The Viking Takes a Knight (12 page)

“John, I asked you what you are doing.”

He turned to confront her. “Do you care?”

“Care what? That you are messing up all my shelves?”

Her
shelves? He grinned and proceeded to make an almighty big mess, tossing fruit, jars, spices, and various other foods onto a table in the middle of the room. “We are going for a ride.”

“We?”

“You and I.”

“Why?”

“I have something to show you.”

“Methinks I have already seen it.”

“Not that, sweetling.”

“Do not call me sweetling.”

“Why…sweetling?”

She bared her teeth at him and growled.

“You are getting quite good at that.”

She blew out a breath of frustration. “What am I getting quite good at?”

“Snarling at me.”
And other things.
He put an arm over her shoulders. “Will you come with me for an hour or two? I would like to show you a special section of Hawk's Lair. It will give us privacy to talk.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “As long as talk is all you have in mind.”

“Of course.”
Ha, ha, ha!

With Ingrith perched on the horse in front of him, John had the opportunity to tease her at will. A forearm brushing against a breast. A hand inadvertently touching the delta of her thighs. His raging enthusiasm pressing against the crease of her buttocks.

He had been taking it as a sign of her receptivity when she didn't protest…until she raised her rump and sat down hard on his bulging enthusiasm, which was instantly no longer bulging. “Oops,” was all she said. It was enough.

They finally arrived at their destination, and he helped her dismount.

“Oh, my! The scent is fantasic here. What is it?” She visibly sniffed the air. “I know. Roses.”

He smiled at her correct guess. Tethering the horse and grabbing his saddlebag and blanket, he said, “Come.” With their fingers laced, he led her up to the top of a rise.

She gasped at the sight below.

Rows and rows of roses of all colors from white to darkest red provided a spectacular picture over
more than a
sulung
of land. Six beehives were arranged in the midst.

Turning to him, she said, “It is like a painting. Almost too beautiful to believe.”

“I bring back rose cuttings from wherever I travel, even when fighting for my king in other lands. My family members do the same. Not all roses thrive in this climate, but many do.”

He walked to one of the nearest bushes and used his knife to cut the stem and clip off the thorns.

When he handed the bloodred rose to her, she seemed overcome with emotion. “Thank you for sharing this place with me.”

“Am I forgiven?”

She pretended to be unsure, but then she squeezed his hand. “Of course. I was at fault as well for losing my temper.”

He spread the blanket and emptied the food out of the saddlebag, handing her the flagon of wine to pour into two small cups. Once he'd arranged himself in a reclining position where he could view the flower fields and he'd taken a sip of the red wine, he glanced over at her, in a similar position.

“I missed you last night,” he told her.

She turned on her side so she could see him better. “I missed you, too.”

“I had every intention of seducing you here today, but I have changed my mind. I will not be making love to you.”

“Oh, please! You are not going to start the ‘I will not marry you' nonsense again!”

He smiled and tapped her playfully on the chin. “That is not what I was going to say. I am proving to you that you are more than sex to me. Not an experiment, as you said.”

“And by doing so, who are you punishing? Me or you?”

He chuckled. “Not a punishment, you willful wench. If I had set about a seduction, you would have protested that, too.”

And so they ate the food and drank the wine and talked about inconsequential things. His goals for the honey experiments. Her plans for the orphanage. Funny stories of his being a Saxon growing up in a Viking keep. Funny stories of five Viking sisters being on the run after killing a villainous earl.

There was not even one kiss or caress. Even so, John knew that he treaded dangerous territory. He was falling in love with a Viking princess.

When he yawned widely, and she followed suit, he lay down on his back and pulled her to his side with her cheek on his chest and his arm around her shoulders. Under the warm, summer sun, the previous night took its toll, and they fell asleep.

In his dream, John was making love to Ingrith. Really making love. And it was wonderful. Except…

Cough, cough, cough!

He was about to thrust inside her dream body.

Cough, cough, cough!

Only gradually did he realize that it was not Ingrith coughing, or him. He slowly opened his eyes to see an amused Hamr standing over them.

Immediately, he set a drowsy Ingrith aside and stood up. “You are back.”

“Obviously.”

“And?”

“Loncaster was at my back. I expect he will be here by nightfall.”

“Whaaaat?” Ingrith shrieked, jumping to stand at his side. Addressing Hamr, she scolded, “You stand there like a fig tree taking all the time in the world. Do you not recognize the danger?”

