MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves (35 page)

“Aye, Count Odo!” she murmured, and cast the stones out upon the ground.

Everyone was silent. The fire hissed and crackled.

“Well?” Odo demanded.

“You, milord, will march into the history of your nation. You will often be all that stands between life and death for what will one day be one of the greatest cities in the world. The warning, milord—hold strong, cling to those allies whose wisdom and strength will complement your own, who will hold fast to their loyalties at all times.”

“Fair enough!” Odo said, pleased. His hands set upon Melisande"s shoulders.

“And now for milady …”

“No!” Melisande said quickly.

“I will not cast them, if you should choose that I do not,” Brenna assured her.

“Come, come!” Odo said. “ "Tis all in the best of fun. The churchmen all sit there like muted birds. They will have their day tomorrow. Come, cast Melisande"s runes.”

Brenna collected her stones into her satchel and met Melisande"s eyes.

“Milady?”

Melisande shrugged. “Cast them.”

The stones fell upon the ground. Once again the fire snapped and crackled, and then it seemed to roar with a sudden rush of heat. Brenna looked up at Melisande. She pointed to a stone with a symbol like an X upon it. “It is called Gebo, and it indicates partnership, a gift. A fitting rune for this evening, milady.

There is no reverse for this rune, for the symbol indicates freedom, and all gifts flow from freedom. In a union of a man and woman, there is great giving.” She hesitated, but then pointed to another stone. “There might be danger in your way. This is Hagalaz; it indicates great disruptive forces, elemental power, upheaval, perhaps something of the gods, perhaps something of man. You must take care …” she murmured.

“Danger seems to surround my wife.”

Melisande jumped, turning to see that Conar had joined them and stood just behind her. Brenna looked up, startled to see him, too. She had just begun to set her finger upon another stone, but abruptly decided to gather them all up into the satchel again. She stared at Melisande and said only, “We all form our own destinies, in truth. The runes just warn us of stones that may lie in our paths. If you will excuse me, I will retire now, as I am weary.” She slid past them. Melisande noticed that Conar stopped Brenna, pulling her back. She was certain that he was quizzing her about Melisande"s runes.

But Brenna shook her head, and Conar released her. His gaze was upon Melisande.

“It is late indeed. I will see you up to your chaste, private quarters, milady,” he told her.

“I—”

“It is late,” he repeated, his fingers lacing around her arm.

He thanked Odo for his great hospitality, then escorted Melisande to the hallway. Odo"s house was vast, with several stories, but with many of the guest rooms right on a level with the hall. It was a wooden house, comfortable and warm.

Yet without the strength of stone.

Conar led her to the finely appointed room Odo had granted them for their stay, Melisande"s alone this evening—theirs to share again tomorrow night.

Except that he dragged her within it, tonight, closing the door hard behind him, leaning against it, watching her. “So what is it going to be, Melisande?

Have you so truly enjoyed your distance from me?”

“Perhaps,” she said. Her lashes were falling too swiftly over her eyes. She forced them to rise again, forced herself to meet his steel gaze.

“Aren"t you going to try to bargain again?” he asked her.

She smiled. “I rather thought it would be more enjoyable to stand by the altar and denounce you for a Viking.”

He smiled and came toward her, finding her wrists, dragging her against him.

“You"d never dare!” he challenged her.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Geoffrey will be among the guests tomorrow. He could seize upon you immediately.”

“Perhaps that makes no difference.”

“Nay, lady, I may be all manner of creatures, but I did not slay your father!”

“There are other men in the world!” she reminded him.

“But not many with my resources. Not many who have already laid claim to the fortress—and to you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If this is to be my last night of privacy—” He laughed softly, interrupting her. “So it is your last night!” She bit into her lower lip, struggling against his hold. “Not if you wish me to speak—”

He shook his head firmly. “Nay, Melisande, not that bargain! I will leave you tonight, for perhaps I have a few vigils of my own to stand! But I"ve told you time and time again, I will never let you go. And I will have you when I choose.”

