The Viking’s Touch(27)

 ‘How do you know?’

 ‘The old saying—like father like son.’

 He smiled wryly. ‘I’d like to think so, but his are mighty big shoes to step into.’

 The words were spoken matter of factly, but they implied much more and she was immediately curious.

 ‘He lives yet?’

 ‘Aye, he does. My mother, too.’

 ‘Which of them do you resemble most?’

 ‘My father, definitely.’

 ‘Wulfrum Ragnarsson—a noble family heritage.’

 ‘He was an adopted son, though apparently Ragnar was like a true father to him. When King Ella captured and executed Ragnar, his sons took their revenge.’

 Anwyn nodded. She had heard the tale of the great Viking invasion, although she had not been born then.

 ‘Was your father married before he came to England?’

 ‘No. He took my mother as a prize of war.’

 Her eyes widened. ‘She was enslaved?’

 ‘Not exactly. Lord Halfdan gave my father the Ravenswood estate as a reward for loyal service. My mother had held it till then, following the deaths of her father and brother. In that sense she went with it, so my father took her to wife. She had no say in the matter.’

 Anwyn shivered a little. ‘Then I pity her.’

 ‘It might have been a lot worse.’ He surveyed her steadily. ‘My father was in love with her, you see.’

 ‘Was he?’

 ‘She was very beautiful in her youth, and strong-willed. She was not easily won, but then my father is not easily deflected from a purpose. He determined to win her and he succeeded. Eventually she came to love him in return.’

 ‘A fortunate circumstance for both of them.’

 ‘Aye, I suppose it was.’

 ‘The marriage was happy in the end, then.’

 ‘Most happy. It still is.’

 Anwyn could identify strongly with the young girl forced into marriage with a stranger. Except that her story had had a happy ending. Earl Wulfrum must be a remarkable man. If his son took after him, then he had undoubtedly been handsome, but there had to be a great deal more. Was that the source of Wulfgar’s charisma? Certainly the words offered another tantalising glimpse of his past.

 ‘I was never close to my father,’ she said. ‘His interest was all for his sons. Daughters were useful only as a means of consolidating power.’

 ‘Was that why he married you to Torstein?’

 ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘Do you have brothers and sisters living?’

 ‘Two brothers and a sister, all married now.’

 ‘Did you all get on?’

 He grinned. ‘Most of the time.’

 ‘That must have been pleasant.’

 He heard the wistful note in her voice and understood it. Despite the inevitable fights with his brothers, his childhood had been happy enough. He had assumed, back then, that everyone else shared the same experience. It had come as a surprise to find out later that he was wrong.

 For a while neither one spoke. Anwyn found it impossible to read the thoughts behind that handsome face, but just then she didn’t care. When she was in his company she could shrug off the past; everything else became insignificant somehow, and every fibre of her being was tuned only to him. It seemed likely that they would not have much time together, but perhaps that didn’t matter. She had spent almost two thousand days with Torstein; endless dreary days that blended and merged until she could remember little or nothing of them. The days spent with Wulfgar would not be forgotten so easily.





It was perhaps an hour later when they stopped by a stream and dismounted to let the horses drink. Then, by tacit consent, they strolled together a little way. Stands of alder and willow lined the bank while on the margins of the water clumps of yellow iris made splashes of colour. Brilliant blue dragonflies darted among the reeds and a shoal of minnows basked in the shallows.

 ‘A pleasant spot,’ said Wulfgar. ‘Will it please you to sit a while?’

 Having tethered the horses, they took their ease on the grassy bank, surveying the scene. She had not previously considered Drakensburgh to be a beautiful place, but it was. Not that she had been able to explore much of it then and what she had seen was coloured by Torstein’s company. It all seemed like a past life now. She glanced at the man beside her and found herself the object of close scrutiny.

 ‘Did you know that you have the most beautiful hair? I thought so the first time I set eyes on you.’ He grinned. ‘When you rode on to the beach that day I thought at first that one of the Valkyries was come among us.’

