Captive Heart (50 page)

As Mylan watched Celiese sleep he realized there was one time they enjoyed the harmony that was supposed to exist between a man and his wife, but the tender peace they found in each other’s arms eluded them with astonishing frequency during the rest of their waking hours. Seeing no reason to wait any longer to capture what pleasure he could from his willful young bride, he hurriedly cast off his clothing and then slipped beneath the light blanket. He drew Celiese into his arms, covering her face with sweet kisses until she opened her eyes and began to smile.

Snuggling against him to get more comfortable, the pretty young woman’s expression took on a seductive glow as she greeted him. “Mylan, I—”

“Michael,” he corrected her softly, then lowered his mouth to her throat where he nuzzled her silken skin with playful nibbles. He enjoyed the sweet, warm softness of her skin so greatly that his play swiftly turned to passion.

“Michael, then,” Celiese replied as she lifted her arms to encircle his neck. She loved his strength, which he held in check to enfold her in the fondest of embraces. She slid her fingertips across the taut muscles of his broad shoulders to enjoy the fiery warmth of his deeply tanned skin. At least he had not been furious with her for the manner in which she’d stopped his mock battle with Robert, but she had not wanted to see him hurt, no matter how slightly, and the possibility he’d suffer a severe injury had been too great. “I want to leave here as swiftly as possible, for I fear your life is in grave danger as well as mine.”

“Am I the reason for your fears?” Although he could not believe he was, Mylan leaned back, watching her expression closely as he lifted his fingertips to wipe away the last drop of moisture from her cheek.

Celiese felt no need to reply to so obvious a question and pulled his mouth down to hers, her loving kiss the only response she’d give. She had missed the closeness they’d shared during the voyage, when their entire world had existed of no more than the deck of the Surf Falcon and the small stretch of beach where they’d made their camp each night. She wanted to return to that joy, to a far simpler time before their lives had become so unbearably complicated.

Mylan sensed the same urgency in Celiese’s enticing affection that throbbed within his own heart and tightened his embrace, pulling her supple form firmly against his own to savor each marvelous curve of her lithe figure. He spread her shining curls out upon the pillow and kissed her eyelids gently before he found her eager lips again brushing his. His mind filled with dreams of her then, and he lost himself in the web of her desire, drawn closer and closer until they were no longer two separate souls but one vibrant being whose heart beat in time with love’s most ancient melody. A thousand pretty verses came to his mind and yet he gave voice to none, afraid to speak for fear of breaking her captivating spell.

Celiese hugged Mylan even more tightly, wanting the pleasure that swelled within her to sweep them both away. His touch teased her senses, drawing the joy he’d begun with his gentle kisses to the blissful peak of rapture. This was the reason they’d been born, to become as one, and she spoke his name in a deliriously happy sigh, remembering this time to call him Michael.

Mylan could not bear to release his bride when the love they’d shared had again been perfection. It had been the same tantalizing ecstasy for them both from the beginning. He’d promised to teach a woman he’d thought little more than a beautiful child the wonders of love, but she’d known far more than he of the gentle art of romance. That was her secret, he realized with a sly grin, her touch was tender, yet it seared his flesh with the heat of flames. But he could think of no way to inspire the same devotion in her heart, if the depth of his emotions were not returned in kind.

“That is a marvelous smile, are you at last content?” Celiese purred softly as she lifted her fingertips to his lips, outlining their perfect shape gently.

“It is you who must be content enough to give Robert the answers he seeks. I wanted only to put you in so blissful a mood, if such a thing is even possible, that you will please him.” Mylan meant to tease her, but had to grab her wrists to avoid being slapped for that jest.

“I want your affection to be for me, not for his benefit!” Celiese cried out indignantly, crushed that he’d be so underhanded in his purpose.

“Why do my words always confuse you so when my kiss never does?” Mylan inquired thoughtfully. He lowered his mouth to hers, stilling her complaints with a slow, sweet kiss that left her again languidly relaxing in his arms.

