The Viking's Defiant Bride (25 page)

‘I'd like to be a fly on the wall when you do.' Osgifu smiled. ‘It would worth something, I think, to see the Viking's expression then.'

‘Oh, Gifu, how do you think he will take it? Will he be pleased or angered?'

‘What man is angered to learn his wife carries their first child?'

‘Wulfrum is not like other men. I hardly ever know what he is thinking.'

‘He is not so different from other men,' replied Osgifu, ‘at least not in essentials anyway. And he is not so hard to read, either, not when he looks at you.'

She made Elgiva sit down then and fetched a cup of cool water.

‘Sip this. It will make you feel better.'

Elgiva took the water, turning over their conversation in her mind. If only Osgifu was right. Then she thought about the grim hunt being enacted in the forest. If only it might be over soon. If only Wulfrum might come back safely.

 

It was sunset when the hunters returned, the cavalcade emerging from the trees in a slow, steady line. The men did not talk, but their sombre expressions spoke more than words. Elgiva watched from her chamber window as they rode in, her heart leaping as she saw Wulfrum at their head with Ironfist beside him. With a final glance at the preparations she had made, she hastened down to the hall, calling instructions to the servants to bring ale and food before going to the door.

From that vantage point she watched the riders approach, their tired horses dark with sweat and mud. Elgiva's eyes went to the men, noting well the sinister darkening stains on their armour and weapons. All looked weary. One or two nursed obvious injuries and one horse was led with its dead rider slung across the saddle. Then her gaze came to rest on Ironfist and she swallowed hard as she realised for the first time what it was he carried on the point of his spear. Drem would fire no more buildings.

‘Put the traitor's head on a spike by the gate,' said Wulfrum. ‘Let all see it and know that justice has been done.' He swung down from Firedrake's saddle and crossed the intervening space to the door of the hall.

‘Osgifu, some of the men are hurt. Tend to them.'

Wulfrum turned to his wife. For a long moment neither spoke. Elgiva looked anxiously at the blood staining his chain-mail shirt. Seeing the direction of her gaze, he smiled.

‘The blood isn't mine.' He paused, surveying her in his turn. ‘You look pale, Elgiva. Are you well?'

‘Quite well, my lord.'

He saw the tears start in her eyes. ‘Never tell me you feared for my safe return, wife.'

‘Oh, Wulfrum, I was afraid. All day I have been imagining terrible things.'

‘No cause, my love.' He bent and kissed the top of her head. ‘It would take more than a few thieves to take on a Viking war band and win.'

‘You found all the raiders, then?'

‘Yes. We found them.'

‘Did you…Are they…'

‘Yes. All are dead and the carrion birds feed on their remains.'

Elgiva shut her eyes, fighting faintness, but she had to know. ‘And Aylwin?'

‘He was not among them. There was nothing to connect him to the band we found.' He paused, regarding her with shrewd eyes. ‘After we let the hounds learn the scent, we cast a wide circle round the hall until they found it. Drem's trail led us straight to them. An arrow could not have flown more true to its mark.'

The relief on learning that Aylwin had not been there was huge, but she strove to control it. ‘How many were there?'

‘About twenty, all told. We took them by surprise. Even so, they fought well; I lost one man and four are injured. They will require your help, I think.'

‘Of course.'

‘Meanwhile I would wash off the sweat and stink of battle.'

‘There is a kettle of hot water prepared for you. Or, if you would prefer it, the meal is ready.'

‘I will wash first and eat after.'

He put an arm through hers and they went in together. At the foot of the stairs Elgiva left him and went to help Osgifu, who was laying out her things in readiness to treat the in
jured. Fortunately the wounds were simple enough—sword slashes and bruises for the most part, though one or two of the wounds were deep and needed sewing. They dealt first with the most serious cases, the others waiting their turn with good humour, refreshing themselves with a horn or two of ale in the meantime. Others had sluiced themselves at the trough or the well, divesting themselves of their weapons before washing off the grime of battle. When the last of the wounds had been dressed and more ale drunk, it was time for the food.

 

Wulfrum rejoined them, changed now into a light tunic and leggings, all signs of battle gone. He took Elgiva's hand and led her to the table. The atmosphere was lively enough, for the raiders had been overcome and would not trouble Ravenswood again, and almost all of Wulfrum's men had returned without serious hurt. It was cause enough for celebration. She thought it did not need much cause for the Danes to celebrate.

‘What is it, Elgiva?'

She turned to see Wulfrum's gaze on her. ‘I am thinking about that stable-boy.'

‘He shall be buried properly with the priest to perform the ceremony, if you wish.'

‘I do wish it, Wulfrum.' She hesitated a moment. ‘His mother…I visited her today.'

‘She shall receive the wergild. Since Drem cannot pay it and has no kin, I shall do so. Nothing can bring the boy back, but the money may help his surviving family.'

‘Thank you.'

‘It was a bad business, Elgiva, but the traitor has paid; when the fate of the raiders is known, it will deter others from thinking Ravenswood a soft target.'

‘I think no one could ever make such a mistake again.'

Wulfrum was silent a moment, then bent on her the familiar
easy smile that made her heart leap. ‘And now we shall feast, and celebrate.'

‘Because your enemies are slain?'

‘No, because I can sit here and look at you.'

Elgiva blushed as a glow of happiness spread over her. Perhaps he would be pleased to hear the news she had to impart after all. However, this was not the time or the place. She glanced round surreptitiously and decided it must be later, when they retired to the privacy of their chamber.

