The Viking's Defiant Bride(40)

‘I must go back. Wulfrum!’

Ida held on for grim death, ignoring her tears and pleas for he dared not let her go. He knew enough about her now to realise she would run straight back into the flames if he did. His gaze moved beyond her to the burning building, willing Wulfrum to come out. Seconds passed and the roar of the flames grew louder. Ida stared in horror at the smoke billowing through the open doorway.

Then, through the choking fog, came Wulfrum leading Firedrake. He was coughing hard and his clothes were singed and blackened, but he was alive. The horse was frightened, but otherwise seemed none the worse for his brush with death. Elgiva slumped, weak with relief.

‘He’s alive! Oh, Wulfrum!’

Freed from Ida’s hold, she ran to him, watching anxiously as he struggled for breath.

‘Are you all right?’

He nodded, unable to speak for the bitter fumes in his throat. His gullet felt raw. It was some moments before he could draw breath again. Elgiva shut her eyes, trying to stop her tears. She thought she had really lost him. Then her arms were around him, holding him close. Wulfrum glanced down in surprise, but before he could say anything Ironfist appeared beside them.

‘All the horses are out, my lord, but we can’t save the stable.’

‘Let it burn, then. We’ll risk no more lives tonight.’

The heat was fierce now and they retreated to a safer distance, watching the flames lick into the night sky. The supporting roof timbers sagged at one end and then collapsed in a wave of heat and smoke. Elgiva shuddered, thinking of what might have happened if they had come too late to save the horses. A stable could always be rebuilt.

Suddenly a mighty clap of thunder shook the earth and the first drops of rain began to fall, and then more until, with a roar, the clouds opened and poured their stored burden on the earth beneath while jagged lightning streaked the sky, illuminating the human drama for a brief moment. Then it was absorbed again into the gathering gloom as the rain intensified to a deluge. Elgiva gasped, soaked in seconds, staring in disbelief at the curtain of rain sweeping across the land, a curtain so dense it shut out all view. Then she became aware of Wulfrum smiling down at her.

‘Come.’

Together they staggered back towards the hall, heads down against the deluge. Elgiva stumbled and would have fallen but for the strong arm about her waist; at length they reached shelter. It seemed a haven of peace and light after the nightmare darkness outside. Gasping, Elgiva wiped the water from her eyes and face and wrung out her hair. Like herself, Wulfrum was drenched, his dark locks plastered to his head and shoulders, his clothing hanging in sodden folds. Then she became aware he was regarding her with a most keen interest, a broad grin splitting his face. Following his gaze down, Elgiva realised with a shock that her kirtle had become transparent with the water and clung tight, revealing every detail of her body. She felt her face grow warm.

‘We had better get you upstairs, my lady, before my men return. Otherwise I couldn’t answer for the consequences.’

She nodded, but already she could hear voices without and at any moment now men would be coming through the door. It was also some distance to the stairs. Appalled at the implications, Elgiva ran. In much amusement Wulfrum watched her go. She just reached the top of the staircase before Ironfist and Ida entered the hall, followed by the rest.

‘Fenrir’s fangs, what a night!’ The giant shook water from his hair and beard. Water streamed from his clothing. A large pool formed on the floor at his feet.

‘It might have been a lot worse if the fire had spread to the barn and the byre,’ replied Ida. ‘As it is, the rain will quench the flames. We’ll probably have to rebuild the stable all the same.’

‘How in the name of all the gods did the fire start anyway?’

‘Could have been a lightning strike.’

‘Not likely. We’d have heard it. It would have blown the roof apart. Although the thatch was burning, it was still more or less intact when we first got out there.’

Ida frowned. ‘That’s right, now you mention it. Belike the fire began within—an overset lamp, perhaps.’

‘Perhaps. I’ll question the grooms tomorrow. If any of them has been careless, I’ll wear his guts for garters.’

Wulfrum called for ale. He knew he needed some and, after being choked by smoke and fumes, his men would need to rinse their throats too. As he suspected, it was a suggestion that found instant favour. He joined them in a horn or two and thanked them for their efforts in rescuing the horses. As Wulfrum thought of Firedrake and the others burning to death his anger revived, for he held the beasts in great affection. Had Elgiva not sounded the alarm when she did, they might have come too late to save them. He recalled her racing to the burning stable and how his heart had leapt almost into his mouth when he saw her plunge into the smoke. However, she would not leave her horse to die like that, or any of them, indeed. Her courage was keen and he was proud of her. Then he recalled the sight of her in the sodden kirtle and his mind turned in a new direction. He tossed off the rest of his ale and was about to bid his men goodnight when he overheard his wife’s name being spoken across the room.

