The Warrior's Runaway Wife

by Denise Lynn

Her husband urged his horse forward and slowly paced the horse before the formation of men. Samuel and Fulke moved in to flank her.

  Elrik stopped his horse to face the men. ‘If any of you wish to end your service to Roul, do so now.’

  Not one man moved.

  ‘Those who remain take note. I will say this only once.’ He swung his arm in her direction and beckoned her forward. When she moved to his side, he said, ‘This is Lady Avelyn of Roul, my wife, and you will be as loyal to her as you are to me.’

  After the men all nodded their acceptance of his order, he looked over his shoulder. ‘Sir Daniel, they are yours. Get these walls guarded.’

  An older, grey-haired man behind them dismounted, shouting, ‘Yes, my lord, gladly.’ Before he’d taken two steps, he started barking orders for the protection of the keep.

  Four boys ran forward to gather the reins to their horses. Samuel and Fulke slid off their animals and watched the guards set about their tasks.

  When Elrik came to her side to reach up and help her from Little Lady, she asked, ‘What are you going to do with the two of them?’

  He set her on her feet and looked around. ‘Who?’

  ‘Samuel and Fulke. They will soon grow tired of following me around, if they haven’t already. Elrik, they need to be useful.’

  ‘Have they complained?’

  ‘Of course not. You know they won’t.’

  ‘They are your men, Avelyn.’

  ‘They would be better served as yours.’

  With a deep frown, he asked, ‘Do you never grow tired of this discussion? You know how it will end.’

  ‘I fear some day it will end with the two of them leaving Roul.’

  ‘Then I suggest you find them something useful to do.’ He slung an arm across her lower back, pulling her closer as they walked. ‘Just make certain the useful something includes keeping you safe.’

  Avelyn didn’t think she was the one who needed to be kept safe, but she held her tongue, fearing that just mentioning Osbert would somehow make him appear.

  One of the guards she didn’t recognise handed Elrik a lit torch before he led her up the stairs to the entrance door of the keep. She wrinkled her nose. ‘I would have expected the door to be...larger.’

  He laughed and shoved the tall, thick, iron-banded door open and ushered her into a small disarming room where she stood in open-mouthed shock.

  ‘What were you saying about the door?’

  The twin doors before them had to be at least two men high and each one was just as wide. They were studded with iron points and triple banded to keep the slabs of wood held tight.

  He warned, ‘You are not going to be happy with what’s behind those doors.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It reeks worse than any un-mucked-out stable. The rushes are mouldy, rotted, and I couldn’t begin to guess what lives in them.’

  ‘There is a nice, clean tent back at camp.’

  He shouldered one of the doors open and waved her through. ‘No. We’ll make do.’

  The stench was so strong it burned her eyes as it wafted through the open door. Avelyn took a step back to catch her breath. ‘Oh, my.’

  He picked up the hem of her gown and held it to her face. ‘Hold this. It’s better up in the lord’s chamber.’

  They crossed the Great Hall quickly and nearly ran up the stairs leading to the upper floor.

  Without slowing their pace, Elrik led her down a long corridor to a chamber at the far end. Once inside, he slammed the door closed behind them and stuck the torch in one of the wall sconces. He found another torch, lit that and placed it in the sconce on the other side of the room.

  Thankfully, the room didn’t reek with rot, instead it held a lingering closed smell as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. Avelyn crossed the chamber to lean into the tall, narrow recessed window and tore the coverings free to let the night breeze in. The thin skins were so brittle they broke apart in her hand.

  She turned around to survey the large chamber. The flickering light was too dim to see into the raised alcove at the side of the room, but she was easily able to tell that the rest of the chamber was sparsely furnished.

  There was one chair with a small side table against the wall near the windows, two chests—a large curtained bed took up most of the space. The curtains hanging in tatters and the bare mattress made the bed look less than inviting.