 

For all he shared the sentiments of his men that evening, Wulfrum was not disposed to linger late and he and Elgiva left them carousing to seek their own room. Wulfrum undressed and climbed into bed. She heard him yawn and saw him settle back comfortably, watching her undress. She cast a swift look down her body, but the slight roundness of her belly showed no sign yet of the life within. Her breasts were bigger, but her waist was as slim as it had ever been. Slowly she unfastened her hair and began to comb it, teasing out the small tangles. It took her some time, but eventually she was finished. However, when she turned towards the bed it was to see that Wulfrum was watching no longer. He lay on his back, eyes closed, his breathing regular and deep.

‘Wulfrum?' There was no sign that he heard her. ‘My lord?'

For a moment she regarded him with strong indignation before her sense of humour got the better of her. Trust him to fall asleep now. Evidently her news would have to keep till morning. She crossed the room and blew out the lamp before climbing into bed beside him.

 

She had slept well, snuggled close to the familiar warmth of the man beside her. The sun was fingering its way through the shutters when she woke, aware suddenly that a gentle hand was stroking her back. Elgiva smiled and stretched, arching her body towards the hand, for its touch was sensual and exciting.
Wulfrum drew her backwards and pressed her down into the bed as he leaned across her, holding her there with an arm either side of her shoulders. He kissed her then, long and passionately. Elgiva felt the familiar glow inside her, then her arms were about his neck and she was kissing him back, moulding her body to his, feeling his arms tighten around her. With the familiar feeling of astonishment and delight, Wulfrum looked into her face and saw her smile. Then she was kissing him anew. He felt her mouth open to his tongue, felt her yield, felt her body press closer. Elgiva shivered as she felt his lips move on to her neck and throat, his hands brushing the peaks of her breasts, raising sensations that both thrilled and appalled. Yesterday he had shed Saxon blood, but he was no longer the enemy in her eye, for she loved him. To lose him would be like losing part of herself. Warming to his touch, she gave herself now unreservedly.

Wulfrum felt her shudder, sensed the desire rising through her blood. He entered her then, gently, but Elgiva wanted him now every bit as much as he wanted her. He felt her legs close around him, her hands on his shoulders, pulling him deeper inside her. Still Wulfrum held back, fanning the flame to a blaze that would eventually consume them both, reaching a peak of ecstasy so intense he thought he might die. Looking into the depths of the amber eyes beneath him, he knew it had been the same for her.

The intensity of the feeling took him by surprise. Nothing that had gone before compared to this. In his experience hitherto, women had been a means to an end. They satisfied a need and afterwards were quickly forgotten, but this Saxon wench had woven a spell that had him in its grip. He found himself thinking about her all the time, seeing her face, wanting her. He knew then that he would hold her till death.

Watching him closely, Elgiva saw his expression change as he looked at her and felt in her heart the stirrings of disquiet.
However, he reached out a hand and touched her cheek, brushing away stray wisps of her hair, his fingers tracing a line along her nose, across her lips and chin and thence down her throat to her breasts. Then he kissed her lightly. She could not fathom his mood, but it showed yet another side of him she had not seen before. It was new and disturbing and hinted at so much more to learn. Suddenly she wanted to know, all of it, for there could be no more pretence. She loved him, had loved him since that day in the forest glade when he had risked his life to save hers. If Ida had not prevented it on the night of the fire, she would have gone back into the flames, for the thought of a future without Wulfrum was inconceivable. He was as necessary to her as sunlight and breathing.

Seeing her preoccupation, he smiled down at her. ‘I never know what you are thinking.'

‘I was thinking about you.'

‘Good. What about me?'

‘I shall not tell you, for it would only make you conceited.'

He laughed. ‘I think it would not be easy for a man to be conceited too long in your company. You have a way of cutting us down to size. One look at those amber eyes and we crumble.'

‘You credit me with powers I do not possess, my lord.'

‘Not so. I must speak as I find.'

‘And what else do you find?'

‘A Saxon wench beautiful enough to make a man forget all others.'

Her expression was suddenly serious. ‘Have you forgotten them, Wulfrum?'

‘You are the only woman in my life now and always will be.' He leaned over and kissed her very gently. ‘You are my love, Elgiva.'

For a moment she stared at him in stunned surprise and then felt only intense happiness. His arms closed round her again and she laid her head against his shoulder, revelling in his near
ness and warmth. They lay thus in silence for some time until Wulfrum smiled and glanced down at her.

‘What?'

‘I was thinking that I want our son to be like his father,' she replied.

For a moment he did not stir, but then the import of the words struck him.

‘Elgiva?' He shifted his weight until he could see her face. ‘You don't mean…'

‘Yes, I do.'

‘Oh, my love. When?'

‘In the spring.'

‘That's wonderful!' Then another thought occurred to him and his face registered concern. ‘But you should have told me sooner. I might have hurt you.'

‘You haven't hurt me, Wulfrum.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Quite sure.'

He threw back the coverlet and looked at her, running a gentle hand down her body until he came to her belly. As yet he could detect no sign of the life within, but a fierce joy burned in his heart to think she carried his child, their child.

‘It will be a while yet before you see any sign.'

‘No matter. It is enough to know.'

He kissed her then, but too decorously for Elgiva's liking. Taking his face in her hands, she returned the kiss with passion.

‘Have a care, wench,' he warned. ‘You play with fire.'

‘No, my lord, 'tis you who play with fire.'

‘Were it not for your tender condition, I might have put that to the test.'

‘Let's put it to the test anyway.'

He was about to reply in kind, but found he couldn't, for her tongue was subtly probing his ear, sending a delightful shiver through his entire body and temporarily robbing him of the
power of speech. Then her lips moved to his chest, then lower and lower still. Wulfrum drew in a sharp breath.