Twin Passions(20)

"I will let you down on one condition, Garric," Hakon said firmly. "You will obey my orders henceforth without question. Is that understood?"

"Aye, my lord," Gwendolyn lied, gritting her teeth. And may you live to rue this day, Viking, she thought bitterly.

"I will hold you to your word, lad, so do not force me to deal harshly with you," Hakon said grimly. "Many slaves have died for less offense than attacking their master." Setting her feet down upon the ground, he towered over her. "Come, we will sleep on the ship. I doubt Einar and my men have yet had their fill of ale and women this night."

Startled by his words, Gwendolyn felt a great sense of relief. So, her effort had not been in vain. At least this night Anora would be spared a rape.

Following quickly behind Hakon as he strode along the path toward the shore, Gwendolyn looked up at the stars. Aye, she and Anora would have their chance for escape, she vowed silently. They would simply have to wait until the time was right . . .





Chapter 15





"'Tis time to wake, lad," Hakon said. He nudged Gwendolyn's shoulder with the toe of his leather boot. Yawning sleepily, she merely turned over onto her side and snuggled deeper into the warm fur. "Very well, then," he muttered, "if that is the way you will have it." He reached down and grabbed the ends of her pallet with both hands. Then, with a sharp tug, he pulled it out from under her. Gwendolyn went rolling across the deck, stopping only after she'd tumbled into a nearby rowing bench.

"Oh!" she groaned, flat on her back, her eyes wide open now. She stared blankly into the early morning sky, just beginning to lighten in faint hues of pink and lavender. Stunned, for a moment she could not remember where she was. But Hakon's hearty laugh behind her was all it took to jog her memory. She propped herself up on one elbow and ran her fingers through her short curls.

"A good morning to you, Garric!" Hakon chuckled, his eyes alight with mirth. Holding out his hand, he bent down to help her to her feet.

"Hardly a good morning," Gwendolyn replied heatedly, ignoring his proffered hand. She rose shakily to her feet and eyed him warily.

"Forgive my rude method of waking you, Garric," he said somewhat apologetically, chiding himself for perhaps being a bit rough on the lad. "But if I had not done so, you would have slept 'til noon." He shrugged. Thor, but this lad was a delicate one, he thought, noting the swelling on Gwendolyn's lower lip. "Here, let me look at that," he said, with some measure of concern.

But Gwendolyn jerked away from his hand. "'Tis naught," she muttered resentfully. She stepped back a few paces from him and furtively touched her lip. She winced, her expression betraying her pain.

"Well, then, at least have some bread," Hakon offered, not unkindly. He reached into a cloth bag and pulled out a dark, crusty loaf. Tearing off a large hunk, he handed it to her. "You will have to put some meat and muscle on those bones, Garric, else you will be of little use to me. I need strong workers, and it looks to me as if you have spent your life in book-learning and the like."

His observation caused Gwendolyn to bristle angrily. Better to let him know what she was capable of than to have him think she was weak and useless! "I can wield a weapon as well as any of your men, Viking, though perhaps not quite as large as your sword," she retorted hotly. "And I have killed many a wild boar with bow and arrow —while riding a horse at full gallop!"

Hakon stared in amazement at Gwendolyn for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that echoed about the ship. By the blood of Odin, he had never seen such brazenness in a lad before! What a boast! 'Twas as if, despite his small size, Garric thought he could prevail over the mightiest of warriors without any fear of death or defeat.

Perhaps I have underestimated this smooth faced boy, Hakon mused, rubbing his chin. He decided he would have to watch him even more carefully from now on, or run the risk of taking a sword blow in the back when he wasn't looking!

Gwendolyn watched the play of emotions across the bronzed planes of the Viking's face. So, he laughs at me, she thought irritably, her ire rising again. Biting into the coarse bread, she chewed angrily, nearly choking as she tried to swallow.

"Slow down, lad," Hakon muttered, slapping her hard in the middle of her back. Gwendolyn fell forward from the force of his blow, losing her balance. She put out her hands to cushion her fall, yet she landed hard against the side of the ship.

"What are you trying to do, Viking, kill me before we even reach your homeland?" she sputtered indignantly. "What use will I be to you then?"

But Hakon was given no chance to reply, for suddenly two large hands appeared at the railing. Grunting, Egil heaved himself up and over the side of the ship.

