Twin Passions (5 page)

So, it has been
that all along,
Anora thought, tears welling up in her own eyes. She knew
her sister's pain must be great, for she had rarely seen Gwendolyn cry. She
only hoped it was not too late to make amends.

Anora again took her sister's hands in her own, her
emerald eyes soft and pleading. "Gwendolyn, listen to me.
'
Tis true that I love Wulfgar more than life itself, but
that does not mean you hold any lesser place in my heart." Her voice
caught with emotion. "Please . . . please share in my happiness,
Gwendolyn."

Gwendolyn swallowed hard, overwhelmed with remorse at
her sister's words. She had been so selfishly concerned with her own feelings
that she had never even spared a thought for Anora's. She could feel the sense
of betrayal that had gripped her these past months melting away, replaced by an
even deeper humility. Somewhat wistfully, she wondered if she would ever find a
love as strong as that which shone from her sister's eyes. Aye, she could only
hope . . . She met her sister's gaze unflinchingly. "Forgive me, Anora,"
she murmured. "Truly, I do wish you well."

Smiling through her tears, Anora hugged her sister.
They both began to giggle, out of relief at first, but then with a joyful
hilarity that echoed about the small room. A soft rap on the door went
unanswered, until finally it grew into a loud, insistent knock. "Come in!"
Anora managed to choke out, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Edythe's graying head peeked around the door. Her tone
was gruff, but her eyes were twinkling. "If my ladies will only regain
their composure, so I may speak," she said with feigned exasperation. When
at last they had suppressed their laughter, she went on. "Lady Anora, your
mother has requested your presence in the great hall. All is in readiness and
your betrothed
awaits
!" With a wink and a merry smile,
she closed the door behind her,
then
suddenly opened
it again. "And that goes for you as well, Lady Gwendolyn!" Then she
was gone, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

"Oh, Gwendolyn, I cannot believe this moment has
finally arrived!" Anora exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes wide with
excitement. "Do you think he will be pleased with how I look?" she
asked nervously, smoothing the fine pleats of her sapphire tunic.

"You are only the fairest maiden in the land!"
Gwendolyn laughed and squeezed her sister's arm reassuringly. "Come, we
must not keep the guests—or Wulfgar—waiting."

Hesitating at the door, Anora turned suddenly to look
at Gwendolyn. "Tomorrow morning, before the games begin, would you like to
visit the grotto?" she asked excitedly. "It would be nice to see it
together for one last time, and we would have another chance to talk." She
knew how much their secret place meant to Gwendolyn, and she could not think of
a more meaningful gift for her sister.

Startled, Gwendolyn smiled in agreement, a warm glow of
happiness spreading through her at Anora's thoughtfulness. "Aye, we could
leave before sunrise, and be there and back before anyone even notices we have
been gone!" she exclaimed.

Giggling brightly at the thought of their adventure,
they walked quickly down the corridor, arm in arm.

Chapter 5

"My Lord Godric and Lady Bronwen, you do me a
great honor to prepare such a banquet," Wulfgar stated graciously, taking
his seat to the right of the earl, at the main table. Situated at one end of
the great hall and raised on a dais, the main table overlooked the vast expanse
of the hall and the four long tables that stretched across its length.

"The honor is indeed ours," returned Earl
Godric diplomatically, grasping Wulfgar's wrist firmly in a gesture of
goodwill. Having dispensed with the initial amenities, he nodded for the
several hundred guests in the hall to be seated.

Conversation and eager laughter resumed as the lords
and ladies, seated at separate tables in the Anglo-Saxon style, made themselves
comfortable. The evening promised to be quite a memorable one. The very fact
that King Edgar had arranged the marriage of an English noblewoman to a prince
of the Danelaw lent a heightened air of excitement to the evening.

The magnitude of the wedding festivities was also a
choice topic of furtive discussion. It was clear to the guests that no expense
had been spared, fueling the rumors that Wulfgar Ragnarson was as wealthy as he
was powerful. The night's feast would be followed on the morrow with a
tournament of games and wrestling matches, and would culminate in the wedding
ceremony and celebratory feast on the third day.

