Dream of Me/Believe in Me (92 page)

“A fortnight past at Winchester.”

This prompted much pounding on the back and good wishes that continued up to the moment the pair walked past the guard towers and Dragon spotted Krysta. He didn't hesitate but swooped her up in his arms, gave her a big hug, and kissed her—chastely on the forehead. Even so, Hawk was scowling when her feet next touched the ground and Dragon could not contain his laughter at the sight.

“Is that an imp of jealousy I see on your shoulder, my lord? You who were so loath to marry?”

“He was loath?” Krysta asked. Surprise loosened her tongue. “But I was the one who said we shouldn't wed.”

“You what?” Dragon asked with such obvious intent to cajole the story from her that the outcome was inevitable. Hawk groaned and ushered them quickly into the hall, where he wasted no time calling for ale.

Krysta stumbled over her response, trying to be discreet, but Dragon was soon roaring with laughter and casting chiding looks at Hawk. “It took you how long? Two weeks, and you had to drag her to Winchester to get it done?” He shook his head in amazement. “All for a tale spun by that half-wit Sven?”

“That's right,” Hawk said firmly before Krysta could reply. “A half-wit's tale, but my wife is a sensitive sort and she took it to heart. By the way, sweetheart, your dowry so overloads two merchant ships that they look in danger of foundering.”

“My dowry? But I have none. Sven said—”

“Sven has decided the climate in the Holy Land suits him better than that of Vestfold,” Dragon said smoothly. “His lands are given to the husbands of his sisters, the rest of his possessions are yours.”

Her eyes widened. She thought to ask what had caused so sudden a change in her half-brother but decided she would rather not know. “My father was a skilled warrior and even more able at trading. He left Sven very well off.”

“Left
you
very well off,” Dragon corrected. He glanced around. “Good thing Hawkforte's as large as it is. You're going to need the room.”

Krysta thought of all the wedding presents she had only just managed to find places for and groaned. That set off a fresh round of amusement between the men. They remained in high good spirits through supper, during which Dragon renewed his acquaintance with the red-
head, who blithely shoved aside anyone else trying to serve him and took that task entirely upon herself.

Watching her, Krysta remembered her own brush with jealousy and reddened. Her cheeks warmed yet further when Hawk leaned over and suggested they retire early since their guest obviously planned to do the same.

Making love under the stars was thrilling but there was also a great deal to be said for their big bed high up in Hawk's tower room. He was in a mood to be indulgent and gave her free rein to explore the body so very different from her own and so very tantalizing. She lingered over him, her hands and mouth drifting languidly across his broad, heavily muscled chest, following the arrow of fine golden hair that ran down his abdomen and thickened at his groin. She could not get enough of him. When he groaned, his hands clenching into the mattress in the struggle not to seize her and be done with it, she finally took pity. Tossing back the tangled mane of her hair, she lowered herself slowly onto him. He grasped her hips, guiding her even more cautiously, and remained still within her despite the effort that so dearly cost him. His features were taut, sweat beading his forehead, when Krysta began to move.

Even then he would not allow her complete freedom but controlled the pace of their lovemaking until she thought she could not possibly bear any more. Her head dropped onto his chest and her back bowed as he continued to move within her slowly, lingeringly, an exquisite torture that ended finally in an explosion of release that made her oblivious to all the world.

When she returned to full awareness, she was still lying atop Hawk and he was gently stroking her back. She raised her head and looked at him chidingly.

“That was very unfair.”

He raised an eyebrow and said, “But effective, you can't deny that.”

Krysta was well aware of her unbridled response. “I have no restraint where you are concerned,” she admitted. The smile he gave her was boldly male, prompting her to add, “And sometimes you have too much.”

He said nothing but only drew her closer, turning onto his side and tucking her into the curve of his body in a gesture that was oddly protective. “Go to sleep,” he murmured and promptly did the same.