“If you would just unwind your fingers from my wrist—”

“But you"re wasting such an excellent opportunity! Isn"t there something else you might crave, something you might desire in exchange for your ardent vow?”

She went still, staring warily into his eyes. “You would grant me something?”

“Indeed.”

She was startled, then her lashes fell again. A sweeping heat seared through her body, and her mouth was dry.

“What? You"ve come up with something, I feel it.”

She couldn"t quite bring her eyes to his. She tugged upon her wrists and he released her this time. She walked to the foot of her bed. paused, turned back to him.

“I want—”

“Yes!”

“I want you to cease sleeping with Brenna.”

“What?” he demanded, a curious tone to his voice. It felt as if her heart were sinking within her. He would rather give her up,
and
all her property, she thought.

But she met his eyes and spoke again. “I want your vow that you will not spend your nights with Brenna.”

“Sleep with her?”

“You"ve never spent the night with her?”

“Oh, yes, many nights.”

“Your word!”

“So you are jealous.”

“I am uncomfortable with my husband"s mistress beneath my roof and ever so near.”

“You"re jealous.”

“You started this. Do I have your promise or not?”

He smiled, a slow, lazy smile, and crossed his arms over his chest. He walked to her, cupped her chin in his hands, then pinned her to him when she would have escaped. His lips were very tender when they touched hers. “You have my vow. Except that you will grant me one concession in return.”

“I walk into the church tomorrow and claim you as my rightful lord and husband,” she said bitterly. “That is what you get!”

“Not enough.”

“What do you want?”

“What I have always wanted. You.”

Again her eyes fell. “You"ve assured me that you will have me when you want me—”

“Aye, and that I will. But for one night, if one night only, I want no fight, no restraint, no argument. My gift from you for our new vows. Wait, I want much more than that. I want you to come to me. Touch me. Awaken and arouse me.”

“You are jesting!”

“I am demanding! And I demand, too, that you be exceptional.” Once again she tried to wrench away from him. He dragged her back.

“Bathed and perfumed,” he said softly. “Willing and waiting … and eager!

Ready to tease and arouse and seduce.”

Her cheeks flamed with color.

“Your vow, Melisande.”

“But I don"t keep promises—”

“Except to me,” he reminded her again, his lip curving into a smile. He bowed to her then, quite suddenly, and before she could speak again, he was gone.

She quickly slid the bolt on her door. She hurried to the foot of her bed and sat upon it, shivering.

Jesu, what promise had he wrung from her?

Yet as she lay awake, she wanted the hours to pass, the day to come.

The night to fall again.

The church was spectacular in the morning, adorned with candles and flowers.

People had flocked from all around the countryside to attend the ceremony.

Indeed, even Geoffrey was there. Melisande saw him from the corner of her eye when Odo led her through the spectators to meet with Conar before the altar.

Her heart seemed to shiver as she stepped forward. He seemed like a god himself, his chausses dark, boots black, shirt and tunic pure white and trimmed with white fox, his mantle a sky blue, and rimmed with the same white fox.

She felt weak as she was handed to him, as they knelt together, as Bishop LeClerc announced slowly and carefully that they had come here today, man and wife already, to renew their love for God, and for one another, before the fine assembly gathered there, and before their heavenly maker. The union between man and wife was a sacred thing, and not to be entered into lightly.

And not to be broken by any man on earth.

He entered then into the mass, and it seemed to Melisande that it was a long one, endless, droning on and on.

Yet suddenly it was as if they had gone back in time. Back all those years, for Bishop LeClerc was asking Conar to state his vows, and he did so in a firm, clear voice.

Then Conar spoke to Melisande, and she could not find breath at all.

At her side, Conar grit his teeth hard, studying her. He had been stricken anew with his wife"s incomparable beauty when he had first seen her upon Odo"s arm.

