The Wolf and the Dove (42 page)

Wulfgar relaxed. “Then you should have heeded her, Saxon.”

“She has no other to defend her honor, my lord, and I would but see the best for her. I have known her since she first came into the world, some ten and eight winters ago. I cannot bear to see her shamed.”

“I would do her no harm,” Wulfgar replied “The child can be sent to Normandy and none will know the circumstance. There are friends of mine who will see the babe properly tended and raised. The child will have far more advantages than I.”

Kerwick gazed at him. “Do you mean to send Aislinn away, too?”

“Of course not,” Wulfgar answered in some surprise. “We will go on as before.”

Now Kerwick snorted in derision. “Nay, lord, you may know women of the court, but I fear you have much to learn of Aislinn. She will not let her child go.”

Wulfgar scowled. “She will see the wisdom of it in time.”

Kerwick gave a short laugh. “Then take heed, my lord, until the act is met, say naught of it.”

Wulfgar raised a brow. “Do you threaten me, Saxon?”

Kerwick shook his head. “Nay, my lord, but if you wish to keep the Lady Aislinn at your side, speak nothing of this to her or to others who would warn her.”

Wulfgar peered at Kerwick and suspicion was heavy in his tone when he spoke. “Then you would keep the child here to mark my sins and keep alive some hatred for the Norman kin?”

Kerwick signed in frustration and lowered his head in a mock bow. “Again nay, my lord.” He raised his eyes to the other’s and spoke earnestly. “But, sire, do you think Aislinn to be a mild maid that you could snatch her child from her breast and send him across the seas? Would she then fly to your arms? Nay, could you long avoid her dagger’s point? Or could you heft yon blade and smite her before she fled or struck.” He held up a hand to halt Wulfgar’s reply. “Think well, my lord,” he cautioned. “You can have them naught or both.” He shook his head. “But never only one.”

Wulfgar stared at him for a moment, then returned in anger to his work. “Begone with you, Saxon. You task my temper. She will do as she is told.”

“Yea, my lord.”

The smirk in Kerwick’s voice made Wulfgar turn again and stare intently at the man. He read both contempt and disbelief in the young man’s face and opened his mouth to berate him, but Kerwick turned on his heel and left him gaping. He stood for a long moment with his mouth open then closed it and returned thoughtfully to his grooming of the Hun.

Aislinn was seated before the hearth in the bedchamber with only a blanket wrapped about her when she heard Wulfgar’s footsteps in the hall. They seemed slower than usual as if he were hesitant at entering the room. She bent over the soft linen chainse she was making for him, paying close attention to the small, neat stitches she was taking, and when he entered there was nothing about her to indicate her prior rage. He had seen her many times at this same task and in this same manner. Lifting her head, she smiled a greeting though he scowled and looked at her somewhat mistrustingly. Aislinn saw that he had washed in the stables for his hair was moistened around his face and the sleeves of his chainse were folded back.

“Are you feeling better?” he inquired.

“I feel fine, my lord. What of you?” she replied sweetly.

Wulfgar grunted a noncommittal response and began to disrobe, setting his clothes, as always, neatly aside and in their place.

Aislinn put away her sewing and rose from the blanket, drawing Wulfgar’s eyes as she crossed naked to the bed. She shivered as a cold draft caressed her and hurriedly climbed into the bed, drawing the pelts up high under her chin. She lifted her eyes to Wulfgar as he continued to gaze at her, but he turned away abruptly. She watched his movements as he banked the fire, and it was a long time before he finally moved to the bed. He unsheathed his sword to place on the floor. Though he no longer barred the door each night, this simple act he had not relaxed.

He stood for a moment staring down at her, his hands low on his hips and an ominous frown upon his brow. Aislinn rolled on her side, presenting her back to him, not giving him a chance to say whatever he had on his mind. After a time he blew out the candle and Aislinn felt his weight on the bed. He slid beneath the pelts but made no move to draw closer. Indeed, he seemed to lay tense and unyielding beside her. Aislinn shivered again, huddling beneath the covers. Usually he shared his warmth with her, but by his manner she knew he was of a different mood. Time passed slowly. When finally she turned she was startled to find his eyes fastened upon her in the glow of the fire, staring at her intently as if he would read her mind.

“Are you troubled, monseigneur?” she asked.

