The Viking’s Touch(19)

 Some of her resentment faded and was replaced by disappointment. ‘Oh, yes, I see.’

 Wulfgar seized his chance. ‘But perhaps you might care to go hawking instead. Out in open country an enemy can be seen from afar, and thus easily dealt with. And you could enjoy some fresh air and some decent sport.’

 The green eyes lightened. ‘I’d like that.’

 ‘So be it. We’ll go tomorrow if you wish.’

 ‘Oh, yes. That would be wonderful.’

 In that moment all her customary reserve fell away and her face lit with a smile that caused his heartbeat to accelerate dangerously. It occurred to him again that she had the most kissable mouth he had ever seen. The memory immediately aroused desire. With an effort he controlled it.

 ‘Of course, I’ll have to beg the loan of a falcon,’ he said.

 ‘My late husband had many. I am sure we can find something to please you, my lord.’

 Wulfgar was quite sure of it. Having already discovered the mews in his exploration of Drakensburgh, he could only applaud Torstein’s taste in that as well. However, he wasn’t about to lose the advantage now, and steered the conversation to the safe haven of falconry. Anwyn proved surprisingly knowledgeable and, having relaxed, opened up again, speaking without reserve, listening, asking questions.

 ‘Where did you learn all this?’ he asked.

 ‘My father and brothers were enthusiasts and taught me much. Torstein, too, was accomplished in the sport.’ She paused. ‘Of course, he did not invite me to accompany him very often.’

 Wulfgar could well believe it, but forbore to make the comment that came instantly to mind. Torstein might have known a lot about hawks, but in other ways the man was an idiot. And only another idiot would make the same mistakes. Thus he kept the conversation away from the personal, drawing her out on other subjects.





The hour grew late but for once Anwyn seemed not to notice. Nor did she seem inclined to leave. Wulfgar didn’t dare to hope she was softening towards him, although tonight she seemed to be enjoying his company more. It was a start at least. He had never worked as hard to win a woman in his life, but then she provided the kind of challenge that a man rarely encountered. Circumstances dictated that theirs could only ever be a brief liaison; but for all that he wanted her more than any woman he had ever met.





The following day dawned fair and they set out early, accompanied by half-a-dozen men. Out in the open air, Anwyn’s spirit lifted and she found herself smiling for no apparent reason. It felt good just to be alive on such a day. All thoughts of Ingvar receded. Today she was in the company she would most have sought.

 Involuntarily her gaze went to Wulfgar, currently stroking the breast feathers of a magnificent gyrfalcon. His hand was firm and strong, but infinitely gentle. He would touch a woman like that, she thought. It brought back the memory she had tried so hard to bury and sent a wave of painful longing through her entire being. As though sensing himself watched, he glanced up and met her eye. She saw him smile, the familiar easy smile that caused her heart to miss a beat.

 One of the men called out and she glanced up, following the line of his pointing finger, and saw the pigeon. Sensing danger, it beat hard, winging fast towards the cover of distant trees. Wulfgar removed the hood from the gyrfalcon’s eyes and loosed the jesses. Then he spoke softly and cast her off. The raptor climbed, her powerful wings gaining her height with every beat while her golden eyes located their prey. As she mounted, her wingtips felt the edges of a warm air current and she glided effortlessly, her gaze locked on the quarry below. Then she stooped, arrowing downwards in deadly free fall. Anwyn held her breath. A sharp cry and a puff of feather announced the strike. Great talons bore the prey back to earth. Wulfgar whistled and swung the lure, summoning the gyrfalcon back to his wrist, leaving one of the accompanying retainers to retrieve the pigeon.

 ‘A fine kill,’ said Anwyn.

 ‘Aye, it was.’ He smiled at her. ‘However, the next bird we flush is yours.’





By the end of the morning the bag was impressive. They tethered the horses then and, moving a little apart from their companions, spread their cloaks on the grass before settling down to eat an improvised meal of bread and cheese and cold meat. Anwyn ate hungrily for the fresh air and exercise had given her an appetite. It had also brought colour into her cheeks and put a sparkle in her eyes. Strands of hair had escaped her braid and formed an artless halo round her face. The effect was unwittingly seductive.