 Anwyn laughed, albeit ruefully. ‘I seem to recall that I was in a rare temper at the time. It goes with the hair, you see.’

 ‘So I’ve noticed.’

 ‘It is a failing I’m oft reminded of.’

 ‘No failing. Anger suits you, too.’

 It was hard to know what to make of this and she suspected that he was teasing her. Before she could pursue the thought he altered his position, moving behind her. She glanced round.

 ‘Sit still.’ Wulfgar reached for the ribbon that bound the end of the braid and untied it.

 Anwyn felt the slight tug. ‘What are you doing?’

 ‘What I’ve wanted to do from the first.’ Slowly and deliberately he began to unfasten her plait, checking her protest with a hand on her shoulder. ‘Be still.’

 His hands continued their work, moving higher now, casually brushing her back and shoulders. The touch sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with fear or cold. The rest of the plait loosened and came undone. Wulfgar let the glossy ropes of hair trail through his hands for a moment, then shook out each one until the entirety of it hung down her back like a cloak of flame.

 He grinned. ‘That’s better.’

 Anwyn regarded him in mock exasperation. ‘How am I going to bind it again now?’

 ‘You’re not,’ he replied.

 ‘Not?’

 ‘No.’

 Her eyes widened a little. ‘But, Wulfgar, I can’t leave it like this. It isn’t decent. Someone might see.’

 ‘I am the only one here to see.’

 ‘Yes, but…’

 ‘And as I am your husband it cannot be indecent.’

 ‘I am not sure that necessarily follows,’ she replied.

 ‘No more it does.’

 Anwyn glanced about her, but there was no one else in evidence. Seeing that, she relaxed a little. It was unseemly for a married woman to wear her hair loose; only very young girls did that. At the same time it was strangely liberating. Torstein would have had a fit. She bit back a gurgle of laughter. Torstein had had a fit. That was why she was sitting here on the bank of a stream with another man and with her hair undone. Unbidden, the laughter swelled in her throat. She tried to suppress it, but it burst out of her anyway. She buried her face against her knees, hugging them close, shoulders shaking.

 Wulfgar regarded her curiously. ‘What?’

 Unable to speak, Anwyn merely shook her head. It was sometime before she regained a measure of self-control, drying her eyes with the sleeve of her gown.

 ‘Forgive me,’ she said then. ‘I couldn’t help it.’

 ‘Won’t you share the joke?’ he asked.

 ‘I wish I could, but unless you’d met Torstein it wouldn’t be nearly as funny.’

 ‘Torstein?’

 ‘Yes. I was visualising the expression on his face if he could see me now.’

 Wulfgar grinned. ‘Aye, I suppose that would be interesting.’

 ‘You have no idea.’

 ‘Perhaps it’s as well he isn’t here then, or your brother, either, for that matter.’

 ‘Osric would run you through.’

 ‘He might try.’

 Anwyn eyed him speculatively. ‘Would you kill him?’

 ‘If I had to, although I’d be loath to earn your enmity.’

 She sighed. ‘In truth I don’t know if you would.’

 ‘I thought when I saw you together that your relationship was not the closest.’

 ‘It wasn’t.’ She hesitated. ‘It was Osric who sided with my father over the marriage to Torstein.’

 ‘I see.’

 ‘I couldn’t let him do it a second time.’

 ‘He shouldn’t have done it the first time,’ said Wulfgar.

 ‘Well, he’s gone now and Torstein is dead.’

 ‘So things could be much worse, then.’

 Anwyn caught his eye and they both laughed. He thought it suited her very well, like unbound hair. If he had his way, both were going to happen more often. He leaned closer and then laughter faded a little. For a brief second she seemed to hesitate. Then her face tilted towards his and she gave herself up to his kiss. It was soft and lingering and utterly irresistible.

 With a major effort of will he drew back, his blood racing. He wanted her, here, now, wanted to possess her entirely. But more than that, he wanted her consent. Anything else would be a violation. Looking into her face now, what he read was uncertainty. It was better than the fear he had seen earlier, but it was still not enough.