‘Aylwin should never have come. God send the Danes do not find out.’
‘God send Aylwin has more sense than to lead a revolt. He and his followers would be slaughtered to a man.’
‘True enough.’ She paused. ‘What will you do now?’
‘Nothing.’
Elgiva sighed. If she spoke, she betrayed her people. If she kept silence, she betrayed her husband. Torn between two loyalties, she dreaded the time when she must be with Wulfrum again, acting a part now, pretending that all was well, knowing it was a lie. He was perceptive and intuitive, and, if the act was not convincing, would know immediately that something was amiss. He was her husband and he had in some measure given her his trust. The knowledge that she betrayed it was like a knife in her heart. She could never have imagined it would cut so deeply.
If Wulfrum noted aught amiss in her manner, he said nothing. Indeed, with the warm weather his days were busy anyway. Under his governance Ravenswood began once again to show signs of its former prosperity. The buildings were restored to a proper state of repair, the fences mended, the land well tended. The crops ripened in the fields and the first hay crop was cut. Under proper tending young lambs grew strong and new calves grazed beside their mothers in the pastures. Even the fruit crop would be good, for the branches of the orchard trees were laden. The air was filled with the drone of bees moving among the flowers and the hives. Beyond it all, the forest stretched in a rolling canopy of unbroken green.
The fine weather drew Elgiva out of doors and she and Osgifu did much of their work in the sunshine before the open door of the women’s bower. Several times they went out to gather plants. Wulfrum made no objection to these small excursions, though each time one of his men was never far behind. To Elgiva it was a salutary reminder of the order of things, yet she gave no sign that she found the presence of the guards irksome, and it would have been futile to protest. Instead, she gave her full attention to the task, returning at length with Osgifu to prepare the balms and potions for which they were renowned. Never by word or look did she give any indication that the forest held more significance than its healing flowers and plants.
However, the knowledge of deceit weighed heavy on her and Elgiva found it harder to sleep. She would lie awake in the sultry darkness, her mind racing, listening to the sound of Wulfrum’s breathing, her skin damp with perspiration from his nearness, part of her wanting him to reach out for her and part of her fearing that he might, every nerve alive to his presence. For all manner of reasons the bed was too hot and eventually, after tossing and turning, she would doze for an hour or two and then waken unrefreshed.
Invariably Elgiva woke early with the sun and, one morning, unable to stay any longer in the stifling heat of the room, she left Wulfrum sleeping and dressed quietly. Then she slipped from the chamber and left the hall, heading for the unguarded postern gate. It was always barred, but that presented little obstacle. Thence the way was clear to the forest. The place she sought was not far off, but it was secluded and there the river flowed over a rocky outcrop into a wide pool beneath. The thought of the cool clear water was more than ever appealing and, at this hour, she could be certain of being undisturbed.
The early morning air was fresh and clear, smelling of damp earth for the dew was yet on the grass. It wet the hem of her gown as she passed and soaked into her shoes. Elgiva smiled, making her way unerringly through the trees to the river. It was narrow and swift flowing, and she followed it a little way before coming at length to the pool. Looking cautiously around to ensure she was alone, she slipped off her clothes and waded into the clear water. It was cold enough at first to make her gasp, but its freshness was delightful after the heat within doors, and, taking a deep breath, she plunged in.
Wulfrum woke early and stretched, yawning prodigiously. For all it was early, the heat in the room was already mounting. He rolled over and reached out a hand for Elgiva. The bed was empty. The knowledge brought him to instant wakefulness. A swift glance around the room revealed that her clothes were missing and the door unbarred. In moments he was out of bed and dressing swiftly before making his way down to the hall. Men sprawled on benches and floor, oblivious to his presence. Of his wife there was no sign. Wulfrum strode to the door and looked about, but found no sign of life or movement. Then he noted the unbarred postern and his jaw tightened. He ran to the stable to saddle Firedrake.
