Captive Heart (42 page)

Smiling to herself, Celiese put her hands over his. “That will not be difficult, Mylan, for you are far better.”

That she would tease him now appalled Mylan, and he was tempted to shake her soundly. “Promise me!”

Still not understanding quite what it was he wanted, Celiese rephrased her reply. “Should the subject of your health ever come up in a conversation between Hrolf and me, I will swear you are as strong as an ox. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes!” Knowing he must have sounded like an idiot, Mylan pulled Celiese across his lap and kissed her sweetly. “The man may recognize my name, but I doubt he will have heard I was injured so badly I barely cheated death. That is a secret you must keep, Celiese, for Vikings abhor weakness of any kind, and I need to win Hrolf’s respect, not his pity.”

“You are still far too sensitive if you think anyone could possibly pity you, Mylan; I never have and no one else does, either.” Snuggled in his embrace, she felt very safe and secure, but she knew her presence did not provide the same marvelous sense of acceptance to him and was saddened by it.

Celiese seemed so comfortable in his arms, Mylan wondered if perhaps his backrub had relaxed her enough for her to sleep, but he was not at all sleepy now and hoped she wasn’t either. Lifting her cascade of bright curls out of his way, he trailed light kisses slowly up her throat, but when his lips reached hers her reaction was so spontaneously loving that he pulled her down upon the soft woolen blanket that served as their bed. Being wide awake with her was better than any dream, but, curious, there was one question he had to ask, “Do you really think of me as an ox, Celiese? Is there not some other animal that has such strength, but is also blessed with intelligence and grace?”

“Is it compliments you want?” Celiese lifted her fingertips to his nape, slowly combing his soft curls. “I said you were as strong as an ox, not that you possessed that beast’s wits or disposition.”

“I misunderstood then,” Mylan admitted reluctantly, fascinated by the bright shine of her eyes when the moonlight that filled the small tent was so very pale.

“You are more of a stallion, smooth and sleek, bright and so very proud. Does that comparison please you more?”

“This is what pleases me, Celiese, only this.” Mylan tightened his embrace as he deepened his kiss. Smooth, sleek, bright, proud, all those same adjectives described her as well, but it was her affection he found too delectable to resist, and that was one thing he’d never let Hrolf even suspect. The less that man saw and heard of Celiese, the better it would be for all three of them. Pushing thoughts of Hrolf aside, he let his mind dwell only upon giving pleasure in new and ever more exciting ways. His touch light but knowing, his kisses generous, he was in a playful mood, and when Celiese at last fell asleep, she did not stir until well after dawn.

After he’d used such imaginative methods to insure Celiese enjoyed a restful night, Mylan decided he would be foolish to awaken her the next morning. He strode into the village alone, using the time to practice what he hoped would be a near normal walk. The torn muscles of his right thigh no longer caused him excruciating pain with each step he took; he limped simply because favoring that leg had become habit. With concentration, he could manage two even steps, and he did so as he approached André’s small cottage. Since the hour was so early, he did not disturb the man but left a bag of silver coins tied to his door latch and returned to the Surf Falcon to give the order to sail.

Since the merchant vessel was so lightly laden, Mylan was certain he could navigate the Seine to Rouen without mishap. He knew the river curved with a slow, rhythmic pattern, like the undulating motions of a serpent. Danes had used the river to reach Paris in warships, and the route was one frequently discussed and well known. Mylan stood with his hands on the rail. There was only a short stretch of coast to clear before they entered the mouth of the river, and since the territory they’d traverse was under Hrolf’s rule he anticipated no resistance to their passage, but was alert to danger all the same. The French countryside had been ravaged so often by marauding bands of Vikings that he doubted there was still a man alive who could hurl a spear, but it was foolhardy to think such a man might not exist somewhere, and he had no intention of allowing anyone aboard a vessel under his command to be easy prey.