I
T WAS LATE THE FOLLOWING DAY WHEN KRYSTA RE
-membered Daria's wish to show her around Hawkforte. She would have thought of it sooner but scarcely had she appeared than Aelfgyth found her. Her maid looked flustered, her soft brown hair in tangles around her face, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh, my lady, thank heavens! Edvard, that clodhead, finally saw fit to mention that Lord Hawk has decided to honor our wedding with a feast. The gown my mother and I were making is far too simple and neither of us has any idea what to do. I should have considered all this when I agreed to wed a man of Edvard's stature but now I'm afraid he will be ashamed of me and …” She looked close to tears.

“Now, now,” Krysta said reassuringly as she hugged the young woman, “everything will work out fine. You've seen the bolts and bolts of cloth we brought back from Winchester. We'll just pick out whatever you like best and get to work on it right away.”

Aelfgyth looked tempted but shook her head. “I cannot ask you to—”

“You needn't ask at all. I'm simply saying that is what we will do. Come along and dry those eyes. You don't want Edvard to see you like that, do you? He'll think you're having second thoughts about marrying him and you'll find yourself whisked off to Winchester!”

The absurdity of that made Aelfgyth laugh. The two young women climbed to the tower room Krysta thought to make into a solar modeled on Queen Eahlswith's. The chamber looked east and south with wonderful light for sewing. It had been used to store weapons but Hawk had graciously agreed to remove them. That had yet to be done completely, with the result that bolts of glorious fabrics, embroidery frames, and the like shared space with swords, lances, and shields.

Krysta moved a particularly large shield out of the way and reached for a length of azure-blue silk that was strewn with tiny stars. She held it up eagerly. “What do you think of this? It matches your eyes and I think it would go very well with your coloring.”

Aelfgyth looked from the fabric fit for a queen to her mistress and back again. Stunned, she said, “My lady, I cannot possibly take anything like that.”

“Cannot ask, cannot take.” Krysta rolled her eyes. “We shall be here all day at this rate.” As though suddenly speaking to herself, she went on, “What can I say to convince her? Shall I mention how overwhelmed Edvard will be when she comes to him so garbed? How he will forget every other woman who has ever crossed his path and give thanks for the great good fortune that makes Aelfgyth his wife? Or should I point out that she should begin as she means to go on and to be the wife of such a man is no small thing?” Turning her gaze back to her bemused friend, she said, “Think grandly, Aelfgyth! Transform yourself. I became a maid that I might be a wife. Surely you can become a lady for the same good purpose.”

Looking again at the fabric, Aelfgyth let out her breath slowly. “I have scarcely slept since he asked me. I said yes so quickly after so many months of longing for him. But I didn't let myself think at all.”

“Thinking is highly overrated,” Krysta said briskly. “I certainly did far too much of it. Come now, let us find
your mother, who I happen to know has a wonderful hand with a needle, and get to work.”

The morning sped by but before it was through, the women were interrupted by the shouts of men rising from the yard below the soon-to-be solar. Krysta glanced out a window and her heart sank. “They must be unloading the ships.”

Aelfgyth and her mother joined her at the window, both exclaiming in amazement. Several dozen burly Vikings were dragging chest after chest, crate after crate, and bale after bale up the road from the harbor. Truly, there seemed no end to the procession. A raven flew overhead, seeming to supervise the operation.

With a heavy sigh, Krysta put aside her sewing and went down to the great hall, followed by both women. Hawk and Dragon were there. As each chest or crate or bale was brought in, it was opened for their inspection.

“Furs,” Dragon said, waving a hand at what to Krysta looked like a mountain of them. “Gold, much in plate and ornaments but much more in coin … spices, several years' supply I think … salt—apparently Sven put a very high value on salt for he had an extraordinary amount of it. You should never have to buy any again.”

He went on, pointing out intricately carved chests of wood and beaten gold, vividly colored pottery dishes, goblets inlaid with jewels, and then as though that were not enough, a parade of weapons, some of which Krysta recognized from her father's visits. His sword was there, a mighty blade with a hilt that held a large ruby, and his shield scarred in many battles.

Seeing her expression, Hawk picked up the shield and held it carefully. “This will always have a place of honor in my hall. It will be mounted beside my father's shield.”

As she smiled her thanks, Dragon said as though in passing, “By the way, the ships that carried all this are also the Lady Krysta's.”