Celiese’s luminous green eyes swept his tender expression, hoping for some sign of agreement as she asked, “Must I see that horrible man again? Couldn’t we simply leave Rouen now?”

“Yes,” Mylan responded agreeably, but then he explained the conditions. “If you’ve changed your mind about wishing to remain here in France, then we can walk out of his house now and be gone before he has sense enough to realize what we’ve done. We would have to make haste for Denmark and never return to these shores. Are you now prepared to abandon the cause that brought you home in the first place?” Mylan held his breath, praying she wanted only to return to his farm and be his wife, as if no other consideration would ever occupy her heart or thoughts. She still wore Thor’s small silver hammer and he brought it to his lips, kissing the charm for good luck, despite his recent conversion to her faith. He would gladly seek help from whatever sympathetic source he found available, if he could win her for his own.

Celiese gave his words careful thought, then shook her head. “That would be a cowardly thing to do, and neither of us lacks the courage to follow through on our convictions.” She saw his gaze darken as he moved away and knew her answer had displeased him, but it had been the truth and she could not avoid speaking it.

Their loving mood shattered by the response she’d given to her own question, Mylan spoke gruffly as he gathered up the clothing he’d scattered about the floor in his haste to join her in the high bed. “When you are dressed we will seek out Robert, and then I hope your common sense rather than your courage will prevail.”

Recalling the way the duke had looked at her that day with a lust he’d made little effort to conceal, Celiese grew even more apprehensive about their meeting. “Michael?” She sat up, clutching the lightweight blanket to her breast as she called to him. “You will stay with me, won’t you? I won’t have to face him alone?”

Not understanding the reason for her concern, Mylan returned to sit down upon the edge of their bed. “It matters little whether I’m there or not when you must speak for yourself, Celiese. He will not accept my answers as yours.”

“But you can’t leave me alone with him!” Celiese implored him frantically, making no effort to be brave now.

Suddenly understanding her worry, Mylan had little patience with her fears. “Don’t be ridiculous. He knows you are my wife and he’d not take advantage of your situation to satisfy his own desires.” Mylan thought her idea ludicrous until he realized Robert had undoubtedly raped dozens of women in the years he and his men had spent pillaging the French countryside. They’d gloried in the thrill of their own violence, striking terror into the hearts of all those not fortunate enough to escape their thirst for blood in their relentless pursuit of the treasures gained honestly by others. He knew exactly what sort of man Robert was, and he had no reason to believe he’d moderated his behavior in the slightest simply to satisfy the edict of King Charles that he adopt the French culture as his own. All he’d done was accept the thin veneer of the French civilization; surely his heart was no less filled with greed and lust than it had ever been. He’d not trust Raktor to speak alone with Celiese and not abuse her, why had he forgotten in his efforts to win her freedom just how vicious Robert could be? Without explaining his reason, Mylan agreed to her request with one condition. “I will remain at your side only if you promise to give the replies Robert wants to hear. Is that a bargain?” He felt a slight twinge of guilt in asking for her word upon something he’d already decided in his mind, but he was at his wit’s end as to how to make her present a moderate viewpoint to the duke.

“That’s cruel!” Celiese objected sharply. She was tempted to refuse his offer, but then she realized it was in her best interests to accept, no matter what terms he might present. When he got up to leave she reached out to touch his arm. “Yes, it is a bargain. I promise to be so agreeable the beast will think me the most pleasant woman he has ever met!”

Seeing the fire of anger blazing brightly in her eyes, Mylan leaned down to kiss her cheek lightly, his gesture a sweet one simply for spite. “Wear your hair in a modest style, and see if Marcela can find a suitable veil. If your appearance is more circumspect he will expect your answers to be also.”

“Whatever you wish,” Celiese replied through clenched teeth, yet she did not trust Mylan not to hand her over to the overbearing duke should the man have the audacity to demand he do so. Her heart fell at that prospect, for that would be a betrayal of an unimaginably evil sort, and more than her heart could bear to consider.

