The Pagan's Prize (26 page)

"Nay, wench, the wife to a great lord would never
be alone in these woods," he scoffed. To Zora's horror, his hand strayed
beneath her cloak to squeeze her breast. "She would know that thieves and
cutthroats abound, along with hungry beasts on the prowl for a tender bit of
flesh—"

"No! Stop!" Tears smarted Zora's eyes as she
struggled against him with all her might. "I have a gold circlet I could
give you if you would just leave me alone . . . and . . . and my wedding ring!
I dropped the bag when you grabbed me, but I know we could find it—"

"Aye, let's get down on our hands and knees,
wench, and see what we can find."

As he began to push her to the ground, Zora began to
scream wildly, blindly, kicking her legs and twisting in her captor's grip so
desperately that she was hardly aware of it when she was swept up into his
arms.

"Let this be a lesson to you, wife, when next you
think of fleeing from your home and husband. If such a man as I pretended to be
had found you, no amount of kicking or screaming would have saved you."

"Rurik!" Zora had never thought that she
could be so glad to see him, and she almost threw her arms around his neck. Yet
she was just as swiftly shaken by outrage that he would frighten her so
cruelly, and on purpose. She was about to let him know exactly what she thought
of him when a host of warriors suddenly came riding through the trees, their
smoking torches lighting up the surrounding forest.

"Lord Rurik, we heard screaming—"

"My wife is well, men, just startled."

Startled?
Bristling
again, Zora nonetheless decided to hold her tongue when she met Rurik's eyes.
His gaze was hard, his expression even harder.

"Come, wife. It is time you see the damage you
have caused from this night's work."

Realizing that Rurik was referring to the fire, Zora
felt a lump of apprehension in her throat as he strode with her to his horse,
which had come trotting from the trees at his low whistle.

"I . . . I didn't set it—"

"You might as well have. Semirah wouldn't have
committed such an act if you hadn't given her encouragement."

No wonder Rurik
had known where to find her!
Zora thought, astonished. "How did you
learn that it was Semirah . . .?"

"Her own carelessness," he answered in a grim
voice. "And if you haven't discerned it already, wife, there was treachery
behind her willingness to help you. She knew the dangers you would face. It is
my belief that she hoped you would become food for wolves, and for that I
cannot forgive her."

Rurik said no more as he lifted her to the saddle and
from the tight clenching of his jaw when he mounted behind her, Zora could tell
that his mood was black indeed.

As they set off with his men at a thundering pace
through the woods, the rain becoming a cold drizzle, she wondered what Rurik
had meant from his ominous statement. Yet she didn't dare to think that he
might have said it because he cared about her, no matter how fiercely he held
her, his cheek against her wet hair.

***

As they rode through the gates, Zora had never known
such guilt when she saw the damage, a row of still smoldering ruins, all that
was left of ten longhouses.

"I never intended . . ." she began, but one
look at Rurik's dark expression was enough to silence her.

"Fortunately no one was hurt," he informed
her as he slowed their mount to a walk, "but there are families tonight
without their homes and belongings. The hall and my own longhouse would have
been next if the rain hadn't come."

Zora wisely held her tongue, the strong smell of
charred timber making her stomach twist. What could she say? That she was sorry
about the fire? She doubted Rurik would accept her apology. Yet at least she
could offer part of her own dwelling as temporary quarters for one of those
unlucky families. It might help to make amends and soothe her sense of blame.

"The main room of my longhouse is large, Rurik. I'm
sure that it could sleep six people—"

"And what of your bedchamber?" His arm
tightened like a vise around her waist. "Perhaps four more?"

"I . . . I suppose, but where will I . . ."
She swallowed uncomfortably, recalling all too well his unwanted summons. "I
mean, you must have a lot to do tonight because of the fire—"

"No more than a few orders will handle," he
cut in harshly. "The first one will be that all of your things be brought
to my longhouse. Until new housing is built for the people your actions so
callously displaced, you'll be staying with me."

Zora was stunned. "But . . . but what of your
other women? Surely such an arrangement will only displease—"

"They have no say in the matter, nor do you. The
decision has been made."

