Come Back to Me (31 page)

Dragon grinned and looked at his brother, who leaned back in his chair and laughed. When Rycca appeared puzzled, Cymbra said, "I confess, when I noticed how attentive you are to Dragon's stories I was reminded of myself. At Wolf's and my wedding feast, I persuaded Dragon to tell a great many tales. He was the soul of patience."

"
He
was?" Wolf interjected. "I was the one with the patience. My dear brother knew perfectly well I was sitting there contemplating various possibilities for doing away with him and he enjoyed every moment of it."

"Now how could I have known that, brother?" Dragon challenged. "Just because the wine goblet you were holding was twisted into a very odd shape?"

"It was that or your neck,
brother
," Wolf replied pleasantly. He looked at Rycca reassuringly. "Don't worry, if I hadn't already forgiven him, that sword he gave me would force me to."

"It is a magnificent blade," Dragon agreed. "They both are. Every smithy in Christendom is trying to work out what the Moors are doing but…"

"It's got something to do with the temperature of the steel," Wolf said.

"And with the folding. They fold more than we do, possibly hundreds of times."

"Hundreds, really? Then the temperature has to be very high or they couldn't pound that thin. I wonder how much carbon they're adding—"

Cymbra sighed. To Rycca, she said, "We might as well retire. They can talk about this for hours."

Wolf heard her and laughed. He draped an arm over her chair, pulling her closer. Into her ear, he said something that made the redoubtable Cymbra blush.

She cleared her throat. "Oh, well, in that case, you might as well retire, too." Standing up quickly, she took her husband's rugged hand in her much smaller and fairer one. "Good night, Rycca, good night, Dragon. Sleep well." This last was said over her shoulder as she tugged Wolf from the hall.

Her obvious intent startled Rycca, who even now could not think of herself as being so bold, but it made both the Hakonson brothers laugh.

"As you may gather," Dragon said in the aftermath of the couple's departure, "my brother and his wife are happily wed."

"As are the Lord Hawk and Lady Krysta," Rycca said softly.

They were alone at the high table, those of Dragon's lieutenants who had shared it with them having taken themselves off earlier. Magnus had not been among them. He was away somewhere, visiting relatives or so Rycca had heard. She was glad of his absence for she could no longer deny the unease he prompted in her. A few servants still moved around the hall but the hour was late and soon they, too, would seek their beds.

The torches guttered low, casting long shadows across the center hearth left unlit on so pleasant a night. Shutters were thrown back to bare the windows, admitting a soft
breeze
. One of the many long, sleek dogs who frequented the stronghold was curled at Dragon's feet. Rycca found herself hard-pressed not to stare at her husband. To be fair, he was an excessively handsome man. His rugged features were perfectly formed, and as for the rest of him… She swallowed hastily. Probably the less she thought about his magnificent body right now, the better.

Quietly, Rycca said, "They are fortunate to have such happy marriages and doubly so, given the threat they faced."

Dragon reached for his wine goblet, twirling it idly between his fingers, but did not drink. Over the top of it, he regarded his lovely wife. She looked especially thoughtful this night. Her cheeks were flushed and fire seemed to dance in her eyes. He found himself staring at her mouth and looked away quickly. "Cymbra told you about Daria?"

"Yes, she did."

"I thought she would and that it would be better coming from her. You understand, of course, that the danger is passed. Daria will never be in a position to try to hurt anyone again."

"Cymbra told me she is in a convent."

"I would you had no misimpression. The convent in question treats the sick, including those disordered in their minds. The nuns are compassionate but no one's fools. They know what Daria did and tried to do. She is kept in closest confinement."

"And the priest?"

"The same at the chapter house of his order. He claimed little involvement save that he was in thrall to Daria but none believed that. Obviously, a man had to be at the center of their plotting."

"Why obviously?"

Dragon smiled. She was such a prickly little thing. How he adored soothing her, as he looked forward to doing shortly.
Very
shortly.

