Captive Heart (2 page)

Raktor frowned at his pretty child’s outburst. She was the image of her mother, a lady whose death he still mourned, and he tried to explain his reasoning more clearly. “Our strength is considerable, that is true, but we are not so strong as Aldred, and he knows it.”

“Then why would he have offered such a truce if he has no need? Is it a trap of some kind, a bit of treachery you do not recognize?” Olgrethe suggested the possibility in a valiant attempt to dissuade her father from the course of action she was afraid he had already chosen.

Raktor nodded thoughtfully. “Such a thought also crossed my mind, as his offer came so unexpectedly. I do not know what his purpose might be, Olgrethe, if it is not the one he declares it to be, but we must not refuse this gesture without considering it fully, when it may be more to our benefit than to his.” The heavyset man leaned forward and gestured for his daughter to approach him. “Aldred has four sons, none married, so it is Mylan, his eldest, whom he has offered as your husband.”

Olgrethe gasped in horror. “Mylan? But is he not the one who was killed, attacked by a bear and slain by the beast two winters ago? Was that not Mylan who died?”

Raktor waved aside her questions. “The man was not killed, only mauled. He has recovered sufficiently to wed.”

“But was Mylan not engaged to another, to Remald’s eldest daughter, Estrid? Surely Aldred wants Estrid for his son, not me!” Olgrethe could feel the net tightening about her and cried out in desperation to avoid a fate she wanted so greatly to escape.

Raktor seemed surprised. “How could you have heard such gossip? That engagement is long over, the girl refused to consent to a marriage with Mylan for some reason, and her father allowed it. I will not.”

“Refused him? You mean she would not marry a man left so scarred by the attack of a bear he is no doubt hideous? That is the real reason Aldred has come to you, isn’t it? He wants a wife for his son, and no other woman will have him! That is his trick, an enticing offer of peace to secure a wife for a man who can no longer win his own bride!”

Growing impatient, Raktor interrupted. “Aldred has four sons, I have only one daughter among my six children to offer as a bride to seal this bargain. If it is to our advantage to make this truce, then you will go. I know of no Viking who is without marks from one battle or another. Whatever the man’s scars, they should not offend you. Now be still about it.”

“No!” Olgrethe’s fury blazed brightly in her deep blue eyes. “The Vandahls have never seen me, you may send them any woman and they will not know it is not me!”

Raktor scoffed at such an outrageous suggestion. “He offers a marriage to create a peace for all time between our families, and I send him a substitute for my daughter? Your treachery outstrips mine, Olgrethe, but no other has your beauty, and it is well known.”

Seeing the light of possibility in her father’s eyes, Olgrethe grew more bold. “There is one. My slave, Celiese. Shall I summon her?”

Raktor chuckled as he nodded. “Yes, I must see her before we continue to plan this deception you suggest.” He laughed heartily then, pleased by his daughter’s cleverness, for he greatly admired deceit as a tactic in battle and was glad to see she possessed such sharp wits.

Olgrethe rushed to her room and with no more than the briefest of explanations grabbed Celiese by the hand and dragged her hurriedly into her father’s presence. “You see, she is a beauty, just as I told you. Although her hair is more blond, we are nearly the same size, our features are not dissimilar. In a fine garment there would be none at Aldred’s home who could say she is not me.”

Celiese was horrified by her mistress’s words. She seldom left their quarters, did not pass through the large home without Olgrethe by her side, and had no desire to be shown off to the Torgvalds and hoped to be dismissed promptly.

Raktor’s eldest son, a brute named Oluf, leaned over and whispered something that made the older man laugh out loud. “No, Olgrethe, we cannot send this girl, despite her beauty. She is not a suitable bride for any Viking.”

“Why not? She speaks our language fluently, she has been with me for more than five years and knows all our ways. She could fool any of the Vandahls easily.”

Raktor shook his head emphatically, “We need not discuss the reason. She will not be sent.”

“Neither will I! I have no wish to wed one of Aldred’s offspring, especially one half-eaten by a bear! You must send Celiese instead, that will satisfy Aldred, and me as well!”

