Brandewyne, Rebecca (32 page)

"Whale!"
Naddod cried again. "There's a whale, lord, stranded on the beach!"

At
that, to Rhowenna's astonishment, all the men—
thegns,
freedmen, and
slaves alike— working on the longship threw down their tools and, shouting and
laughing, began to rush down the shore to where a whale lay on the sand. Awed,
even frightened by the sight and size of the gargantuan creature, Rhowenna
halted a little distance away. She had never seen a whale so close; it was as
big as a
longship, bigger, dwarfing her and everyone else around it. In its natural
milieu, the sea, it could be a dangerous animal, she knew. Yet at the moment,
it was helpless, belly down on the beach, making no attempt to return to the
sea, despite the white-foamed combers that swept in upon the sand. Had the
whale's sides not heaved now and then, she would have thought that it was dead.

"How
did it get here?" she asked Wulfgar, puzzled and pitying the great beast,
for it would surely die if it did not get back to the sea.

"Sometimes,
we just find them like this," he explained, shaking his head at the
mystery of it. "It's as though they deliberately cast themselves upon the
strands. No one knows why."

"Can't
you— can't you do something for it? Tow it back out to sea?"

"Nay,
and even if we could, 'twould only return. I've seen it happen before with some
of the smaller whales. 'Tis destined to die here— and perhaps it came here for
that reason. Only the gods know. But its sad fate is our glad fortune, lady.
'Twill mean hide for rigging, and meat and blubber and oil for the lamps this
winter. 'Twill mean that no man must die on a whale hunt this season, leaving
behind a widow and fatherless
children. But do you go back to the
hof,
Rhowenna;
for although 'twill be a kindness for the men to kill the whale, to end its
suffering, its slaughter will not be a pretty sight, and you will not care to
see it, I am thinking."

"Nay,
you are right. I will not, my lord."

Still,
for some strange, unknown reason, Rhowenna found it difficult to turn away from
the magnificent, doomed creature. Its image haunted her all day, as did the
thought of its dying, alone, beyond its vast home of the sea. In some way, she
felt a kinship to the beast washed up upon the strand, as the tides of destiny
had brought her also to the Northland; and she knew that she did not want the
whale's lonely fate to become her own. Her parents were dead, and even if
somehow Usk had survived, whoever now sat upon its throne would view her only
as a political pawn. Her own father had used her as such; how, then, could she
expect another man, who bore no father's love for her, to do any less? The
thought of being bartered away yet again to someone like Prince Cerdic of
Mercia was more than Rhowenna could endure. She felt torn inside; she longed
for the pain to end. Surely, she owed Usk no more than what she had already
given; surely, she now deserved something for herself, a chance for something
more than just a life of mere
survival or, worse, an uncertain death.

Still,
when Wulfgar entered their sleeping chamber that night, Rhowenna shuddered at
what she thought to do; and she wished fervently, of a sudden, that he had,
after all, forced himself upon her in the beginning, so she would not now be
compelled to bear the responsibility for her surrender to him. In some ways, it
would have been easier that way, she felt; for if afterward he had loved her
truly and deeply, she could have forgiven him for constraining her to admit
what was in her heart for him. But she was a woman grown, and he had given her
both the privilege and the burden of deciding for herself the path in life she
would take. She should be glad of that; it was a mark of his respect for her,
although a small, scared part of her wished perversely that he had instead
chosen for her, had taken upon his own strong shoulders the accountability and
risk that must now be hers alone. Aye, risk, Rhowenna thought again anxiously;
for to love someone, to trust someone, was to open yourself to hurt and to
rejection. What if all Wulfgar had told her of his love had been lies? How
deeply that would wound her. And what if he rejected her, as Gwydion had? At
least she had not lain with Gwydion; she had had that thought to comfort her
when he had turned away from
her. If she gave in to Wulfgar, she would not even
have that balm, however meager, for her pain.