A few minutes later he was mounted and heading out on the track that led to the forest. He had guessed immediately which way Elgiva would go and, sure enough, as he left the hall behind and came into open ground, he found her trail in the wet grass. She had said nothing about wishing to collect plants and none of his men was in attendance. It was a matter he fully intended to take up with the vixen when he found her. Holding the horse to a walk, he followed the trail to the river. There he reined in and, studying the ground, found the print of a shoe in the soft earth, a small foot, undoubtedly a woman’s. Certain now that Elgiva had come this way, he frowned, wondering what she was up to. Even after all these weeks she still had the power to surprise and unsettle. Unpredictability was, he reflected, all part of her considerable charm. He let the horse follow at a gentle pace until the dense growth made riding impractical and he was forced to dismount and continue on foot. The narrow path continued on a little way beyond and presently he saw a rocky outcrop and a waterfall with a pool below where a woman was swimming. Wulfrum grinned and moved forwards to a vantage point where he could watch unseen.
It was some time before Elgiva turned for the bank. However, the sun was getting higher and she knew she should return to the hall before her absence was discovered. Wulfrum might take it amiss that she had gone out without one of his men in attendance but, with luck, she would be back before he woke. She waded ashore and was reaching for her kirtle when some sixth sense warned her of another presence. Her head jerked up and with a gasp of outrage she found herself staring at Wulfrum.
‘You!’
He grinned, unrepentant. ‘I.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘How long have you been there?’
‘Long enough.’ Long enough, he thought, to look his fill at that wonderful body. Despite the kirtle she was holding so close, an agreeable amount was still on view and he was unashamedly making the most if it.
A dark suspicion began to form in her mind. ‘You’ve been watching me?’
‘Yes.’
Unable to think of any immediate or suitable reply, she eyed him warily, only too aware of her present state of undress and that his eyes missed nothing. He surveyed her thus for some moments before getting to his feet. Before he had taken two paces Elgiva was struggling hastily into her kirtle, throwing her wet hair back over her shoulders. Wulfrum grinned. He drew closer, making her aware again of the remoteness of the place and that they were quite alone.
‘I missed you when I woke.’
‘It was hot. I couldn’t sleep.’
‘And you managed to get past my guards once more.’
‘I…I thought there could be no danger here.’
‘You will not do it again, Elgiva.’ The words were quietly spoken, but there was no mistaking the implacable tone.
‘Did you think I had fled, my lord?’
‘No. I trust you more than that. But the times are uncertain and the place remote and I would not have you in danger.’
Elgiva was caught unawares, as much by the sincerity in his voice as by the words themselves. The knowledge of her deceit returned with force. However, there was no time for deeper reflection, for his arms were round her and then his mouth closed over hers. As he kissed her, the familiar stealthy flame flickered into being deep within her. She shivered a frisson that was partly the residual chill of the water and partly fear—not of him, but of herself.
Wulfrum felt her shiver and looked down into her face. However, he could not fathom the expression he saw there. Did she fear him still? He wanted her now,
wanted her with every fibre of his being, but he sensed a deep-seated unease behind her reluctance. Drawing back, he bent to retrieve her gown. Elgiva put it on quickly but her wet hair became entangled with the lacing and her cold fingers fumbled the task. Wulfrum’s disquieting smile didn’t help in the least. He watched her struggle for a while. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders turning her gently round. He untangled her hair and laced the gown himself. Then he held out his hand.
‘Come, my lady.’
For a fraction of a second he saw her hesitate before placing her fingers in his. Then, together, they retraced their steps along the path to where his horse was tethered. Wulfrum turned her to face him.
‘Ride with me.’
‘There’s no need. I can walk back.’
‘It wasn’t a request.’
