The Viking's Defiant Bride(32)

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 again 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.

Presently they came to a place where the spoor was clear and the hounds were loosed. The riders followed, turning into the trees. It was ancient woodland, where the branches of oaks and beech met overhead in a green vault that shut out most of the sun save for occasional dappled patches of light. Then the hounds found the scent and the hunters were away. Elgiva touched Mara with her heels and felt the mare shift from a standing start to a canter. Leaning forwards, she guided their course through the trees, ducking low boughs and weaving to avoid the branches that slashed at them. The horse stayed for nothing, leaping the fallen logs in her path, the flying hooves thudding over the carpet of leaf mould beneath the great trees. Once Elgiva thought she glimpsed the hounds, running swift and silent ahead of her. Around her she could hear the voices of the men calling, urging their horses on to greater speed.