Celiese’s eyes widened in alarm as she realized it was her future that was being argued over so heatedly. What had made Olgrethe think of such an impossible deception? How could she ever pretend to be Raktor’s daughter? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, for she understood the Viking’s objection to her, even though Olgrethe did not.

Olgrethe’s favorite brother, Jens, attempted to end her confusion. “You will have to find another, if such a woman can be found in our household, but Celiese would not please Mylan, for she is no longer a virgin.”

Olgrethe’s cheeks flooded with color. “How can she not be one? You gave her to me when she was no more than twelve. Do you rape children when you raid?”

Raktor gave Jens a rude shove. “Silence, we need not speak of such things in front of your sister. It is not for her to know our deeds.”

Olgrethe took Celiese’s hand to draw her near. “Is that true? Which of my brothers abused you? Tell me now and I’ll see he suffers for it immediately!”

As Celiese looked toward them the men gasped in wonder. They had not seen her in nearly five years and were stunned by the deep green eyes that regarded them so coldly from beneath a thick fringe of long, dark lashes. Her glance was defiant, so proud and filled with hatred that each felt its power and looked away rather than attempt to return her steady stare. The expression that graced her lovely features was sweet, her lilting voice as clear as a silver bell as she responded to Olgrethe’s question. “All of them, mistress.”

“All of them!” Olgrethe shrieked as her eyes widened in horror. “You gave this beautiful child to me as my personal maid after you had had your fill of her, is that what you beasts did?”

Raktor rose to his full height. A robust man, he presented a menacing sight, indeed. “How your slaves are treated before they are given to you need not concern you, Olgrethe. I will admit she was young for such sport, but your anger will not change what happened now. Take her and leave us. We will discuss this amongst ourselves, and if I decide upon this treaty then I think you can be persuaded to wed Mylan Vandahl without further argument.”

Olgrethe knew better than to persist in her defiance when her father’s blue eyes glowed with the same cold light as his burnished steel sword. He could make her life very difficult to live if he chose to do so, and she knew that was exactly what he was threatening. Taking Celiese’s hand firmly in hers, she withdrew to her quarters, where she quickly gave way to tears. “Why did you never tell me what happened to you? Oh how I hate them for what they did! You were no more than a precious child, Celiese, no more than an innocent child!”

Celiese pulled her hand away, not pleased by Olgrethe’s actions that night. “They had forgotten me. Shall I tell you which one is first when they come for me later tonight?”

“They will not dare! I forbid it!” Olgrethe paced up and down her room with an angry stride. “What are we to do, Celiese? Our dilemma is the same, my brothers will take you, and Mylan Vandahl will have me!”

Celiese watched Olgrethe’s frustration grow to a dangerous level before she spoke. “There is no time to lose. You must ask your father to send for his sister immediately. Helga may be able to help us both.”

“Yes, that’s it! I’ll speak with him at first light.” Olgrethe gazed into her servant’s pain-filled eyes and shuddered. “You did not speak to me for more than a year. I was always kind to you though, wasn’t I? I did not understand what they had done to you.”

“You are the kindest of mistresses, Olgrethe, but I was free in my own land before your father slaughtered mine.” Celiese turned to go but hesitated when Olgrethe called her name.

“Celiese, wait. You must not leave my side, not ever again. My brothers will not take you in front of me. You will sleep in my bed and stay with me until we see what will happen. Should I be sent to Aldred’s house, you will go with me.”

“As you wish, Olgrethe.” Celiese returned and began to brush out Olgrethe’s curling tresses as she did every night. Her hands shook badly, but she completed her task without complaint. She’d been safe with Olgrethe, felt secure for five years’ time, but that complacency had been put to a rude end. She would be glad to go to Aldred’s, for she would be unknown there and could avoid unwanted attention more easily. She wanted only to escape Raktor and his vicious sons, for no matter how easily they had forgotten her, she would never be able to forget them.

