Captive Heart (26 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Celiese stretched languidly, pressing her silken skin against Mylan’s broad chest as his mouth moved slowly down her throat to nibble the soft curve of her shoulder. His kiss tickled, so she purred with a playful giggle before coming fully awake with a startled gasp, “Mylan?” She sat up then, looking around anxiously, but the pale light that filled the room revealed no trace of the handsome Viking,

Flopping dejectedly across the bed with a frustrated moan, Celiese attempted to go back to sleep but found escape into the oblivion of slumber impossible to achieve. The dream had been much too real, too tantalizing a reminder of Mylan’s generous affection for her to force his compelling image from her mind with ease. His memory filled her senses to overflowing, and she rested her cheek upon her arms as she relived in her imagination each moment they’d shared. She had wanted him to love her, to be as proud to call her his wife as she’d been to call him husband, but that had proven to be a hopeless dream. Perhaps her cause had been doomed from the very beginning, but she had no regrets. Even knowing how furious Mylan had been that she’d prized her freedom so highly, she could not have remained his slave forever.

“I am no slave,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice sounding hollow in the early morning air. No indeed, she could no longer be called a slave by anyone, but the freedom to love the man she’d chosen had eluded her with a suddenness that left her reeling still with the harshness of his rejection. “Why couldn’t you have really been my husband, Mylan?”

Celiese’s dark mood had not lightened by the time she joined Olgrethe later that morning. The enthusiastic young woman had tried to interest her in a fine bolt of red silk, but when she made no favorable comment upon the luxurious fabric she was asked pointedly, “Where is your mind today, Celiese? I am trying to help you create the most stunning of gowns, and you act as though we were sorting rags!”

“I beg your pardon?” Celiese leaned forward, forcing herself to pay more attention. “All the fabrics you’ve shown me are lovely, but red is so ostentatious a color, and I’d prefer not to attract such notice as surely a gown of so bright a hue would.”

Tossing the silk aside Olgrethe frowned petulantly. “It isn’t the silk at all, is it? I saw you laughing happily with Hagen last night—what happened between you two that your mood is so downcast today?”

Celiese shook her head slowly, uncertain as to how to relate her latest problem, but, hoping Olgrethe might possibly be able to help her, she described her predicament. “Hagen said he is considering a voyage to my homeland, but, while I want so desperately to return to France, I do not think I should make that journey with him.”

Olgrethe’s honey-colored curls flew about her head as she leapt to her feet, her shock at Celiese’s announcement unhidden. Married women were expected to wear their hair covered by a scarf, or at the very least pulled atop their heads in a confining bun, but Andrick considered his bride’s glowing tresses too pretty to hide and she had readily agreed to wearing her hair in the carefree style she always had to please him. “You want to leave me now when I will need you the most? How could you abandon me when I’m expecting my first child? Am I to face giving birth all alone?”

Celiese instantly regretted having confided in the self-centered young woman and tried to soothe her injured feelings. “I am not an experienced midwife. It will be no great tragedy if I am not with you.” Indeed, other than a cat or two, household pets, she’d not seen any creature give birth, so she did not understand how she could prove helpful.

Her pretty face contorted in an angry pout, Olgrethe continued to fume. “If I mean nothing to you, what of Mylan? How can you leave the man you love without the slightest regret, without even telling him good-bye?”

It was Celiese who tossed her silken curls this time as she scoffed at that question, “Mylan cares little what happens to me, that should be obvious. It has been more than two weeks since I came here and he’s not come for me nor given me any hope that he will. He’s thrown me away as if I were trash, and if Hagen will give me the opportunity to return to France, why shouldn’t I seize it eagerly?”

“Because it is Mylan you love, not Hagen!” Olgrethe proclaimed loudly, the logic that seemed to have escaped Celiese extremely plain to her.

After a long pause, Celiese began to laugh with a delicious giggle that bubbled up from deep within her, for Olgrethe’s show of temper was so very amusing. “Yes, I do love him, and most dearly, but of what value is that love if it is not returned?”