"Take no offense, my lady. I say that merely for practical reasons. The man who carried Wolf's message to Hawk, the letter proposing the alliance that set all this in motion, never returned. We presume him to be dead. While it is true Daria attempted to kill Krysta, we do not believe she could have killed a hale and hearty Norseman who was twice her size. By the same token, the response bearing Hawk's seal was brought by a Cornish trader who puts in frequently at Hawkforte and Sciringesheal. He is an honest man, known to both Wolf and myself. He said he was paid to bring it by a man wearing the Hawk's colors. We believe him but Daria had no authority over any of the Hawk's men and there is no reason to think any of them would have taken instruction from her."

"Has any man of the Hawk's ever come forward and admitted giving the message to the Cornisher?"

"No, which leads us to believe that man had reason to think the message could be false and has long since absented himself from Hawkforte."

"Or that he was never a Hawk's man to begin with, merely wearing the garb of one."

"Exactly. At any rate, whether he was one of the garrison or not, we doubt he took his orders from Daria. She was heartily disliked and treated with derision behind her back. No, there had to be a man involved, and that was Father Elbert." Dragon lifted her hand from where it lay in her lap and touched his lips gently to her smooth skin. "But you have nothing to fear from him either. The entire matter is over and done with."

He spoke with such assurance, and was so clearly convinced of the truth of what he said, that Rycca found it hard not to believe him. Yet did doubt linger. Even as they strolled together to their lodge and found there the private joy of their bed, some tiny portion of her mind continued to wonder at the man who seemed at the center of a plot to destroy the peace between two peoples. Try though she did to see him in the garb of a priest, he remained a shadowed figure, faceless and indistinct.

THE WOLF-EMBLAZONED DRAKAR SAILED ON THE next morning's tide. Even as it pulled away from the stone quay, Cymbra and Rycca were still talking to each other, the one on deck, the other walking alongside on the dock. They continued until they could no longer hear, finishing with a pledge to meet again soon.

"She is only a day away," Dragon said comfortingly. "As soon as the harvest is in, we can visit Sciringesheal. Will that please you?"

In the circle of his arms, Rycca nodded. A little shyly, she said, "It is just that I have never had a woman friend before, or many friends at all, for that matter. Thurlow was one such but—"

"I would be another," Dragon murmured as he lightly traced the curve of her lips with his finger. "Which, I admit, is not how I envisioned being a husband, yet have my expectations been enlarged."

Deeply touched, Rycca smiled. Because she was so pleased, yet also to hide the intensity of her feelings, she said, "I am glad to hear that, my lord, for I feared you disappointed."

"How so, lady, could I have given you such a notion?"

"Only that I have yet to rub your feet."

Dragon's laughter drew the startled gaze of the others on the quay. "You have heard that, have you? I plead in my defense that I was young and foolish."

"And now you are much older and wiser."

"Not much but a little, enough to know what is good in my sight and my life."

She blinked very quickly then because the sun was in her eyes and it made them tear. So she told herself but did not try for a moment to believe.

They walked back up toward the stronghold arm in arm but before they got very far, a shadow fell across their path.

Magnus smiled apologetically as he inclined his head to Dragon. "Your pardon, lord, but I have only just returned and I regret there is a matter that requires your attention."

"Now?" Dragon asked, his gaze still on Rycca.

"Regrettably so. There is cargo missing from a merchant vessel that docked a few hours ago. As you will understand, the captain is upset."

That did get Dragon's notice. "He is claiming it was stolen here?"

Magnus shrugged. "He is strongly suggesting that."

"No port is better guarded than Landsende."

"I know that, lord, as do you. But…" He spread his hands.

Dragon sighed. He turned back to Rycca. "Forgive me, but if there is a thief among us, it is best I discover that quickly."

"Of course, I understand."

"Magnus, see my lady—"

"No!" Rycca spoke so swiftly and so firmly that both men looked at her in surprise. She moderated her tone and even managed to smile though she was determined to avoid the trusted lieutenant's company at all cost. "It is only that I would prefer to spend a little time in the town. I have seen very little of it and it seems quite appealing."

"I am glad you feel that way," Dragon said, "but it would be better for you to have an escort."

