The Wolf and the Dove (45 page)

“Wulfgar!” The hoarse whisper escaped her.

The black beast lay down, seeming so perfectly at ease that he could have been some trained hound to do her bidding.

Aislinn lowered the stick and returned her knife to its sheath. The wolf’s jaws opened as if he smiled and confirmed the truce. He dropped his head to his outstretched paws but the eyes remained alert and never left her. Aislinn leaned back against the tree and the feeling came over her that she was secure in this wild wood, as much as she had ever been in Darkenwald.

A wolf snarled from the dark and Aislinn came fully awake, realizing she had dozed for some time. The great wolf raised his head and fastened his eyes on the darkness behind her but made no other move. Aislinn waited, her hackles rising as the tension grew. Then a stone rolled and she slowly turned.

“Wulfgar!” she gasped.

His eyes went to her as he came forward leading the Hun and then went to the huge beast beyond the fire. It was both surprise and relief that she felt as he came to stand fully in the light, for she had almost convinced herself that he was were-beast as the rumors held and had somehow become that great, black wolf who had guarded her so well.

The animal now rose and shook himself, his golden eyes gleaming as he and Wulfgar stared at each other across the dying flames. The black wolf finally turned and with a yelp to his pack led them away into the night. The forest was silent for a long moment and Aislinn waited as Wulfgar stared at her. Finally he sighed and spoke with some humor in his voice.

“You, madam, are a fool.”

Aislinn raised her chin a notch and returned quite tartly: “And you, sir, are a knave.”

“Agreed.” He gave her a brief smile. “But let us share the comfort of this glade until the morning breaks.”

He tied the Hun beside the tired mare and from a pouch behind his saddle gave them both several handfuls of grain. Aislinn resigned herself and in spite of her failure to escape, felt great comfort at his presence and thus made no resistance when after doffing his mail and laying it across his grounded saddle, he stretched out beside her, drew her near and wrapped them both in his heavy cloak.

Maida sat up suddenly with a snort and rose mumbling to herself to lay more sticks on the fire. She stopped short as she saw the great Hun beside the mare and her quicksilver eyes searched about until she spied Wulfgar beside Aislinn.

“Ha!” she grunted. “You sly Normans can find a warm bed in any thicket, can’t you?” She stamped back to her bed but cast a last glare at Wulfgar. “Turn my back for just one moment! Huh!” She flopped down and pulled the blanket high over her shoulders.

Aislinn smiled contentedly to herself and snuggled more comfortably against Wulfgar. Maida was not happy to see this stalwart Norman in their camp, but her own heart swelled jubilantly within her breast to be once again within his embrace and to have his large hands upon her, holding her close.

“Are you cold?” he murmured against her hair.

She shook her head and her eyes shone with more warmth than the fire offered, yet her gaze was cast downward where he could not see and he had no way of knowing she was deliriously happy. Her slim body was pressed full length to his side, and with her head upon his shoulder she knew the full comfort and security of their bed at Darkenwald.

“The babe stirs,” Wulfgar said huskily. “ ’Tis a sign of strength.”

Aislinn bit her lip, suddenly uncertain. He rarely spoke of the child and when he did, she had the feeling it was only to make conversation with her as if to ease her mind some small whit. Yet she grew more troubled each time she caught him gazing toward her belly in mute consideration of it as if by staring at that slight roundness he could find some assurance that it was his babe who grew there.

“It moves often now,” Aislinn replied, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.

“ ’Tis good,” he said and pulled his mantle more tightly around them, ending the stilted conversation as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

In the early morning hours Aislinn came slowly awake as Wulfgar eased from her side. Through half-closed eyes she watched him rise and go into the woods, then she sat up, pulling his mantle close against the chill and cast a glance around at their camp. Her mother still slumbered heavily on, curled in a tight ball as if she would forbid the world and reality to disturb her.

Running her fingers through her long hair to loosen the soft tangles, Aislinn stretched and grew warm within herself at the beauty of the morning. Dew glistened off leaves of grass and bedecked a spider’s airy web. Birds flittered about through the budding limbs above her head and a soft scurrying in the grass proved to be a small furry rabbit. There was a scent of newness in the air and she filled her lungs on its heady fragrance. She sighed, content with the world and its marvels. Her face shone radiantly as she lifted it to the sparkling rays of sunlight invading the glade. How sweet the bird’s song. How sweet the morning dew. She mused briefly on her feelings and the happiness she knew. Why? When in fact she should be disconsolate at having been intercepted. She might see Normandy after all. Yet her heart sang with the fullness of spring.

