Twin Passions(47)

"But we have only just arriv—"

"Ask me no further questions, Garric!" he cut her off sharply.

Gwendolyn felt as if she had been struck. Aye, very well, she thought, angered and hurt by his abrupt manner. Then she shook her head, chiding herself for her foolishness. What more could she expect? She was not playing the part of the beloved Anora now, but of Garric, the stable hand. She was worthy of no more consideration than what she had just received! She sighed raggedly, following close behind Hakon as he walked from the great hall into the bright afternoon sun.





Chapter 31





Gwendolyn pulled halfheartedly on her oar, her mind working quickly as the longship cut across the surface of the icy water. Hakon's settlement was just around the bend of the fjord.

Soon the charade will begin again, she thought miserably, her eyes upon Hakon as he stood beside the dragon-headed prow, his legs spread wide, his muscled arms folded across his broad chest. Aye, she loved him, that she knew. But like a double-edged sword, she also knew that she could not betray Anora's trust in her. She sighed heavily. Never before had she been faced with such an awful dilemma. She now dreaded the role she must play for her sister's sake, fearful that at any time she might give herself away. Yet she could not deny that she longed for the feel of Hakon's strong arms about her, the scorching heat of his touch, and the warmth of his lips upon her own.

She shivered suddenly. Aye, there was nothing left of the serenity she had felt the last two days. The homeward journey had been a welcome respite from the inner turmoil that plagued her; but it had, too, quickly passed.

It had taken less than two days for the longship to sail southward along the rocky coast to the mouth of the great Sogn fjord. The entire journey had been blessed with a steady north wind, calm seas, and clear blue skies during the day, while at night the longship was guided by the light of a half-crescent moon and thousands of winking stars.

Gwendolyn had actually enjoyed herself during much of the return voyage. Thankfully she had been spared the seasickness that had wracked her body on the way to Trondheim. The brisk wind in her hair and the golden rays of the sun on her face had enlivened her senses, giving her some peace and allowing her to forget, even for a short time, the disquieting thoughts that had been tormenting her so.

She had spoken little during the voyage, preferring instead to sit quietly at her bench to watch the ever-changing scenery of the rugged Norse coastline. But it had also given her a chance to observe silently the easy camaraderie Hakon had with his crewmen. It was obvious that the good weather had buoyed everyone's spirits. Outrageous jests and ribald stories had flown through the air, and hearty laughter had rung out across the waves. A couple of times Hakon had even goaded her with a few good-natured taunts, especially about the slave wench in Trondheim. But she had done her best to ignore him, until he finally shrugged and left her alone.

She noticed that Hakon had said nothing, not even to his trusted crewmen, about the matter of grave importance that had summoned him to Trondheim. And she had not ventured to ask, fearing another sharp rebuttal like the one she'd received in Haarek Jarl's hall. She had also caught him staring at her rather strangely several times, but he had always looked away quickly, avoiding her eyes. She shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps he was puzzled that she had not joined in the merriment of the others.

It was best that way, she decided. If she did not speak, and stayed away from him, something not so easily achieved on so narrow a ship, she would have no fear of giving her emotions away, and perhaps threatening her guise as well.

It was only when they reached the mouth of the Sogn and left the open seas behind them that she noticed Hakon had grown increasingly impatient to reach the settlement. He had been standing alone at the prow for the past hour, his eyes intent on the landscape before him. The sun was sinking behind the surrounding mountainsides in a glowing ball of orange fire when the longship finally rounded the last bend in the fjord.

Hakon whooped with delight as he caught sight of the settlement. His wild cry startled Gwendolyn, though Olav and the crew laughed uproariously. Aye, she knew why he was so elated. Soon he would once again hold Anora in his arms.

"Up with your oars, men!" he shouted to the crew, a broad smile playing across his handsome features.

Gwendolyn shook her head grimly as she complied with his order. No doubt Hakon would rush to find her sister as soon as the ship was moored. If his greeting were anything like the one she had received in his bathing house . . . She blushed hotly, remembering. Nay, she had to find Anora first, and exchange places with her before . . .

The longship suddenly scraped against the wooden dock, jarring her thoughts. There was an instant commotion as the Viking guards onshore rushed to grab the lines tossed to them. With their sinewy muscles heaving and straining, the men tied the ship securely to the dock.

