The Viking's Woman (38 page)

She stared at him, longing for some power to hurt him. She tossed back her head and set her hands upon her hips, heedless of her own nudity. “Fine!” she tossed back, and reached down for her hose. Ignoring him, she donned them. He watched her in a cold silence all the time that she dressed, and when she had finished and started walking for the clearing, he caught her by the arm and pulled her back. “I warned you, milady—hate me but obey me.”

“I shall try not to send messages again,” she said sweetly.

“In all things,” he said sharply.

“I will see that delightful meals are served at all the proper times.”

He smiled, the corner of his lip just curving, his eyes wicked with a searing blue taunt. “In all things,” he repeated softly. “I will have what I want at my whim.”

She inhaled, her heart thundering. “And what of my whim, my lord?”

“I shall be delighted to serve your every desire.”

“And what if my desire is not to be so served?”

He laughed and pulled her very close, and she did
not know if he was angry or amused. “I think perhaps you must learn to mesh your desires with mine, Rhiannon, and then we shall both be served.” And then the laughter was gone, and his voice was very low and rang with a hint of steel. “I have warned you to obey me. I will have my way, so do not ever think that it shall not be so.”

“You will have your way?” she queried, determined to challenge him. “Well, it seems that I have disobeyed you now, great Eric of Dubhlain. Either I betrayed you or I disobeyed in running about the countryside. I’m no better than Alexander, certainly no more valuable a property! What would you do with an errant stallion or with a disobedient serf? Why not hang me, milord, or slice my head from my shoulders and have done with it!”

“Ah, but that would be too final!” he said lightly. “Trust me, madam, I am seriously considering some wounding punishment to your flesh, but one that I alone shall administer, and in privacy. Now, my lady and wife, shall we go?”

She flashed him a glance of pure loathing and spun around with all haste. “Some Danish battle-ax shall get you yet, my lord!” she cast back sweetly.

“Not in time for you, beloved wife,” he replied in every bit as pleasant a tone.

It seemed a battle lost. With her head held high, Rhiannon was determined on retreat. She didn’t say another word but hurried out of the clearing where Rowan, Patrick, and Rollo awaited them at the head of a contingent of men. Patrick brought her a mare and helped her to mount. She watched as Rollo brought Eric the white stallion. Eric smiled, greeting
the animal as a friend, stroking its nose and whispering a word of welcome before leaping gracefully upon its back.

He was far more pleased with the horse he had acquired than with his wife, she thought bitterly, amazed again at the sharp pain within her. How could she care? He had invaded her land, he had stripped her of everything. Even pride. Her taunts and show of rebellion were an illusion, she thought, her last effort at waging war against him. She could not surrender, ever, or she would be lost.

They started the ride home, Eric in the lead. Rhiannon held back, riding between Patrick and Rowan.
I will not love you!
she vowed silently to Eric’s back.
And I will not fear you!

Here, amid them all, none could accuse her of anything improper with Rowan, and so she discovered that she could easily converse with him and Patrick, of whom she was growing very fond. She smiled and talked, and she and Rowan listened while Patrick gave wonderful descriptions of his native land and assured them that St. Patrick, his namesake, had indeed driven all the snakes from Eire many, many years ago.

“’Tis a pity he cannot come back and take care of the Danes!” Rollo said with a woeful smile, turning back to them. Rhiannon laughed delightedly, her eyes sparkling, her lips curving. But then her smile faded, for she saw that her husband, too, had turned back and studied her curiously. She bowed her head, then tossed it back once again, ignoring him. She asked Patrick to tell her another tale, and he did, assuring her this time that there were little people
who lived in the rocks and the crevices and in the caves far beneath the ground.

The ride was pleasant, and Rhiannon was surprised at the ease with which they returned. Yet even as night approached again and they came upon the last leg of the journey home, she felt a change in the air.

Clouds had formed over them, bilious and black. She felt a chill wind coming in from the sea.

As they approached the walls of the town Eric held up a hand, and the entire party came to a stop. Between the men’s shoulders Rhiannon could see that Mergwin stood in the road, awaiting them. He stood alone, and yet it seemed that he commanded all of the road, as well as the sky and even the sea beyond them. The wind caught his white hair and whipped the length of his beard. His eyes seemed as gray and as heavy as the clouds, shrouded in misery.