The sound of Wulfgar’s footsteps came behind her, and she turned to greet him with a smile. He paused, seeming for the moment confused by her manner, and then crossed to where she sat and dropped down beside her. He took up the small bundle she had hastily prepared upon leaving Darkenwald and sorted through it. Raising a questioning brow, he held up their meager fare.

“A joint of mutton? A loaf of bread?” There was a derisive note in his voice. “You must have planned well for this long journey north.”

“Gwyneth guards your larder well. She counts the very grains for meal and surely would have sent out an alarm had I taken more.”

Waking at the first sound of their voices, Maida now rose and rubbed a hip grown stiff in the night. She sneered through a crooked grin.

“You must forgive the child, my lord. Her mind is weak in these matters. She thought we would have seemed the thieves if we took too much of
our
food.”

Aislinn pouted at her mother. “We would have found more generous provender on leaving William’s lands.”

Wulfgar sneered. “From your kindly Saxon kin no doubt? Those heroes of the north?”

“Those loyal friends would have welcomed us and seen to our needs as victims of the bastard duke,” Maida scolded, chafing at his scorn.

Wulfgar sneered. “William is the king by all acclaim, save you. Your loyal friends, bedamned. The northern clans exact a heavy duty for passage on their roads and many a far richer band than you has arrived quite penniless.”

“Ha!” Maida waved her hand at him in disgust. “You prattle like a raven with the croup. Time will tell who knows the Saxon breed the best, a Norman rogue or one of true English blood.”

She dismissed further argument and made her way into the brush.

Wulfgar tore a piece from the loaf and laying upon it a slice of meat, handed it to Aislinn. He prepared the same in greater proportion for himself and munched thoughtfully on the cold fare, watching her as he did so. His eyes passed briefly over her frayed gown.

“You took no coin nor gold to pay your way?” Knowing the answer to his question before he spoke, he continued with a sour humor in his voice. “I can see some northern laird welcoming you in his chambers, but your mother might have found more toilsome labor to meet the cost.” He laughed low as his gaze raked her again. “Yet had you paid the full toll, cherie, I vow you would have found it difficult to move from pallet to bench.”

Aislinn tossed her head, dismissing his crudities, and daintily licked her fingers. Wulfgar ignored her distain and moved to sit close beside her.

“In truth, my love, why did you flee?”

Aislinn’s eyes opened wide and she turned to him in surprise, but saw the earnest question in his gaze.

“You had everything a maid could desire,” he said, running a finger along her forearm. “A warm bed. A strong protector. A gentle arm to lean upon. Food aplenty and love to keep you busy on a long, cold night.”

“Everything?” Aislinn gasped, finding her tongue in amazed protest. “Oh, I beg you consider what I have. The bed was my father’s who now lies slain in a grave. My protectors I have seen meet the sword or the lash. Indeed, I must protect more than I am protected. A strong arm to lean upon I have not yet found. The ample food is doled out from that which once was mine.” Her voice broke and tears pushed close to the surface. “And love? Love? I am raped by a drunken fool. Was that my love? I am made the slave of a Norman lord. Is this my love? I am chained to the bed and threatened.” She caught his hand and pulled it to her waist. “Feel my belly. Put your hand here and feel the child move. Conceived in love? I cannot say. In truth I do not know.”

Wulfgar opened his mouth as if to speak but Aislinn raged on, shrugging off his hand.

“Nay, hear me out this once and tell me what I have. I am abused in the same hall where I played as a child, any clothes and every treasure taken from me one by one. I cannot call the simplest gown my own, for on the morrow I may see another wearing it. My only pet, a beast of burden, is broken and all be it in mercy, slain. Tell me, my lord Wulfgar, what I have.”

He scowled at her. “You have only to ask and if it be in my power I will bring it to your feet.”

Aislinn looked into his eyes and spoke slowly. “Will you marry me, Wulfgar, and give this child a name?”