This last statement was delivered so resolutely that
Zora knew no amount of argument would sway him. As Rurik deposited her in front
of his longhouse, he gave commands to some of his warriors who reined in their
exhausted steeds behind him.

"See that my wife is well guarded and remember,
men, she likes to stray, especially through windows. I will return shortly."
Then to Zora he said, "Go inside, Princess, and make yourself comfortable.
I will send Nellwyn to attend to you needs."

Zora stared at him, trapped. Rurik had told her that
outside the compound lurked every manner of danger, yet at this moment, from
the look in his eyes that appeared black and glittering in the hazy torchlight,
she feared him more. She had the most unsettling notion that he was soon to
devour her more hungrily than any beast.

"I said go inside, Zora. Or shall I dismount and
carry you myself over the threshold?"

She didn't hesitate but turned and hastened through the
door held open for her by a somber-faced warrior. Grateful when it closed
behind her, blocking Rurik from her sight, she leaned against the intricately
carved doorjamb and pressed her hand over her heart. It couldn't have been
beating any faster, like a rabbit's in a snare.

***

"Is there anything else you'll be needing, my
lady?"

Seated at the foot of the huge bed, Zora nervously
fingered the embroidered edge of her sleeve. She was tempted to ask Nellwyn for
the impossible, that somehow the slave woman might whisk her magically away
from what she knew now was inevitable, but instead she shook her head. Bathed,
perfumed, and dressed in the sleeping gown she had hoped never to wear, Zora
supposed she was ready, if only outwardly, for whatever was to come.

"No, Nellwyn, nothing."

"Then I'll leave you," came the stiff
response. "Good night, my lady."

As Zora watched Nellwyn hurry out, she was not
surprised that the slave woman hadn't offered any words of reassurance as she
had earlier that day. Nellwyn was clearly upset that Zora had deceived her.

Sighing, Zora imagined that everyone must despise her
now for her part in the fire, but then again, any other woman in her
predicament might have done the same thing! Telling herself defiantly that she
didn't care what Rurik's retainers thought about her, she rose from the bed and
went over to the chest that held her things.

It had been an awful moment when male slaves had borne
it into the room and set it down with an all too final thud right next to Rurik's.
Hoping that these Varangians were fast builders so she might soon be able to
retreat to her own long-house, Zora pulled a lightweight cloak from the chest
and whirled it around her shoulders. She felt naked in this sleeping gown, the
apricot color of her nipples plain to see through the filmy fabric, and she'd
be damned if that was the first thing Rurik saw when he returned.

When was he going
to return?
Zora wondered. Beset again by apprehension, she began to pace
the room.

Would he take her at once and have done with it?
Glancing at the bed that seemed to dominate the room, the thick headboard
carved with grinning beasts and coiled serpents that to her appeared decidedly
heathen, she felt a nervous rush of warmth in her stomach. It was too easy to
conjure an image of them lying amid the soft furs mounded upon the mattress.
She paced even faster.

Perhaps Rurik had found that there was more to be done
than he had anticipated, she considered, clutching the ends of her cloak with
trembling fingers. He had said he would return shortly, but he had left her
hours ago. She imagined the supper that had been set up for them near the
hearth had grown cold by now, which made no difference to her. She certainly
had no appetite—

A sharp scraping sound from the main room caused her to
gasp and she whirled, staring wide-eyed at the door. All the slaves had gone.
It had to be Rurik.

Zora waited, her breath caught in her throat. But he
did not enter. She wondered if she had only imagined the noise. Then she heard
a dull thunk, and another. Her curiosity pricked, she hurried almost on tiptoe
to the doorway and peeked outside.

Rurik was just rising from a bench, his boots lying at
his feet. He must have sensed her standing there for he looked over at her and
smiled. Smiled!

Chapter 19

"Good evening, wife."

"H-hello." Flustered by the husky warmth in
his voice that matched the heat in his eyes, Zora's cheeks reddened.