Rycca laughed, though she was far from amused. "My lord, never in my life have I seen a better ordered or more secure place. Every man, woman, and child here honors you. If I cannot go among them in perfect safety, then nothing in this world is assured, not even the regular rising and setting of the sun."

Dragon looked at her in amusement. "You flatter me but it is true nonetheless, Landsende is a safe place. You may do as you wish, but do not tarry too long for I will be delayed only briefly."

She did not doubt him, for in his topaz eyes she saw not the lover she had come to know but the leader who would tolerate no disregard of his law or of his will. A tiny shiver ran through her as she spared a moment's pity for the hapless and ill-advised thief.

The men went off, Magnus walking beside his lord, and Rycca was left to her own devices. After, that is, Dragon was no longer in her gaze. Until then, she stood, simply looking after him. With a sigh for her own susceptibility, she set off into the town. Before she had gone very far, her progress was slowed by the greetings of every man, woman, and child she passed. Everyone knew her and it seemed all were pleased to see her.

The men were cordial but cautious, inclining their heads, sometimes murmuring a word of welcome, but doing nothing that could possibly, by the wildest stretch of imagination, offend their lord. The women were friendlier, exchanging comments with her about the pleasant weather and offering little gifts, a brightly polished apple, a cup of cool well water mixed with the juice of freshly crushed berries, a small cloth bundle of sweetly scented herbs to tuck into her gown. She accepted all with shy thanks as a warm sense of pleasure grew within her.

The children added to it for they were the most open of all, following her with frank curiosity and good cheer. When they realized she welcomed their company, the bolder among them made suggestions as to what she should see and do. She was introduced to a litter of pups born scant days before, to a lame hawk recovering from a broken wing in the cottage of the smithy, to an aged woman who kept a pot of honey drops and handed them out generously to all the children. Children who were unlike any Rycca had ever known at Wolscroft, happy children who danced around her, squirming in their young bodies, laughing and smiling, their faces flushed with health and confidence.

Tucked in the curve between water and hills, prosperous and at peace, Landsende would be beautiful to any eye. But to Rycca the children made it a place that seemed almost magical to her, as though she stood in the heart of the strange world she had soared into so unexpectedly when she went hurtling off the cliffside.

Gladly would she have spent the entire day with the children and well she might have were it not for the dark cloud that seemed to sail across the bright day. It happened so suddenly and so surprisingly that for several moments Rycca hung suspended, uncertain what to do. Coming around a corner with the children, she glimpsed a man who appeared familiar to her. He was in his mid-twenties, of medium height and slim build, dressed in simple garments a farmer or perhaps a sailor would wear, his brown hair loose at his shoulders and an intent, quick look on his slender face. A face she knew although for a moment she could not have said how. Then he slipped into place in her mind and she saw him there against the backdrop of the hall at Wolscroft, talking with her father.

A Wolscroft man here? In Landsende? How could that be? Mercia had no trade with the Norse, doing business with the Welsh and the tribes of Gaels across the Irish Sea. True, half of Mercia was under the rule of the Danes, but her father and the other Mercian lords in the half that remained English had nothing to do with them, fearing and loathing them as they did in equal measure.

Why then a Wolscroft man in Landsende? She must have been mistaken. After all, she had seen him for only a moment before he vanished around a corner toward the docks. Yet she found herself going in the same direction, to see if she might glimpse him again. She did not, and after a little while she began to feel foolish in her effort.

The children tried to draw her away, offering to show her the best places to fish in the streams just beyond the town. But before they could do so, Rycca caught sight of a large crowd gathered on one of the quays where a merchant vessel was docked. She moved closer, the children trailing after her, and tried to hear what was being said.

Dragon was at the center of the crowd. His simple garb worn for comfort and, Rycca suspected, ease of movement in combat, said little of his rank, yet there was no mistaking that he was lord here. In a crowd of supremely fit men bred for battle, his sheer size and strength singled him out. Yet was it his manner that revealed his power. His features were unreadable as he listened to a red-faced merchant sweating in his fine velvets.