Captive Heart (29 page)

Celiese ran straight into Mylan’s arms. Gasping for breath she looked back over her shoulder, certain Oluf was no more than two paces behind, but when she saw they were alone she stepped back quickly. “I am sorry, I did not see you standing there and—”

“Sorry? You are running as though you fear for your life, and you apologize as if we’d simply bumped elbows in a crowd?” Mylan kept a firm grip upon her slender arm and waited for a more sensible comment than she’d made.

Swallowing nervously, Celiese tried to pull free rather than involve Mylan in her plight. “I am no longer your responsibility. Please let me go, I said I was sorry!”

Mylan looked toward the path from which she’d just appeared as he released her. “I saw Oluf follow you out of the house, and if he bothered you in any way he will suffer for it now. If you didn’t kill the bastard, then I will.”

“No, wait!” Celiese grabbed his arm and held on tightly. “Oluf will never change, and you needn’t fight him!” That he’d noticed her presence in a room filled with people having such wonderful fun surprised her, but that he wanted to avenge her honor was truly amazing, considering the way they had last parted.

Mylan brushed her aside as he drew his knife from his belt. He knew Oluf to be a despicable sort who deserved exactly what he intended to give him. He ran up the path but stopped as he heard the overweight man breathing heavily as he approached.

Oluf was muttering obscenities to himself as he walked along. He clutched his arm to stem the flow of blood from the gash Celiese had inflicted and vowed not to let the spirited woman escape him again. His shirt sleeve was soaked with the crimson liquid that continued to ooze from the wound, but he gave that discomfort scant notice as he considered what pain he would cause her in return.

Mylan stood on the path, his feet braced, his whole body tensed for action, but had he not been looking for a fight Oluf’s crudely worded insults would have swiftly inspired one. “Are you lost? We expect our guests to enjoy our hospitality indoors, not to wander the fields unattended.”

Oluf sneered a hostile reply. “Get out of my way, it’s the woman I’m after. That slut might once have been your wife, but she’ll be my whore again before the night’s over!” He had no interest in arguing with any man about the matter; he wanted Celiese and nothing less than her blood would satisfy him.

Celiese knew better than to fling herself between the two men, for Oluf would surely use her as a shield and then probably slit her throat while Mylan watched in horror. She dared not run to summon help either, for she did not want to leave Mylan alone to face a man who not only fought with every dirty trick imaginable but who outweighed him by at least forty pounds, as well. They were equals in height, their reach the same, but should Mylan slip on the rocky path she knew Oluf would fall upon him, using his considerable bulk as well as his knife to every advantage. Stepping back, she searched the ground for something to use as a weapon to help Mylan should he need it. Picking up a jagged stone, she gripped it tightly in her hands and waited for the first opportunity to use it.

Mylan knew Oluf’s skill with a knife from bitter experience and moved out of his reach as he slowly circled to the left. “That you are drunk is no surprise, but you are also stupid or you would know better than to insult Celiese in front of. me, for neither she nor I will accept an apology!” Despite that warning Oluf continued to describe the young woman in the vilest of terms, but Mylan ceased to listen. He heard only the roar of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and planned his strategy swiftly. With a savage lunge he struck at Oluf’s thigh, then yanked his blade free and jumped clear when the outraged man swung his knife at his throat. Escaping that slash, Mylan darted away from another, then moving in close, made a vicious jab at Oluf’s sagging belly, again drawing blood if not injuring the man severely. The fight continued to grow in intensity as each man warily circled the other, but every time Mylan drew near he managed to inflict another deep gash in Oluf’s flesh while cleanly escaping each of the brute’s wild, swinging thrusts.

Mylan knew that against such a brutal opponent he would have to depend upon his wits rather than on the endurance he’d once had but still had not completely regained. His right leg was already growing weak, the pain that shot up the muscles causing him to stumble so he missed a clear strike at Oluf’s throat. He recovered his balance in time to avoid falling in the dirt, but not before he’d seen Celiese spring forward ready to assist him. He shouted at her to get away, for that was all he needed, a slender woman to fight his battles for him! Disgusted by that prospect, he fought on with renewed vigor, his desire for vengeance undiminished by his own lack of strength until he no longer felt the pain but only a deep rage that drove him past his own limits and beyond.

