The Viking’s Touch(22)

 A pink flush rose along her throat. ‘I do not fear his displeasure.’

 ‘Neither should you. It cannot harm you now.’

 His words carried all manner of implications, which filled her with wildly contrasting emotions. Although she was nominally in charge of affairs here, his power was considerable—in real terms greater than hers. Caught now between two powerful men, her instinct was still to trust him. She could only pray that her instinct was correct, for the people of Drakensburgh and for herself.





She retired early that evening, needing time to think. For all her brave assertions to Wulfgar, she knew full well that she couldn’t ignore the danger posed by her father and brother. Osric’s words had not been an idle threat. It would not be beyond either of them to use force if the perceived gain outweighed the disadvantages. Her jaw tightened. She would resist them as far as she could, but resistance meant bloodshed. Freedom came only at a price, and one more costly than gold.

 That thought engendered others. She had wealth enough to buy the loyalty of the mercenaries for now, but how if the situation escalated into a conflict on two fronts? Increased risk might well mean an increased demand for payment. The gold was not limitless and there was no way of knowing how long such a conflict might last. Anwyn sighed, feeling as though she were caught between hammer and anvil. A woman alone was a hostage to fortune. In truth, it was a man’s world. Marry the unknown northern earl or marry Ingvar. The choice was stark affording no third way.

 She drew off her gown and, having laid the garment carefully aside, unfastened her hair and reached for the comb. If only she could yoke the mercenary force permanently, her position would be unassailable. The question was how? She drew the comb slowly through a skein of hair. The teeth had slid about halfway down its length when the third way suggested itself. Her hand froze and she was suddenly very still but, deep within, her heart performed something dangerously close to a somersault. Anwyn mentally shook herself.

 ‘That’s ridiculous. It’s madness,’ she murmured. ‘Utter madness.’

 Her mind immediately followed through with all the reasons for thinking so. Yet what underpinned that lengthy list was a faint glimmer of hope. It could be made to work. The glimmer grew brighter. What it illuminated then was the fundamental shift in her thinking that had somehow taken place without her even being aware of it, until now. With trembling fingers she put the comb down. Such a decision should not be reached in haste. She must sleep on it. The trouble was that sleep had never seemed so far away.





Chapter Eleven

Osric and his companions left early next day after a cool leave-taking in which few words were spoken. Anwyn watched them go, her dominant emotion relief. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that she had heard the end of the matter, but it would be a little while before either he or her father were in a position to take any kind of action. By the time they did… She swallowed hard. Then, summoning all her courage, she went in search of Wulfgar.

 She found him in the carpenter’s workshop with Hermund. Both men looked up and smiled, offering a courteous greeting. She returned it, then looked pointedly at Wulfgar.

 ‘I beg you will forgive the intrusion, but I need to talk to you, my lord.’

 ‘Very well.’ He glanced at his companion.

 Hermund was quick to take the hint. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it then.’

 Anwyn was barely aware of his going, only of the growing knot in her stomach. The silence stretched out. She could almost hear her own heartbeat. The man before her disposed himself casually on the edge of the workbench, waiting.

 ‘My lady?’

 ‘It concerns the matter we spoke of yesterday.’

 ‘Your brother?’

 She nodded. ‘I will never be safe, and nor will the people here, unless I can put myself permanently out of his reach and Ingvar’s, too.’

 ‘How do you propose to do that?’

 Anwyn drew a deep breath. ‘I must be married.’

 ‘Forgive me, but didn’t you say—’

 ‘Married to a man of my choosing.’ She took another deep breath and steeled herself. ‘I want you to marry me.’

 He was genuinely speechless, as though all the air had been driven out of his lungs. Under other circumstances he might have laughed at the sheer absurdity of it.

 ‘A marriage in name only,’ she continued, ‘that will put everyone concerned beyond their power.’

 Wulfgar regained the use of his voice. ‘A noble sacrifice.’

 ‘I do not intend to be a victim.’

 His lips twitched. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Such a role sits ill on you.’

 ‘I was being serious.’