“What is it?” Eric demanded sharply, dismounting from his horse. He came to the old man and Mergwin clutched his hands, and Rhiannon suddenly saw the frailty in the old Druid and rune master. Even as she stared at him she saw past him to the sea.

The coast was filled with Viking ships again, great ships with intricately carved prows of beasts, dragons, and serpents.

Her heart began to hammer. What new invasion was this? How often could they battle the Vikings? King Alfred had been doing so forever and forever, so long that he had been forced to use Vikings to battle the Vikings.

But Eric did not seem alarmed by the ships. His attention was all for the old man who blocked their path.

“It is the Ard-ri,” Mergwin said.

“Grandfather,” Eric breathed. He looked steadily at Mergwin. “He is dying.”

“Your father has sent for you. You mother needs you. If you sail with the morning tide, you will see Aed Finnlaith once again.”

Eric shouted that Mergwin be brought a horse, then he mounted once again. Silence fell over the party as they rode onward through the gates.

Eric quickly dismounted before the manor house and entered the hall. Rhiannon started to dismount and discovered that Patrick was there to help her. His eyes were sorrowful. They even gleamed with a hint of tears.

“He will definitely sail for Ireland?” she asked.
Please, God
, she thought,
let him go. Keep him away from me so that he does not touch me, so that I can learn to hate him again! Don’t let me care, please, don’t let me care …
.

“Aye, indeed, he will go! The Ard-ri is beloved of all men, especially his children and his grandsons. He is a great man; he forged the peace and he kept it, and he gave justice and compassion to all men. You would have loved him too.”

She nodded, because Patrick seemed to feel the pain of the Ard-ri’s coming loss so keenly. She tried not to show her relief that her husband would be leaving her.

She hurried into the hall, thinking that she would escape quietly to Adela’s room and stay there, away from the preparations for the journey, out of sight and out of mind. Yet even as she came through the hall she stopped, for Mergwin awaited her in the entry,
his eyes gray and brooding and accusing. How had he known she would enter right then? With all else on his mind, how had he thought to find her?

“I begged you not to go!” he reminded her, and there was pain in his voice, and worry, and she was suddenly very sorry that she had hurt him so. She cared for him—she could not help but care for him. He was frightening in his way, but he was her friend too. She knew that he believed in her. He had even wanted her as Eric’s wife.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Truly, Mergwin, I never meant to hurt you. And I am sorry, too, for your Ard-ri. He seems to be so admired and loved, he must be a very great man. I will pray for him with all my heart. All of us here will pray for him.”

She had not noticed that Eric had quietly come behind Mergwin in the hallway until his voice, crisp and cold, snapped out to her a sharp command. “Madam, you needn’t pray for him. You will accompany us with the morning tide.”

Her gaze quickly flew from Mergwin’s eyes to those of her husband. In the shadow of the hallway they were cobalt. She thought that he did not want her with him—he simply wasn’t going to leave her because he knew how anxious she was for him to go.

She swallowed, fighting to be soft-spoken and reasonable. “Eric, I am afraid that I would be in your way. It will be a very difficult time for you—”

“And I would not increase that difficulty by wondering what you are up to here—if the Danes have come to seize you or if you have decided to go walking into a Danish camp,” he said harshly. “You’d best
look into packing your things, although Mergwin has already advised Adela to pack for you.”

“But, my lord husband—” she began carefully.

“Rhiannon, cease your act and make haste. The dawn will come quickly.”

She looked imploringly at Mergwin but knew that he wasn’t about to help her—she had duped him once. And Eric …

“I shall not go!” she swore, furiously striding past him.

He stopped her, catching a tangled tress of her hair. When she cried out, he calmly studied the lock and then smiled icily at her. “Rhiannon, you will come. Willing or no, you will come.” His blue eyes seemed to strike hers. “I suggest that you make it willingly.” He released her hair and strode by her, returning to the hall. Rhiannon glanced wretchedly at Mergwin, then went tearing up the stairs.