When Celiese finally awoke from the most pleasant of dreams, she realized instantly that the Falcon was under sail. Greatly alarmed, she drew on her gown and ran to find Mylan without so much as bothering to brush her hair. Her bright curls flew about her head, caught by the wind as she grabbed his arm. “Where are we bound?”

Surprised by her agitated mood, Mylan reached out to caress her cheek lightly. “To Rouen, as I promised. Where did you think?”

“But it would be far easier to ride on horseback to Rouen. The path is straight, but the river course is not.”

In a tolerant mood, Mylan replied calmly, “I am confident I can find the city even without your assistance. Why don’t you complete your preparations for the day?” He stood back to survey her disheveled appearance with a sly grin as he enumerated a few of the tasks she’d obviously overlooked in her haste to speak with him. “There’s fresh water, should you care to bathe. Borrow my comb if you’ve misplaced your own, and I’m certain your slippers can be found if you search for them a little more diligently.”

Embarrassed now that she’d not thought to take more care with her appearance before she’d rushed out upon the deck, Celiese turned away and with a light running step returned to her tent to begin anew to greet the day with more decorum.

After he’d given Celiese’s question some thought, Mylan considered it strange she would not have understood their destination. When his curiosity got the better of him, he went to ask her to exp1ain.

Celiese was brushing out her hair, curling the long tresses over her hand to make the waves fall neatly, but when Mylan joined her she handed him her brush without thinking and he continued the task.

“When I say I am on my way to Rouen, that is where I intend to go. Why did you doubt me?”

“I was merely surprised you wished to sail, Mylan.” Celiese hoped he’d believe that explanation, but truly she had been terrified he had begun the return voyage to his homeland. “I did not expect you to leave before I had an opportunity to bid André and the others farewell. I wanted to see them all again and thank them for their hospitality.”

“We will return soon enough and you can talk with everyone until your heart is content.” Mylan thought her shining curls far too lovely to merit further effort at grooming and laid her brush aside. “Now come with me so we can enjoy the beauty of the morning without further strife.”

Taking his hand Celiese walked with him to the port rail, and with rapt attention gazed at the passing scene. “I did not mean to fill your day with strife, but André had horses, and the ride to Rouen is not much farther than Yvetot was from my home.”

From the ruins of your home, he was tempted to say, but restrained himself. “Since we had a choice, need I explain why I decided to arrive at Hrolf’s doorstep in this magnificent ship, rather than upon a less than impressive stallion?” The fact that he’d also have a dozen men to assist him should the need arise was a consideration too obvious to merit comment.

Knowing he was serious, Celiese responded in kind. “I understand it is important that we impress the man favorably. André’s horses are well into their prime if not past it, but still—”

“But nothing!” Mylan interjected harshly. “You must let me decide how best to deal with Hrolf, and we’ll not argue the matter in front of him either!” Mylan had no intention of riding overland to Rouen when he knew Celiese would attract a large following of devoted peasants. That would impress Hrolf most definitely, but certainly not favorably, as he hoped to do.

“This is my fight, Mylan, and while I am grateful for your help, I cannot allow you to pursue the cause of the d’Loganvilles alone.”

Looking down at the determined tilt of her chin, Mylan thought only how dangerous a mission they had undertaken and how little was the likelihood for their success. He was tempted to tie her up and leave her on board the Falcon under heavy guard when they reached Rouen. Should she prove unreasonable when they arrived, he might just do it. “I am not alone, I have the most devoted of wives to assist me!”

Frowning petulantly, Celiese turned away. “Do not tease me with that fantasy again, Mylan.”

Seeing a way to avoid an argument that might have unfortunate ramifications when they reached Rouen, Mylan reached out to turn Celiese back toward him. “What Hrolf understands is strength. A penniless French noblewoman will never impress him, whereas the wife of a wealthy Dane will have considerable bargaining power. If you are truly as devoted to the cause of restoring to the d’Loganvilles what is rightfully theirs, then you will follow my lead.”

