MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves (13 page)

Those blue eyes flickered over her. “Obey me, little girl.” Anger ripped through her. “Obey you! What arrogance! I don"t even know who you are, and I do not
obey
heathen Vikings!”

“Melisande!” Philippe whispered. “Remember, please, what he has done—”

“He"s a Viking!” she hissed back.

“Milord! Milord!” came a cry, and it didn"t matter what she had said or thought, because Ragwald was coming forward now. He hated to ride, Melisande knew, and he looked very strange upon the war-horse, his cloak flapping about him, his hair and beard wild.

“Ragwald,” the Viking acknowledged.

Melisande realized the two knew each other. Of course, Ragwald had ridden out to meet him, to entreat him to save her from Gerald"s forces, from Gerald himself.

There was more. Maybe Ragwald hadn"t actually known the man before, but somehow, she was certain,
he had known of him!

“Melisande!” He frowned at her severely in warning. “This man is Prince Conar MacAuliffe, of Dubhlain. We are entirely in his debt!”

“Then our debt must be paid,” she said in return.

But the Viking with the very Christian name was looking past her to Ragwald.

“This,
then, truly, is Countess Melisande?” He seemed dismayed.

“Indeed, milord, every bit as beautiful as promised—”

“She"s a mere child!” the Viking exclaimed.

That did it. A child, indeed! One who had just seen her father slain. One who had gone to war.

She had not done so very badly!

“As I"ve said, milord
Viking,”
she spat out coolly, “we shall do everything in our power to repay our debt.”

He still wasn"t looking at her. He was staring, baffled, at Ragwald.

“A
child!”
he repeated.

Ragwald began to speak very quickly. “But it was her father"s intention that you should form an alliance. In intended time, of course. He hoped you would form an affection for one another. Of course, now we haven"t the luxury of time. There must be a lord here, else we shall face this daily—”

“What?”
Melisande gasped, but they were all ignoring her. How extraordinary, when she had been so very important just moments ago!

“Milord!” Ragwald entreated. “Aye, certainly, it will take some time to consummate the marriage, but it must take place! I implore you! Perhaps you shall wait for a bride, but you will gain these lands, rich lands! You have yet to really see the fortress, and it is a treasure, I assure you—”

“The fortress is
mine!”
Melisande gasped out. She felt as if she were strangling. She stared at Ragwald as if he had lost his mind. He
had
lost his mind, surely. They had won! They had won, and now Ragwald was trying to get this Viking to stay here!

Ragwald and the Viking both paused to stare at her.

“Mine!”
she repeated. “Ragwald,
I am countess here!”
The Viking looked back to Ragwald. “A very
ill-mannered
child!” he exclaimed.

“What!” Melisande gasped again.

“A beautiful one!” Ragwald countered.

Those blue eyes lit upon her again. Raked her. She felt stripped and assessed.

“Aye, and I imagine there"s a great deal of trouble to come,” he said wearily.

“Milord, I entreat you—”

“Let"s see the fortress then,” the Viking said coolly.

Melisande, stiff upon Warrior, felt a streak of fury whip along her spine.

Ragwald was trying to entice this pagan into marriage with her! He offered her—and the fortress. She had been found lacking, and so the Viking was determined to see if the fortress was a better bargain.

“Oh!” she cried out. “This is incredible, this is inexcusable! Of all the arrogance—”

“Indeed!” the Viking interrupted very softly. “It is quite inexcusable, your behavior, girl.” He turned to Ragwald. “I would determine her upbringing. I know where she can be more gently tamed.”

“Ragwald!” Melisande cried out softly. She realized then that many people were around them. All of her father"s men. The men who had fought for him.

All of the Viking"s men.

She would not sit here and argue before them!

“I will not do this, do you hear me? I will not do it! Be damned with you!” she told Ragwald softly, and spun Warrior around toward the castle walls, determined to escape them all.

But despite Warrior"s great strength and power, she had barely raced across half the plain before she felt the thunder of hooves behind her. She turned, just in time to see a muscled arm reaching out for her. She cried out, nudging Warrior hard in the flanks, but her efforts were too late. She was swept from her horse and over to the Viking"s. Color and heat flooded her as he raced on, his arms tight around her, the cold metal of his mail clashing against her own, his chest seeming like an inferno of heat behind it.

They tore for the castle gates that way. And the gates opened to their approach.

The Viking did not slow his pace until they were within the courtyard.

“You oaf!” she cried, shaking, trying to elude his hold. “You"ve no right!” She tore at the hands holding her. Large hands, startlingly fine, with incredibly long fingers. “I"ll bite you!” she promised. “I had Gerald bested on my own, and I will best you, too—”

She broke off. He had leapt down and now reached up for her. He held her above the ground, her feet dangling. “Bite me, little girl, and I will spank you until your nether regions are raw, it is a promise!”

“How dare you—”

His eyes narrowed, he smiled, and then started to laugh. “I have been duped here to wed a child!” he exclaimed.

“I will never wed you!” she swore. “And if you even think about laying a hand against me—”

“Ah, little countess, I will think about it, indeed!” he whispered softly. “As to the wedding, well, we shall see.” He set her down. She could hear the other riders now, coming in their wake.

She remembered her father. Lying dead, beyond the gates.

“Let me go!” she entreated softly. “You may see to the fortress. I must—”

“You must what?”

“See to my father,” she said quietly, fighting tears.

He released her. “Go then,” he told her. She started to walk away.

“Melisande!” he called her back, and she turned.

“Be advised, whatever you"re feeling, I will have no more outcries such as that before the men, do you understand?”

“I am the countess here,” she said.

He took a step toward her. “Let me try again, milady
Countess!
If you cannot behave as your situation in life demands that you must, then I will see what I can do to improve your manners.”