Hawk looked startled for a moment, then laughed out loud. Krysta was too overcome to react at all. From the belief that she came to her husband without family or fortune to discover that she was instead an heiress of great wealth was more than she could contemplate. She decided not to try, but she did store away in her heart an especially grateful thought for the Lord Dragon and his fearsome brother, the Wolf, whom she suspected had plotted together to restore her honor.

When the crates, chests, and bales had been stored away and good progress made on Aelfgyth's gown, it was time for supper. This proved a jovial affair with Dragon spinning his tales once again, drink flowing freely, and Saxon and Norse affirming the peace between them in good fellowship. It was only when Krysta saw Daria coming into the hall accompanied by Father Elbert that she remembered her intent to tour Hawkforte with her sister-in-law. But just as she was about to speak to Daria about it, Dragon began another story and the thought fled her mind once more.

She did remember it again but that was much later, just as she was drifting off to sleep in Hawk's arms. Morning came in a rush, Hawk announcing that he was taking Dragon hunting, Aelfgyth and her mother appearing early and bubbling with yet more thanks for the gown they all three continued working on, and toward midday the happy news that the tanner's wife had birthed healthy twin girls, which turned Krysta's thoughts again to the possibility that she was with child. The sun seemed to speed across the sky and it was night again before she thought of Daria, too late once more to do anything about it.

So did most of a week pass. Krysta found herself occupied from dawn to dusk with her new duties as Lady of Hawkforte and from dusk to dawn with the pleasures accompanying that high estate. She existed in a haze of happiness
that was at once sensual and more. With a swiftness she could scarcely credit, Hawkforte had become her home. For the first time in her life, she was part of a community that accepted her simply and entirely as a normal woman. The story Sven had told was forgotten, dismissed as the rantings of a dullard. She was met with warm smiles everywhere she went, honored as the wife of the lord but also appreciated just for herself. Deep inside her in a place she had never really wanted to think about, she finally felt whole.

Which was not to say that her past was entirely wiped away. Raven came often during the day, appearing suddenly in the solar, and even struck up a friendship with Aelfgyth and her mother, both of whom could not get over Raven's skill at plaiting baskets.

“Try doing it without hands,” Raven snorted as she deftly twisted long strands of cane. “This way will forever seem easy.”

If that struck the women as an odd remark, they were far too polite to say so.

Thorgold too visited regularly and was introduced to Dragon, who seemed already to know him.

“Have we met somewhere?” the Viking lord asked the first evening they sat at supper together. He looked at the small, darkly bearded man closely. “In Vestfold … I think. Somewhere near a bridge … ?”

Thorgold coughed into his ale and shook his head. “Nay, lord, I doubt that. Very little time I spend around bridges, very little indeed.” He cast a quick look in Krysta's direction as she frowned.

“No, I'm sure it was a bridge. You challenged me to pay your toll and I said I'd trade you a story instead of a coin. We ended up drinking the night away, swapping tales. You had some damn good ones. Trouble was, come morning I couldn't really remember them and you were gone.”

“Ah, well, that's the way of it. Joyful nights, sorrowful mornings.” Thorgold shrugged abashedly and gestured to a serving boy. “I'll have a bit more of that ale, if you don't mind.”

Hawk changed the subject just then but Dragon continued to look puzzled off and on throughout supper. Still, it didn't seem to hinder his enjoyment. Indeed, everyone was in high good spirits save for Daria and Father Elbert, who remained present yet aloof. They reminded Krysta of gray ghosts flitting about the manor, disconnected from the life of the place yet unable to leave it.

And for that she felt responsible, for surely once Daria had completed what she thought was her duty, she would be free to do as she wished and take holy vows. That she seemed an unlikely candidate for the convent made no difference and surely it was not Krysta's place to judge her but rather God's.

A week after Dragon's arrival, when all the dowry goods had finally been put away and Aelfgyth's gown was well in hand, Krysta went in search of Daria. It was late afternoon. Hawk and Dragon had gone hunting again and had not yet returned. Aelfgyth and Edvard were stealing a little time together. The day was warm for early fall. Bees still buzzed among the last flowers clinging to sheltered spots near the walls. It was that quiet time when much of the labor of the day was done but people had not yet begun their preparations for supper. Even the port was quiet.