Again taking her place beside Celiese, Olgrethe offered more advice, but with a surprising twist. “I’ve not once heard you mention Erik, but didn’t you notice how black his gaze grew last night when Hagen asked you to accompany him on a stroll?”

Confused, Celiese gestured helplessly. “What has Erik to do with this?”

“It is plain you do not appreciate his attempts to impress you with his wit. He is not yet grown, and his feelings are therefore more easily injured, but I thought you were merely being aloof so as not to encourage his infatuation. Are you telling me now you had not even noticed how he adores you?” Olgrethe was puzzled by Celiese’s lack of insight when she had always been so perceptive in the past. “Has your rudeness been unintentional?”

“Have I been dreadfully rude?” Celiese asked regretfully. “Erik is so lively and good-humored I did not dream he had grown overly fond of me.” Indeed, she had no experience with young men, for she had gone from slave to wife in the space of one day, without ever having been courted.

“Well, he most certainly has,” Olgrethe assured her confidently. “If Hagen offers to escort you home, then his feelings for you are just as plain.”

Celiese chewed her lower lip nervously, certain Hagen had no feelings for her other than lust, but she’d not reveal that opinion to Olgrethe and risk the questions she’d be sure to ask. No longer able to keep still, she exploded angrily, “Stop it! I’ve done nothing to encourage the affections of either of Andrick’s brothers!”

“How can you be so stupid, they are Mylan’s brothers too!” Olgrethe pointed out heatedly.

“So?” Celiese responded curtly, clearly irritated by the pointlessness of their conversation.

“So why don’t we think of some compelling reason for Mylan to come home, and he’s sure to be driven mad with jealousy in less than one day!”

A sudden chill shot up Celiese’s spine, instantly cooling her hot temper and filling her with a dread so deep she could barely find her voice to argue. “Never, Olgrethe, I’ll never stoop to such treachery, for Mylan would only despise me all the more were he to think I was using his brothers’ devotion to me to inspire his!”

Olgrethe sat back, alarmed by Celiese’s dramatic tone. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while she tried to rephrase her suggestion in more acceptable terms. “It is not all that easy for me here either, Celiese. I often think of how I was cheated out of having the wedding celebration I deserved. Time for the harvest is nearly here, and since it will be such a fine one this year, I think Aldred might be convinced to host a party that Mylan can be enticed to attend. There will be no treachery involved, only an opportunity for the two of you to be together again, and once the man is here, who can say what he will see for himself?”

“No!” Celiese insisted, her fists clenched tightly in her lap so she’d not be tempted to slap the triumphant smirk from Olgrethe’s face, but she knew the willful girl would do exactly as she pleased no matter how she pleaded with her to do otherwise.

As always Olgrethe was clever, making the most of her feminine wiles. She spoke first with her husband, casually mentioning what little opportunity she’d had to meet his kin at their wedding, revealing that the lack of warmth she’d experienced as she’d joined his family was a slight which still caused her pain. With a downcast expression and a soulful glance she readily convinced him she’d been insulted most rudely and hoped sometime soon she might meet his relatives again, when they would be in a more festive mood and show her the courtesy she deserved. Astonished to find his bride so unhappy, Andrick went quickly to his parents, who listened attentively to his complaint and with only gentle encouragement on his part, agreed to invite their relatives and friends for a party as soon as the harvest had been gathered. When at the evening meal Aldred suggested having a harvest celebration the idea seemed to come from him, and Celiese could only stare at Olgrethe, certain the inspiration had come from her, but not knowing any way she could either stop it or avoid it.