 ‘So was I.’ He paused. ‘You seek permanent protection from me—what do you offer in return?’

 ‘The earldom of Drakensburgh.’

 ‘A tempting prize.’

 ‘Of course I would not expect you to stay here all the time,’ she continued. ‘I know that yours is a roving life. I would only ask that you leave behind a force sufficient to protect the place.’

 ‘Which you would govern in my absence.’

 ‘Yes.’

 ‘No,’ he replied.

 ‘Then you…you mean you would stay?’

 ‘I mean that such an idea is madness. Besides, I am not good husband material, my sweet.’

 ‘I would make no demands.’

 He stood up, casually crossing the intervening space between them. ‘But how do you know that I would not?’ His presence seemed to fill the little room; the very air between them seemed suddenly energised. ‘How do you know that, in seeking to escape Ingvar and your northern earl, you would not be putting yourself into a far worse situation?’

 ‘If I had thought so, I would not be speaking to you now.’

 ‘I’m flattered, truly.’

 ‘I do not speak to flatter you.’

 He smiled wryly. ‘No, forgive me, I should have known better. All the same I am honoured by your trust.’

 ‘Don’t mock me, Wulfgar, please.’

 ‘I wasn’t.’

 Something about his expression then caused her pulse to quicken. ‘Then…will you help me?’

 ‘Anwyn, I wish I could, but…’

 ‘I have no one else to turn to.’ The green eyes met his in mute appeal. ‘No one.’

 ‘Don’t cast me in the role of hero.’

 ‘I ask only that you consider it.’

 For the space of several heartbeats he was silent, his mind a mass of troubled memories. He was not good husband material; over the last six years he had learned to live with that knowledge. Of course, he had been much younger then: wild, undisciplined, unable to curb the restlessness in his nature. There had been plenty of time since to regret the folly of his youth. Learning from past mistakes was an integral part of maturity. Looked at objectively, Drakensburgh was nothing to do with him. He should probably walk away. And if he did walk away, what then? It shouldn’t have mattered, but somehow the thought rankled. She had helped him when he needed it. Could he abandon her now their situations were reversed? Could he abandon another woman as he had before? Their situations might be vastly different but the need was still there.

 Unable to follow the thoughts behind the impassive face, Anwyn prayed silently, clenching her hands so tightly that the nails dug into her palms.

 ‘If I were to agree to this,’ he said at last, ‘it would be because you understood the terms on which it would depend.’

 Hope leapt. He wasn’t turning her down flat. ‘Name your terms.’

 ‘I would ensure that Drakensburgh was protected, you’d have my word on that. But I wouldn’t stay for ever, Anwyn. I have a duty to my men and my ship, not to mention an arrangement with Rollo.’

 ‘I know.’

 ‘I might be absent for a long time—years, perhaps.’

 ‘I understand that.’

 ‘There’s something more.’ The blue eyes met and held hers. ‘While we were together… You’re a very beautiful woman and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you to share my bed.’

 Her heart leapt towards her throat and coherent thought fled, along with the possibility of speech.

 Misreading that silence, he schooled his expression to careful neutrality and continued, ‘However, that would be for you to choose. I would not demand anything you were unwilling to give. Nor would I promise you my undying love.’

 The words caused an unexpected pang. However, he was at least being honest with her. ‘I understand that, too.’

 ‘Very well, then.’

 ‘You mean you’ll do it?’

 He nodded. ‘Under those conditions.’

 Relief mingled with emotions less clearly defined. ‘I accept your conditions.’

 He surveyed her keenly for a moment. ‘Then will you seal the bargain with me, Anwyn?’

 ‘My lord?’

 Her wits returned in a blood-thumping rush as he drew her against him, looking into her face, his eyes questioning. It might have been wiser to pull away, but she could not. He bent his head, his lips brushing hers, the touch light and tentative at first, then, as he felt her relax against him, more persuasive. The kiss was gentle and lingering, quite unlike that other time, and yet her heart thumped just as hard. At length he drew back and his hold slackened a little, enough to allow breath, but not escape.