The Viking's Defiant Bride(27)

Elgiva hurried back to the hall, angry with herself for having let him upset her. What was the use? Ravenswood belonged to him now and everything in it, and the sooner she accepted it the better. All the same, the knowledge rankled. Worse, because of her foolish behaviour, he might rethink his permission to let her gather herbs on the morrow.



That evening, as he spoke and laughed with his men, she watched him to see whether he seemed angry, but could detect no sign of it. On the contrary, the atmosphere seemed good humoured with the conversation turning on weapons and hunting. The forest abounded with game and the Vikings were wont to take advantage of it to supplement the food at table. Now it seemed there were plans afoot for a boar hunt. Elgiva, who had been standing in the background overseeing the serving of the food, listened and felt sad, thinking of all the times she had accompanied her father and brother on the hunt, recalling the thrill and speed of the chase. She could ride as well as any man and, for all the little mare was finely made, she was swift and had stamina enough to hold her own against the larger mounts. However, all that was of no import now. She would never be allowed to ride the horse again and Mara would be used to breed fine foals.

‘Elgiva, what are you doing there?’ Wulfrum’s voice broke into her thoughts.

Drawn from her reverie with a guilty start, she threw a swift glance over the table to see what he lacked.

‘Come, my lady, that is work for the servants. You will sit beside me.’

‘My lord, it is my place to serve you with food and drink.’

‘Your place is where I say it is.’

The tone brooked no argument and, with reluctance, she left off what she had been doing and seated herself in the chair beside him. Wulfrum nodded his approval while beside him Olaf Ironfist watched impassively. The other men exchanged glances before addressing themselves again to their meat and the conversation resumed. Elgiva assumed a manner of outward composure, aware the while of Wulfrum’s eyes on her.

‘From now on you will sit with me at table.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’

‘I do wish it, and my name is Wulfrum.’

‘As you wish, Wulfrum.’

He nodded and, taking up a platter, served her meat and bread himself. For a while they ate in silence, Elgiva paying close attention to the food and trying to appear unconcerned by her husband’s scrutiny. Then he called for more ale, waiting while a serf hastened to fill his cup.

‘About your proposed excursion tomorrow,’ he said.

‘Yes?’ She felt her heart leap. Was he about to change his mind?

‘Olaf will accompany you.’ He threw his companion a meaningful look.

Although relieved that he had not reneged on his promise, she couldn’t hide an ironic smile.

‘I will make no attempt to escape.’

‘No, for I would find you soon enough and you know it,’ he replied. ‘But the forest may hold unseen dangers, for the times are uncertain. It is like to be so until the Danes have consolidated their rule in Northumbria.’

Elgiva said nothing, feeling a familiar surge of resentment. He spoke as if it was but a foregone conclusion. The trouble was, she suspected he was right. The Danes wanted this land, so much better than their own, and, having won it, intended to keep it. Looking round the hall at the assembled men, she knew it for truth. All of them were warriors, armed and trained, living for the thrill of battle and the taking of plunder. These owed their allegiance to Wulfrum as he owed his to Halfdan, and they would serve him well. Already she could see the respect in which they held him. Wulfrum wore his power lightly, but his word was law with them. They would give short shrift to any man who crossed that line, or any woman if it came to it. They treated her with due deference because she was his wife, but they watched her too, as Olaf Ironfist would watch her tomorrow. What Wulfrum had said about possible danger was true, but he was taking no chances on her slipping away into the forest, either. Not that she had intended to. To run would be to leave her people to the mercy of the Vikings.

Her thoughts were distracted by a shriek of protest and she looked up to see Hilda struggling in the hold of one of Wulfrum’s men. It was Ceolnoth. The young man seemed intent she should sit on his knee and she equally intent that she should not. A loud slap rang out as her hand met his cheek, a gesture greeted by a roar of laughter from his companions. Elgiva looked at Wulfrum, but he did not seem minded to interfere. Ceolnoth got up with a glint in his eye and, before Hilda could flee, swung her into his arms and strode to the door with her. Her yells and protests were drowned in laughter.

Elgiva turned to her husband. ‘Will you do nothing?’