Hagen had no objection to a party; he liked them as much as any young man, for there were always races that would provide ample opportunities for him to win praise for his horsemanship. He had often found pretty young women easily impressed by such skill, which made the evenings far more profitable in terms of romance. Turning to note Celiese’s reaction to the prospect of such an amusement, he saw her worried glance and realized she had not once looked in his direction that evening, while she had laughed frequently at Erik’s jokes. That had only made the young man’s humor that much more outrageous, until finally Thulyn had given him the choice of being quiet or leaving the table. Since neither option appealed to Erik, he had grown sullen, and the conversation about the upcoming party continued without any more of his interruptions. Obviously feeling sorry for his younger brother, Andrick suggested his favorite board game as soon as the meal ended, issuing a challenge to which Erik readily responded, leaving Olgrethe talking with Aldred and Thulyn about the harvest festivities while Hagen quickly excused himself and went to Celiese’s side.

“I want to speak with you for a moment, come with me into the garden.” His request was more of a command than an invitation, but he saw no need for flattery nor flirting where Celiese was concerned.

Having no wish to risk another romantic encounter with the young man, Celiese offered an excuse, “I’m sorry, but I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m afraid I’m more tired than usual and would be poor company for you. I think I’ll just go on to my room.”

Smiling slightly, Hagen reached out to take her arm in a firm grasp as he helped her from her chair. “The garden is not out of your way and the fresh air will help you sleep all the better.” Giving her no time to disagree, he propelled her through the open door out in to the gathering dusk. As soon as they could no longer be overheard by those still inside he took her hand and drew her around to face him. “I did not realize I’d been too forward with you last night, but I must have been, for you’ve avoided me all day.”

Pulling her hand gently from his, Celiese denied his assumption. “I have not been avoiding you, not at all. It is only that Olgrethe has been helping me to make a new gown. You know how little I brought with me from Mylan’s house, so we have been very busy.” While she did not want Hagen for a lover, she dared not make an enemy of him either, and hoped he would accept her explanation as the truth.

Hagen shifted his weight, his stance turning from relaxed to militant as he put his hands on his hips. “That is the only reason I’ve not seen you about, or that you spoke not one word to me while we dined?”

Rather than lie, Celiese changed the subject to the one she wanted to discuss. “I have given a great deal of thought to the voyage you mentioned last night. Have you told Andrick your plans?”

“No,” Hagen admitted reluctantly.

“If you two are partners, don’t you think you should?”

Though she knew he would not want to leave Olgrethe, were Andrick to go along she would not have to be alone with Hagen, and that thought gave her hope the voyage home might still be possible.

Impatient to resolve the issue, Hagen drew her into his arms, his embrace confining as he explained. “We will be busy with the harvest; by the time it is over I will have all my plans made, our provisions gathered, my crew ready to sail. I will simply tell him I am leaving, and he will not object, for he seems to grow more enamored with his bride each new day.”

“Don’t you think a man should love his wife?” Celiese asked softly. She made no move to resist his touch. She wanted to push him away and run, but dared not be so rude when it would cause a dreadful scene between them.

Hagen paused a moment too long, then agreed. “Yes, if a man must have a wife, then he should love her.”

As he bent down to kiss her, Celiese turned her cheek, then slipped from his grasp before he could stop her. “I must go; it would not be pleasant for either of us if your parents thought your interest in me were other than a friendly one.” She hurried away then, passing through the hall where the others were still talking or playing the game that involved moving brightly colored pieces of glass across an ornately carved wooden board.

Thulyn glanced up as Celiese went by. The young woman had been outdoors only briefly with Hagen but when her son joined their group he seemed preoccupied, and she grew worried that the attractive former slave might have set her sights for him now that Mylan no longer had any interest in her. She had not forgotten the innocence in Celiese’s gaze when first they’d met, an innocence that was only part of Raktor’s evil plot, and her cheeks burned with humiliation still. She had tried to be like a true mother to Celiese, when that was the last thing such a young woman needed. Perhaps the party they were planning would provide an opportunity to repay Celiese for the hurt she’d dealt them. Smiling with thoughts too delicious to suppress, Thulyn agreed to each of Olgrethe’s suggestions, then made a few of her own.