A Heart of Fire (33 page)

She
jumped when Stieg came up to her back. She almost did not sense him until he
had bent low to her ear.

"You
should trust Valdrik," he said.

"Why
is that?" Finna asked, turning.

Stieg
straightened and glanced over Finna's shoulder to Isaguilde as the other woman
disappeared above stairs. "He'll not be unfaithful to you."

"Did
he love her?"

Stieg's
expression faltered and then softened. "We all had loved ones in our
village. ‘Twas our life there. But as to loving her or not, that is something
you should ask him."

Finna
sighed and looked to her feet. She'd thought this would have made her feel
better, but it hadn’t. Her stomach knotted even tighter with worry.

She
pushed past Steig then and started for the door, taking up her shawl and
pulling it around her shoulders tightly, following with her cloak. All the way
to her dwelling, her shoulders grew heavier, her heart, too. Her little jaunt
had cost her all the energy she possessed.

Truly,
after days of this ailment, she wondered if she were ill. Something was not
right. She had no strength, and she could not go the day without a nap. She
couldn’t eat, and what she did eat, the sustenance did not stay long with her.

Finna
walked into her dwelling, and with an unpleasant glimpse of Stieg traipsing
along to the stoop, she shut the door. Truly, she felt sorry for the man having
to stand guard and wished Valdrik would just give her a sword so she might
protect herself.

She'd
had little luck in finding a blade of her own.

She
grimaced and looked at her hands, icy-cold and stiff, but now soft. She was not
as strong as she had been or Isaguilde would be dead. She'd not the strength to
defend herself as she once had. The skill she would never forget, as it was
ingrained deeply into her, but she was losing her strength from either the lack
of exercise or this illness.

Tiredly,
she pulled her cloak from her shoulders and then the shawl and looped them over
the pegs on the wall. She went to the bed and kicked off her shoes and curled
up on the bed.

A
moment later, she was fast asleep.

****

There
was no worse torture for a man than to be seated between his wife and a woman
he used to bed for pleasure.

Valdrik
was enjoying neither his evening nor his food, to say the least.

It
might have been a little more bearable if his wife did not know of his past
with Isaguilde, but she did. And his wife was not
just
any woman. Finna was near to smoldering on his left, whilst
Isaguilde happily chatted away on his right. Every once in awhile Isaguilde
would brush his sleeve as if by accident, and though he continued to ignore
her, he was having a hard time remaining at the table.

He
would leave,
he should leave
, but he
had a fear as to what might happen if he did. Stieg had told him what had
transpired earlier in the hall, and for now, he was prepared to let it go. It
annoyed him to no end that Finna would not believe he had no interest in
Isaguilde.

He
glanced at his wife and offered a smile as she drank from her ale. Her eyes
narrowed into slits over the top of the ale horn. She hadn’t looked away from
him since they'd been seated on the dais. Tonight, they dined with the Jarl and
Finna's mother and sister in the great hall. There was no feast. It was only
them—and their new guest.

Valdrik
winced at Isaguilde's bright laughter at something Hadarr had said and then
again as Finna slammed her horn down onto the table. Valdrik reached over to
give her hand a pat. In truth, he tried not to even look down the table to his
right. He positioned his body away from Isaguilde, but even that did not keep
her from trying to make conversation with him now and then.

"Tell
me what happened when you returned to the village, Valdrik?" Isaguilde
asked. "I am sure your Jarl has heard the story before, but I have not.
Were there any left alive?"

Valdrik
shifted forward and kept his eyes on his trencher, and he cleared his throat.

"Oh,
aye," Finna said with a drag of sarcasm to her tone. "Do tell us,
because I wish to know how
all
others
were burned alive, but this one—" she pointed her eating knife at
Isaguilde, her eyes sharper than the blade "—managed to survive. What did
you do, Isaguilde? That is what we are all wondering. Did you spread
your—"

Valdrik
reached over and tightened his hand around Finna's fist to stop her. He shot
her a look of warning.

Finna
made a sound of annoyance and stabbed a morsel on her trencher with her knife.
She popped the tender meat into her mouth and began to chew with great
exaggeration.

He
turned back to the others. "There is not much to say of our return."
He shrugged. "I'm sure you know what it is we found there. But my wife is
correct. I do wonder how you managed to keep your life when it seemed all
others were killed. Men, women … children."

Isaguilde
had put him off when he'd asked upon her arrival, but as Finna voiced the
question, his curiosity returned.

There
was a pause before Isaguilde answered. "I was not there when it happened.
I had gone out to collect herbs with another woman, and on our return we were
spotted in the forest as the raiders were leaving. We tried to run when three
of their men came after us." She took a swallow of her ale and began
cutting into the meat on her trencher, her round brown eyes fixated on the
venison. "You can imagine what happened next. It was not an easy life for
the first year, but one night, the Jarl who took us, his infant daughter caught
a fever and I managed to save the child. For that he granted me my
freedom."

Finna
snorted. "Which Jarl?" she asked.

Valdrik
cut his eyes at her and then turned back to Isaguilde. He was sorely getting
tired of his wife's jealousy. "That is truly something. You are very
fortunate."

"Isaguilde,
do you possess skill with mixing herbs?" Surguilde asked.

"We
already have someone here who does that well enough," Finna cut in, as
though they needed the reminder.

Geera
leaned around their mother to show her amusement.

Isaguilde
looked between them. "Aye, I possess a certain skill. Perhaps this person
and I can share secrets."

"Before
you leave," Finna finished for her. "But no doubt Geera knows all
there is to know."

Isaguilde
pinched her lips at Finna. "What skill is it that you possess?"