  Avelyn slapped the palm of her hand hard atop the mattress, relieved the action didn’t send anything scurrying for safety and more relieved to find the mattress bag was stuffed with dried grass instead of straw. She could see to having the stuffing replaced later, but at least for now straw would not be poking at them while they slept.

  She opened a small chest at the foot of the bed and waved towards a larger one against the wall near the door, telling Elrik, ‘You check that one for bedclothes and I’ll go through this one.’

  Their search came up empty.

  She dropped the lid of the chest and wiped the dust from her hands on the skirt of her gown. ‘While you work at getting your armour off, I’m going to go check the other bedchambers for bedclothes.’

  Elrik frowned. ‘That doesn’t sound like a good plan.’

  ‘You and I are the only ones inside this keep, what could happen?’ She headed towards the door.

  ‘You will not leave this level.’

  Even though he hadn’t asked a question, she answered, ‘No. I swear I will stay up on this level.’ She grasped the door latch.

  ‘And you will scream if you need me.’

  ‘Yes. I will be within earshot should anything happen.’ She opened the door.

  ‘Avelyn?’

  Now what? She turned to find him holding out a lit torch. Avelyn took the torch. ‘Yes, I suppose that will help.’

  She stepped out into the corridor and quickly grabbed the hem of her gown to hold it against her face to ward off the stench as she headed for the closest bedchamber.

  Finding nothing in that room, she went to the next one only to find the same there—empty chests.

  Finally, around the corner of the corridor, in the fourth chamber, her search produced a pillow and a couple of sheets, which she grabbed and headed towards the fifth one. As she reached to open the door to that room, she heard a noise and felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Before she could call out for Elrik, a sharp point was pressed against her neck.

  ‘Now, sister of mine, we have all the time and privacy we need.’

  * * *

  It had taken her too long to check the other chambers for bedclothes. Elrik grasped the hilt of his sword still hanging from the belt wrapped low around his waist and headed towards the door.

  A noise...hesitant footsteps from at least three men floated in from the corridor. Finally. He pulled a short sword from the cross scabbard on his back and a dagger from the top of his boot and flattened his back against the wall near the door.

  The first man hit the floor with a heavy thud, his last breath nothing but a gurgle from the deep slice across his throat. The second one staggered, gasping as he clawed at the dagger planted in his chest, until he, too, fell heavily to the floor, his gasps now silent.

  Elrik held out his sword and turned to face the third man.

  Shocked to find himself at the point of a sword and his companions dead, he scrambled backwards quickly, stumbling in his haste.

  Elrik saw the danger and reached out to grab the man’s wrist, but his fingers closed over air—the stumbling fool had fallen hard against the wooden rail, breaking it beneath him, and he fell to the hard floor in the Great Hall, landing with his head at an unnatural angle.

  Quickly checking to be sure none of the other men was near, Elrik gripped his sword tighter and headed down the corridor. There were still three men out there—one of whom was Avelyn’
s half-brother. Now that the cur was close at hand, he would end this tonight.

  As he rounded the corner, he heard voices. One high pitched and accusing. He assumed that had to be Osbert. The other voice, stronger and steady, was undoubtedly his wife.

  Again, placing his back to a wall for added protection in lieu of his guards’ blades, he silently crept towards the voices.

  * * *

  Avelyn asked, ‘What do you plan to do?’

  Osbert removed the tip of the dagger from her neck and moved to stand in front of her, his weapon still ready, pointed at her chest. ‘My men are now securing your husband. When they have completed that task, we will join them.’

  His twisted smile set her heart to racing. ‘I will knot a rope about his neck, throw the free end over a sturdy beam and haul him from his feet. You will watch as he dies slowly, legs kicking, fighting uselessly with each precious breath he has left.’

  Every fibre of her being wanted to scream. But she held her tongue, knowing her show of fear would only inflame Osbert’s determination to make her and Elrik suffer. That wasn’t going to happen. She just needed to give Elrik time to get away from Osbert’s men and come to her aid. Surely she could do that much on her own. So, instead, she swallowed her fear, tamped down her sense of right and wrong, and lied, ‘Thank God.’

