The Viking's Defiant Bride (15 page)

Wulfrum paused on the threshold, looking round. It was the first time he had been in this place, but his eye took in the neat arrangements of pots and jars and the bundles of herbs hanging from the beams. The scent of the herbs was pleasant and filled the room with their fragrance. He identified mint and thyme and sweet lavender, perfumes he had come to associate with Elgiva. She was standing by her work bench across the room, for a moment or two unaware of his presence. He smiled and stepped into the room.

Elgiva heard the movement and looked up.

‘My lord?'

He glanced at the jars of cooling liquid. ‘You have been busy.'

‘Yes, Osgifu will need these medicines tomorrow.'

Elgiva strove to keep her tone level, but for all her outward air of calm her heart was beating faster. Suddenly the room seemed much smaller too.

‘Your skills have already proved most useful,' he said.

‘I'm glad you think so, my lord.'

‘What other hidden talents do you possess, Elgiva?'

For a moment she met his gaze, but as always his expression was hard to read. Even so it was disturbing. She bit her lip and turned away, busying herself again with her task. Wulfrum watched. Under that dark gaze Elgiva grew warm. Although he had remained quite still, he seemed to emanate dangerous strength. The air was charged with it, charged too with the memory of their earlier disagreement. Unwilling to provoke his anger by alluding to it, Elgiva remained silent.

Wulfrum had a shrewd idea as to her thoughts and knew he couldn't entirely blame her. When he refused her permission to go to the village, it wasn't because he feared she might attempt to escape—it had been an excuse. Just as this visit to the still room was an excuse. Looking at her now, he knew why he had come. Advancing with slow deliberation, he came to stand beside her. To cover her confusion, she turned away, but his arms slid round her waist and prevented it. She felt him nuzzle her hair and then the warmth of his lips on her neck. Elgiva's blood raced even as her mind rebelled. Then, without warning, she was tipped back into the crook of his arm and his mouth was on hers. Intent initially on stealing a kiss, Wulfrum had not reckoned with the powerful effect of the scents on her clothes and skin. The kiss grew more passionate and all of Elgiva's resistance availed her nothing. Only when he eventually drew back and looked into her face did he seem to recollect himself.

‘Was that another demonstration of power?' she demanded then.

‘You know it wasn't.'

The words were quietly spoken and she knew them for truth—if he had really chosen to demonstrate his power over her he would have pursued the matter to its conclusion. He surveyed her keenly.

‘Whom do you fight, Elgiva? Me or yourself?'

‘You flatter yourself.'

‘Do I?'

Her cheeks burned as indignation mounted, but for the first time she was lost for words. Wulfrum returned a slow infuriating smile that only added to her discomfiture.

‘
Do I
?' he repeated.

Though he held her but lightly now, she could feel his hands through the stuff of her gown. It seemed that where they touched her flesh burned.

‘Believe what you like,' she retorted.

‘I believe you want me as much as I want you.'

‘You are mistaken.'

‘Shall we put that to the test?'

‘No!'

‘Are you afraid I might be right?'

‘I have no such fear. Now let me go.'

To her surprise and relief his hold slackened. His expression then was compounded of amusement and frustration and something more, something harder to define.

‘All right, Elgiva, I'll let you go—for now.'

Watching him move away, she let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Until later, my lady.'

Then he let himself out and she was alone. It was some time before she could compose herself sufficiently to finish her work.

 

Osgifu and Ironfist did not return until late afternoon. Elgiva had been watching for them from the door of the bower and
hurried to the hall, anxious to hear what Osgifu had to say. When she arrived, Wulfrum was already there. After their earlier encounter she had wondered how to face him again, but he merely glanced round, inclining his head in acknowledgement of her presence, before turning his attention to Ironfist.

‘How goes it, Olaf?'

‘Not good. We've had the first fatality already: a child of six. Many more will die unless we can discover the cause.'

Elgiva listened in mounting concern. Catching Osgifu's eye, she saw her own sadness mirrored there. In any outbreak of sickness the old and the young were the most vulnerable. She thought of Ulric and Pybba and her sense of helplessness increased.

‘There must be a common link somewhere,' she said. ‘Something we're overlooking.'

As the others turned to look at her Elgiva reddened, realising she had been thinking out loud. She half-expected Wulfrum to be annoyed by her interruption, but he made no comment, merely giving her a searching look.

‘Osgifu has suggested that latrines should be dug to take the waste,' Olaf went on. ‘I think she's got a point. The place stinks.'

Wulfrum nodded. ‘I'll get Ida to organise a work detail in the morning. This thing must be stopped somehow.'

Having expected him to reject the idea out of hand Elgiva was unable to conceal her surprise and with it pleasure that he should be willing to listen. If only he would let her accompany Osgifu on the morrow. However, after his previous reaction, she didn't dare raise the topic.

Osgifu had no such reservations. Meeting Wulfrum's eye squarely, she spoke up with calm assurance. ‘My lord, there are more people sick now than I can tend. I need help.'

Beside her Ironfist nodded. ‘She speaks the truth, lord.'

Wulfrum looked from one to the other and then at his wife.

‘Very well, you may go with her tomorrow, but you will be accompanied at all times.' He gave Ironfist a meaningful look.

Elgiva inclined her head in token of acceptance. ‘As you will, my lord.'

The dulcet tone didn't deceive him for a moment, any more than the lowered eyes and meek expression. The vixen had never done anything meekly in her life. She was enjoying this retraction and he knew it. If he'd been alone with her, he'd have…

Before that seductive thought could finish itself, Ida hove into view and Wulfrum's mind was recalled to present business. Summoning the newcomer, the earl took him aside along with Ironfist and soon the three were deep in conversation.

