The Viking’s Touch(13)

 To do honour to the occasion she had dressed with more than usual care that evening. The blue gown was one of her finest, richly embroidered at the neck and sleeves with a pattern of leaves and flowers picked out in green and gold. Matching blue ribbons adorned her hair. It was, she knew, a most becoming outfit, an effort justified by the need to do honour to Drakensburgh’s new allies. However, as soon as she entered the hall she knew there was only one man present whose opinion mattered.

 He had risen to meet her and her heartbeat quickened as she crossed the space between them, aware that she had his full attention now. His eyes appraised every detail of her appearance and the blue depths warmed. She saw him bow.

 Wulfgar, too, had changed his habitual garb and was now clad in a fine shirt and a tunic of deep blue wool worn over dark leggings. His shoes were of good leather, and a tooled-leather belt rode his waist from which hung his magnificently wrought dagger. The costume was at once simple and elegant, a perfect foil for his warm colouring and dark hair. Looking at him now, Anwyn could only conclude that Jodis was right. He was a very handsome man, dangerously so.

 He met her eye and held it. ‘You look like a queen.’

 His expression was demonstration enough that the praise was sincere, and the result was to create a real sense of pleasure. He took her hand, guiding her to the chair beside his. The touch burned. To cover her confusion she feigned to look around the room, though in truth she was aware only of the man beside her. A servant approached to fill her cup. With apparent casualness she took a sip. The mead was sweet and mellow and it steadied her.

 ‘The mood seems convivial enough,’ she said then.

 ‘That it does. It was a good idea to bring everyone together thus.’

 The words were mildly spoken, but they warmed her anyway, like the apparently casual regard he bent on her now.

 ‘I hope it may create a bond of friendship between us,’ she replied.

 ‘I also hope for a closer bond between us.’

 The words carried an unmistakable nuance and all at once the spectre of temptation reared its head. A temptation she couldn’t afford. This man was a mercenary and she was paying for his strength and his sword. She mustn’t allow herself to forget that if she hoped to remain in control of their relationship.

 Fortunately the servants brought in the food just then and diverted attention away from what might have become a difficult conversation. Although she was faced with a succession of savoury dishes, Anwyn ate sparingly. For some reason her appetite was less than usual so she contented herself with watching others and sipping from her cup. The men around them ate with apparent enjoyment, a sight which pleased her greatly. At least they could have no doubts of her ability to run her household well and would be more reconciled to staying awhile.

 Her gaze flicked to Wulfgar. He seemed quite at ease, occupying his place as though he had been born to it. In truth, he might have been the Lord of Drakensburgh. She sighed inwardly. If it had been he and not Torstein, she might have been more easily reconciled to her situation. As it was, their lives were destined to touch only briefly. The knowledge brought an unexpected sense of sadness.

 Unaware of her thoughts, Wulfgar leaned across his chair towards her. ‘An excellent meal. You are to be congratulated, my lady.’

 She rallied and returned his smile. ‘I thank you. The effort has proved worthwhile.’

 ‘Indeed it has. If this is a foretaste of things to come, my men will never want to leave.’

 Her pulse quickened; while they stayed so would he. ‘If so, then the way to men’s hearts really is through their stomachs.’

 ‘Do you doubt it?’

 ‘In my experience men have no hearts.’

 His eyes narrowed a little, regarding her more closely. ‘Not even your husband?’

 Every sign of amusement vanished. ‘Especially not him.’

 ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.’

 ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She met his eye squarely. ‘Our match was arranged by my father because it suited his purpose. I had no say in it.’

 ‘I see.’

 ‘Do you?’

 He could hardly miss the sarcastic edge to the question but, though he knew he ought to let the matter drop, he was curious. ‘How old were you?’

 ‘Fifteen. Torstein was forty.’

 ‘Hardly an ideal combination, and yet with good will on both sides it might work well enough. Such things are not unknown.’

 ‘It may be as you say. I have no idea.’

 ‘I’m sorry to hear it.’

