Captive Heart (43 page)

“That the king has made him a duke is ludicrous!” Celiese exploded angrily, livid at the very thought of such a travesty.

“Did I ever mention he also gave him his daughter, Gisela, as a bride? Does that not anger you more?” Since they had met as the result of such an arranged marriage, he expected her to see his point readily.

Celiese’s thick lashes swept her delicate brows as she recalled the princess. “Mylan, I met Gisela, more than once, I think. I was no more than six or seven years old, but it is possible she may recognize me!”

Mylan swore angrily, as that was an unwanted complication. “I had not even considered that might be a problem. Let us hope the woman has so much on her mind she will not recall a pretty child she met ten years ago. Dressed as you are and by my side, she will think you a Danish princess, not a French one.”

“I am not a princess, Mylan.” Celiese blushed at the word, but she was pleased by his compliment all the same, for there was a great difference between a princess and the lowly slave he’d once sworn her to be.

“If you speak French to no one, not even to the servants, the truth of your nationality will not be guessed. You must give Hrolf no cause to be suspicious of us, Celiese, or we will never succeed in wrenching your estate from his grasp.”

“I will try your way first, I have agreed to that,” Celiese reassured him with far more confidence than she felt.

“Do not doubt that it will work, for it will.” Mylan gave the order to drop anchor in the center of the river and leaned back against the rail to wait for whatever welcome they might receive. Celiese wore his silver charm still, and the hope that Thor might be willing to assist him in so dangerous a cause as he’d chosen amused him greatly. “Hrolf has taken your religion, Celiese. Perhaps you should give that necklace back to me now.”

“You cannot be serious!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, but I am. It was part of his bargain with your king that he accept the religion of the French people.”

“How could the man embrace Christianity with the sins he must have upon his soul? Surely his conversion was no more than an expedient one.”

“Since you are supposed to know nothing of Christ’s teachings, perhaps you would like to invite him to instruct you. Then you could judge for yourself whether or not his beliefs are sincere,” Mylan suggested slyly.

“That is not a subject I’d care to discuss with that; rogue, Mylan.” It would be difficult not to blurt out the purpose of her visit when first she saw the man; she’d never be able to calmly discuss religious doctrine as if she were no more than curious.

“If luck is with us, you will have no need to discuss any topic with him.” Sighting a small boat headed their way, Mylan nodded confidently. “You see, curiosity is a powerful weapon, and someone has been sent to investigate the nature of our visit, just as I knew they would. You must rely upon me to make the first contact with Hrolf, for as captain of this vessel that is my duty.”

Those were the last words Celiese was to hear Mylan speak for many an hour. He went ashore accompanied by two of his crew, but she did not argue with his decision to leave her behind for the moment. As far as she knew, no Viking sailed with his wife at his side, so her presence was a distinct oddity. His arrival would be regarded as remarkable enough without her to cause a distraction.

She found the wait interminable. She shared the crew’s rations at suppertime, then paced the deck until it had grown dark, but Mylan had still not returned.

Mylan found Hrolf to be exactly what he’d expected, an arrogant brute who dominated every conversation no matter what the subject. Immense in size, he was never the less fit, his looks pleasant if not handsome, but his appetite for meat and drink was extraordinary, and by the time Mylan staggered aboard the Surf Falcon he was exhausted by the duke’s hospitality and more than a little drunk.

Celiese had been unable to close her eyes, fearing Mylan had come to some terrible harm and that she and his crew would all be taken prisoners at dawn and promptly slain, but when he lurched across the deck and stumbled into her dimly lit tent she knew immediately what his activities had been. “When I have been so dreadfully worried I might never see you alive again, how could you have been drinking yourself into a stupor!” she demanded angrily.

“I am not in a stupor.” Mylan replied with difficulty. “Hrolf is as generous a host as my father and insisted I did not suffer from thirst while I dined at his table.”

