The Viking's Defiant Bride(43)

For all he shared the sentiments of his men that evening, Wulfrum was not disposed to linger late and he and Elgiva left them carousing to seek their own room. Wulfrum undressed and climbed into bed. She heard him yawn and saw him settle back comfortably, watching her undress. She cast a swift look down her body, but the slight roundness of her belly showed no sign yet of the life within. Her breasts were bigger, but her waist was as slim as it had ever been. Slowly she unfastened her hair and began to comb it, teasing out the small tangles. It took her some time, but eventually she was finished. However, when she turned towards the bed it was to see that Wulfrum was watching no longer. He lay on his back, eyes closed, his breathing regular and deep.

‘Wulfrum?’ There was no sign that he heard her. ‘My lord?’

For a moment she regarded him with strong indignation before her sense of humour got the better of her. Trust him to fall asleep now. Evidently her news would have to keep till morning. She crossed the room and blew out the lamp before climbing into bed beside him.



She had slept well, snuggled close to the familiar warmth of the man beside her. The sun was fingering its way through the shutters when she woke, aware suddenly that a gentle hand was stroking her back. Elgiva smiled and stretched, arching her body towards the hand, for its touch was sensual and exciting. Wulfrum drew her backwards and pressed her down into the bed as he leaned across her, holding her there with an arm either side of her shoulders. He kissed her then, long and passionately. Elgiva felt the familiar glow inside her, then her arms were about his neck and she was kissing him back, moulding her body to his, feeling his arms tighten around her. With the familiar feeling of astonishment and delight, Wulfrum looked into her face and saw her smile. Then she was kissing him anew. He felt her mouth open to his tongue, felt her yield, felt her body press closer. Elgiva shivered as she felt his lips move on to her neck and throat, his hands brushing the peaks of her breasts, raising sensations that both thrilled and appalled. Yesterday he had shed Saxon blood, but he was no longer the enemy in her eye, for she loved him. To lose him would be like losing part of herself. Warming to his touch, she gave herself now unreservedly.

Wulfrum felt her shudder, sensed the desire rising through her blood. He entered her then, gently, but Elgiva wanted him now every bit as much as he wanted her. He felt her legs close around him, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him deeper inside her. Still Wulfrum held back, fanning the flame to a blaze that would eventually consume them both, reaching a peak of ecstasy so intense he thought he might die. Looking into the depths of the amber eyes beneath him, he knew it had been the same for her.

The intensity of the feeling took him by surprise. Nothing that had gone before compared to this. In his experience hitherto, women had been a means to an end. They satisfied a need and afterwards were quickly forgotten, but this Saxon wench had woven a spell that had him in its grip. He found himself thinking about her all the time, seeing her face, wanting her. He knew then that he would hold her till death.

Watching him closely, Elgiva saw his expression change as he looked at her and felt in her heart the stirrings of disquiet. However, he reached out a hand and touched her cheek, brushing away stray wisps of her hair, his fingers tracing a line along her nose, across her lips and chin and thence down her throat to her breasts. Then he kissed her lightly. She could not fathom his mood, but it showed yet another side of him she had not seen before. It was new and disturbing and hinted at so much more to learn. Suddenly she wanted to know, all of it, for there could be no more pretence. She loved him, had loved him since that day in the forest glade when he had risked his life to save hers. If Ida had not prevented it on the night of the fire, she would have gone back into the flames, for the thought of a future without Wulfrum was inconceivable. He was as necessary to her as sunlight and breathing.

Seeing her preoccupation, he smiled down at her. ‘I never know what you are thinking.’

‘I was thinking about you.’

‘Good. What about me?’

‘I shall not tell you, for it would only make you conceited.’

He laughed. ‘I think it would not be easy for a man to be conceited too long in your company. You have a way of cutting us down to size. One look at those amber eyes and we crumble.’

‘You credit me with powers I do not possess, my lord.’

‘Not so. I must speak as I find.’

‘And what else do you find?’

‘A Saxon wench beautiful enough to make a man forget all others.’