The festive scene in the large hall was illuminated by
great blazing torches and thick tallow candles set in candlesticks of beaten
gold and silver. Magnificent tapestries graced the massive timbered walls,
depicting fierce battles and deeds of bravery from days gone by. The earthen
floor had been swept and then strewn with fresh rushes. Bunches of lavender and
sage hung drying from the rafters, their sweet fragrance melding with the
pungent smells of roasting venison and fowl that wafted from the kitchen.

Servants rushed to and fro, endlessly filling and
refilling goblets from the huge kegs of ale and mead set against the walls.
Even a few of Earl Godric's favorite hunting dogs had been allowed to join in
the celebration. They lay in wait under the linen-clothed tables, their tails
wagging playfully, eager for any stray morsels that might be tossed their way.

Earl Godric looked out over the teeming hall, his
expression growing increasingly impatient. "It seems our daughters have
seen fit to keep us waiting," he whispered gruffly in an aside to his
wife. "By God, Bronwen, if Anora has changed her mind at this late hour .
. . !" Unable even to consider the possibility, he quickly turned his
attention to Wulfgar, who was inscrutably observing the crowd of guests.

Aware of the flirtatious glances being cast his way by
several bold ladies at a nearby table, Wulfgar averted his gaze to find the
earl regarding him closely.

"Humph! Lord Wulfgar, I take it your needs and
those of your men have been seen to adequately?" Slightly embarrassed,
Earl Godric wondered if he would ever become used to the fact that his daughter's
soon-to-be husband was a Dane, and a powerful one at that.

Surmising the earl's thoughts, Wulfgar smiled faintly.
His features relaxed. "Aye, more than adequately, my lord," he
replied, a twinkle in his eye.
What an
understatement!
he
thought fleetingly. Eager to
please, the earl's lusty servant girls had amply seen to his men's needs all
afternoon!

Wulfgar looked at his men, who sat at their own table
warily watching the festivities. He was glad there would be entertainment
during the feast. Somewhat uncomfortable himself amid all these Anglo-Saxons,
he could well imagine the thoughts of his battle-hardened warriors as they sat
among the people who had been their enemies for the last hundred years. Yet his
oath of allegiance to King Edgar was their oath as well, and they were
foresworn to maintain the peace. Wulfgar smiled grimly. He hoped that tonight
the musicians and jugglers would be enough for a diversion to prevent any
provocations or insults between his men and Earl Godric's thanes.

Earl Godric chuckled heartily at Wulfgar's answer, and
slapped him approvingly on the shoulder. "More ale!" he shouted.

Lady Bronwen glanced down the length of the hall, but
there was still no sign of her daughters. Growing somewhat nervous herself at
Anora's delay, she wondered if Gwendolyn might have something to do with it. As
much as she loved her daughter, she was very aware of her willful and
mischievous nature. She started to rise from her chair to go look for them,
when a roar of approval went up from the guests. Spying her daughters at the
foot of the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to Wulfgar. "My
lord, your betrothed awaits her escort," she announced softly.

Gwendolyn and Anora stood for a moment at the end of
the vast hall, blushing at the obvious stir they were causing among the guests.
Resplendent in their silken tunics, they were bathed in an ethereal glow from
the myriad candles, their silver-blond hair shimmering and catching the light.

Many of the guests, first-time visitors to the earl's
stronghold and having only heard of his daughters' legendary beauty, stared
awestruck as the sisters began to walk toward the dais. Truly, they made a
dazzling pair!

Anora could not tear her eyes away from Wulfgar's tall
figure as he made his way toward them. His steel blue eyes, boldly taking in
every aspect of her appearance, seemed to devour her. Feeling suddenly as if
her heart would stop, she forced herself to breathe steadily. Her memories of
him had not done him justice.
Sweet Jesu!
she
whispered to herself. She had never seen him look
more strikingly handsome!