“Only by you, my love,” he replied. “What else there is would not delay an ant.”

Aislinn rolled back to her former position and lay quietly, feeling his unrelenting gaze upon her. The moments slipped by, seeming to lag on each new borning of time, and still he made no move to draw closer.

“I’m cold,” she complained softly.

He came a small measure closer yet not enough to share the heat of his body. Aislinn could not hold back another shivery spasm and after a long pause he finally came near enough to do some good, but he lay with only his chest against her and his whole body rigid.

A thousand thoughts in Wulfgar’s mind fell away under the onslaught of just one. The soft press of Aislinn’s skin against his chest drove his imaginings to other parts of her body, the full ripe breasts, pink and creamy ivory, velvet smooth beneath his hands; the long legs, slim and lovely, straight and perfect; those narrow hips—

Aislinn almost started as she suddenly felt Wulfgar’s body fall against her own. His arm settled tight about her and her eyes opened wide as his hands went on with things that had nothing to do with warming. He turned her and she stared for a moment into the gray eyes, hard and shining with his desire.

“You know what I want,” he murmured huskily before his mouth lowered and moved over hers.

Wulfgar first tasted the coolness of her mood while his hand enjoyed full freedom of her body. But he persisted. His lips stayed and nibbled and played, parting hers in fierce, hungry kisses that left her breathless. Aislinn felt the chill no longer. Indeed, the coals of her ardor were fanned aflame until they all but consumed her. A soft, rather forlorn moan escaped her as she slid her arms about his neck and her lips yielded to the intensity of his. Wulfgar knew once more he had broken through the ice that encased her. Her month now clung to his and she answered his deep thrusts with all the vigor in her trembling body. In this moment they took and gave until they were fused as one in the heat of their passion. Wulfgar’s lips brushed against her brow, her ear, and the soft scent of lavender rose to fill his head. He pressed his face against her throat and his lips seered her with their warmth. Aislinn quivered beneath him, turning her face to meet his and as his name escaped her with a quick, sighing urgency
his mouth took hers again and they were caught in a whirlwind that swept them on its twisting currents to unfathomable heights, thrusting them ever upward until it released them and they seemed to float, entwined in their mutual bliss.

Wulfgar rose and gazed down at Aislinn, now still and sleeping soundly. A light frown troubled her brow and her lips were parted as she breathed. The red gold hair was spread among the furs and her shoulders were white and soft. He shook his head, befuddled with her moods, and his thoughts drove away sleep. He slipped on his chausses and tunic and made his way quietly from the room down into the hall. Bolsgar was there relaxed in his chair before the hearth, sipping from a chalice of choice vintage. Wulfgar dragged another chair beside the older man’s and after pouring himself a cup from the same skin settled himself into it. The two of them watched the hissing logs for many moments in silence before the old man spoke.

“What troubles you, Wulfgar?”

Another long moment passed before the younger man answered with the question that tormented him.

“Where lies the bend of a woman’s mind, Bolsgar?” he sighed. He turned his face to the other’s and the gray eyes frowned in painful thought. “Does she torment me thus, caring naught for me or seeking vengeance?”

“Poor fool,” Bolsgar chuckled. “A woman is the softest yet the sharpest steel this earth can bear. She must be coddled and tended ceaselessly. She is a weapon to be hurled into the fiercest fray but to serve you well must be whetted and honed and protected and above all kept close beside you.” He smiled. “And ‘tis even said that the best of blades must be bound by an oath of loyalty.”

“Bah!” Wulfgar snarled. “I have always purchased my blades with a handful of coin and then carefully set down how they would be shaped.”

“Yea,” Bolsgar answered. “But with my words remember this: the blade is tempered well to pare life from a simple husk. Woman’s lot is to start life anew within her, to bring it to its borning and nurture it from that day forth.”

Wulfgar raised his brows and stared at the old man again before he rejoined. In his mind he discarded Bolsgar’s statement. He turned to the fire in anger.

“I know naught of these wiles and have little need for further oaths and bonds. I am sworn to William and his crown and to Sweyn as a good companion. I have no urge to venture further. I see it that I must live this life as well I may.” His voice grew harsh and sneering. “Women are but softlings which I use. They pleasure me and if I give them pleasure in return, what more? Should this be bound about with fancy trappings and entered into a moldy tome in some dark abbey?” He paused in his tirade then continued more gently. “Or better set in a moment’s splendor and then called fair and just and remembered with tenderness.”