Oluf grinned when he saw Mylan slip, for he knew he’d need no more than one well-placed kick to disable him. Waiting for the proper moment, he raised his knife high to draw Mylan’s gaze away as he struck with his foot, hitting him sharply in the right knee. Knocked off balance, Mylan tried to scramble back to his feet, but Oluf was upon him instantly, rolling over the rock strewn path as he tried to bring his knife clear to plunge the blade deep into Mylan’s heart.

Celiese screamed again and again while the dust flew all about her obscuring her vision as well as that of the two men as they wrestled at her feet. She lifted the rock but dared not strike a skull-crushing blow when it might be Mylan she killed rather than Oluf. The men were cursing each other loudly now, using their fists as well as their knives, and she feared Mylan would die while she watched helpless to save him. Suddenly a huge hand closed around her ankle, knocking her off her feet, and she went sprawling into the midst of the struggle. No longer able to tell friend from foe, she tried only to protect herself as she saw a blade flash in the moonlight as it tore through the air toward her heart. She heard a shriek and then a strangled cry as a warm rush of blood covered her hands, and then for one horrible moment all was still until one of the men got slowly to his feet while the other lay in a growing puddle of his own blood.

Celiese leapt to her feet, ready to run, before she realized it was Mylan who stood before her. Throwing her arms around his neck, she wept for joy, but he did no more than pat her back gently before he drew away and said, “I did not plan this tragedy, but I will take all the blame. Be silent while I explain, and do not try and help me again, for I shall not need it.” Taking her firmly by the hand, Mylan led her down the path toward a confrontation he knew would bring the worst of consequences. They stopped momentarily to rinse the grim evidence of his deed from their hands, but their clothing was still streaked with Oluf’s blood, and as they entered the crowded hall a sudden hush fell upon the room bringing an unnatural quiet, until a hysterical Thulyn began to scream and could not stop.

Chapter Sixteen

While Aldred attempted to calm Thulyn, Mylan walked swiftly to his father’s side and whispered a terse explanation of what had transpired. Stunned by the announcement of Oluf’s death, Aldred gave his wife a withering glance, which immediately hushed her tears. The day had been going well in his estimation—the Torgvald brothers were as crude a lot as he’d expected them to be, but they had not caused any trouble and he had thought his efforts to include them in his family gathering a success. It
had
been one, he knew it had, until someone had lured Oluf to his death. He stared straight at Celiese then, his eyes widening as he realized she might well be the one who had killed Oluf, while Mylan might be lying to protect her. Furious that so innocent-appearing a young woman had again been the cause of tragedy in his home, he cleared his throat and announced loudly to his guests, “My friends, I beg you not to let the frightening nature of Mylan’s appearance upset you as greatly as it did his mother. He has suffered only a small mishap, so there is no reason to interrupt our celebration,” He lifted his ornately decorated drinking horn in a toast to the crowd, then sat down and hugged Thulyn warmly as though nothing were amiss.

Celiese looked up at Mylan, unable to comprehend why his father had told such a preposterous lie. Surely someone would notice Oluf was missing before long. It would take only a brief search to locate his body, and there would be no mystery as to how he had died. “Mylan!” she whispered a desperate plea, praying that he would be more sensible than his father, and to her great relief, he was.

Mylan understood Celiese’s concern at once, for he had not expected his father to pretend nothing had happened when he’d just admitted killing a man. He knew his parent’s excuse would soon be recognized for the transparent fabrication it was, and then there would be chaos for certain. Seeking to be well prepared for that unfortunate eventuality, he went to Hagen’s side and confided in a low voice, “Keep the Torgvalds amused for as long as you can. I will be back as soon as I have changed my clothes and I will need all the help you can give me.”