His tall, lean body was clothed in a forest green tunic
richly embroidered with gold threads. Stretched tautly across his broad
shoulders and muscular chest, the tunic fell to his knees, meeting the tops of fine
leather boots. Wide gold bands glinted brightly at his wrists, and a heavy gold
chain and medallion hung around his neck. At the center of the medallion was a
blood-red ruby that sparkled in the candlelight. A wide, metal-studded belt
encircled his waist, from which hung the scabbard of his dress sword. Resting
one hand on the silver-engraved pommel, Wulfgar looked every inch the virile
warrior as he walked toward his betrothed with agile grace.

"Lady Anora . . . Lady Gwendolyn," he stated
formally in a low, resonant voice, bowing slightly as he stood in front of
them. Gwendolyn acknowledged him with a nod and a faint smile,
then
passed by him to take her seat beside Lady Bronwen.

"Welcome, my lord," Anora murmured, overtaken
by a sudden shyness. Trembling, she felt rooted to the ground. Wulfgar was
standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth emanating from his
strong body. His clean, male scent enveloped her senses.

Wulfgar took her small hand and lifted it to his lips,
gently kissing the delicate fingers. Anora's breath caught in her throat. She
looked up at him, her emerald eyes locking with his steely gaze in an unspoken
embrace.

"Come, Anora," he whispered huskily, offering
her his arm.

The assembled guests had been silent while they watched
this interchange with great interest, but they quickly resumed their hearty
shouts of good wishes as the handsome couple walked to the dais and took their
places side by side at the main table.

With a subtle wave of her hand, Lady Bronwen signaled
to the servants to bring in the food. Soon the long tables were groaning under
the weight of huge, steaming platters of roasted meat and smoked salmon. The
ravenous guests, amazed at the endless parade of dishes from the kitchen, soon
had their trenchers of thick, crusty bread piled high with succulent slices of
beef and fowl. All this and much more was to be washed down with ample
quantities of ale and honeyed mead. Savory side dishes of eggs with herbs and
roasted potatoes also accompanied the meal, as well as bowls of autumn
vegetables. And for dessert there were steaming puddings studded with choice
bits of dried fruits and nuts.

As the guests settled down in earnest to enjoy the fine
repast, their contented sounds of eating mingled with the merry conversation,
occasional belches, and boisterous laughter. Once in a while a loud yelp was
heard from under a table, where a well-placed kick to a growling hound would
settle a dispute over discarded food.

Musicians strolled among the tables strumming stringed
instruments, often stopping here and there to play a favored tune. Acrobats and
jugglers performed their daring feats for the astonished guests, while lively
jesters, clothed in multicolored costumes, teased and entertained with their
lusty tales and ribald jokes. Countless toasts were offered for the happiness
of the betrothed couple, and more than one red-faced guest collapsed into his
trencher in a drunken stupor.

Gazing at Anora, still blushing prettily from the last
bawdy toast, Wulfgar had all he could do not to draw her into his arms and
taste the sweetness of her lush lips. He regretted that such little
conversation had passed between them during the meal, but Earl Godric had kept
him occupied with a long discourse on the year's political events. He had listened
with half an ear, unable to concentrate fully on the heated talk of strategy.
Anora's slender beauty and the occasional innocent touch of her leg against his
sinewy thigh had been wrecking havoc on his senses all night.

Wulfgar took a long draft of ale from his silver
goblet, steeling himself to be patient. He had eaten well of the hearty fare
placed before him, but had drunk very little thus far. The warrior in him was
always on guard; and he preferred to keep his wits about him while in the household
of the earl. He leaned over toward Anora. "You have not eaten very much
tonight," he commented gently, looking at her untouched trencher.

The sound of Wulfgar's voice, deep and resonant, sent a
thrill racing through Anora. "I am not very hungry, my lord," she
murmured. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, unable to think of
anything further to say. She must appear a tongue-tied simpleton to him, she
thought, chiding herself. Hearing her father launch into another political
tale, she glanced up just as Wulfgar reluctantly turned his attention once
again toward his host.

She studied him unabashedly, drinking in the sight of
his ruggedly handsome features. His dark hair, almost black, fell in soft waves
to the collar of his tunic, while his steel blue eyes were framed by arching
black brows and a strong forehead. His commanding profile, strong jawline, and
the high-boned cheeks of his tanned face were a testimony to his Danish
heritage.