They had dressed her in silver. A soft shimmering set of garments that both clung to her lithe and shapely form and floated around her with every movement. It was as fragile as precious metal, stunning. A veil of it, crested with a jeweled band, sat atop her ebony hair, and the inky darkness of her long locks contrasted hauntingly with the light silver. Her face, framed by the gossamer veil, was exquisite, her eyes alive, a deeper mauve than ever.

And now, while it seemed that all France waited, she knelt by him in silence.

His fingers curled around hers.

She gasped.

And the words tumbled from her mouth at last, the vows he had demanded spoken once again.

He slipped his old ring from her thumb, where it had stayed these many years, and put it back upon his own hand. He replaced this with a new band of etched gold, exquisite, upon her left center finger. His eyes met hers and perhaps there was something of his pleasure and triumph in them, for hers seemed to narrow and simmer.

He smiled, bowing his head, thinking of the night.

He had not begun to imagine what abstinence from her would do to him, and he had spent the days longing to hang Bishop LeClerc by his neck before that holy man could perform his holy deed.

But now that was past. He had only to wait for night.

He felt a tightening within himself, a longing so fierce, it was agony to remain still upon his knees. From the corner of his eye he looked at her again, and the force of her beauty swept him, along with greater emotions. He was possessive, she was his. They now had a long and curious history together.

Naturally he cared for her.

Nay, it was greater, far greater.

He would never let her go, he knew, because he could not bear to do so. He couldn"t think of her injured, or in the arms of another man.

Indeed, he could not imagine life without her. She created hell for him, she created heaven for him.

He was in love with her. She had set her claws into his soul all those years ago. Even when she had irritated him beyond belief, she had captured something of his heart with her spirit and with her courage.

Dangerous courage, he thought again.

But there seemed little to fear now. She was safe within the fortress, even if Geoffrey did prowl the woods. He"d try hard to see to it that he escorted her out often enough to make her feel a touch of freedom. And there would be times when they could sail away.

Time, he thought, they had time. Yet a shudder ripped through him, and he wondered why. She was his wife, had been his wife, and he would hold her forever. And he did love her.

One day, perhaps, he could even tell her so.

Melisande? Perhaps not. She was always so quick to seek her source of power. He dared never give her the upper hand in holding his heart.

She would rip it to shreds, he thought.

Yet he gazed at her with tenderness, longing for the feasting to be over now, longing for the night.

Would she keep her promise to him? In one way or another, for he could not keep his distance now. The dream had been with him through the long night, the desire, the aching, the anticipation.

A twinge of guilt assailed him. He had given her a promise that meant nothing, but it had been the one that she had demanded of him. And, her jealousy of Brenna had been surprising and pleasant to discover.

Ah, lady, he thought, meeting her violet eyes suddenly, feeling a stab of hunger so strong, it would have doubled him were he not upon his knees.

He realized that the ceremony was over at last. They rose, and to the great delight of the crowd, he appeased some of his hunger by sweeping her into his arms, bending her low, and kissing her with a taste of the long denied passion that roiled so furiously within his soul. Minutes passed, and still he tasted her lips, felt the desperate pressure of her hands. He lifted his mouth from hers at last, saw her dampened lips, her wide eyes. “Tonight,” he whispered softly, and felt the force of her tremor.

But she ignored him, and they started from the altar, making their way through the guests, accepting the words of congratulations of friends and allies and, Conar realized, drawing together many of the great barons as Odo had been so determined would happen.

They were parted for a time, returning from the church to Odo"s hall, where he found himself constantly surrounded by Odo"s men, intrigued by his ships, by the way his Irish and Vikings fought upon horseback, by his instruction in various methods of warfare. Each time he looked up, his wife was likewise surrounded, for the barons were eager to come close to her, to gaze upon her, and as many had been good friends of her father"s, they were eager to remind her that he had been a fine man. Sometimes Conar was close enough to hear her conversations, and he was intrigued. The barons assured her that they were still dependent upon the largesse and strength of the fortress. They were delighted that she had acquired such a husband, such a fine sword arm for their land.