Twin Passions(39)

She had learned that to the Vikings, the Yuletide feast of midwinter was one of the most important celebrations of the year. There would be many invited guests at the settlement this night, some traveling from quite a distance. As Jarl of the region, Hakon was expected to present an elaborate table for his guests, as testimony to his great wealth and power. No doubt at this very moment he was probably overseeing the slaughter of the Yule boar, the traditional meal for such an occasion, which would then be roasted to perfection in a large outdoor pit near the cooking house.

Gwendolyn sighed shakily. Why was it that whenever she thought of Hakon she felt a strange stirring sensation deep within her? This feeling constantly plagued her, tearing at her defenses, giving her no peace during those times when she was away from him. And then when she was with him, his strong arms wrapped about her, it was almost like a sharp, physical pain, a longing so intense that it would overwhelm her completely.

She shook her head fiercely, trying to dispel the image of him from her mind, but she could not. In utter frustration she pounded the wooden arm of the chair with her fist, but that did little more than to hurt her hand. Damn the Viking and his hold over her! she cursed vehemently under her breath. These feelings disturbed her greatly, for they were at cross purposes with her sworn intent to hate him . . . and to one day escape from him. Yet now it seemed that not only her body, but her heart as well, was beginning to betray her. Though she tried to deny it to herself, and to fight against it, she knew that her hate was melting away in the searing heat of the passion they shared.

Gwendolyn could hardly believe that this change in her feelings had come about in the two short weeks since Hakon had returned from his uncle's settlement. The time had passed so quickly.

During the days she had been busy with Berta, learning the many responsibilities of overseeing Hakon's household. She had also managed to visit Anora often in the stable, but that was becoming increasingly more difficult. She knew she was still being watched, followed everywhere she went by a stern-faced Viking guard. She feared her frequent visits were drawing too much attention to them, perhaps threatening their guise, so she had not been to the stable in several days.

But another reason had kept her away from the stable. She also feared that Anora might perceive the change in her feelings for Hakon and despair of their plans for escape. That fear alone had served to strengthen her resolve to fight the changing tide of her feelings, aye, that and the vivid memory of the vow she had made to Anora the day of their capture.

But it was during the nights —those long, northern nights— that she felt the most threatened by her emotions. Hakon's lovemaking drew from her a wild, passionate abandon she had not known she possessed, leaving her shaken from its intensity. Then afterward, cradling her in his arms, he would tell her stories of his youth, and strange, exciting tales of his travels as a Viking merchant to mysterious, distant lands, until she was lulled to sleep by the rich tones of his deep voice and his gentle caresses. That he would share such personal knowledge with her had taken her by surprise, leading her to wonder about the depths of his own feelings for her.

It was this awakening curiosity about Hakon's emotions that frightened her the most. Nay, she did not want to know! His words might steal away the last shreds of resistance she needed to make good her vow to Anora!

"Your bath should be ready shortly, lass," Berta said, gently shaking Gwendolyn's shoulder. "'Twill be waiting for you in Lord Hakon's chamber."

"Nay!" Gwendolyn's cry echoed through the large, silent hall, startling both herself and Berta, who stepped back in fright. Her thoughts had so overwhelmed her that she was breathless, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. She shook her head, dazed. Looking up, she finally noticed the older woman standing beside her, staring at her with widened eyes, her hand to her throat.

"I . . . I am sorry, Berta. Did you say something?" she asked, rubbing her aching temples.

"'Tis only your bath, Anora, not a trial by fire!" Berta replied, clearly shaken. "What mischief of Loki is this, lass?" She put her hand on Gwendolyn's flushed cheek. "Are you not feeling well?" Thor, it would be all she needed this day, for Anora to take sick!

Gwendolyn smiled faintly, rising to her feet. "I am fine, Berta, though I think the bath and a short rest would serve me well right now." She declined Berta's proffered arm with a nod, then walked quickly from the hall.

Berta watched her until she disappeared through the massive entrance doors. Yea, she would mention this to Lord Hakon, as soon as she saw him, she decided firmly. She turned back to her work, her round face etched with concern.