"Welcome, my lord!" Egil called out, jumping down onto the wooden deck. He had been left behind to oversee the settlement and the extra men while Hakon was in Trondheim.

Hakon greeted him with a hearty slap on the back. "Was there any trouble during my absence?" he asked.

"Nay, my lord," Egil replied, shaking his shaggy head. "It has been very quiet these past few days . . . perhaps too quiet."

"How so?" Hakon queried, lowering his voice.

Seeing Egil and Hakon engrossed in conversation, Gwendolyn seized her chance. She knew there was not a moment to lose. Without hesitation, she jumped up from her bench with her roll of clothing clutched in one hand and bounded over the side of the ship onto the dock. Running up the hill as if the very hounds of hell were snapping at her heels, she did not stop even when she heard Hakon's voice calling out after her. Perhaps Egil will keep him occupied for a few moments, she thought wildly. That Viking was known to be long-winded even at his best moments. Aye, she could only hope he would be the same this day.

Hakon cursed aloud, interrupting Egil's detailed account of the last few days. Where was Garric off to, and in such a hurry? Then he shrugged. No matter. He would see to the lad's impudence later. Now he had other things on his mind. A slow smile spread over his face as he thought of Anora. "We can talk of this later, Egil. From what you have said so far, I see no cause for alarm."

"Very well, my lord," Egil said, noting his impatience. His eyes glinted knowingly. Yea, if he had a wench as beautiful as Lord Hakon's, he would not wish to tarry overlong from her side!

With a nod to Olav, Hakon jumped from the ship to the dock with one agile movement. Whistling, he strode quickly along the path to his hall, his blood beginning to race with excitement.

Gwendolyn said a quick prayer of thanks when she saw there were no guards at the entrance to Hakon's private hall. She pushed open the heavy door and hurried across the main room. Bursting in the door to his chamber, she startled Anora, who was sitting in the leather-backed chair facing the window. Her sister stood up and whirled around, dropping to the floor the fine needlework she was stitching.

"Gwendolyn, you frightened me!" Anora cried out. The look on Gwendolyn's face sent a surge of fear through her body. "How long have you been here? Where is Hakon?"

"I think he is still at the docks! Quickly, Anora, there is no time to talk. We must change clothes . . . now!" Gwendolyn whispered fiercely, pulling off her leather jerkin. But at that moment she heard the door at the entrance to the hall grate open. A familiar, lilting whistle echoed about the main room. God's blood! 'Tis Hakon! she thought wildly. Her heart flew to her throat. Nay, their guise could not end like this! There had to be another way!

Suddenly her eyes flew to the window, and back again to Anora. She rushed over to her sister's side and shoved the roll of clothing into her hand. "Climb out the window, Anora, and do not stop until you get to the stable!" she hissed urgently. "You can change into some of my other clothes once you get there . . . then hide the ones you are wearing under a pile of straw! Now go!"

Anora nodded numbly. She did not hesitate, though her eyes were wide with apprehension. Gripping the roll of clothing tightly under her arm, she hoisted her silken chemise and mantle over her knees and climbed through the window as Gwendolyn held back the leather shade. "But what of you?" she whispered urgently, peering over the wooden ledge of the window, her face pale and drawn.

"I will be fine. Now go, quickly!" Gwendolyn dropped the shade as Anora hurried off. Stepping away from the window, she pulled frantically at her woolen clothes. Truly, she had never undressed with greater speed as she did in those few moments, all the while hurrying to the ornate chest that held her fine clothing. She flung back the lid and dumped her fur-lined jerkin, shirt, breeches, and leather belt into a far corner and covered them quickly with silken garments.

Drawing out a fine, almost transparent chemise of emerald green silk gauze, she pulled it over her head, then quietly closed the lid of the chest. She could hear heavy footsteps approaching the door. With a last look around the room, she dashed over to the wide bed and jumped under the covers.

"God's blood!" she suddenly cursed under her breath. Throwing back the fur coverlet, she yanked off her fur-trimmed leather boots and tossed them under the bed. She ran her fingers through her short curls, then gathered the thick coverlet up about her shoulders and rolled over onto her side. She forced herself to take several deep breaths until she felt somewhat relaxed, though her heart still pounded madly against her breast. No more than a moment had passed when she heard the door to the chamber open slowly.