Finna's
stare flickered to the bruises on Isaguilde's throat and back up. She
straightened in her seat. "Need you ask?"

Isaguilde's
lips tilted into a cocky smile. "Too bad you do not possess any skill as a
woman. A man like Valdrik requires a soft touch and gentle hands." She
smoothed her own hands over Valdrik's shoulders to demonstrate, and it was as
though a thousand ants crawled up his spine. Valdrik squirmed to remove her
touch.

Finna
shot from her seat, and so did Valdrik, blocking her from Isaguilde.

"You
would protect her now?" Finna shouted.

"Finna,"
Hadarr chided. "She is our guest."

Surguilde
hurried around the table to take Finna's hand. "Finna, please," she
said quietly. Lower, so only he and Finna heard, "'Tis no way to prove
your suspicions. Do not let her rattle you."

Finna
pulled her hand from her mother's and stalked from the table and across the
hall. She slammed out of the room, leaving them all staring behind her.

"Your
wife is very disrespectful of you," Isaguilde said sweetly, taking up her
ale and drinking as she watched Finna leave.

Valdrik
turned on her. "As you are disrespectful to her. You do realize your place
here is precarious at best and the only reason I have not had you tossed out is
because of the winter? What we once shared is over. You would be wise to stay
from my path, lest I allow my wife to truly have at you," he warned, and
then followed Finna out.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Their
horses meandered slowly through the dips and swells of the hills surrounding
the village, the animal's breaths clouding the cold as Finna and Geera rode
abreast a ways and then turned about at the edge of the forest. Again, Finna
rode her mother's horse, and same as the last time, she'd not found mounting an
easy task. Her lacking strength vexed her deeply.

Valdrik
had allowed them to go for a ride, as he was practicing with the men, but only
if they took an escort. Three men sat astride horses of their own, waiting like
hulking bears several yards away as they kept a steady watch on their
surroundings.

"I
think she is very domineering and vain, for a former slave," Geera said,
continuing their present conversation about Isaguilde. "Did you note her
hair? 'Tis grown quite long, which makes me wonder how much time has passed
since she became a freewoman." All slaves were required to keep their hair
short, as a sign of submission to their masters.

Several
days had gone by quietly, and without incident, since the woman's arrival. The
seemingly easy going was what stirred Finna's senses deeply, now more than
ever.

"I
do not trust her," Finna said firmly. "Her presence rattles every
sense I possess, yet I cannot get Father or my husband to listen."

Geera
made a snorting sound. "Men," she muttered. "Intensely
thick-headed when it comes to women."

"Aye."
Finna clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "I do not know if her
intentions are solely to gain back Valdrik's attentions, or if she plots
something worse. I tell you, I have met that woman before. She has to have been
on Aldar's lands at some point."

Her
thoughts flickered to the bracelet Isaguilde wore, a golden band with dragon
heads, their eyes speared with rubies. It was too rich a piece for any former
slave to possess—unless perhaps such a person had stolen it, or had been paid
with the jewelry.

That
bracelet, like the one she had seen many times in Aldar's chambers—the very one
he said had belonged to her mother—was too intricate to duplicate. She would
have asked her mother about it already, but since the day she'd near strangled
the other woman, Isaguilde had not worn the bracelet again.

"What
might she do?" Geera asked, looking across to her. "She is a small
thing. I do not imagine she could do much on her own." Her sister tilted
her chin upward. "Even I am bigger than she is. Mayhap that is why Valdrik
discounts her as any problem."

Finna
sighed. "One woman can do much, if she's of a mind to."

Geera
snorted. "I shall help you watch her movements, if the men will not pay
heed to your suspicions, for those suspicions have become quite infectious to
me. She does not seem like a good person, and I tire of her taking her meals at
our table and having to listen to her talk. I had thought when you tried to
choke her that it would have hindered her from speaking so much."

Finna
laughed, but she sobered all too quickly. "I do not wish anything ill to
come. Aldar's threat weighs heavily enough on me already, and I wonder if it is
that which has my suspicions so elevated. Do you think I am wrong to suspect
her?"

"Do
not question your instincts," Geera said. "Even if that is all we
have to go on at present, 'tis enough to keep up our guard. Nay, I do not think
you wrong to go on instinct alone."

"I
like my new life here." Finna turned a teary gaze on her sister. "I
would do anything to protect you, our parents—" she paused with a lopsided
grin "—even Valdrik. Though I scarce doubt he needs
me
to protect him."

Geera
smiled teasingly. "Has he grown on you?"

"Mayhap
a little," Finna said, wiping her eyes. The cold stung her unshed tears.

"A
little? You do not yet love him?"

Finna
pinned her with a mulish look. "I do not know. I am not sure that I know
what love is."

Geera
pursed her lips at her a moment, looking at Finna as though she were a
simpleton. "Love is that swell in your breast when you see him, that
willingness to do anything to keep him safe. It is kindness, not contempt. It
causes a smile to curve your lips when you see him. Love is that passion that
drives you to kindle his attention, to provoke him, to desire him, to sate his
pleasures. Love does all manner of things to the heart, sister. To include
breaking down barriers one thought impenetrable." She paused. "Love
is, perhaps, that urge to keep Isaguilde away from him, for you've already
claimed Valdrik as yours, in your heart now, whether you will admit it or not."

Finna
opened her mouth, and then shook her head with a huff. "I'd no idea you
knew so much of love."

Geera
sighed, her stare traveled across the snow-covered hills as the horses walked
slowly. She sighed again at the three men, and Finna followed her sister's stare.

Ragnarr
was one of those men accompanying them.

She
raised her brows in the direction of their guard. "Has Ragnarr made any
attempt to ask for you as wife?"