“All is well back at the keep. Bolthor and Ordulf have the children in hand. They'll pretend everything is normal. And you two…well, there will be no doubt in Loncaster's mind that his affections for Lady Ingrith are not being returned.” He stared meaningfully at the mark on her neck and their rumpled clothing.

When they got back to the keep, everything was surprisingly calm. They dismounted in the stables, and Ingrith was about to rush off when John grabbed her forearm, pulling her into a hug.

Against her ear, he whispered, “Loncaster will not prevail. This I promise you.”

She leaned back to gaze up at him. With tears in her eyes, she stunned him with those most un
welcome words: “I love you.” Once a woman uttered that declaration, it was the beginning of the end for him…although he hadn't had much of a beginning yet with Ingrith.

“Ingrith,” he chastised. “We agreed.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, do not get your
braies
in a twist. Besides, I told you…um,
that
before.”

“Nay, you did not say
that
. What you said was, ‘I
think
I have fallen in love with you.' There is a vast difference.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

Probably
.

“The words just slipped out. Forget I said them.”

Hah!
Not bloody likely
. “Those are words that cannot be unsaid.”

“Let me modify them then. I want you.”

“I want you, too.”
More than you know.
“Does that mean you will do that one thing I told you they do in the Arab lands? The one with the marble wand.”

“You are being unnecessarily loutish. Let me modify my words even more. I do not want you. In fact, I wish I had never come here. Go away. I have better things to do than prattle with you.” She threw the rose he had given her at his chest.

I could have handled that better.

Before he could respond, not that he had anything to say, she was off to organize the world, or leastways his keep. You had to love a woman like that.

He only wished he could.

T
he terrible trouble arrived…

I am pitiful.

Ingrith came to that conclusion immediately upon having blurted out those three words that she knew shocked John into speechlessness. He had made it more than clear from the beginning that her softer affections would be unwelcome; so, he must view her declaration as a betrayal of sorts.

In her defense, she'd been unable to help herself, so overcome had she been at the realization that for the first time in her life she was in love. Who wouldn't be, after that visit to the rose garden? But, if she'd thought even for a second, she would have kept her big mouth shut.

He doesn't want me, and I have to accept that
, she told herself over and over as she bustled about the keep instructing the children on their behavior once Loncaster arrived, mostly to say nothing. She gave several of them, including Henry, a last-minute head shave. By her count, there
were fifteen boylings and twenty-two men with bald heads. Henry would stick by Ordulf's wife, Anne, alongside their daughter Beth; Anne would be holding a baby, the implication of course that Henry was Ordulf and Anne's son. Luckily, Anne had blue eyes, like Henry's.

Maybe I could seduce John into changing his mind
, she argued with herself, watching him from across the hall as he donned a
brynja
under a black surcoat. What a different picture from the man who only wanted to work with bees! A sword was sheathed on one side of his waist and a long knife on the other. His men were stationed throughout the keep and courtyard with deliberate displays of arms. Loncaster would know he was coming into a hostile environment.

But, nay, even if I had the seduction skills, John's reluctance is not about good lovemaking. John has good reason not to marry. To him marriage entails children.
When he glanced her way, and their eyes held, she knew that he was unhappy about her declaration of love. Maybe he was having the same troubling thoughts she was.

Walking up to her, he asked, “Are you ready?”

She nodded.
Mayhap if I agreed to never have children…Nay, that wouldn't work. We'd never last a month, let alone a lifetime, sharing a bed without consummation. Eventually, he would find a woman with whom he could complete the sex act. A woman unable to conceive.

“Why do you look so doleful?”

Could he really be that thickheaded?
“I'm afraid Loncaster will get me alone.”

“I'll stick close to you, if I can. Otherwise, Hamr will be nearby.”

She nodded again.
I need to face facts. Someone like Joanna is more suitable.
“John, about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it. It was a jest.”
Believe that, and I have a desert to sell you in Iceland.

“Nay, nay, nay! Those are words that cannot be taken back.”

What? Is he saying he welcomes the words? Or is he pricking me at the idiocy of my sentiments?
“Well, don't worry that I will be doing anything about it.”

“Like what? I have an idea.” He grinned. Then he winked at her.

And with just that twitch of his lips and wicked wink, she was hopeful. Maybe they had a chance after all.

“You could come to my bed furs tonight. I'll show you the marble wand.”

Not so hopeful after all. It still came down to loveplay. Half-baked loveplay, in her opinion, if all it encompassed was sex.
Why can't I be content with just that?