 ‘I was sorry, too,’ she replied. ‘Every day I was with him.’ The tone was unwontedly bitter, quite unlike her usual manner. Then she collected herself and smiled. ‘But let us not speak of unpleasant subjects. This is supposed to be a celebration after all.’

 Wulfgar took the hint and the conversation moved into other channels. All the same, her words had given him plenty of food for thought. They also explained her earlier comment about a husband’s tyranny. Again he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Earl Torstein had been that he would so crassly alienate a lovely woman. Most men would give their eye teeth to possess such a jewel and, possessing her, treat her well. It occurred to him then that he was hardly in a position to criticise. Had he not once possessed a fair wife and treated her ill? He winced inwardly. It seemed he might have more in common with Torstein than was comfortable.

 Anwyn drained her cup, annoyed with herself for blurting out the details of her marriage thus. She didn’t know why she had done it. Now he knew even more about her while she knew next to nothing about him. What had his life been like before? He had given her a few small details, but otherwise seemed unwilling to speak of the past. Perhaps in that he was right; there was no point in dwelling on what was done.

 ‘Do you not find it lonely to be on your own?’ he asked.

 ‘I have enough to keep me occupied.’

 ‘Work doesn’t take up the whole day, though.’

 ‘No, it doesn’t. Sometimes I sleep, too.’

 ‘Only sometimes?’

 ‘In the first months after Torstein’s death I found it hard,’ she replied.

 ‘And now?’

 ‘Less so, now I know that he isn’t coming back.’

 He surveyed her steadily. ‘Did you never think of finding a more congenial bedmate?’

 ‘I have no wish to remarry.’

 ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you should.’

 Anwyn’s gaze locked with his, her eyes a dangerous shade of emerald. ‘Nor do I have any intention of taking a lover, my lord.’

 ‘What a pity.’

 For a moment or two she was speechless, hardly able to credit the blatant boldness of that remark. Yet she could see no sign of contrition in his face; on the contrary, the gleam in his eyes suggested keen inner enjoyment.

 ‘Do you have any idea how provoking you can be?’ she demanded.

 ‘I have the feeling that you want to tell me.’

 ‘Had we been alone I would already have done so.’

 ‘Well, my luck really is out, isn’t it?’

 ‘It’s no use. I shall not rise to the bait.’

 ‘Worse and worse—I must try harder.’

 ‘It seems to me that you are trying enough, my lord.’

 Wulfgar laughed. It wasn’t what she expected, nor was the way in which it transformed his face, like the expression in his eyes now. Unable to withstand their scrutiny, she lowered her own lest he should read too accurately the thoughts she tried to hide.





As the evening wore on and the men continued to drink, the jokes became lewder and the sound of ribald laughter increased. The heat mounted with it and the room became stifling, reeking of roast meat and ale and male sweat. Anwyn began to feel the effects of the mead she had drunk. It was sweet and smooth on the tongue but, evidently, much stronger than she’d thought, even taken with food, and she’d had several cups. Any more would be a mistake. She had played her part tonight and to all intents and purposes the occasion had gone well enough. Perhaps better than expected. It was time to leave them to it.

 As she rose, the room lurched. She checked, holding on to the arm of the chair, waiting for it to stop. When she opened her eyes she saw that Wulfgar had risen, too.

 ‘I will escort you as far as the women’s bower, my lady.’

 ‘I…it’s all right. There’s no need.’

 He glanced at her and then towards the company. ‘I think there is.’

 She didn’t bother to argue further. He had clearly made up his mind, and the men were fairly drunk. His presence would ensure their behaviour remained within bounds.

 Walking with exaggerated care, Anwyn made for the nearest exit, a smaller side door. He opened it and stood aside to let her pass. The night air hit her like a slap, but after the heat and fug of the hall it was blessedly cool. It was full dark now and the breeze tossed the flames in the lighted cressets nearby, sending dancing shadows across the timbered wall and the ground beyond. In the flickering light she could just make out the dark shape of the women’s bower. She turned to her companion.