Her eyes narrowed and she grated hard on her teeth. “I will not be taught manners by a
Viking,
I assure you!”

“Oh, lady! Don"t delude yourself. You will be taught, I swear it!” he promised.

“You haven"t the right!”

Golden lashes quickly flicked over his eyes. He surveyed the walls of the fortress.

“Then it seems I will have to wed a child to obtain it!” he informed her very softly.

She swirled around. He caught her hand, drawing her back for a moment.

“Run now!” he told her quickly. “For I think that this wedding will take place.

And once it does, well then, little girl …”

“Then what?” she demanded, head thrown back, eyes narrowed, passion and fury gleaming deep within them.

“Then you will be in my power. Completely in my power. And I will see that you learn manners, Viking or other!”

She ripped away and fled from him, vowing that no one could possibly put her beneath his power. She would not allow it.

But even as she ran, she could hear the echo of his laughter, so close behind her …

Chapter Seven

When she came beyond the gates, Melisande discovered that, mercifully, others had come to her father first. He no longer lay on the field. When she turned, looking for him, she felt Ragwald"s bony but surprisingly strong hands upon her.

“They"ve taken him to the chapel,” Ragwald told her. “I"ll bring you to him there.”

She wrenched free from his touch, staring at him as if he were the greatest traitor in all the world. “I know where the chapel is. You stay away from me.” Ragwald sighed deeply, trying to come near her again. She backed away from him.

“Melisande, stop it! You"ve got to listen—”

“We had won! We had won, and you sat there bargaining with that
Viking.

We don"t need him, I hate him, I will not marry him, Ragwald. My father is dead, I am countess here, and you cannot make me!”

“By your father"s soul, girl, have some sense!”

“I have sense! Gerald is dead, the Viking killed him—”

“And you are a very weak and very young
girl!
You cannot hold this land, you can"t provide the strength needed to support these men who were so willing to fight and die for you today. This
Viking,
as you insist on calling him, was your father"s choice.”

“My father"s choice!” she exclaimed, astounded.

“He can call upon help from across the seas, he can fight the Danes because he knows how to fight as they do. Melisande, you are not of an age to take power. Your welfare is left in my hands.”

“Then stop this!” she demanded.

Ragwald looked at her sadly. “I was against it when I first heard of it, Melisande, but I think now that it is the only way you will be allowed to live long enough to care for this great fortress.”

“Well, I won"t do it!” she insisted, coming closer to him. “I won"t do it! I"ll not be here when you and he come around to finishing with your
bargains!”
She was alarmed by the sense of panic growing within her every time she thought of what her fate might be at the Viking"s hands. He didn"t want her—

other than to crush her. He wanted her fortress. It was humiliating. “I will run—

” she began, but she paused, hearing a soft footfall behind her. She turned around and quickly became aware that she and Ragwald were surrounded by the Viking"s men, a very strange lot of them, for some were so fair they were near white-haired, some were freckle-faced with fire-red hair, and some were very dark. Some were very Norse in their dress, while others wore the Celtic jewels and mantles so particular to Eire. She counted quickly. Ten of them surrounded her and bowed gravely as she stared at them.

One stepped forward. He was nearly as tall as his leader, broad-shouldered, and with a full head of deep auburn hair. “Your father, Countess, is tended to now. If you"ll come with us, you might pray for his soul. Astrologer,” he continued, “my lord Conar seeks your council now.”

Hot tears stung Melisande"s eyes. She wasn"t going to let them fall. She lifted her chin. “You all will accompany me to a Christian chapel to pray?” she inquired with an edge of sarcasm to her voice.

But the man who had addressed her was careful to take no offense. “Milady, our island has long been a place where the greatest of Christian beliefs flourish.

You must come there sometime. You will be amazed.”

“Your island,” she said with a sniff. “And tell me, do they make those dragon-prowed ships of yours in those same places where your Christian beliefs flourish?”

“Melisande!” Ragwald hissed.

“Do they?”

“Indeed, lady, they do. We have taken from King Olaf"s world all that is good and combined it with all that is fine from our homeland, and there we have found an incredible strength and beauty between the two.” He smiled and would not be disturbed. Melisande suddenly found her arm grasped by Ragwald again, and he was leading her through the crowd of men back toward the walls. His fingers were tense around her arm. “I have taught you all these years. I have frowned upon your father"s giving you lofty ideas, for it is a brutal and wearisome world beyond, and you must be made to see that! You have a fine mind, you are wise well beyond your years. You were willing to ride to your death this afternoon, but now you do not see how necessary this is for you and all who reside here. Do you care nothing for the people? Will you see them attacked again and again, laid low, beaten, massacred, because you are afraid of one man when you were not afraid of hundreds?”

“I"m not afraid of him,” she whispered back furiously.

“Then—”

“I simply loathe the man.”

“That is no reason not to wed him!” Ragwald exclaimed angrily.

“I"m too young to marry—”

“Girls have been wed from their cradles. Think on this, you may wed him now and most probably not
see him again for years!
But you will be safe and strong, don"t you see?” His voice dropped still lower. “Have you no respect for your father"s memory? Have you no dignity on his behalf? Of all times, Melisande, you cannot act like a child now!”

“But I am a child. You keep telling me how young I am! As he says, I am a little girl!”

“You cannot act like a
spoiled
one! You will mock your father, even in death!”

If he wished to hurt her—but in so doing reach her—he had done so. Her heart and head still reeled with the simple fact that her father was dead. It was unbearable.

She walked through the gates with Ragwald. They came to the center of the courtyard, and she spun around, staring at him. “Do what you wish then,
astrologer!
Cause this
thing
to happen. But don"t offer your advice to me again!”

She whirled around and left him, aware of all the men behind her, but oblivious to them. The chapel was in the far north tower and she hurried there.