The expression in those blue eyes admitted of no argument. He laced his hands and bent to receive her foot, sending her lightly into the saddle. Then he mounted behind her. For some time neither one spoke and the only sounds were the faint footfalls of the hooves on the turf and the creak of saddle leather. Elgiva’s face was much warmer now, partly because the sun was higher in the sky, but chiefly because Wulfrum’s arm was round her, holding her close, and she was annoyed to find that she liked it. Liked the warmth and the strength of him and the scent of musk and leather she had come to associate with him. Now they evoked other more disturbing thoughts: thoughts of his kiss, thoughts of fear and desire. She had tried so hard to hate him, but knew now that she did not.
Once he glanced down at her and she saw him smile. Her colour deepened, but still she said nothing. To be close to him thus and know she gave succour to those who intended his death turned the knife in her breast. If she had thought there was the remotest chance of escaping the high saddle, she would have taken it, but the arm that held her was as unyielding as oak. His face was dangerously close to hers now and the blue eyes alight with amusement.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ she demanded, striving for the bantering tone that would lull suspicion.
‘Yes, very much,’ was the unruffled reply. ‘Aren’t you?’
Elgiva remained silent. Wulfrum did not press her for a reply, but his smile widened. It had not escaped her either that his horse was being held to a slow walk and it was taking a mighty long time to get home.
It was a good half an hour later when he reined in by the stables. Elgiva breathed more easily and some of her self-command returned, for now he would lower her to the ground and she could make good her escape. She was quite wrong; he dismounted first, lifting her down after him and, retaining his hold on her waist, drew her into a more intimate embrace, a long, lingering kiss that set every nerve alight.
Wulfrum felt her response, felt her melt against him, and his passion woke in reply. He crushed her to him, hungry for her. The warmth of her flesh beneath her gown recalled the sight of her naked, pressed beneath him on the furs of their bed. He wanted her so badly it hurt. In that moment he would have sworn she wanted him, but then, just as soon, he felt her body tense and she turned her head aside. He looked into her face, saw the anguish there.
‘What is it, Elgiva? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I…’
‘There is. Tell me.’
His lips nuzzled her hair, her neck, her throat. Elgiva closed her eyes, every part of her alive to his touch, every part of her wanting it to go on and knowing it must not. It took every ounce of her will to step away.
‘Please, Wulfrum. Let me go.’
He wanted to deny her, to test her resistance, to carry her to their chamber and continue where they had left off, but he underestimated the power of the amber eyes that spoke more eloquently than words of some inner distress.
‘Why, Elgiva? What are you afraid of?’
She shook her head, unable to frame the words to explain. He saw only her reluctance and his heart sank. In any other woman he would have suspected caprice, some game to whet his appetite, but he sensed this was something more. How he wished she would tell him, but he would not force her confidence any more than he would force her compliance. He let his hands fall from her waist.
‘Go, then, if you must.’
The look of relief on her face was quite apparent and once he might have found it amusing. His hand tightened over the rein as he watched her walk away. Then he led the stallion into the stable. He unsaddled the horse and brushed it down himself, for in truth he required some space from his men and the public life of the hall. The mechanical task of grooming was soothing and busied his hands, though his mind was elsewhere. The early morning encounter with his wife had unsettled him more than he would ever have thought possible. When he had married Elgiva, he had taken a bride of good family and much wealth. That he had found her most desirable was an added bonus. The advantages of the match were obvious, at least for himself. He had never considered her feelings in the matter. He had forced her compliance in almost every way. It had never occurred to him then that he might find himself in the position he was in now, that what had begun as physical desire would turn into something much stronger and infinitely more disturbing. He did not deceive himself as to the feelings Elgiva had for him; she was physically attracted to him, but she continued to fight it—he was still the enemy. Once he had desired only her physical surrender. Now he wanted far more than that. The irony was not lost on him.
