Captive Heart (41 page)

Grabbing her wrist, Mylan pulled her back into his arms. “Good, for there is no comparison between you and any other woman who has ever lived.” He knew at that exact moment that he would never be able to leave her. If she insisted upon remaining in her homeland to pursue a noble though foolish cause, then he would have to stay, too. That weight off his mind, he released her and swam with a long, graceful stroke back toward the shore.

Confused by his flattery, Celiese followed. “At least my loving puts you in a far more agreeable mood. I will consider that the only compliment I deserve.” Having no towel upon which to dry herself, she turned slowly so that Mylan could pat her flushed skin dry with his tunic. “Thank you, but now your tunic is wet. It will dry quickly if you place it in the sun.”

“I would sooner go without a shirt than have you appear in the village without your gown,” Mylan teased playfully, his mood positively euphoric.

Celiese knew better than to reply in kind and dressed quickly, for it was possible children might still come there to play as she once had, and she did not want to be discovered cavorting in the nude with Mylan by anyone of any age. They seemed to have settled nothing, yet she felt close to him once again and was content with that happiness for the moment.

While they sat in the late afternoon sun waiting for his linen tunic to dry, Mylan explained an idea he’d just had. “Celiese, let us not anger the king by consulting him upon the matter of your property, since he has already given it away. We should go directly to Hrolf instead.”

“We?” Celiese asked with a wondrous gaze, “Why, Mylan, do you mean you will stay and help me?” She was astonished by the offer he’d just made so casually.

Not wishing to reveal how foolish he’d become in his pursuit of her, Mylan replied flippantly, “I will stay for a short while longer, since I am curious as to the outcome of your cause. If Hrolf is inviting Danes to establish homes here, perhaps our simplest approach would be to tell him you are my wife and we have grown fond of this particular piece of property. He may just give it to us for our own.”

“You cannot be serious!” Celiese argued immediately. “You cannot expect me to keep still about who I am and the fact this land is rightfully mine!”

“Which would you prefer, to own the land again or not?” Rising to his feet, Mylan extended his hand to Celiese. “Give the matter some thought, and we will leave for Rouen at first light.”

“Tomorrow we will go?” Celiese accepted his help, straightening the soft pleats of her bodice as she questioned him. “I have not thought, well, I mean I have had no time to prepare what I want to say.”

Before Mylan could tell her she should just be still and let him handle the matter, André appeared upon the path. He hesitated to come forward until he saw Celiese wave, but the sight of the Viking’s hideously scarred chest repelled him so greatly he could not keep the revulsion from showing in his expression.

Knowing what had caused the Frenchman’s fright-filled glance, Mylan took his tunic from the branch where it had hung to dry and pulled it over his head. It was slightly damp still, but that discomfort was easier to bear than the fear André could not hide. “Tell him I am the worst of warriors, and that’s why I’m so badly scarred. That tale may give him the courage he needs to walk with us back to the village.”

“Anyone would be surprised by your appearance, Mylan, don’t fault him for it. It isn’t necessary that we lie, either.” Walking up to greet him, Celiese smiled warmly as she began to explain that Mylan was a fearless hunter who had slain the most ferocious of bears with one mighty toss of his spear. The old man’s eyes widened in awe, his respect for the Viking growing immeasurably as he realized the tale must be true, for the man had the scars to prove it.

André was so taken by Celiese’s charming conversation that he almost forgot his original purpose in having come to look for her. “Lady d’Loganville, we would like to provide a more appropriate welcome than we were able to give you yesterday. If you and your husband would join us for supper, we would all be greatly honored.”

“We are delighted by your invitation, of course, but we do not want to be a burden, to deplete the provisions you’ve saved for the winter.” Celiese took the old gentleman’s arm, confiding in him since she thought he would appreciate her honesty rather than being offended by it.

“Everyone has offered to bring something. A burden shared is a light one.” André’s eyes sparkled with mischief, seeing he had pleased her.

Turning to include Mylan in their conversation, Celiese explained André had come to extend an invitation. When the handsome Dane winked slyly, she knew he was as grateful as she was that the friendly man had not arrived any sooner.