There was no opportunity to pursue the subject further, because the sound of horses' hooves on the wooden drawbridge echoed through the open double doors of the hall.

John squeezed her hand and was off to join
a contingent of his men who waited outside. A greeting party, so to speak.

She stepped up to the doorway and watched as Loncaster and a dozen armed men dismounted. Immediately John approached Loncaster, and they began arguing. Both John's
housecarls
and Loncaster's troops had their hands on the hilts of their swords. A tense moment, to say the least.

Loncaster noticed her standing in the doorway. With his face turning nigh red with anger, he was about to stomp up the many steps to confront her when John put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. They exchanged more angry words. Soon, though, both men began the ascent while Ordulf and Hamr led Loncaster's men toward the stables.

“Lady Ingrith! You defied my order by leaving Rainstead,” Loncaster said right off, pointing a finger sharply in her direction. “Methinks you are either daft or unaware that my orders carry the weight of the king.”

“You did not order me to stay at Rainstead. You merely said you would be coming to visit sometime.” She backed up a bit, and John moved quickly to her side. Looping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her against him into a pose that bespoke a close relationship.

“What is going on here?” Loncaster's piercing eyes took in the position of John's arm as well as the mark on Ingrith's neck, which she'd made sure to expose by arranging her braided hair atop her head.

“Watch the way you address my betrothed,” John warned.

Ingrith had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from saying, “Whaaaaat?”

“Since when?” Loncaster demanded.

John motioned for a serving maid to bring ale, and he led her and Loncaster to a nearby table. She noticed Bolthor standing nearby with a battle-axe in his hands along with several of John's
housecarls
. Some of Loncaster's
hird
had entered the keep, as well, and awaited orders.

After they'd sat down, she and John on one side and Loncaster on the other, John replied, “Ingrith and I have known each other for years. I would have wed her long ago, except she resisted my proposals. Didn't you, heartling?” John gave her a besotted look that would have looked silly on anyone else.

“Why did you lead me on?” Loncaster demanded of Ingrith.

“I did not lead you on,” she said huffily. “Besides, I was not betrothed last time we met.”

“You do not fool me with this ploy, Hawk, and you will not get away with such deceit. King Edgar promised the wench to me, and I
will
have her.”

Ingrith groaned inwardly. Oh, this was bad. Very bad. How dare the king make a decision about her life? The answer: Because he could.
I should have stayed in the Norselands. At least the only danger there was a wart-nosed suitor.

“The ‘wench' is a lady,” John reminded Loncaster. “Speak to her with respect, or you will not address her at all.”

For once, Ingrith was satisfied to let someone do the talking for her.

Loncaster let his rude gaze survey her silent form. “Suddenly she has become biddable?”

John chuckled and squeezed her shoulder. “Not at all. It is one of the things I love about her.”

Did he say love? He probably didn't mean it. But, oh, gods, how good it sounds!

“And what is going on with all the shaved heads?” Loncaster eyed John's and Bolthor's bald pates with distaste.

“Head lice,” John said with disgust. “We had a large head-lice problem here at Hawk's Lair. The buggers get in the ear and nose hair, too. Be careful where you lay, lest there be some still about.”

“Enough games! Where is the boy?”

“What boy?” Ingrith asked.

Loncaster growled. He actually growled. If John hadn't been sitting beside her, he would probably have throttled her. “The king's whelp. Henry. I have instructions to return with the child to Winchester.” He slapped a folded parchment with the royal seal on the table between them. While she and John read, Loncaster lifted his cup and drained it of ale to the bottom in one long swallow. Immediately, a maid scurried up
to give him a refill, to which he didn't even give a nod of thanks. Instead, he continued to scowl at them.

John shoved the letter back to Loncaster, and Ingrith said, “The boy is not here.”

“You lie, m'lady. Have a caution. If I do not believe you, that means the king does not believe you.” Loncaster's dark eyes accused Ingrith. He might be a bully, but he was an intelligent one. “That bloody orphanage outside Jorvik emptied quicker than a bladder of piss when you knew I was coming for the boy. An orphanage which is, by the by, now burned to the ground.”

Ingrith gasped with horror, and she could feel John tense beside her.

“Wouldst care to explain the reason for the hasty exit?”

“It is always good to get out of the city during the summer months. The heat and flies and such.”

“Pfff!” he scoffed. “Either you have Henry, or you know who does.”

“Why is the boy so important?” John inserted.