Having seen to the needs of his horse, Wulfrum left the stable, thinking to make his way back to the hall. However, a glimpse of blue gown caught his eye and he saw Elgiva standing by the gate to the paddock where Mara was turned out to graze. Since the coming of the war band she had not been permitted to ride, but still lost no opportunity to spend a few moments with the horse. Evidently the feeling was reciprocated for the mare had walked across to greet her, standing close to the fence while Elgiva stroked her nose. He heard her speak to the animal, but did not catch the words because the distance was too great. She remained there for several minutes more before moving with evident reluctance towards the women’s bower. The mare watched her go and whinnied softly. Elgiva gave her a fleeting smile and turned to look over her shoulder once before continuing on her way. She did not see Wulfrum, being evidently preoccupied with her own thoughts, but he could see her clearly. The mask of poise and serenity that she wore in public had slipped for the moment and all he could see now was the deep unhappiness that lay beneath. It hit him with the force of a blow.
Chapter Eleven
Elgiva was rudely awakened the following morning by a lusty whack delivered by a strong hand across her bare buttocks. With a yelp of protest, she started up to see Wulfrum standing over her. He was already dressed in leather leggings and tunic, belted at the waist where a wicked-looking knife was sheathed.
‘Get up, wench. ’Tis broad daylight already and I would hunt.’
‘Your pardon, my lord. I had not realised it was so late.’
Elgiva scrambled from bed under his appraising gaze. Then she pulled on a kirtle and raked her nails through her hair, trying to bring about some semblance of order. Wulfrum grinned and strolled to the door.
‘Make ready, Elgiva. I am not intending to wait.’
Abandoning the failed attempt to tame her hair into a braid, she slid her feet into shoes and reached for her gown.
‘Shall I fetch you some food, my lord?’
‘One of the servants can do that. Ready yourself.’
‘My lord?’
‘For the hunt. You are coming with me.’
Elgiva stared at him in stunned amazement and then her face was lit by a dazzling smile. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘I have said. Besides, that puny mare in the stable needs exercise and she is not up to a man’s weight. Make haste now.’
Elgiva needed no second bidding. Summoning Osgifu, she went to the chest where her clothes were stored and drew out leggings, shirt and leather tunic, the clothes she had worn when she hunted with her father. She had not thought to wear them ag
ain and her heart beat faster at the thought of a long ride in the fresh air. It was with difficulty that she could sit still long enough for Osgifu to comb and braid her hair. When it was done, she hurried down to the courtyard where Wulfrum waited with his men. Her mare was saddled and ready. Seeing his wife, Wulfrum smiled faintly, running his eye over her costume, but he made no comment, swinging himself into Firedrake’s saddle. The black tossed its head and sidled, eager to be off, but Wulfrum held him in while Elgiva mounted. The little mare seemed tiny among the larger mounts of the men, but she knew the horse would hold her own. Sensing her rider’s excitement, Mara gave a half-rear for she too scented open country and freedom. Elgiva laughed and patted the glossy neck.
Once beyond the gate the riders set off a steady pace, holding their horses in, not wishing to tire them before the chase. The mare pranced and bucked to feel turf under her hooves. Wulfrum said nothing, but watched as Elgiva brought her under control, her hand gentle on the rein. He knew the animal was fresh for she had not been ridden these last weeks, but her antics seemed not to worry her rider in the least. He heard Elgiva speak softly and saw the spirited little horse drop her head and settle into her stride. He smiled to himself. His wife could ride, no question.
They rode further into the forest, following a well-worn path wide enough for two horses to walk abreast. Beside them walked serfs with Wulfrum’s boarhounds, huge and powerful beasts hungry for the chase. It was early yet, but the sunlight dappled the ground with shade and the grassy verges were bright with wild flowers. All around them the trees were full of birdsong and every branch alive with new green leaves. Elgiva breathed deeply and smiled, feeling the tension flow from her, enjoying the clean air and the movement of the horse beneath her. Beside her Wulfrum rode in silence, seemingly wrapped in private thought, but Elgiva did not mind. From time to time she cast a covert glance at him, noting well how easily he controlled the powerful horse, how his body moved with the animal’s rhythm as though he were part of it. She wondered where he had learned to ride, who had taught him. It occurred to her there were still many things she did not know about the man who was her husband.
The Viking's Defiant Bride Page 17