Chapter Two

Knowing his younger sister to be a practical woman who would give Olgrethe sensible counsel, Raktor sent for her immediately, wanting only to settle the matter of his daughter’s marriage without further aggravation. Each day the hours of sunlight were growing longer, and he was anxious to leave his farm to begin the summer raids for which he spent the rest of the year in eager anticipation. When Helga arrived he sent her to Olgrethe with clear instructions to influence the young woman to wed Mylan Vandahl, and soon, so he could turn his mind to the sea and the riches that lay beyond it, but well within his grasp.

After hearing Aldred’s proposal Helga considered it with her full attention. She was an ambitious woman, keen of mind and still quite beautiful, for the Torgvald women were fortunate in that they in no way resembled the men. While her brother was large-boned and coarse-featured, she was petite, as delicate a beauty as Olgrethe. She had seen her own daughters married into fine families and considered her niece’s predicament thoughtfully. “Your father is right to be attracted to this match, dear child, for Mylan was well known for his handsome appearance as well as his heroic deeds.” The slender woman turned slowly as she spoke. “He has not been seen by anyone I know in the last two years, however, in fact, until you spoke of him today, I believed him dead.”

Celiese followed Helga’s comments closely and seeing Olgrethe’s confusion, asked a question herself. “Is it not possible that he is?”

“What?” Helga’s bright blue eyes widened in surprise. “How can that be?”

“Olgrethe believes this proposal is a trick of some sort. A marriage to a dead man would be the ultimate betrayal, would it not?”

Helga dismissed Celiese’s suggestion quickly. “Aldred’s reputation with those not of our family is most favorable. Despite our suspicions, this appears to be a true proposal of marriage, one you might be foolish to refuse, Olgrethe. The Vandahls are wealthy, extremely so, prosperous traders, adventurers who sail far and wide in search of the finest wares. Yet I am confused as to why no word has been heard of Mylan for so long.” Helga pursed her lips dramatically, her puzzlement clear.

Her aunt had been her only hope, and Olgrethe was near tears as she explained her fears. “He must be grotesquely scarred, hideous to behold no matter how fine he might have looked years ago. He must have been cut to shreds by the bear—perhaps he lost an arm or a leg. Oh, Aunt Helga, I cannot marry such an ugly man, I cannot!”

Helga sighed regretfully. “Since he did not come to you with his proposal himself, I am inclined to agree, Olgrethe. It seems likely he has suffered some impairment, but whether it is so considerable as you fear, I do not know. You are entitled to make your own decision in this matter, and if it is against the marriage then I can be of no further service and will return home. I had hoped to remain to plan your wedding, but if there is to be none—”

“Wait, do not leave yet, Helga. Olgrethe may change her mind in a day or two. Give her time to consider this more fully, please, before you depart,” Celiese requested calmly.

“Never!” Olgrethe screamed defiantly, yet as soon as she and Celiese were alone she had no such courage and paced her room nervously, wiping away her tears.

When she could no longer bear to see her mistress so distraught, Celiese asked a question that had been weighing heavily upon her mind. “Olgrethe, why did you suggest that I go to Mylan in your place?”

“We are so much alike I was certain Mylan would never know he’d been fooled. I’m sorry, it was a wicked thing for me to do to you when you have always been so loyal to me, but I was desperate that night, Celiese, as I am still!”

Nodding sympathetically, Celiese began to propose a plan of her own. “If your father insists upon this match, I
will
go in your place, Olgrethe. Doubtless the man will be so drunk on his wedding night he will recall nothing. I can complain to him the next morning of how badly he hurt me, and he will never question what occurred and what did not.”

Olgrethe’s expression grew bright with excitement. “You would do that for me?”

Celiese shook her head emphatically, “No, for myself. I would be free, the bride of one respected man rather than the whore of your five brothers, which will surely come to pass if I remain here, despite your efforts to save me from that degradation. I will marry Mylan to protect myself, but you would be helped in the bargain.”

“But what if he truly is ugly, horribly mutilated, what if—?”

“Enough, Olgrethe, the poor creature may be hideous, but I will not despise him for his misfortune, I will ask only that he be kind, and if he believes me to be Raktor’s daughter, he will not dare to be otherwise.”