“How thoughtful of him!” Celiese responded through clenched teeth, but when Mylan sprawled across their blanket she began to unlace his boots without being asked for assistance. “I have never seen you drunk, Mylan, not ever. How the Danes can pass so many evenings swilling ale I will never know, and I have always been grateful you did not have such slothful habits, but perhaps you only lacked the opportunity!” She yanked off his suede boots and tossed them aside but remained seated at his feet, unwilling to do more to make him comfortable.

After rolling over upon his back, Mylan raised his right arm to cover his eyes as he yawned sleepily. “He believed all I told him about wishing to establish a profitable trade agreement, and if he wants a drinking companion I will be one. Now hush your complaints and come here to me. I told him I would bring my bride with me tomorrow when we take his falcons out to hunt.”

“You expect me to go hunting with that fiend?” Celiese asked in disbelief.

“No, with me. Now come here as I asked you,” Mylan called in a far softer tone.

Celiese had been frightfully worried, terrified he had been met with the very worst of receptions, but the fact that Mylan had been enjoying himself so fully at Hrolf’s table was more than she could tolerate or forgive. “No! I’ll not sleep with a drunk!”

Mylan opened his eyes long enough to fix Celiese with a sullen stare that would have turned a lesser woman to stone. Thoroughly disgusted that she did not appreciate his efforts on her behalf, he answered sarcastically, “If what you see is a drunk, then sleep elsewhere!”

“I intend to!” Grabbing her cloak, Celiese moved to the edge of the tent and sat huddled in the shadows, so furious with the handsome young man who was her husband only when it suited him that she did not close her eyes until more than one cock had crowed to welcome the day.

When the small boat Hrolf had sent arrived alongside the Surf Falcon the next morning, Mylan helped Celiese into the vessel and held her hand tightly for the short trip to the docks. Thinking the best approach simply to ignore the argument that had spoiled his plans to enjoy her company the previous night, he began to explain, “The duke, Robert, as he now calls himself—he told me it is the custom of his adopted religion to choose a new name at the time of baptism—lives in a magnificent residence that faces the town square. It is difficult to go from one room to the next with the great number of treasures he has stored there.”

Whispering defiantly, Celiese contradicted him, “Booty!”

“Yes, of course, I know the goods are the spoils of his raids.” Mylan tightened his grip upon the delicate bones of her hand, sorry now he’d been so foolish as to bring her along when her temper was so quick. “Should you by some strange twist of fate chance to see something that belonged to your family or to their friends, please pretend you see nothing more than straw being stored to feed the livestock in the winter!”

“Don’t you understand what you are asking of me?” Celiese asked indignantly.

“Yes,” Mylan hissed crossly, “I am asking you to be as fine an actress today as you were the night we were wed!”

Devastated by that insult, Celiese clamped her mouth shut and turned away. She had been a fool to come to Rouen with Mylan when clearly he found Hrolf, or Robert, whatever he wished to call himself, a most interesting and doubtless admirable man! She already knew he’d own nothing from her home, for Raktor had burned whatever he’d not stolen, but all his possessions would have belonged at one time to families as dear as hers, and that thought was tragic enough. At the dock they found horses waiting, beautifully groomed and spirited mounts, which she knew were stolen, and, thoroughly sickened by the day that lay ahead, she ceased to think of anything other than how she might regain possession of her land.

Rouen was so changed in character that Celiese would not have recognized the city had Mylan not sworn that was where they were. There were Danes everywhere, robust men whose fair hair and blue eyes shone brightly above their wide smiles. These men had stopped their raiding to take up permanent residence in France, and yet she knew there was land for them only because her countrymen had not been able to defend their homes and so had lost them, as well as their lives. Because she was fair-haired and green-eyed, she could pass among them unrecognized for what she was by birth, and was seen as only what she appeared to be. If it was an actress Mylan wanted, then that was what she’d be, but only while it served her purpose.