 Wulfgar eyed the ribbon that fastened the rest. He was sorely tempted to pull it loose and free the glorious wilful mass it bound. His imagination ran ahead of him. If he did, what would be her response? He smiled ruefully to himself. Had they been alone… Unfortunately they were not. It was probably just as well, he decided. He wasn’t at all sure he could have stopped at just unfastening her hair.

 Unaware of his train of thought, Anwyn finished her food and brushed the crumbs from her skirt. Then she got to her feet.

 ‘There’s a stream over yonder. I’m going to get a drink.’

 ‘Not on your own, you’re not,’ he replied.

 She looked around, but the landscape was quiet, drowsing beneath the warm spring sunshine. ‘There’s no danger near.’

 ‘Even so.’

 It was a tone she had come to recognise and it signified that he wasn’t going to be deflected from his purpose. This insistence on staying close should have annoyed her, but it didn’t. She schooled her face into what she hoped was an expression of unconcern.

 ‘As you will.’

 They strolled together across the grass. Neither one spoke and, although the silence was companionable, it was also highly charged. With every pace she was more aware of the tall, lithe figure beside her, of his quiet strength and the aura of power he wore so effortlessly.

 It was no more than fifty yards to the stream, a bright clear freshet that flowed towards the distant woods. Anwyn bent and scooped a handful of water. It was cold and delicious. For a moment he watched her, then followed suit. His profile was towards her now and she drank in every detail, memorising every line of him, relearning what was already known so well.

 Apparently unaware of her scrutiny, he slaked his thirst and then straightened slowly. For a moment he surveyed her in silence, then extended a hand. After a brief hesitation she took it. His fingers closed over hers and he drew her gently to her feet. He should have let go then. Instead he lifted her hand to his lips and, turning it over gently, pressed a soft kiss on the palm. It burned like a brand, sending a delicious shiver through her entire being and stirring other, more dangerous recollections.

 Wulfgar smiled at her. ‘Come. We should rejoin the others.’

 Anwyn let out the breath she had unconsciously been holding, her mind registering both relief and something else, too, a feeling that didn’t bear closer inspection.

 They rode back after that, keeping the horses to a leisurely pace, enjoying the sunshine. The men of the escort laughed and joked and talked among themselves about hunting. Anwyn listened and smiled to herself. Wulfgar regarded her keenly.

 ‘Did you enjoy yourself today?’ he asked.

 She nodded. ‘In truth I cannot remember when I last enjoyed myself as much.’

 ‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘We must arrange another such outing, and soon.’

 ‘I’d like that.’

 It probably wasn’t wise, but she didn’t care. Rather she felt as a person might who, having languished for years in a dark place, is suddenly released into the sunlight.





Chapter Ten

As they rode in through the gateway Anwyn’s smile faded and, seeing it, Wulfgar immediately followed the line of her gaze to the hall where stood several horses. From the sweat marks on their necks and flanks they had all been ridden hard. A group of men stood nearby. Their clothing identified them immediately as a nobleman and his escort. For a moment he thought Ingvar was back but, hearing the approaching horses, the men turned round and he found himself looking at complete strangers. However, it immediately became clear that Anwyn recognised them.

 ‘Osric,’ she murmured.

 Wulfgar threw her a quizzical glance. ‘Osric?’

 ‘My elder brother.’

 Privately he owned to surprise, but then her expression indicated much the same thing. Along with it he detected a suggestion of uneasiness. His curiosity stirred. They pulled up and dismounted and he watched as Anwyn moved forwards to greet the new arrivals. Foremost among them was a man in his mid-twenties. He was of average height and a slender, wiry build. Facially he bore a resemblance to Anwyn in the high cheekbones and the shape of the mouth, but the likeness stopped there. His hair was a gingery brown shade and his eyes pale blue. These were now subjecting her to a quiet appraisal. However, if she noticed it wasn’t apparent.

 ‘Osric! This is a surprise.’

 She embraced him, saluting him on both cheeks. It was sisterly and correct in every way, but Wulfgar could not see any sign of mutual warmth. Intrigued now, he listened carefully.