  Osbert jerked his head back and narrowed his eyes. ‘A few days ago, you acted as if you cared for this man you wed.’

  ‘That was only because I feared his men were near.’

  ‘You had sent them away, to deal with the fight my men had started in the camp.’

  ‘Ah, but Lord Roul has me closely watched at all times. One or both of them could have returned at any moment.’

  ‘He has you watched? Why?’

  Her brother’s nasally, whining voice made her head pound, making it doubly difficult to quickly come up with lies to spew. ‘I am a Brandr, am I not? Do you think Roul married his enemy’s daughter by choice? Osbert, even I know that you are smarter than to believe he would do so.’

  The man preened at her praise. His wild, darting gaze stilled and he puffed up his chest. ‘He was forced to wed you.’

  ‘Of course he was. As I was him. Do you truly think I wanted to wed someone as beastly and dangerous as King David’s Wolf?’ She made a show of shivering as if in disgust. ‘Just the thought of that animal touching me makes me sick.’

  ‘But I have seen you laugh with him as the two of you entered his tent.’

  She made a show of rolling her eyes and lifted her arms, palms out as if begging him to understand. ‘I am his wife. He can do with me as he wills. Since I had no desire to die at his filthy hands, what choice did I have but to pretend I cared for him? I knew that eventually you or Father would come to rescue me from this horror.’

  He lowered his blade. ‘I am here now.’

  ‘I know and I am indebted for ever.’

  Osbert stepped closer, resting his hands on her shoulders. He sighed heavily. ‘Unfortunately, Father has ordered me to kill you, too.’

  Avelyn spun away. ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. ‘And to get that ring.’

  ‘That’s what all of this is about? A ring?’

  ‘The ring was my idea. I may need to prove I am related to King Óláfr, too. So possessing it will go a long way to having the proof at hand.’

  ‘I don’t have the ring any more.’

  ‘Ah, but I am certain you can lure its location from your husband before he dies.’

  ‘And you think that tyrant will tell me anything?’

  Faster than she thought possible, Osbert lunged for her. She turned to escape, but he was quicker. Wrapping an arm about her neck, he jerked her against his chest. With a laugh he dragged the sharp point of his dagger down her cheek. ‘Just a taste of what is to come.’

  Pain filled her eyes with tears. She clawed at his forearm. ‘Let me go.’

  To her shocked surprise, he did. His gasp blew against her ear. His arm fell away from her neck. Cool air rushed in between her back and his chest. And then she heard the thud behind her.

  Slowly turning around, Avelyn stared down at the floor where Osbert lay dying at her feet. She lifted her gaze and stared into the cold, dead gaze of her husband.

  He said nothing. Just stared at her. Hatred and hurt were the only emotions shimmering from his gaze. He’d heard every lie she had told Osbert.

  And he’d believed them.

  A hand grasped weakly at the hem of her gown and she knelt down by Osbert. To her consternation, she felt a deep sorrow, maybe for the loving brother she never had, when she should have felt nothing but relief that he would never harm another.

  She shook her head. ‘You never should have come here.’

  He gasped for breath, then said, ‘Father...will...kill...you.’ His head rolled to the side and she knew he was gone.

  When she rose, the doorway was empty. Elrik had left.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Avelyn paused in the open door to their bedchamber. Elrik stared out of the window with his back to her. His sword lay on the floor near the entrance to the alcove. Two pools of blood on the floor of the chamber identified where the bodies she’d seen the guards carrying towards the stairs had died.

  A dagger was next to one pool. A short sword by the other. For him to have taken down two men so close to each other, without gaining a scratch, must have been something to witness.

  Not turning around, he asked, ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, skirting the blood when she stepped into the room. She wondered where to start. ‘Elrik, I—’

  He shook his head, stopping her explanation. ‘No. Don’t.’