Her expression was suddenly serious. ‘Have you forgotten them, Wulfrum?’

‘You are the only woman in my life now and always will be.’ He leaned over and kissed her very gently. ‘You are my love, Elgiva.’

For a moment she stared at him in stunned surprise and then felt only intense happiness. His arms closed round her again and she laid her head against his shoulder, revelling in his nearness and warmth. They lay thus in silence for some time until Wulfrum smiled and glanced down at her.

‘What?’

‘I was thinking that I want our son to be like his father,’ she replied.

For a moment he did not stir, but then the import of the words struck him.

‘Elgiva?’ He shifted his weight until he could see her face. ‘You don’t mean…’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Oh, my love. When?’

‘In the spring.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ Then another thought occurred to him and his face registered concern. ‘But you should have told me sooner. I might have hurt you.’

‘You haven’t hurt me, Wulfrum.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure.’

He threw back the coverlet and looked at her, running a gentle hand down her body until he came to her belly. As yet he could detect no sign of the life within, but a fierce joy burned in his heart to think she carried his child, their child.

‘It will be a while yet before you see any sign.’

‘No matter. It is enough to know.’

He kissed her then, but too decorously for Elgiva’s liking. Taking his face in her hands, she returned the kiss with passion.

‘Have a care, wench,’ he warned. ‘You play with fire.’

‘No, my lord, ’tis you who play with fire.’

‘Were it not for your tender condition, I might have put that to the test.’

‘Let’s put it to the test anyway.’

He was about to reply in kind, but found he couldn’t, for her tongue was subtly probing his ear, sending a delightful shiver through his entire body and temporarily robbing him of the power of speech. Then her lips moved to his chest, then lower and lower still. Wulfrum drew in a sharp breath.

‘Elgiva?’

She made no reply, but glanced up, once, just long enough for him to glimpse a new and unfathomable expression in those amber eyes. Then she resumed. Wulfrum gasped as he began to experience other infinitely more exciting sensations.

‘Elgiva?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Elgiva, I’m not sure we should…’

The sentence ended in a groan as the first shock wave of pleasure hit him.





Chapter Fifteen




The harvest that year was a good one and every man and woman who could lift a scythe or thresh grain was pressed into service. The granaries and barns filled rapidly. Wulfrum spent his days out in the fields or in the storehouses and saw it all with satisfaction. According to Gurth’s careful accounting, there would be more than enough food for the winter. Besides, soon the apples and root crops would be laid down. Cheeses ripened in the storerooms. Game was abundant. With care, no one need go hungry. In the late autumn the cattle would be killed and the meat salted for, despite a good hay crop, the fodder would only be sufficient to see the breeding stock through the cold weather to come.

In the forest the first leaves began to turn and the time drew near for Wulfrum to leave Ravenswood for York. He was loath to go but knew he had no choice. Lord Halfdan required his presence and would take it much amiss if he were denied. Accordingly he chose a dozen men to accompany him on the ride, leaving a large contingent behind to look after matters in his absence.

‘It is only for a week,’ he told Elgiva. ‘If there are any problems, you can consult Ida. However, I do not think there is cause for concern.’

She forced a wan smile. No cause for concern? With Aylwin and the dispossessed Saxons seeking his life? They would never have a better chance to act than now. Elgiva was racked by guilt, for the knowledge of her own complicity weighed heavily on her conscience. With it her fear grew apace. Time and again she had tried to summon the courage to tell Wulfrum, but the thought of his reaction stayed her. Already she could see the hurt in his eyes. How could she bear it? How could she bear to see his love turn to suspicion and hatred? Yet how could she remain silent while he was threatened by a danger that was, in part, of her making? She had to speak now, to warn him before he left. Yet how to find the words? How to tell him what she had done?

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Wulfrum finished dressing for the journey and then came to stand before her, drawing her to him.

‘Take care of yourself, Elgiva, and look after my son.’

‘Depend upon it.’

‘I do.’ He paused. ‘Do you wish me to bring you anything from York?’