Osgifu turned to Elgiva and smiled. ‘It will be a happiness to have you with me again, child.'

‘It will be a happiness for me too,' returned Elgiva. ‘In the meantime, I have prepared some medicines.'

‘In good time. We're going to need them.'

 

The words were prophetic—half an hour later Ceolnoth appeared with the news that two of the Danes had fallen ill. It struck a sombre note with the rest and the meal that night was taken in an unwontedly quiet atmosphere.

Elgiva slipped away as soon as she could and went to check on her nephews. They were asleep and, according to Hilda, both had been quite well before she put them to bed. Reassured, Elgiva returned to the chamber she shared with Wulfrum. It was her habit to retire first and often she was asleep before he returned. This evening, therefore, she was surprised and not a little dismayed to see him there already and clearly preparing to retire. He had stripped off his tunic and shirt and her startled gaze fell on the silver arm rings and the muscles beneath, muscles whose strength she already knew.

‘Are the children well?' he asked.

Elgiva stared at him in surprise, wondering how he could have known her errand.

‘Quite well, my lord.'

‘I'm glad to hear it. I would not have them succumb.'

He sounded sincere and she was touched in spite of herself. It behoved her to make an effort in turn.

‘Thank you for allowing me to go with Osgifu tomorrow.'

Wulfrum unfastened his breeches. ‘It was what you wanted, wasn't it?'

‘Yes. I know I can be of help.' Elgiva turned away, removing her girdle and laying it aside, keenly aware of the naked form just feet away.

‘So I think.'

Her hands paused on the laces of her gown and she looked up, half-expecting to see mockery in his expression, but it was conspicuous by its absence. For the second time she was taken aback. If he knew it, Wulfrum gave no sign, but merely climbed into bed.

‘If we could just discover the cause, it would be something,' he said.

Elgiva unlaced her gown and drew it off, laying it with the girdle. ‘I was thinking about that. If food is not the common link among the sick, could it be the water?'

She unfastened her hair and shook it loose. It fell in shining waves across her shoulders as she reached for the comb. Wulfrum propped himself on one elbow, watching. With an effort he dragged his thoughts back to the question.

‘How so?' he replied. ‘The villagers draw their water from the stream, my men from the well by the hall.'

‘Is it possible your men might have drunk from the stream too?'

‘It's a thought. I shall question them tomorrow.'

Elgiva nodded. ‘It might be a good idea, my lord.'

She resumed her task, taking her time over it, aware the while of Wulfrum's gaze. His face gave no clue as to the
thoughts behind but the memory of the afternoon was still keen, his parting words in particular:
I'll let you go—for now.

Eventually she could delay no longer and, with reluctance, laid aside the comb. Then she blew out the lamp and joined him, hurriedly drawing the pelts up under her chin. With thumping heart she felt his weight shift and her body tensed. Then she realised he had but stretched out beside her; she could feel his warmth beneath the furs. She swallowed hard, waiting, every nerve alive to him, every fibre of her being keyed to fight. The outcome could be in no doubt, but there would be no tame submission.

For some time she remained thus, straining to catch the least sound or movement that might signal danger, but none came. Wulfrum made no attempt to touch her. She could detect no trace of his earlier behaviour in his manner this evening. It was almost as if the incident had never happened, except that memory would not be denied. Almost she could still feel the searing passion of that embrace and with it resurgent anger. No man, even her betrothed, had ever dared to kiss her like that. Her fingers brushed her lips. Would Aylwin
ever
have kissed her thus? Somehow she doubted it. That thought led to others that were infinitely more disturbing and with them the mocking echo of another voice:
Whom do you fight? Me or yourself?

 

The two women set out early for the village. Wulfrum watched them leave, noting with some interest that it was Ironfist who carried the heavy basket of potions. His gaze followed them until they were out of sight. Then his mind began to turn over what Elgiva had said earlier about the water supply. He went to find the two Danes who had fallen sick. Both were feverish and stricken with cramps, but had sense enough to be able to answer his questions. After hearing their replies, he went to saddle his horse.

Wulfrum rode slowly, skirting the village, and came to the stream from which the peasants drew their water. There was
nothing in the clear flowing depths to indicate aught amiss. He knew it had its source in the hills some miles away and that it joined the river further on. Turning the horse's head, he rode upstream, as close to the bank as he could, keeping his eyes peeled. He had not gone a league before he saw it, the remains of a dead sheep lodged among boulders on the stream bed. It seemed Elgiva had been right. He dismounted and waded into the water. It wasn't deep, but it was cold and the rotting carcase was foul. Almost gagging on the stench, he dragged it out on to the bank and then staggered away, retching. It took him several minutes to get his breath; the stink of putrefaction seemed to lodge in his throat. No wonder people were sick. He thought it surprising more of them hadn't died. Reaching for the reins, he remounted his horse and headed back towards the village.

 

Elgiva emerged from the peasant hut into the pale sunshine, drawing in a welcome breath of fresh air. Ironfist straightened, pushing his shoulders away from the door frame he had been leaning on.

‘Whither next, lady?' he enquired.

Elgiva was about to reply, but the words died in her throat as she recognised the approaching rider. Her mind raced to try to discover the reason for his presence. Had he come to drag her back to the hall? Was he angry about something? He didn't look angry, but that was no guarantee of anything. He reined in before the hut. Just then Osgifu emerged from a neighbouring dwelling and, seeing the others, came over to join them. Wulfrum glanced at her a moment before turning to his wife.