Hakon walked to the door of his hall, overwhelmed by utter despair, but he knew his feelings mattered naught. Come spring, Gwendolyn would be lost to him forever. It would he almost as if she had perished, yet he would know she still lived and breathed, somewhere far away from him. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the frigid air. It hit him like a fierce slap on the face.
He looked up into the night sky, just beginning to lighten along the far horizon. It seemed all his questions had been answered by Anora, save for one. Yet he did not think she knew the answer. It haunted him, tormenting his mind. Why did Gwendolyn save his life if she longed so much to escape from him? She had never said she loved him, though he could have sworn he had seen more than desire reflected in the emerald depths of her eyes. He shuddered suddenly. Her choice on the battlefield had been him . . . or Rhoar. Perhaps she had saved his life only because she feared him less!
Hakon cursed himself for a fool. Whatever the reason, it no longer mattered. Raising his clenched fists to the heavens, he raged silently against his gods for their cruel deception . . . to take from him the truest happiness he had ever known.
Chapter 37
Gwendolyn awoke to a burning sensation in her left shoulder. She opened her eyes, heavy-lidded from sleep, and squinted in the bright golden sunlight pouring in from the two windows. Her head hurt terribly. She shaded her eyes with her hand, until she grew accustomed to the light. God's blood! Why did she feel so dizzy? She tried to sit up, hoisting herself up on her elbows. A piercing wave of pain shot through her. She gasped aloud, then fell back on the eiderdown pillows.
"Gwendolyn!" a familiar voice cried out across the chamber. She heard hurried footsteps move toward the bed. Then Anora's concerned face hovered over her. "You must lie still, else the wound will open again!" her sister chastised softly.
Gwendolyn blinked. Then her eyes widened. Was she imagining it, or was Anora dressed in a silken chemise and tunic? "Anora, what are you doing? Why are you dressed like that!" she exclaimed weakly. "Quickly, put on Garric's clothes, before Lord Hakon sees you!" She tried to sit up again, but fell back, wincing in pain. She moaned softly, biting her lower lip.
"Nay, lie still, Gwendolyn, 'tis all right," Anora said, her voice low and soothing. She brushed her small hand across her sister's forehead. There was no longer any sign of fever, she thought gratefully. And the rosy color was slowly returning to her cheeks. She lifted the fur coverlet and brought it back up about Gwendolyn's delicate shoulders.
Gwendolyn lifted her tousled head from the pillow, her emerald eyes clouded with confusion. "How can you say 'tis all right, Anora? This is Hakon Jarl's chamber, is it not? He could walk in at any moment!" Suddenly she lay back down, a ragged sigh escaping her throat. Hakon's chamber . . . But how had she gotten here? As Garric, she should be in the stable, shouldn't she? Her head was beginning to ache from the turmoil of her thoughts.
"Lord Hakon left the settlement four days ago, Gwendolyn," Anora murmured, gently plumping up the eiderdown pillows beneath her sister. She turned and drew the leather-backed chair closer to the side of the bed, then sat down. Aye, the quicker she told Gwendolyn what had happened, the better. It would do her sister little good to excite herself overmuch, especially now when she was still so weak.
"Wh-where did he go?" Gwendolyn whispered, another wave of pain shooting through her. She glanced down, her eyes widening at the thick linen bandages covering her shoulder. Suddenly everything came rushing back to her. The awful battle, the twisted, blood-soaked bodies, Rhoar standing over Hakon, his axe glinting brightly, throwing the knife . . . then the exploding pain that had shattered through her body. She shuddered, her hands trembling uncontrollably.
Anora leaned forward and took Gwendolyn's hands in her own. "He sailed for Trondheim with news for Haarek Jarl," she replied softly.
"Trondheim? But we only just returned from there. He did not say he would be sailing there again, and so soon!" Gwendolyn cried hoarsely, her mind trying to make sense of this news.
"Gwendolyn, if you would only let me speak," Anora said gently, yet insistently. "I have something to tell you that concerns us both." She squeezed her sister's hands, barely able to contain her excitement. "Much has happened during the past four days while you have been asleep. It is such wonderful news!" She paused for a moment, her voice almost breathless. "We shall be returned to our homeland as soon as the seas are safe to cross! 'Twill be only a few months from now, in the early spring!"