What in heaven's name was the matter with him? She had
expected him to be angry, gruff, hostile. When Rurik continued to smile at her,
his appreciative gaze wandering over her lazily as he unfastened his sword belt
and lay it upon the bench, she grew all the more bewildered, her blush creeping
up to her scalp.

"Your . . . your supper has grown cold." Then
she rolled her eyes. How inane she must sound, and what did she care if his
food was no longer edible! To her surprise, he chuckled.

"I suppose it has." He began to pull his
tunic over his head, his voice muffled through the fabric. "Forgive my
delay, but I thought it good for morale to share some ale with my men,
especially after what happened tonight."

"So that's it," muttered Zora, her suspicion
confirmed when Rurik swayed slightly while freeing his arms from the sleeves.
She could not help noticing how boyish he looked with his silvery blond hair
rumpled about his handsome face, but there was nothing boyish about the
powerful span of his chest now bared to her gaze, or the muscular definition of
his abdomen . . .

"What?"

Zora started, embarrassed that she had been staring at
him so blatantly. "You're drunk."

Rurik smiled at her again, and this time it held a
taunting edge.

"Only a little, Princess, and for that, you might
count yourself fortunate."

His hands moved to the drawstring at his trousers, and
Zora's heart began to thump . . . hard. Thinking desperately that she might be
able to distract him with some conversation, she left the doorway, and averting
her eyes from him as he undid the knot at his waist, she went to stand by the
table where their supper was waiting.

"Fortunate?" she queried lightly, although
her fingers were shaking as she fussed with a linen napkin. Hearing movement
and the sound of something being tossed to the floor, she didn't dare look up.
Yet she could sense that he no longer wore a stitch. "How so?"

Rurik knew exactly what she was doing, trying to delay
what had tortured his dreams for weeks. He decided to humor her for a moment,
if only because he could see from her flushed cheeks and her trembling hands
just how nervous she was.

"Because I haven't come to you angry, Zora, as I
might have earlier this night. Ale is a most curious drink. It can either drive
a man already pressed to his limit into acting recklessly, and perhaps
ruthlessly, or it can calm him. Tonight for me, it seems the latter."

When she still did not look at him, remaining silent as
she anxiously chewed her lower lip, Rurik walked toward her.

His impatience to enfold her in his arms was mounting
inside him like a fire burning ever hotter, just as his desire for her had been
escalating since the first time he had felt her writhe in ecstasy beneath him.
Yet unlike that night, tonight he would savor every tantalizing inch of her. Reaching
out, he stroked the silken curve of her cheek, her musky rose scent inflaming
his senses.

"Come, wife."

Zora jumped and met his eyes, acutely aware that he was
naked and fearing to glance down for what she might see. He was so close now
that his smell of smoke and sweat made her nostrils flare, but she did not
think it unpleasant. Far from it.

"What . . . what of your supper?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Wine, then," she said distractedly as if she
hadn't heard the finality in his voice. "Let me pour you—"

"I have drunk enough .

"But—"

Within the blink of an eye he had taken her in his arms
and swept her from her feet, startling Zora so completely that she could find
no voice to protest as he carried her into the bedchamber. But when he lay her
down upon the soft furs and covered her with his massive body, she came alive
and began to struggle beneath him, striking his broad back with her balled
fists.

"No, damn you! Stop! I don't want you! I don't
want . . . this!"

"I think that you do." He caught her wrists easily
with one hand and drew her arms over her head. Touching his lips to hers, his
warm breath scented with ale, he whispered, "Probably as much as I."

"No, you're wrong!" Zora jerked her head to
one side, even as she shivered at the ticklish pressure of his mouth upon her
throat. When he turned her chin back to face him, his fingers caressing the
stubborn line of her jaw, she cried, "You may not have attacked me in
Chernigov, but tonight that is what it will surely—"

His lips came down upon hers before she could finish,
not a feather-light kiss this time but not rough, either . . . somewhere all
too disconcertingly in between. His mouth seemed to mold to hers, and as he
kissed her like he had all the time in the world, not rushing to force her lips
open, Zora felt herself responding despite herself, the tension melting from
her body.