Yet,
when she gazed at him, Rhowenna saw only love and desire for her in his blue
eyes, no guardedness that would have warned her that he withheld a part of
himself from her out of malice or deceit, no shadows that would have hinted at
an inner self confused or conflicted where she was concerned. His eyes were
honest, frank, assured, surveying her in that way he had that made her blush
and tremble with the emotions welling inside her; for no man had ever looked at
her as Wulfgar did, as though he knew her intimately, down to her very bones.
At the thought, the slow-burning fire his glance ignited inside her spread like
a fever through her body, making her shiver as though delirious, with mingled
fear and excitement. Her mouth went dry, and the pulse at the hollow of her
throat throbbed. Without warning, the night wind that whipped through the
forests and across the heaths and meres beyond the palisade lulled, as though
before a sudden storm; and the sleeping chamber itself seemed strangely to fade
away into the smoke that filled it, leaving Rhowenna's senses focused acutely
on Wulfgar. Her breath caught in her throat, and she cast down her eyes so he
would not guess
that this night would be different from all the rest she had spent in his arms,
in his bed.

To
give her a modicum of privacy, he seldom used the bathtub in their sleeping
chamber. But he had been to the bathhouse, she knew. For earlier when she had
seen him, he had been covered with blood from the slaying and butchering of the
doomed whale; and now, despite the chilliness of the night, he was naked to the
waist and dripping water. His bronze flesh glistened in the fire and the
lamplight, so that the hard muscles beneath seemed to shimmer and to ripple,
exciting her, making her long to touch him, to feel him touching her. Overcome
by a wave of violent emotion, she half turned from him, clutching the material
of her loose, thin-woven white shift tightly to her, but whether to ward him
off or to contain herself, she did not know, could not have said.

"Rhowenna?"
Slowly, Wulfgar came to stand behind her, his hands upon her arms, sliding up
her shoulders to draw her long, unbound hair aside so that he might glimpse her
face. His breath was warm against her cheek, her ear, making her shiver as he
spoke again.
"Elsket?
You
are very quiet tonight. Something troubles you?"

"Nay...
aye... I don't know. The whale has preyed on my mind. I still do not understand
why it would cast itself upon the strand, knowing that it would die."

"Why
do you not yield to me, knowing that there is no other man for you— nor will
there ever be?" When she was silent, he laughed softly, gently tugging the
fabric of her shift from her tight hold, until her shoulders were bare, and his
lips and hands caressed them. "Perhaps the whale is but as stubborn and
foolish as you, lady."

"I...
I do not want to end up alone, Wulfgar," she confessed softly, her voice
catching on a ragged breath that caused his hands to tighten so suddenly and
painfully upon her shoulders that she winced. "I do not want to die alone,
at the hands of my enemies."

"You
are not going to die,
kjœreste,
and
I am not your enemy." His voice was low, husky in her ear before he slowly
turned her around to face him, his fingers weaving through the strands of hair
at her temples, tilting her head back so he could see her face. Beneath his
hooded lids, his eyes gleamed dark with passion. "Surely, you know that by
now. For have I not told you in more ways than I can count how much I love and
desire you?"

"Aye,
Wulfgar, you have. Still, I am afraid."

"Of
what? Of me? Why, sweeting? Tell me!"

"I...
I do not want to be hurt again."

"There
is always pain for a maiden the first time she lies with a man. But 'tis only a
small one that soon passes— and the only hurt I would ever cause you, Rhowenna.
By the gods, I swear it! I am not like him to whom you gave your heart before.
Do you give it into my keeping, you will learn that. Yield to me, now, and I
will show you. In your heart, you know that it must come to that in the end,
that you have no one now save me, and that I will not let you go, not
ever!"

"Aye..."
she breathed, an anguished consent.