"Lord Hakon, the boy . . . he has disappeared!" Egil blurted anxiously. He leaned against the railing as he tried to catch his breath. "He must have run from the hall during the night. I . . . uh . . . I only turned my back for a short while . . . uh, the wench . . ." he faltered, his voice dying away. He looked down at his feet, red-faced. Loki take him for a fool, he berated himself. He would probably be lashed for this offense!

"He is here with me, man," Hakon said. He gestured toward Gwendolyn, who was still sprawled out awkwardly on the deck.

"Damned Viking," she muttered fiercely under her breath. She reached up and grabbed the railing, then struggled to her feet.

Hakon tried to suppress a grin at the comical sight she made, but he could not. He turned back to Egil. "I found the lad near Einar's longhouse last night, on his way to rescue his sister, no doubt." Sensing the oarsman's discomfort at having failed in his orders to watch Garric, he added, "'Tis only an island, Egil. We would have found them had they strayed too far."

Egil looked up, astonished by his good fortune. His broad shoulders slumped with relief. Yea, Lord Hakon could be a hard man, he thought, and sometimes quick to anger, but let no one say he was not fair.

"I trust the wench was well worth the tumble?" Hakon asked, smiling broadly.

"Yea, my lord, indeed she was!" Egil laughed lustily. "And I've the scratches to prove it!"

"Good." Hakon chuckled. "I only hope the others fared as well." But he sobered as his thoughts turned abruptly to the matter at hand. "Return to the hall and rouse the men, Egil. We must sail within the hour or risk losing the tide."

Egil nodded, then scrambled over the side of the ship and waded back to shore.

Hakon glanced at Gwendolyn. His tone was stern, forbidding. "You will stay aboard the ship while I bid farewell to my cousin and fetch your sister. Is that understood?" His startling blue eyes, like the color of a cloudless, midsummer sky, seemed to burn right through her, daring any thought of resistance.

"Aye, my lord," she mumbled grudgingly, watching him as he walked over to the side of the ship.

"And while I am gone, stay away from those two," he cautioned sharply, just before jumping from the railing to the shallow water below.

Gwendolyn's emerald eyes narrowed as she looked over at Svein and Torvald, chained by their hands and feet to the rowing benches. Torvald was still fast asleep, slumped against the side of the ship and snoring loudly. But Svein was awake, his pale eyes staring viciously at her. Naked from the waist up, his back was crisscrossed with angry red stripes and oozing welts from the lash. He and Torvald had been forced to row along with the others, despite their festering wounds.

Seating herself on a nearby bench, Gwendolyn hugged her legs to her body and rested her chin on her knees. She could only hope that Hakon and his men would not be gone for long. She didn't like the idea of being alone on the ship with those two curs. She took a deep breath of the salty sea air and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the waves as they crashed onto the shore.

Her stomach suddenly grumbled angrily, reminding her that she had eaten little since the day before. She reached out and grabbed the loaf of bread lying on top of the cask where Hakon had left it. He must have gone to the cooking house earlier this morning, she thought, while she had been sleeping. Aye, at least she could thank him for that! She ravenously bit into the crusty loaf, savoring the fresh-baked flavor.

"How about sharin' a bit o' that bread with me, lad?" Svein called out, his forced smile strangely distorted into a grimace by the scar slashing down the left side of his face. He looked at the bread hungrily, licking his parched lips.

Gwendolyn nearly choked, her throat constricting at the sound of his evil voice. Deep-seated feelings of hate and rage welled up within her. She could barely keep herself from running over and striking the grin from his face. "You must truly be a fool, Viking dog, to think that I would do aught to sustain your miserable life," she snapped, her fists clenched in anger.

Enraged by Gwendolyn's reply, Svein's face turned a livid purple. He jerked up from his bench, furiously tugging at the chains binding him. "Do na' think I am done with you yet, lad!" he screamed, thrashing madly. "Nor with your fine sister! If you think Lord Hakon will be able to protect you from me, think again. I swear by the blood of Odin I will have my revenge!"

Awakened by the loud commotion, Torvald gaped at his raving companion. "Svein, do you want to bring Lord Hakon down upon us again?" he questioned worriedly. His back ached from the earlier lashing, and he did not want to suffer another one.