Adela was in the room. A warm bath, clean towels, and rose-scented soap awaited her. Adela assured her with a certain awe that they had all been anxiously awaiting her return—and yet Mergwin had assured them time and time again that no harm would befall her, that she would eventually come home. “And when we saw the Viking ships again and realized that they were not our own returning, why, we were all in a panic! But Mergwin quickly assured us that they came from Olaf the White, King of Dubhlain. To watch them was fantastic! And then you returned, just as Mergwin said you would! And now you will go to Ireland! Oh, Rhiannon, I shall miss you dearly. You must take the greatest care!”

“I am not going to Ireland!” Rhiannon said desperately.

“But, my dear—”

“I am not going!”

Even as she spoke, there was a tap upon the door, and it opened before either of them could call out. Rhiannon shivered as she thought that it might be Eric, that he might have heard her defiant words.

But it was not Eric. It was the girl, Judith—the one who seemed to adore Eric so very much. She came in with a tray of food and set it upon one of the trunks, then bobbed a curtsy to Rhiannon. “My lady, Lord Eric has said that this should be brought to you and that you should eat and then rest, since it will still be dark when you must rise again.”

Watching the pretty girl, Rhiannon knew that Judith would gladly serve Eric in any way. Had she done so already?

“Thank you, Judith,” Rhiannon said. The girl stayed there, looking about the room.

She could not bear the thought of Judith in his arms, or in his bed, or in this very room. She fought hard to curb her temper. She would not make a fool of herself. “Judith, thank you, that is all.”

With a sigh the girl left the room. “I’d watch that one!” Adela warned her.

“Mmm,” Rhiannon murmured wearily. She wanted to be alone. She turned around and gripped her cousin’s hands. “You’ve done so well for me already—my trunks packed and my bath complete. I’m fine now. I’m going to comb out my hair, eat quickly, and go to bed. You do the same. You must be exhausted.”

Adela’s eyes were troubled. “If you’re sure—”

“I am. Please.”

Adela kissed her, then left.

As soon as she was gone, Rhiannon began to pace the room. Then she sat at the end of her bed and idly began to comb her hair. It was raggedly tangled from her nights in the wilderness, but she set to it with a will, and in time it began to dry and untangle and fall softly into her hands and over her shoulders and down her back. She held still for a moment, then dived into her one of her trunks and searched through it for a bed gown. She found a sheer linen one with delicate embroidery about the throat and wrists and with material so fine that it covered almost nothing at all. She slipped into it swiftly, wondering how late it was, then if Eric would come to her at all that night. She glanced at the tray of food that she had not eaten, discovered the mead upon it, and gulped it down. Then she swept her comb through her hair once again.

There were footsteps outside her door. She set down the comb and plunged into the bed, draping her hair about her.

The door opened. She heard Eric’s footsteps as he moved about the room. She listened as he closed the door, and she seemed to freeze as he paused, then walked over to the bed and stood staring down at her.

He was there several long moments, then she heard him move away, aware of the thud of his boots upon the floor and the fall of his clothing as he stripped in the candlelight. She heard him swear softly as he climbed into the now very cold water of
her bath, and she heard him splash about for a moment, then rise and come from the tub.

He would come to the bed and accuse her of faking sleep. And she would rise and remind him that all life was by his whim, and she would try very hard to please him and convince him that she would anxiously await his return—if only he would leave her.

But when he lay down beside her, he did not touch her. He turned his back on her.

She opened her eyes. He had snuffed out the candles, but the moonlight came through and played upon the sleek muscles of his back. She bit her lip, hesitating, frustrated. She tried twisting about, brushing his naked back with her backside and tossing a long lock of her hair upon him. Still he made no move.

She lay back and stared at the ceiling.

“Eric,” she said softly at last.

He rose up on an elbow. In the moonlight she could feel him watching her.

“I am sorry about your grandfather. Truly I am.”

He said nothing. After a moment he started to lie back down, but then he swore a soft oath and set his arms about her stiff shoulders, pulling her back. She allowed soft tears to glaze her eyes, and as he held her to him, he paused, and she whispered,
“Please
don’t make me go! I am so afraid!”