Celiese stared up into Mylan’s fierce amber gaze and knew that while his plan might succeed she was extremely uneasy with it. Were they truly husband and wife, equals who shared in all things, she would trust his word without question, but that was not the truth of their situation, and it pained her to pretend that it was. It was to her advantage to be reasonable however, and she knew it. “It will do no harm to observe the situation for a day or two, that I will admit. But if Hrolf is anything like Raktor, then I know I will never be able to trust him, let alone be civil.”

“You need do neither. I will tell him you are an intensely shy and virtuous young woman who prefers privacy to the company of others. The less he sees of you, the better I will like it.”

“Why, Mylan, are you jealous?” Celiese laughed at the absurdity of that prospect and her eyes sparkled with a merry twinkle as she teased him. “Hrolf is the last man in France I would find attractive, don’t you know that?”

Appalled by the mischievous gleam in her eye, Mylan took hold of her shoulders and gave her a firm shake. There were undoubtedly many French noblemen still dwelling in the country whom she’d find acceptable as mates, but he’d no intention of giving her her freedom. “Jealousy is an emotion we can do without. See you give me no cause for it.”

When he released her, Celiese backed away slowly, sorry he could believe her capable of deliberately provoking his anger with such frivolous behavior. “I don’t even know
how
to flirt; Mylan. I never had an occasion to practice the feminine wiles young ladies are supposed to affect to impress men.”

She looked so crushed by his warning that Mylan regretted it immediately. “Oh, Celiese, you are so very lovely, you need do no more than smile at a man to capture his heart.”

Preferring the view of the river to his taunting grin, Celiese turned away. She had often smiled at him, but if he had a heart, it most definitely did not belong to her. Thinking he had won her silence at last, Mylan left her to see to his other duties, wishing she were as easy to command as the Falcon.

The city of Rouen was surrounded by a high walled fortress, the stone walls topped with lookout towers that commanded an unobstructed view of the surrounding countryside as well as a considerable distance of the river Seine. The approach of the Surf Falcon was noted when first the red and white sail could be seen, and a runner sent to inquire as to what sort of reception should be extended. Since Hrolf had no such
knarr
himself, nor did he expect one to arrive, he was exceedingly curious and told the captain of his guard to ascertain whose ship it was and what the owner’s purpose might be, but to do no more than allow the ship to dock. Its passengers were not to be welcomed to the city until he was positive no mischief was afoot. Being the fiercest of raiders himself, he trusted no one, and he suspected everyone of attempting to take from him the prize he had been awarded. He guarded Rouen and all his lands well, as he planned to keep every inch of his territory by whatever ruthless tactics were necessary to hold them.

The docks were filled with
dreki,
the Danish warships, their graceful lines masking their deadly purpose, and Celiese turned away, sickened by the sight of what the once pretty city had become. A center of commerce in her father’s time, it was now an armed citadel, ringed by ships of the Danes who had decimated the countryside with raids that had, over the years, become repeatedly more barbaric, until nothing remained to be seized but the land itself. Growing pale, she gripped the rail, uncertain that she could meet Hrolf without becoming physically ill. Disgusted by that weakness, she looked up at Mylan, but his expression was both proud and determined, without a trace of the fear that had nearly paralyzed her.

“Do you expect to be welcomed here without challenge, Mylan?”

“No, not immediately I don’t.” He had also noted the guards upon the battlements and was certain their presence had been noted and reported to Hrolf. “Whenever I have sailed into a new port, whether it was to trade goods or merely to explore, I found the best approach was to be patient. If we were to leap off the Falcon with swords in our hands, our purpose would immediately be misunderstood. However, if we wait for Hrolf to send an emissary, the advantage will already be ours.”

“I have always thought you clever, Mylan, but if, like Raktor, Hrolf says one thing while plotting another, none of us will be safe.”

Mylan chuckled at her keen observation. “Are we not planning the very same sort of deception, Celiese? I will introduce myself to the duke as merely a prosperous merchant searching for new markets, when, in fact, it is your land we are really after.”