“I will be happy to attend any celebration he has planned, but only if he will allow me to contribute something too,” Mylan remarked with a pleasant grin.

“What did you have in mind?” Celiese inquired hesitantly, hoping he would not insult the peasants by his request.

“We’ve ale aplenty, and if they have no more wine perhaps they would welcome something to drink.” Mentally, Mylan began to add up what stores they had remaining in sufficient amounts to donate, since these people, while friendly, appeared to be living near starvation.

Once it was explained, André accepted Mylan’s generous offer of liquid refreshment, and he went back to his ship to fetch a couple of kegs of ale while Celiese stayed with André. There was a small grass-covered square at the end of the row of cottages, and a few long tables had already been set up and were soon laden with freshly baked loaves of bread, buckets of wild berries, vegetables steamed with herbs after having been freshly picked from gardens Celiese had still not seen, and from somewhere, a succulent ham. What the feast lacked in elegance it soon made up in enthusiasm. When a sudden hush fell over the assembled crowd, Celiese turned and saw Mylan approaching with two of his men carrying the casks of ale he’d promised to provide. A wave of tension swept through the peasants and she knew they were badly frightened. Expecting some trick, they were ready to bolt and flee into the nearby, woods, but she ran to meet Mylan, smiling happily as she led him back to the party.

Seeing the love that radiated from her eyes, the people felt Celiese’s confidence, and after no more than a moment’s awkwardness welcomed Mylan into their midst. The two crew members hung back, polite young men who had no wish to intrude where they were unwanted, but they were soon escorted to the tables and encouraged to take whatever they wished and handed cups filled to overflowing with ale.

Although the food was delicious, Celiese ate only a small portion, then moved to the edge of the happy gathering, uncomfortable at being the center of all the attention. She could not help but overhear the excited whispers, and knowing these dear people truly expected her presence to improve their lot considerably, she grew increasingly apprehensive. Soon the memory of another such party on a day long past filled her mind. She’d been with her parents, out enjoying the beauty of a summer afternoon, when they’d chanced upon a celebration of some sort. She could no longer even recall the occasion, but there had been wine and someone had played tunes upon a lute, plucking out the lilting melodies while her parents had laughed and sung with the same joy as the peasants. The memories flooded through her then, bittersweet images of a striking couple, both tall and slender, their coloring fair and their voices soft, filled with words of love for each other and for her.

Mylan watched Celiese’s pretty smile fade, her expression now impossible to read, and he stepped close to whisper, “Shall we leave them? I think the party will last all night, even without our company. If you are tired we need not stay, unless you wish to remain.”

Celiese looked up at him, thinking as always how handsome a man he was. His expression was so sincere that she wanted to share her thoughts. “My parents were first cousins, Mylan, I had forgotten that. My relatives were fair-skinned and blond, but they were all of one family, all d’Loganville.”

“Celiese?” Mylan signaled to his men to start back for the ship before he took her hand to follow them into the shadows. “I know I did not believe you once, but it no longer matters to me why your parents were blond. This is clearly your home.” That he had once thought so enchanting a creature as Celiese could have been one of Raktor’s undoubtedly many bastards embarrassed him greatly. He had said so many really stupid things to her, and he was sorry she remembered he’d not believed her story of her lineage when she’d first told him. She was clearly Lady Celiese d’Loganville, without the slightest doubt he knew it now, but unfortunately, so did she. He had been able to understand none of the peasants’ excited conversation that evening, but their hopes had been in their adoring glances, and he wanted Celiese to belong only to him, not to them, as they so clearly thought she did. The gentle rocking motion of the Surf Falcon would lull them to sleep, but he was not ready for the world of dreams, and, lifting Celiese into his arms with a playful toss, he carried her aboard the ship and into her tent for what he hoped would not be the last night they’d share the magical splendor of love.