***





Indeed, a few hours later Gwendolyn felt much more like herself. She was almost finished dressing after her bath and a rest when Hakon entered the room. Her fingers shook nervously at the sight of him, but somehow she managed to close the gold clasp on the brooch at her shoulder.

Hakon stood staring at her for a moment, his eyes taking in every detail of her appearance. Thor, but she was a vision! She was wearing a chemise of dove gray silk that clung to her slender curves, while over it an emerald tunic shimmered in the light of the lamps, its silken hues matching perfectly the color of her eyes. He dismissed the servingwoman with a nod, but did not speak until she had scurried out the door.

"I had hoped to find you still at your bath," he murmured softly, "but I see I shall have to wait 'til another day for that pleasure." He walked up to her and drew her into his arms, but she turned her head away from him. "Is aught amiss, little one?" he asked, drawing her back to face him. He did not say that Berta had spoken with him right before he had returned to his hall, telling him of her concern. He wondered what could have upset her so.

"Nay, my lord, all is as it should be," Gwendolyn replied steadily, despite the rapid beating of her heart. She avoided his gaze, though she could feel his eyes burning into her, searching. She pulled away from his arms and went to stand by the window. She was determined to fight the feelings stirring within her. She would not give in to them this time!

Hakon's heavy brows knitted in thought, his eyes clouding with frustration. Thor, one minute she was warm and willing, and the next . . .! He shook his head, perplexed. Then a slow smile spread over his face. Walking over to one of the massive chests, he lifted the heavy lid and drew out a small bundle wrapped in silk cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, holding up a delicate necklace made of interwoven strands of silver and gold that was studded with glittering emerald stones. Yea, perhaps this would bring the light back to her eyes, he thought hopefully.

He walked over to where she stood with her back to him and gently drew the necklace about the alabaster column of her throat. Closing the delicate clasp, he bent and tenderly kissed the nape of her neck. "'Tis from Byzantium, Anora," he murmured, his lips brushing against the softness of her cheek. "I had it made for that one day when I would find a woman who could equal its fire. I see now that you far surpass it with your beauty."

Suddenly Gwendolyn wheeled around to face him, anger flaring from her eyes. "If you think that your rich gifts will buy my affection, you are sadly mistaken, my lord!" she railed at him. She felt a twinge of remorse at the pain and confusion she saw reflected in his eyes, but she hardened her heart. Biting words were the only defense she had left against the feelings within her that even now threatened to overwhelm her resolve. She brushed by him, but before she had gone three steps he grabbed her by the waist. With one easy movement she was in his arms, his mouth crushing cruelly down upon hers.

She tried to break free of him, but her struggling was to no avail. His lips ravaged hers, his arms like tight bands of steel around her. Suddenly he tore his mouth from hers and looked down at her. His blue eyes were darkened with rage. "If I choose to give you gifts, you will wear them, and gladly," he said gratingly. His voice was low, implacable. "Remember this above aught else, Anora. You are mine. I will have you . . . with or without your affection."

With that he pulled her toward the door. "We are expected in the great hall. You have a choice, Anora. Either walk by my side, or I shall carry you in my arms. I am sure the assembled guests would find that most amusing."

Gwendolyn's thick lashes glistened with unshed tears, though she did her best to fight them back. At that moment, she knew she was lost. It seemed there was no defeating him. And from this last exchange, she was no longer sure she wanted to. "I shall walk, my lord," she stated evenly, belying the storm of emotions that raged within her. She held her head proudly as he wrapped her fur cloak about her delicate shoulders, then took his proffered arm.





Chapter 27





Hakon did not speak to her again until they reached the massive wooden doors at the entrance to the great hall, though Gwendolyn could tell he was no longer angry by the gentle pressure of his hand on her arm. He turned to face her beneath the gabled entrance and drew her to him. "'Tis a festive night, Anora, and meant to be enjoyed," he murmured in her ear, loud enough so only she could hear his words. "Let us do so, and forget what passed between us in my chamber." His lips brushed lightly against her own. Then he nodded to one of the Viking guards, who pushed open the heavy doors.