Bored as the summer drew to an end, Hrolf was pleased to have the benefit of the company of a young man as intelligent and charming as Mylan Vandahl. While he had spent his own years pillaging France, Mylan had sailed to the edges of the known world and far beyond, yet he related the most astounding of adventures with a disarming modesty. He was exactly the type of man Hrolf wished to befriend, and he looked forward to a day of hunting with eager anticipation.

The duke and his party had already reached the open fields outside the city walls and were ready to begin the hunt when Mylan and Celiese arrived to join them. They were greeted warmly, since Mylan had impressed all those he’d met the previous day, and Celiese’s fair beauty brought her instant acceptance.

“Your husband is far too modest a man, Celiese, for you are a wife who should be cherished, and he told us little of your virtues. We were not prepared to meet a woman of such extraordinary loveliness.” Hrolf flashed what he hoped would be a charming smile, expecting to see a pretty blush rise in the young woman’s cheeks, but she regarded him with a cool gaze he found most disconcerting. The power of his position made women eager to please him, but he realized his flattery had failed to win so much as a smile from this beauty.

Ignoring his compliment, Celiese inquired instead about the hunt. “How have you found the time to train falcons for sport, sir? I should think you would have been far too busy.” Busy with murder and thievery, she was tempted to say, but she was too discreet to insult him so openly.

Surprised that she should be interested in the sport, Hrolf explained proudly, “I have not raised these birds from the nest, but they are mine as is all you see in every direction: I have not known a woman to enjoy falconry, but perhaps you would care to join us rather than merely observe?” He extended his left arm, upon which sat a magnificent peregrine falcon whose sharp talons were firmly embedded in the padded gauntlet he wore. Thinking Celiese would be foolish enough to reach out and pet the bird, he waited patiently to see how badly she would be injured when it bit her.

“Had I a bird of my own I would be happy to participate, but alas, we own none.” Celiese remained upon her horse, her hands holding the reins lightly as she admired the falcon he was showing off so proudly. Clearly he thought her a fool where falcons were concerned, but she knew exactly what would happen were she to make a move toward this one. “This is a hawk of passage then, one captured from the wild and tamed, not an eyas, one taken from the nest and raised for sport?”

Impressed that she knew the difference, Hrolf realized Celiese did indeed know something of his favorite sport. “We have several birds; do you object to your wife joining in the hunt, Mylan?” Hrolf’s booming voice attracted the notice of all who were nearby. There were several other women, but they appeared to be content to be spectators.

“Celiese has many talents; if she wishes to hunt, I have no objection.” Yet Mylan gave her a warning glance. He knew she had nerve aplenty, but falconry involved skill, as well, and he doubted she had any experience with the powerful birds of prey. Moving close, he whispered so only she could hear, “Have you ever done this before?”

“Of course, my father raised hawks as a diversion.” Celiese was surprised by his question until she saw by his worried expression that he was concerned for her safety.

Seeing something pass between the attractive couple that he did not fully comprehend, Hrolf inquired curiously, “What is your father’s name, Celiese, perhaps I know him.”

“He is long dead, sir, and I’m certain you would not recognize his name. Now, shall we begin? Your other guests look most impatient.”

Distracted by the warmth of her smile, Hrolf signaled to one of his men to bring the bird he’d selected for Mylan. “The glove will be too large, I know, but you need only see if you can bear the weight of the hawk upon your wrist.”

“Yes, I understand the secret is a steady hand.” Celiese and Mylan dismounted quickly and handed their reins to a waiting groom. She then pulled on the thickly padded gauntlet and extended her left arm to invite the hawk to come to her. Another peregrine falcon, she was also a beauty, her breast a soft beige tinged with pink, her back and wings brown with black markings. Celiese held the jesses, the two strips of leather tied to the bird’s legs so she might be carried more easily, but unfastened the leash to be ready to send the bird aloft. Small silver bells had been attached to the bird’s legs so she could be found were she to become lost. When Celiese turned into the morning breeze so the bird would be most comfortable while being carried, they rang with a pleasant sound, making music with every step.