Chapter Twenty-One

Despite Mylan’s loving attentions, Celiese slept poorly. Her mind was far too preoccupied with what they might find in Rouen for her to relax enough for the peace of slumber to overtake her as it usually did while she still lay in his arms. She was deeply worried about what sort of man Hrolf would prove to be. Mylan had described him as being worse in all respects than Raktor, but she thought that appraisal an impossibility. There could be no more despicable villain abroad in the world than the head of the Torgvald family. The mere thought of that hateful man turned her stomach, and, thoroughly miserable, she tossed and turned, unable to find any comfortable position in which to rest.

After he’d slept a few hours, Mylan was sufficiently refreshed to feel the constant motions of the restless young woman by his side. Knowing she’d not be so active simply to annoy him, he sat up to ask what the matter might be. “Are you ill? If you will tell me what your problem is, I will try to solve it so we both may get the sleep we deserve.”

“Forgive me, I am simply too anxious to rest, but I did not mean to disturb you. Were we sleeping on land as we usually do I would get up and go for a walk, but that is impossible tonight.”

As the deck of the Surf Falcon was littered with sleeping men stretched out upon their soft suede bags, Mylan could think of no way for Celiese even to pace successfully. Wide awake now, he tried to think of some alternative. “Here, sit up and move in front of me.”

Not knowing what to expect, Celiese sat up slowly. “Just what is it you have in mind, Mylan?”

Exasperated by her curiosity, Mylan issued a firm order this time. “Come here!” When Celiese put her fingertips upon his lips to silence him before he woke the entire crew, he pushed her hand away and whispered gruffly, “You should have worried about whether or not I’d be discreet before you woke me!”

“I have already apologized for it, and it was unintentional,” Celiese responded demurely. She was certain the men of his crew knew they were lovers, but still she did not want to flaunt their relationship. The fact that he had insisted of late that she refer to him as her husband was not a matter they had ever really discussed or decided. She was simply confused by that demand, but thought this a poor time to mention her apprehensions, so she crawled over his leg and sat down with her back toward him. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Precisely.” Placing his hands lightly upon her shoulders, Mylan began to massage the smooth skin of her back with slow, easy circles. “You know how to do this, at least you swore it would help my leg once. Do you remember that day?”

Celiese relaxed against him. His hands were warm, his touch very pleasant, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the delightful sensation more fully. “I didn’t think you appreciated my efforts then; are you saying now that you did?”

Mylan leaned forward to kiss the elegant curve of her shoulder before he replied tersely, “I’ll admit it was relaxing, no more.” He knew were he to begin revealing the depth of his weakness for her he’d never stop, so he chose to remain silent and hoped she would simply wonder.

Since he’d brought up the subject of his health, Celiese felt safe in commenting, “At least we did not have to walk all the way to Yvetot today, that would have been difficult for André and me, as well, as you.” While his limp was a slight one, she knew he’d never admit the walk was causing him pain, but she was glad they’d all avoided such a tiring ordeal.

Mylan increased the pressure of his fingertips until he was certain Celiese would beg him to stop, but she did not even squirm to get away. Disgusted with himself for being so brutal, he dropped his hands to his sides. “Do you truly think I lack the stamina of an elderly man or have less than you?”

Shocked he’d be so deeply offended, Celiese replied with far more care, “No, of course not, but I know walking a great distance is difficult for you, and your comfort is important to me, even though mine obviously matters little to you.” She did not move to escape him though, but sat quietly holding her breath, unable to predict what his reaction would be to that comment.

Again lifting his hands to her shoulders, Mylan continued with the gentle massage he’d meant to give. He let his fingertips move down her spine, attempting to ease the tension he’d just created while he tried to apologize. “I was not always so ill-tempered.” He had no idea if she found his touch soothing, but he could not keep his mind upon his task when her nearness distracted him so. The sweet fragrance of her soft curls was too entrancing for him to concentrate on anything other than the desire that had begun to tease his senses with a maddening intensity. Giving up all pretense of maintaining the detachment with which he’d begun, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and drew her near. “I want you to keep your sympathy to yourself no matter what we are called upon to do. You must give Hrolf no reason to suspect I am not as good a man as any other Dane.”