‘It was thanks to the Lady Elgiva that we saved the horses at all,’ Ironfist was saying. ‘But for her the outcome could have been very different.’

‘Did you see her go into that stable?’ Ida shook his head in wonder. ‘Didn’t even hesitate. Courage of a lion, that one.’

‘Aye, she has.’

‘When she thought Wulfrum wasn’t coming out that last time, she was all set to go back after him too. I only just managed to hold her. Struggled like a fury.’

‘Oh?’ Ironfist’s ale horn paused in mid-air.

Wulfrum was listening intently now, though the pair seemed quite oblivious to the fact they were overheard.

‘Almost beside herself, she was. Kept saying, “Wulfrum’s in there”, and begging me to let her go. She’s crazy about him, obviously.’

‘Only the gods know why,’ replied the giant. ‘I’ve never seen anything in the bastard.’

The two of them guffawed. Wulfrum reddened, feeling strangely pleased. Had Elgiva really been so anxious for his safety? She had once said he was more use to her alive, but her actions tonight suggested that she cared rather more than he could have hoped. He smiled to himself and made his way to the stairs.

When he entered the chamber, it was to see his wife drying her hair with a large linen cloth. Her sopping kirtle lay discarded nearby and she had wrapped a pelt around herself against the chill from the rain. For a moment he watched her, then shut and barred the door before crossing to join her. Elgiva watched him strip off his wet clothes and rub himself dry.

‘I have you to thank for being in time to save the horses,’ he said then. ‘If you had not raised the alarm when you did, they would have been lost.’

Elgiva shuddered. ‘Don’t, Wulfrum. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

He reached out and caressed her face with his hand, then gently removed the towel from her and took over the business of drying her hair. Elgiva remained very still. In truth, the gentle movement of his hands was soothing and gradually she let herself relax.

‘How did you know?’

‘I was watching the storm approach and smelled smoke.’ Then she froze, remembering. ‘There was something else too.’ She told him about the figure she had seen just before the fire broke out. Wulfrum’s hands stopped what they were doing.

‘Did you see his face?’

Elgiva hesitated. The evidence was circumstantial and she was reluctant to name Drem and put him in danger.

‘No, and it is possible the two things are not connected anyway.’

‘I think it was no coincidence.’ For a moment his expression was grim. ‘But I will find the man who was responsible, I swear it.’

She laid a hand on his arm. ‘Do you think it is one of our own people?’

‘I don’t know—yet.’

For a moment there was no sound save for the rain, which had slackened from a torrent to a steady downpour.

‘Do you think they will strike again?’

‘Undoubtedly. It is why they must be found.’ Then he smiled. ‘However, that is for tomorrow. Tonight I would show my appreciation.’

He drew her to her feet and took her in his arms. The kiss was long and passionate and Elgiva shivered. Wulfrum looked down at her in concern.

‘You are cold, my love. Come.’

He took her to bed and lay beside her, holding her close, sharing his warmth. Elgiva lay still in his arms, the heart thumping in her breast, wondering if she had heard him correctly. My love. He had never used the word before. Did he mean it? His hand brushed her skin gently and she turned towards him, her mouth meeting his in a long passionate kiss, her hands stroking him, rousing him, bringing him to an equal pitch of desire. This time she took the lead and Wulfrum knew all the sweetness of her willing compliance as they came together in fierce and urgent joy, meeting in a mutual climax of shuddering delight.

Later, lying in his arms, Elgiva pondered his words anew. He trusted her, she knew that. Was he beginning to love her too? She bit her lip, glad of the darkness that hid her face. Would he love a woman whose silence aided his enemy? Had it been part of Aylwin’s plan to burn the stables tonight? Would there be an attempt on the barn next or the hall? Matters had taken a turn she would never have believed. Wulfrum would not let this go unanswered. She closed her eyes. What to do for the best? She was still considering the matter when the spreading warmth and the sound of the rain lulled her to sleep.