Mylan was soon attired in the magnificent blue apparel he’d worn for their wedding, and Celiese had again bathed and dressed in the new brocade gown. Mylan thought better of repeating any of the instructions he’d given her earlier. If she did not understand what it was she was to do by now, then he had no hope at all that she would leave the duke’s palace alive. He had his dagger at his belt, but could see no way to wear his sword in the man’s home, although he would have preferred to have that deadly weapon at his side as well. “Are you ready?” His glance swept over her quickly; she’d coiled her hair atop her head and covered it with a light veil as he’d asked, but the only result was that the elegant line of her slender throat was doubly appealing. He extended, his hand and she took it, her fingertips trembling slightly as they met his, and he tried to smile, but his expression seemed to do little to give her courage.

Robert was waiting for Celiese in a small chamber off the main hall. He had wine ready to serve and looked forward to winning several concessions from the striking beauty before he released her from his protection. Mylan would be traveling most of the time, so Celiese might prove an amusing mistress if he warned her sufficiently of what she’d suffer if she did not please him. That thought filled him with a heady anticipation, and when the elegantly clad young woman arrived upon her husband’s arm he dismissed the young man immediately.

“Michael, I have many things locked away in storerooms, items I neither want nor need. Have Jaret unlock one of the rooms for you now, and set aside those items you think would bring the best return in trade. I am anxious to see how skilled a trader you really are.”

Celiese recalled Andrick’s saying that he and Hagen were far more interested in profitable trade than their older brother, who sailed for adventure alone, but if Mylan had convinced the duke that trade was his interest she’d not dispute his word. She only hoped he would now find some tactful way to refuse the duke’s offer; he had not been able to avoid becoming his sparring partner earlier in the day, and she feared he might again have to give in.

“That is not an assignment I care to begin tonight, sir,” Mylan replied forcefully, his tone polite but firm. “I must see Celiese safely to her home where I will have to make extensive repairs to her house before I can devote myself to the ventures we have discussed.”

Anxious to be alone with the attractive young woman, Robert frowned impatiently. “Need I remind you I have not given my permission for her to leave Rouen? It is pointless for you to worry over where she will live as long as I insist she reside here!”

Mylan straightened to his full height, his posture proud as well as assertive, “Celiese is my wife, sir. Our reason for marrying today in your chapel was so there would be no argument as to my responsibility for her happiness. I plan to be the most protective, as well as loving, of husbands.” He waited a moment to be certain the threat in his words had been understood, and he could readily see from Robert’s furious glance that it had been. “Now what is it you wish to ask her, so we might have your permission to leave Rouen as freely as we entered it?”

Fuming with frustration at his missed opportunity to have such a ravishing beauty, Robert could see no way to send Mylan out of the room when he’d refused to go. He needed the young man’s skill to make the wealth he’d accumulated grow in value through clever trading, and he’d not jeopardize what could be an extremely profitable arrangement over a woman, not even one as lovely as Celiese. He poured himself a full goblet of wine and tossed it down his throat without bothering to invite his guests to have any. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he enumerated his demands as he strode up and down in front of them.

“This province is mine to rule, as I see fit. I want no interference in the matter whatsoever. The peasants must not shirk the work of cultivating crops, for until sufficient Danes arrive to establish farms we are dependent upon their labor for our food.”

Making a valiant attempt to hold her temper, Celiese inquired softly, “And what is to become of these hardworking peasants when their land has been given away to strangers?”

“I have no plan to put them to the sword!” Robert exploded angrily, then seeing her startled reaction he took a more moderate tone. “There is room here for us all to dwell in harmony, if you and others of your class make no effort to subvert my will!”

“The king has made you the duke, sir. My family was loyal to Charles, and I shall continue to be so as well.” Celiese hoped her answer would satisfy him although she had not replied directly to his angry demand. He was a tyrant of the worst sort, in her view, and she’d never lift one finger to help him.