable thing, biding his time until his family should be avenged. It was not hard to see why he should have felt such love and loyalty for a man who was the sworn enemy of her people.

  Wulfrum watched her closely, wondering why he had told her. It hadn’t been his intention, but somehow it had come out anyway. Perhaps it had needed to. At least now she knew who he was, knew something of the events that had shaped his life.

  ‘I’m sick of bloodshed and fighting, Elgiva.’

  ‘What do you want, then?’

  ‘To build something worthwhile.’

  ‘Out of the ashes?’

  ‘Aye, why not?’ He paused. ‘You and I together.’

  ‘I? Am I not your chattel?’

  ‘You are far more than that and you know it.’ He drew her closer. ‘Let there be no more secrets between us.’

  There was no trace of mockery in his face or his voice. Bending his head, he kissed her very gently. Elgiva closed her eyes. No more secrets. How she wished it were true. But how could she make such a promise and keep it? Could she tell him that she was consorting with rebels? If he ever discovered the truth, his goodwill would evaporate on the spot. Worse, there would be a dire retribution. Even if he let her live, his trust would be gone for good. Then what would remain? She shivered.

  Wulfrum glanced down at her.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Elgiva. All will be well.’

  Sick at heart, she wished she could believe it.

  Later she told Osgifu about Aylwin. The older woman heard her in appalled silence.