Loncaster shrugged. “Every single succession to the throne in the past century has been contested. While Edgar has two legitimate children, Edward and Ethelred, they are young. If something happened to the king, there would be a flurry of rats like you could not imagine to influence who accedes to the throne and who will be the guardian. Archbishop Dunstan, who has the king's ear, for
one. Then, there is Edgar's second wife, Elfrida. Have you met her?”

John nodded. “A great beauty.”

“Hah! You would not think so if you were around her for long. The woman seeps ambition for her son Ethelred like venom. Any who dare dispute her claims gets snakebit, for sure.”

“What has Henry to do with this?” Ingrith asked. “There are two legitimate heirs…and Edgar is young yet…only twenty-seven, I believe. He may have other children.”

“M'lady, you do not understand court politics. In order to secure the throne, all contenders…and I mean
all
, must be eliminated. Edgar is a good king, in many ways, but he has the sexual appetite of a satyr. God only knows how many illegitimate children around the countryside carry his blood. Like Henry. All are considered threats. Even the daughter being raised in a Wilton convent by that abbess he raped.”

“You can see then why we…I mean, people…would want to protect Henry,” Ingrith said. “His life is in danger.”

“Not if the king, or even Dunstan, takes him under their sheilds.”

“What if Henry renounces any claim to the throne? My stepfather's father, Thork, a son of King Haraldsson, did so. Wouldn't that be enough?” John asked.

Loncaster shook his head. “Mayhap if he were
older. But the word of a child of five would be discounted. In any case, release the child to me, and I will take him back to the king.”

“With the assurance that naught will happen to him?” Ingrith returned Loncaster's grim look, stare for stare.

“Whilst under my protection, he is safe,” Loncaster promised.

“And when Edgar, or Dunstan, takes him in hand, I assume the boy would be fostered out to some friend of the court,” John said.

“No doubt,” Loncaster agreed. “But that is not my problem.”

But it is mine
, Ingrith thought, and repeated her lie, “The boy is not here. You may search, if you do not believe me.”

“Oh, you can be sure we will search. And do not think that the business betwixt you and me is over, m'lady. I will return with the king's order forthwith. There'd better not be a marriage in the meantime.”

Unfortunately, there would not be.

For the next several hours, Loncaster and his men examined every nook and cranny of the keep, the stables and other outbuildings, even the privies and garderobes. Riders rode in four directions to see if the boy might be hidden somewhere on the outer extremities of the estate.

Ingrith forced herself to stay in the kitchen preparing a cold meal for Loncaster and his men to
eat…before departing, she hoped. John, Ordulf, Hamr, Bolthor, and even Ubbi stayed in strategic places, watching the men search. It was only through a surreptitious whisper from Katherine that Ingrith learned how Henry had fared. Very well, mainly by not saying a word, and hugging the legs of his “mother.”

She had just gone into the laundry room, which was located in a separate building attached by a covered walkway, when Loncaster trapped her, alone. Yanking her inside, he slammed her against the wooden wall and held her there in a painful grip on her upper arms.

“Where is the boy?” he spat out.

“I don't know,” she stammered through chattering teeth.

“You lying bitch!” With the pincer-hold on her arms, he shook her so hard that her braided coronet started to unravel. “Where is the boy?”

It took all her nerve to raise her chin. “I don't know.”

His attention riveted on the love mark on her neck then. “Another thing…I would have married you afore, but now that you have given your favors freely to another, I will make you my whore. Do not doubt my words. Edgar owes me too much not to grant me the boon of your body.”

“Never! You will ne'er have me, you brute.”

“Defy me, and you will find yourself living in
hell. I will kill any who stand in my path. Your lover, first of all.”

“You would kill John?” she asked tremulously. “Mayhap you are not aware that he has friends in high places. Including his stepfather, who is on the king's Witan.”

Loncaster shrugged. “A stab in the back in a dark corridor. An arrow to the heart when he is out beekeeping. A fall down a cliff. Who could tell who the culprit was?”

“What has he done to harm you?”

“He took you and shielded the king's bastard. The king will thank me.”

Just then, the door flew open, and John stormed in, yanking Loncaster away from Ingrith. “You bloody whoreson! I told you not to touch my lady.”

“I did her no harm. Did I,
m'lady
?” He glanced pointedly at John so she would get his meaning. Tell John what he had done and said, and John would be dead. If not now, some time in the future when he least expected it.

She shook her head to indicate she was unharmed. It was only later when Loncaster and his men were gone that John went to lead her to the hall for dinner, and she flinched with pain.