‘What would you have me do?’

‘Stop your men molesting helpless women.’

‘Helpless? Now that is not how I would describe you.’

‘You know what I mean. Hilda is not a whore. Nor does she deserve to be treated as one.’

‘She is comely and it is plain that Ceolnoth warms to her. Shall I forbid him what I mean to enjoy with my own wife?’ He noted with satisfaction the hot colour that flooded her face, the spark of anger in her eyes, and knew she read the message aright.

Elgiva refused the bait. ‘She is not his wife,’ she retorted.

‘No, but she soon will be. Evidently his passion for the wench has grown. He spoke to me this morning, seeking my permission to take her to wife, and I have nothing to say against it. He will wed her as soon as may be.’

‘And what of Hilda’s views on the matter? Did you seek to discover those too?’

He raised an eyebrow, for her tone was hot though the words were quietly spoken.

‘I do not consult the wishes of servants,’ he replied. ‘Hilda will wed Ceolnoth and there’s an end. He is a good man and will make her a fine husband.’ He cast a comprehensive glance around the hall. ‘Would that matters might be so simply arranged for all my men. However, there are not enough women to go around.’

That was undeniably true. Ceolnoth had made his interest in Hilda plain from the first. It seemed his desire had not abated and now the girl’s fate was sealed, like her own. Sensing something of her mood, Wulfrum eyed her shrewdly.

‘Is it not better for a woman to be a wife and hold a respected position thus?’ he demanded. ‘Would you prefer that I handed her over to my men to have her in common?’

‘I would not wish that on any woman,’ she replied. ‘Nor would I wish any woman to be compelled to wed a man she does not—’

Elgiva broke off, blushing and inwardly cursed her hot temper. Again, Wulfrum raised an eyebrow.

‘Does not love?’ he finished.

‘Care for, I was going to say.’

‘You did not care for me, but you are my wife.’

‘I had no choice.’

‘True. But tell me, Elgiva, have you not grown to love me since?’ The tone was mocking and her cheeks coloured a deeper shade.

‘No.’

Wulfrum laughed out loud, causing several interested looks to come their way.

‘You will.’

‘You delude yourself, lord.’

‘Do I?’

He let his gaze dwell on the lovely profile now turned towards him, drinking in every flawless line, and then move on to her neck and the swelling bosom beneath her gown. Mentally he stripped the cloth away. Aware of that penetrating gaze, Elgiva felt her face grow warm. Wulfrum saw it and grinned, enjoying her discomfiture. Presently she turned towards him, the amber eyes bright with anger.

‘Must you stare at me like that?’

‘What man would not stare?’ He traced a hand down her sleeve. Elgiva forced herself to sit still, though it seemed that her skin burned beneath the cloth.

‘Besides,’ he continued, ‘I think it does not displease you as much as you pretend.’

She fought the urge to hit him, as much for the accuracy of the comment as for its confounded self-assurance.

‘Belief is free, my lord. If you choose to delude yourself, I cannot prevent it.’

‘I think it is you who delude yourself, Elgiva.’ The blue eyes were no longer smiling, and before she could think up a fitting retort he had leaned across his chair and kissed her full on the mouth. Taken thus by surprise and unable to move, she was forced to endure it, incensed alike by the treatment and the dawning knowledge that he was right. Wulfrum released her then, meeting her gaze with an expression that revealed not a shred of remorse. Crimson with embarrassment, Elgiva strove to regain her composure, keenly aware of the sudden heat in her blood and the amused stares they were receiving from all quarters of the room. She kept her voice low, though the tone throbbed with anger and indignation.

‘This is mere sport to you, isn’t it?’

His brow creased. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘I don’t know what to think.’

‘Then know that I do not sport with you, nor ever have.’

‘Then what was that?’

‘Don’t you know? Didn’t Aylwin kiss you like that?’

Elgiva stared at him, wondering what Aylwin had to do with it. ‘Well, didn’t he?’ he demanded.

Her blush deepened. ‘Certainly not. He always showed respect.’

Wulfrum let out a guffaw of delighted laughter. More heads turned their way. Elgiva rose from her seat and surveyed her husband with rage.