"Go in to your sister, Garric," he murmured, his voice low. His face was inscrutable, though his eyes glittered dangerously. With that, he released her abruptly, and she staggered back, almost falling. Catching herself on the timbered wall, she felt her legs grow wooden as she entered the softly lit room and crossed over to the bed. She barely noticed as the older woman sitting in the chair suddenly got up and hurried out. Her eyes were on the thick white bandages wrapped about Gwendolyn's left shoulder, and the deathly pallor of her skin.
"Gwendolyn . . ." she whispered in stunned horror, oblivious to Hakon's tall form standing near her. She sank to her knees by the bed, hot tears coursing down her cheeks as she fiercely clutched the fur coverlet. "Nay, this cannot be!" she cried out in bitter anguish, burying her face in her hands. Suddenly she looked up at Hakon. "How did this come about?" she asked, her voice ragged.
"I had hoped you might be able to answer that same question, Anora," Hakon replied grimly.
"Nay," Anora whispered fearfully at the sound of her name. Her eyes widened in awful surprise. So, he knew at last! Sweet Jesu! Help her!
Hakon bent down and lifted her easily to her feet, taking her arm as he tried to lead her from the room.
"Nay, where are you taking me?" Anora screamed, struggling to break free of his iron grip. She fought him so fiercely that he finally had to grab her and toss her over his broad shoulder, holding her slender legs tightly so she could not kick him. Even then she pummeled him with her small fists, landing a well-aimed blow just below the back of his rib cage. He grunted in pain, yet did not stop until he was out in the main room of the hall. Waving the older woman away, he plopped Anora down into a carved chair near the central fireplace, then caught her wrists with one strong hand as he leaned over her.
"Tell me about Wulfgar Ragnarson," Hakon muttered, his deep voice almost a whisper.
Anora paled visibly. Dumbfounded, she opened her mouth to speak, but she could not. She could scarcely breathe.
"Answer me, Anora," Hakon snapped, his mouth a tight line, his bronzed features hard, inscrutable.
"He . . . he is m-my betrothed," Anora stammered, fear gripping her. "H-how do you know of him?"
Hakon let go of her wrists and stood up, his heart hammering in his chest. So, the tides of fate had turned against him, he thought bitterly, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He went over and stood by the fireplace, staring into the bright flames. The hall grew silent, except for the crackle of the logs in the fire. An orange spark suddenly flew out from under the hearth, spitting and hissing."
'Tis Loki, the fire spirit, beating his children," Hakon said softly, an ironic smile on his lips as he stepped on the glowing ember, crushing it. He sighed, his handsome profile illuminated by the roaring flames. It was best to have out with it. "It seems your Wulfgar is gathering together a fleet of warships to sail on Norge in the spring . . . in search of you and your sister," he said, almost dispassionately. "Unless, of course, you both are returned safely to England before he sets sail." He ignored Anora's startled gasp and continued, though he did not look at her.
"I only learned of this a few days past when I went to Trondheim under a summons from Haarek Jarl, my liege lord. It was his command to the gathered chieftains that if you and your sister were found in Norge, you must be returned as soon as the north seas can be crossed, to divert a war with Denmark."
Hakon turned, a strange look on his face. "It seems your abduction has created quite a stir, Anora. For, you see, there is more at stake now than just your freedom . . . and that of your sister. Wulfgar Ragnarson has received the support of not only King Edgar of England, but King Harald Gormsson of Denmark as well. Haarek Jarl believes it is the perfect ploy for King Harald to seize control of our land once again."
Hakon's voice grew hard. "But all of this meant naught to me until this night. Haarek Jarl had said two sisters had been abducted from their homeland, not a brother and sister, so I gave the matter no more thought. 'Twas only from your sister's fevered rantings that I heard the name Wulfgar Ragnarson, revealing your guise." He paused, his eyes cold. "I did not know until this night that I have been played the fool." He took a step toward her. "Was it you who traveled with me to Trondheim as Garric?"
Stunned by all she had heard, Anora did not answer for a moment. She could scarcely believe it! She felt a surge of incredible joy well in up inside her. They would be returned to their homeland . . . and she to Wulfgar! Then she sobered suddenly, recalling the ashen pallor of Gwendolyn's face. What if her sister did not survive her wound? She shuddered visibly. Nay, she would not think of id
"Was it you, or your sister?" Hakon repeated his question, watching the play of emotions across Anora's fair features.