He frowned more deeply and turned away to roll a half burned log into the fire.

“The ever-present trap,” he growled, “to snare the unwary foot.”

“Aaah,” Aislinn sighed. “You enjoyed me well enough when I was slim, but now you evade the issue. You need not tell me of your passion for Haylan. Your eyes bespoke the lust as she danced before you.”

Wulfgar jerked his head around to stare at her in surprise. “Lust? I but enjoyed the entertainment.”

“Entertainment, ha!” Aislinn jeered. “ ’Twas more like an invitation to her bed.”

“Upon my word, my lady, I have not noticed you trying to please me half so well.”

“What?” she cried in amazement. “With this round shape of mine? Would you have me dance and play the fool?”

“You give excuses where there are none,” he retorted sourly. “You are as slim as she and there is naught to stay you. I would enjoy your coddling for once instead of fighting you in bed and being pricked by your tongue.”

Aislinn stiffened and her violet eyes flashed with anger. “Whose tongue does prick, my lord? ‘Twould serve me better to wear your mail than be ever wounded by your jibes.”

Wulfgar snorted. “ ’Tis not my nature to be a cocky swain like Ragnor. I find it hard to cosset a maid, but with you I have been generous.”

“Do you love me perhaps some small bit?” Aislinn asked softly.

He caressed her arm. “Of course, Aislinn,” he murmured. “I will love you every night until you cry out for me to cease.”

Aislinn closed her eyes and from between her grinding teeth an anguished moan escaped.

“Do you deny that my caress awakes in you an answer?” Wulfgar inquired.

Aislinn sighed and murmured simply, “I am your slave, milord. What would you have a slave say to her master?”

Frustrated anger showed in his eyes. “You are not my slave! When I caress you, you come to me in warmth.”

His words brought a deep scarlet flush to her cheeks as she glanced warily toward where her mother had disappeared into the woods, fearful that Maida would return and hear. He laughed in mockery.

“Are you afraid she might learn you relish a Norman’s bed?” He drew up a knee and rested an arm upon it while he leaned a bit nearer to her, bending his head as she bent hers. “You may be able to fool your mother, but I am the one to know. ‘Twas not my lovemaking that made you flee.”

With a cry of rage, Aislinn drew back her hand to strike but found it seized in his. With a quick movement he pushed her back upon the ground and held her there with his weight.

“So, your honor has been abused. Is that why you suddenly flew after these many months?”

Aislinn struggled in vain. His knee was thrust between her own and his arm easily held her immobile. She felt the hard muscles of his body, now tense against her own frame and his large hand pressed against her back. Realizing that resistance was useless, Aislinn yielded and relaxed beneath him. Tears crept from her tightly closed eyes and ran down her cheeks.

“You are cruel, Wulfgar,” she sobbed. “You play with me and decry that which I cannot suppress. I wish I could be cold and uncaring then perhaps your touch would not torment me so.”

He bent low and lightly kissed her nose, her eyelids salty with tears, and then his mouth moved over her lips and even now Aislinn could not withhold the surge within her and answered his caress with passion of her own.

Maida’s voice crackled in the morning air. “What ho! A Norman rolling in the dew? M’lord, should not we mount the steeds instead and be upon our way?”

She cackled in glee at her own words. As Wulfgar sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, he gave the old woman a glare that would have fair split her skull. Aislinn turned her face away from them both and brushed the grass from her skirt.

Wulfgar rose and saddled the horses and brought them forward. His hauberk he folded and lashed in front of the saddle on the Hun, preferring to ride unfettered this bright spring day. Maida groaned as she tried to lift her foot into the high stirrup then found herself seized by the waist and placed astride the ancient mare. Wulfgar stepped around Aislinn, swinging into his own saddle then sat looking down at her. He met her questioning gaze with an amused chuckle.

“The mare is lame and cannot bear you both.”

Aislinn set her gaze coolly upon him. “Am I then to walk, milord?” she inquired haughtily.

He leaned an elbow on the high pommel of his saddle. “Is that not what you deserve?”

Her glare grew hotter but without speaking again she spun on her heels and began the long trek to Darkenwald. Wulfgar smiled and lifted the reins, following her. Maida brought up the rear on the limping nag.