Bolsgar leaned forward in some ire. “We speak not of women, Wufgar, but of one. There comes a time in each man’s life when he must face the full image of all that he has done and know how well he’s gone or if he’s failed.” He shrugged his shoulders and settled back in his chair. “I failed.” He stared into the fire. “I take no pleasure from what I see. All that I have done has led to pain or naught. I have no lands. I have no arms. I have no sons. The very best I claim is a daughter soured with this world. In anger I rejected that which I would have held.” He turned to Wulfgar with an earnest plea. “You have a chance, a beautiful woman, wise, worthy to walk at your side to Heaven’s gate itself. Why do you blunder about and play the fool? Do you detest her? Do you seek vengeance for some imagined wrong?”

He seized Wulfgar’s shoulder and turned him so they faced each other.

“Do you torture her because she has injured you? Would you see her kneeling on the floor to beg for mercy? You’ve used her, first with force and now with candor. You take her openly each night and make her whore on the lips of all and give no promise for tomorrow. If you seek revenge, cast me out. I did you wrong. Or Gwyneth. She cuts you every moment with her tongue. But this one, what has she done that is not your bidding? You are a fool indeed if you cast her from you, or if you stumble on your pride and turn her thus away. If this be your way, you are the same in my eyes as a dim-witted warrior who roars in his cups of what a hero he might have been—if only.”

Had this been another man he would have long been seeking in the rushes for his teeth, yet Wulfgar looked into the furrowed face and could raise no hand. He shrugged the restraint away and rose.

“I can stand no more,” he said between clenched teeth. “First her, then Kerwick, now you. I vow that simple Hlynn will set upon me in a rage before this night is out.” He squared his shoulders and glared at Bolsgar. “She will bear the child where she will, and mine or nay, I will send it where I will.”

He stopped at the surprise in the old man’s face.

“Do you say that Aislinn is already with child?” Bolsgar asked.

“You did not know?” It was Wulfgar’s turn at surprise. “It seemed that everyone knew but me.”

Bolsgar’s manner became insistent. “What will you do now? Will you wed the maid as well you should?”

Wulfgar’s anger returned and he gritted his teeth again as he half shouted, “I will do what I will!”

With a final glare he turned away and strode angrily up the stairs to his chamber. As he entered the room Aislinn was sitting up in bed with a frightened look about her, but when she saw him returning she smiled her relief and laid down again, curling on her side. His anger could not last and soon he lay curled around her and they went to sleep.

Wulfgar strode down the stairs the next morning somewhat later than usual. Sweyn and Bolsgar were already into their meal as were the other men in the hall. At his appearance the two men ceased their conversation. While Bolsgar bent to his food, Sweyn leaned back in his chair and boldly stared at his lord with amusement sparkling in his pale blue eyes. A chuckle shook his broad shoulders as he continued to gaze at him and there was no need for Wulfgar to be told that the news that Aislinn was with child had spread a bit further. As Wulfgar took a seat the Viking passed him meat and boiled eggs. His voice fairly boomed in the hall as he spoke, making the serfs and those Normans who understood the tongue of England turn and listen with acute interest.

“So the wench is with child, eh?” He chuckled again. “What does she have to say on the matter? Is she effectively chastened and ready to call you master now?”

Wulfgar glanced up toward his men and knew by their gaping faces that they had heard Sweyn clearly. Miderd and Haylan had stopped in their serving and Hylnn straightened from over the kettle to turn and stare at him with mouth slack in surprise as Kerwick continued to pay close attention to his chore.

“Sweyn,” Wulfgar muttered. “There are times when your mouth far outpaces your mind.”

The Norseman threw back his head and guffawed his delight then choking down his amusement, clapped Wulfgar heartily on the back.

“ ’Tis a secret that’s bound to be known sooner or later, my lord. It would be different if the maid were stout, but being lean she has no chance of holding the matter hushed for long.”

His voice gentled somewhat as he leaned near, yet everyone now was most attentive to his conversation and sat eagerly awaiting his next words. There was no strain placed upon their ears, for Sweyn’s voice seemed to echo in the hall.