Stunned, Gwendolyn almost could not grasp what Anora had just said. Returned to their homeland? But how could that be? The last thing she remembered, she had been Garric, marching into battle with Hakon Jarl, and Anora had been hiding in the stable. Now, all of a sudden, they were to be returned to England!
"Aye, 'tis true," Anora said, reading the bewildered expression on Gwendolyn's face. She quickly explained what Hakon had told her a few nights before, the night he had discovered their guise.
Gwendolyn listened in dazed silence. So, that was why Hakon had been summoned to Trondheim. She could scarcely believe it. Wulfgar, gathering together a mammoth fleet, and joining forces with the King of Denmark to sail on Norge! She shook her head gravely. No wonder Haarek Jarl had been so incensed. She had learned enough about political strategy from her father to understand the awful urgency behind the Jarl's desire to avoid this war if at all possible.
And to think that she and Anora were at the center of it all! She suddenly recalled how Hakon had looked at her so strangely on the return voyage from Trondheim. Perhaps he had guessed the truth even then, but had not wanted to admit it to himself for fear of losing the woman he loved.
Gwendolyn sighed heavily. So, her own words had given them away, she thought ironically, after she had done everything in her power to preserve their guise. She wondered fleetingly what Hakon must have thought at that moment. A pained expression flitted across her face. Nay, she would not think of it! She felt no joy at Anora's news, only a mixture of relief and overwhelming sadness. She sighed heavily. At least she would no longer have to play the part of Garric . . . or Anora. She turned her face away, hot tears welling up in her eyes.
"But what is the matter, Gwendolyn?" Anora asked, her face etched with concern. She had very rarely seen her sister cry at anything, let alone something she thought would bring her great joy. "We are no longer the slaves of Lord Hakon. We are free and shall be home within a few short months! If you are frightened of when he returns from Trondheim, why, he can no longer touch you. He would not dare! You are free of him, Gwendolyn!"
Nay, my heart shall never be free of him, Gwendolyn thought desolately. She could no more have stopped her tears at that moment than she could have denied she loved him . . . aye, loved him with every fiber of her being. She turned her head and met Anora's concerned gaze.
"Do you remember that day at the grotto, right before we were captured, when I asked you if a man's kiss burned like fire or ice?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Aye, I remember," Anora replied softly. "'Twas one of Leah's superstitious sayings. How did it go? 'If a man's kiss burns like ice, his love will bring pain and ruin, but if a man's kiss'—"
"— 'burns like fire,'" Gwendolyn finished for her, "'his love will be true.'" She hesitated, brushing the tears from her eyes. "You said that one day I, too, would know such a kiss."
"Aye, 'tis true. I remember."
Gwendolyn's voice shook with emotion. "I have found that man whose kiss is like fire . . . 'Tis Hakon, Anora. I love him more than life itself."
Anora was so completely stunned she could not speak for a moment. She stared wide-eyed at Gwendolyn, her heart pounding against her chest. "Sweet Jesu . . ." she said finally, almost as a whisper. Gwendolyn . . . in love, and with their Viking captor!
Gwendolyn rushed on, releasing the raging torrent of emotions she had kept welled up inside her for so long. "Hakon told me that he loved me the night that I was almost abducted by Rhoar, and that when he returned from Trondheim I would become a free woman . . . and his wife."
"His wife?"
"Aye. I tried to tell you of this after we exchanged clothes that morning the ship was to sail for Trondheim, but Hakon came into the stable before I had a chance."
"He did speak to me of making some kind of preparations for when he returned," Anora recalled, her fair brow creased in thought. "But I would never have imagined he meant wedding preparations!"
Gwendolyn caught her sister's hand. "Anora, I was afraid to tell you of my feelings for fear you would think I had betrayed my promise to you. But it was always my intent to hold to my vow, and find a way for us to escape. I swore to myself that I would fight against this love, but every time I was with him, every time he held me in his arms . . ." She sighed sorrowfully, painful tears welling up in her eyes as the torment of the past weeks overwhelmed her.
"Please, Gwendolyn, 'tis over," Anora said, trying to comfort her. "You did not betray me. You have been so brave, so strong, never thinking of yourself, but always of me." How she must have suffered, she thought, chiding herself that she had not seen the turmoil that had been tearing her sister apart.