  His tone held no trace of anger, so she knew that seeking to enrage him would do nothing. She didn’t enjoy it, usually ended up with a pounding head, but at least she could deal with his rage. But this...this was the voice of a man who had been hurt, deeply.

  And she’d been the one to inadvertently cause that pain.

  She hated Osbert and what he’d caused her to do. But she hated herself more. Never had she wanted to hurt her wolf. Never.

  He turned away from the window and then crossed the chamber to retrieve his sword from the floor. After tossing the weapon on the bed, he grabbed the chair and dragged it nearer the torchlight while motioning her over. ‘Sit.’

  Samuel walked into the chamber. ‘Here are the things you asked—what the hell happened?’

  He stared at her. ‘Lady Avelyn?’

  Elrik took the bucket of water and cloths from Samuel’s hands and knelt on the floor alongside of her. ‘This might hurt.’

  He placed one rag against her cheek and held it while dropping another into the water. ‘Avelyn, this is going to need to be sewn closed and it’s not going to be pleasant.’

  Just the pressure of the cloth against her cheek was less than pleasant. She shivered. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘On both counts, yes.’ He replaced the rag he’d been holding with the wet one. ‘How do you want to proceed?’

  ‘How bad is it?’

  Fulke entered. He dropped the saddle bag he’d carried into the chamber, looked at her, swore and took a step back.

  If it was enough to make Fulke step away, she didn’t want to know just how badly Osbert had cut her. She blinked back tears. ‘Elrik.’

  He grasped her shoulder. ‘My sewing skills are good only as a last resort on a battlefield or aboard a ship. Samuel has a deft hand with a needle, or I can summon one of the women.’

  ‘Samuel.’

  ‘Good. But you will need to keep still for him and already you are pulling away from my touch.’

  She took a deep breath, trying to stop her limbs from trembling. ‘Then hold me. Hold me tight.’

  He rose to lift her in his arms, take her place on the c
hair and hold her on his lap. With her good cheek resting against his shoulder, Avelyn tucked her legs beneath the arm of the chair. If this hurt as much as she feared, she didn’t want to kick anyone.

  Samuel rooted through the saddle bag.

  At Elrik’s nod, Fulke moved a stool next to the chair, sitting so close that his own legs pinned hers in place.

  She looked up at Elrik as his arms came around her. ‘With any luck I’ll pass out.’

  He agreed. ‘That is my hope, too, Little Dove. Close your eyes.’

  His lips pressed lightly to her forehead and he covered her eyes with a hand, holding her head firmly against his shoulder.

  When she heard Samuel’s footsteps return to the chair, Elrik wrapped his other arm over hers and curved his fingers around her shoulder. At the same time, Fulke took her hands between his.

  A wet rag dabbed against her cheek. Even though Samuel’s touch was surprisingly gentle, she flinched.

  Elrik softly said, ‘Shh. We’ve got you. I’ve got you, Avelyn.’

  She felt the heat of her tears as they pooled beneath the hand covering her eyes. ‘Elrik, I am sorry.’

  ‘No more than I.’

  As if he couldn’t tell by her tears and trembling, she admitted, ‘I am afraid.’

  ‘I know. It is all right to feel fear at the thought of pain. Just know you are safe. It will be over soon.’

  He rested his cheek against her head. ‘I think tomorrow we’ll get as many hands as possible working on cleaning out the Great Hall.’

  Fulke chuckled. ‘If you think the hall is bad, you need to step inside the stable. I feel sorry for the horses.’

  ‘Then gather some of the older boys to get started on them first thing in the morning.’

  She heard splashing as Samuel dropped his rag into the bucket, then dabbed at her cheek some more. This time she didn’t flinch.

  Fulke squeezed her hands briefly. ‘How long do you think it’ll take to put this keep to rights?’

  ‘I would like to have it habitable within a week if possible.’ Elrik’s heart beat hard against her side. But it was steady and lent her a measure of comfort.

  ‘That might be expecting a little more than what’s possible.’