“You shall have it,” Hagen agreed, for he was not nearly so gullible as their guests and knew from Mylan’s tone that he had been involved in something dreadful indeed. Since it seemed to involve the Torgvalds, he looked quickly in their direction. Noting Oluf’s absence, he was afraid he already knew what had happened. That Celiese was with his older brother alarmed him too, for her gown was as soiled as Mylan’s linen tunic, and he could not understand how she could have become so disheveled unless she’d been thrown in the dirt. His imagination filled in all the missing details in so lurid a fashion that he was tempted to follow Mylan and find out just exactly what had happened, but he’d promised to keep the Torgvalds occupied and got up to do so. He moved down the long table, encouraging his relatives and friends to have more to eat or another horn of ale. In a few moments’ time conversation began again, but as Mylan and Celiese left the large room, all eyes were still upon them.

“What are we going to do?” Celiese asked breathlessly as Mylan whisked her up the stairs to his room. She had wanted to speak with him, had hoped they would have some time together that day, but never had she dreamed they would share in so grim a deed as they had.

Mylan tore off his tunic and used the water left after his bath to wet the end of a towel and wash off the blood and grime he’d not been able to remove outside. ‘We are going to clean up as best we can, then I will seek some way to speak with Jens alone and tell him what has happened to Oluf. I do not want him to challenge me in the hall, or we’re sure to have a brutal brawl in which others might be killed.”

Celiese went back to the door and threw the bolt, insuring their security for the moment. “What can you possibly say to Jens that won’t enrage him? How would you react if he were to casually draw you aside and say he’d just slain Hagen?”

Mylan tossed his now filthy towel aside and turned to face her. “I have two other brothers, why did Hagen’s name come so quickly to your lips?”

Startled that he would pick such an inopportune time to be jealous, Celiese ignored the implication of his question and replied, “Do not tease me now, Mylan, for we will never be in more danger than we are at this very moment, and we must not fight between ourselves!”

Mylan stared at his fascinating companion, enjoying the beauty a bit of dirt did not diminish in the slightest as he considered her words. Then, since her point was well taken, he agreed. “I have no desire to argue with you, so if you will not answer my question I will not pursue it. Now you asked me what I would do if the situation were reversed, I would not leave the Torgvald house without taking revenge, and I fully expect Jens to respond with the same blind anger I would feel. That is why I want to speak with him alone, so no one else need suffer his rage.”

“You have the advantage here, use it!” Celiese cautioned him immediately. “Jens is not alone, he is merely the eldest now, so don’t think Ansgar, Sorgen, and Korsor won’t be looking for blood as well. The four of them are every bit as violent as Oluf ever was—the only quality those men respect is strength, and you have enough kinsmen here tonight to make an attack upon you impossible. Do not face Jens alone, surround yourself with the biggest brutes you can muster to provide an unbeatable defense.”

Mylan felt he had no need for her advice and said so bluntly. “I had forgotten how much you like to plan strategy for a battle. Well, here you are again, right in the thick of it!”

“How dare you!” Celiese had taken enough of his indifference and responded angrily. “Oluf brought this upon himself with his own insatiable lust and endless stupidity. I refuse to take the blame for his death and I will not allow you to, either!”

For a moment, Mylan did not know whether to turn Celiese across his knee or simply to turn his back on her, as both alternatives had a certain appeal. Finally, he chose the latter and went to his trunk for a clean tunic. “Have you another gown? Put it on and meet me downstairs. I should have sent you around to the back entrance, so none would think you involved in this gruesome business, but it is too late now to consider your reputation.”

“My reputation? Surely you jest, for I have none!” Celiese ran to the door but found her hands shaking so badly she had difficulty sliding the bolt out of the way so she could leave. When Mylan came up behind her she stood aside, thinking he meant to help her open the door, but he put out his arms to block her way. He smelled of the soap he’d just used, a rich blend of exotic spices he’d gathered on his travels, and his mere closeness made it almost impossible for her to concentrate upon his words. She had always found him irresistibly appealing, and neither her anger nor the desperate nature of their situation made any difference in the longing that filled her heart. It was as though they had never been apart, she loved him so deeply.