Anora met his penetrating gaze. She slowly shook her head. "'Twas Gwendolyn, my lord," she replied softly. She could see no harm in telling him the truth now. He would not dare harm her or Gwendolyn. If he did, he would be defying the orders of his liege lord. Surely that would be a punishable crime!
Gwendolyn. So that was her name, Hakon thought. It was a beautiful name. . . . "Then who came to my hall that night you both tried to escape?" he asked, his voice low. He turned his gaze back to the leaping flames. He could already sense her answer.
"Gwendolyn, my lord. She sacrificed herself to protect me."
Hakon grimaced. So that was how she had thought of that night. She had seen herself as a sacrifice.
Anora's voice interrupted his dark thoughts. "Gwendolyn played the part of Garric from the very first day we were captured, believing it would somehow help us. It was only when you caught us trying to escape" — Anora flushed heatedly— "when you were using the whip against her and I promised to come to your . . ." She could not say it.
"When you promised to come to my bed," Hakon finished for her. "Yea?"
Anora's voice was almost a whisper. "Gwendolyn cut my hair so we could pass for each other. 'Twas the only thing that set us apart. Then we exchanged clothes, and I became Garric. She went to your hall in my place."
Hakon shook his head in disbelief. How could he have missed what was going on before his very eyes? He thought back to that day on his ship when he had seen Garric smile for the first time, and how he had thought he was too pretty for a lad. And the change in him after the lashing . . . he had thought he had crushed the lad's defiant spirit. Yet it had been Anora all along, too frightened even to look him full in the face!
His thoughts raced on wildly. And when they had returned from Trondheim, when Garric had jumped from the ship and raced madly up the hill? The lad had been Gwendolyn again! She must have gone directly to his hall and taken Anora's place, just barely in time before he entered the chamber. Thor's blood! How could he have been so blind?
"Was it always Gwendolyn then, in the bathing house after I returned from my uncle's settlement . . . and during the nights?" Hakon asked, a catch in his voice.
"Aye," Anora said simply. "She vowed she would bear it only until she could find a way for us to escape."
"I have heard enough!" Hakon exclaimed suddenly, pounding his clenched fist against the timbered wall next to the fireplace. "Leave me, Anora!" He strove to check the cold fury threatening to overwhelm him. "Go attend to your sister in my chamber. No doubt she will thrive under your care. This hall will be yours until we sail for England in the spring. I am sure you will find it comfortable . . . and much more suited to the style in which someone of your high birth is accustomed. Now leave me!" he shouted angrily.
Anora rose from the chair, frightened by his outburst. She walked hurriedly toward his chamber, but turned around just before she reached the door. "You have not yet told me how Gwendolyn was wounded, my lord," she murmured. His back was to her, so she could not see his face.
"A spear hit her in the shoulder, just after she threw the knife that saved my life," Hakon replied. "Now leave me." He sighed heavily, not knowing she was still there, and leaned against the timbered wall as if for support.
Anora felt a strange wave of pity and sadness wash over her at the anguished pain in his voice. He looked so vulnerable standing there, so alone. This powerful man who had terrified her from the first moment she had seen him . . . Could it be that he felt more than lust for her sister, perhaps even some affection? Suddenly she heard a soft moan carry out into the main room of the hall. Gwendolyn! She turned and fled into his chamber, shutting the door behind her.
Hakon felt a sudden, wrenching pain within him that was sharper, more excruciating, than any wound he had ever suffered. So, the only woman he had ever loved had made a mockery of his affections! He pounded his clenched fist into the timbered wall again. But what more could he have expected? he berated himself. He had taken them from their homeland, away from the people they loved, had forced his attentions upon them, and had expected to be loved in return! Thor, what a fool he had been!
His shoulders slumped with weariness, but he shrugged it off. Nay, there was no time for that, he thought angrily. There was much to be done. He would have to sail at first light of day for Trondheim. Olav could take charge of the settlement while he was gone. Yea, he thought bitterly, no doubt Haarek Jarl would be most delighted with his news!