His
mouth claimed hers fiercely then, as he joyously sensed that at long last, she
would be his; and without warning, the passion that had crouched like a
predator within him, and within her, too, suddenly sprang upon them both to
devour them. Wulfgar growled low in his throat as his lips swooped to capture hers
again and again, as though he could not get enough of her. His mouth was hard
and demanding against hers; his tongue was soft and insistent. His teeth grazed
the tender flesh
of her lower lip, and Rhowenna tasted her blood upon it as a thrill of pleasure
and pain such as she had never before experienced shot through her, arousing
and exciting her, filling her with savage yearning. She had not guessed, had
not known that it could be like this, wild and violent, an emotion, a want so
purely primeval that it was feral, animalistic. Boldly, Wulfgar's tongue
ravaged her mouth, dizzying her and making her so weak that she knew she would
have fallen had he not held her so tightly.

He
was so tall and so powerfully built that he felt like iron against Rhowenna, making
her feel as small and fragile as a child, and so pliant that all her bones
seemed to have dissolved inside her as, of its own eager accord, her body
melded itself to his. Beneath her palms, she could feel his bare arms, his
muscles tightening and quivering as he clasped her to him; and she recognized
the strength that was his, and wondered if, with such power, he would hurt her
inadvertently. She shuddered a little with apprehension at the thought; and
Wulfgar, intuiting her sudden maidenly fear, tightened his embrace about her,
his mouth sweeping hotly down her bared throat to her breasts, as though to
give her no time to think, but only to feel. His hand was at the simple riband
that
tied her shift at the neck, his fingers deftly unknotting the bow, pulling it
free, so the shift itself slipped from her shoulders and would have fallen to
the floor had she not, with a soft, sharp cry, caught it at the valley of her
breasts, holding it there as though she would never let it go, her now
half-naked body quivering with all he had wakened within her. At that, tearing
his scalding mouth from her shoulder, Wulfgar drew a little away, his eyes
boring into hers, his indrawn breath a hard rasp.

"Do
you want me to stop?" he asked, his voice harsh with arousal and emotion.

For
what seemed an eternity, Rhowenna was silent, her face torn with indecision and
fear and desire; and a muscle flexed tensely in his set jaw as he awaited her
answer; his hands clenched her arms so tightly that she knew she would have
bruises there tomorrow. Then at last, drawing a long, uneven breath, she
whispered, "Nay," and swallowing hard, closing her eyes, and turning
her head away, her hands shaking, she slowly loosened her grasp on her shift.
After a long moment, Wulfgar released her arms, and as he did so, she felt her
shift slide from her body, float like a gossamer cloud to the floor, leaving
her standing utterly naked before him. She heard him inhale sharply, then felt
his
hand beneath her chin, turning her face back to his.

"Look
at me, Rhowenna!" he commanded softly. "You are beautiful, more
beautiful even than I ever imagined; and I want you as no man has ever wanted a
woman,
elsket....

His
hands tangled roughly in her hair; his mouth seized hers again, his tongue
plunging deep, taking her breath as, without warning, he swept her up in his
arms and carried her to the bed. There, he laid her down, still kissing her
until, reluctantly, he loosed her to cast away his boots and breeches. Feeling
his eyes upon her, embarrassed and shamed by her nakedness before him in the
fire and the lamplight, Rhowenna half rose, reaching down to draw about her his
huge wolfskin, which lay upon the bed, only to feel his hand close about her
wrists, preventing her from covering herself.

"Nay,
kjœreste,"
he
said softly but firmly as he bent over her, pressing her down again, pinioning
her hands on either side of her head. "I will not let you hide yourself
from me, as though our lovemaking were a thing of which we must be ashamed, to
be done beneath blankets and in darkness. I will see you— all of you— and I
will watch your face when I come into you, so I will know what
you are
thinking and feeling when I make you mine. These things, I will not permit you
to conceal from me, any more than I now permit you to conceal your body from
me. I will have all of you, Rhowenna— not just your body, but also your heart,
your mind, and your soul; for 'tis for those things that I love you. Without
them, what happens between a man and a woman is but a moment's lust, a fleeting
pleasure, as easily found with some other, and thus meaningless, without value.
Do you understand? Nay, how could you? For you are a virgin yet. But I will
take you; I will teach you, and then you will know I speak the truth...."