Viking's Love (33 page)

She followed Joran down to the cell without
any protest. He untied her brusquely and pushed her inside without
a word. He locked the door to the cell, and gazed at her without
warmth. “I was taken in by your beauty once. I will not do so
again,” Joran said in a clipped voice she knew well. “You will
remain down here unless I wish to ever bed you again. Perhaps I
will just come to look upon you, to remind myself what a
treacherous bitch you really are. You will not be allowed into the
hall. You will take all your meals here. That should please you.”
He spun on his heel and left her to stand alone in the cell,
feeling the depressive gloom envelope her heart.

Elwynn arrived with a stack of furs and a
pillow. Allisande felt her displeasure as she left without saying a
word. Everyone believed she went to Rowan’s bed in exchange for his
help, and she refused to speak of it.

Let them think what they would. She didn’t
care anymore. Her hand slid over her abdomen in sudden shock. She
paled as she realized what they would all assume when she could no
longer hide her condition.

Tears sprung into her eyes. She refused to
tell anyone the truth as the horrible realization dawned upon her.
Joran would question whether the child was his. She would be
condemned much like his wife had been.

She bit her lip as she sat down upon the
pallet, and wept bitterly. Ivar had removed whatever obstacle he
believed her to be without even knowing. She lay down upon the
pallet until she had no more tears left and slept fitfully.

The cold woke her. She huddled miserably
under the furs which were hardly enough to ward off the chill. The
blanket of snow on the ground outside the longhouse was sparse, but
the colder evenings told her winter would arrive soon, and with a
vengeance.

****

Collin stared at his diminutive bride with
little interest as they exchanged vows. She was a pretty little
thing but hadn’t a tongue in her head. The girl appeared dazed when
she recited her vows before the priest.

She was blonde and her features were lovely,
but her youth alone made him vow to leave her untouched for a
number of years to come. The ceremony was blessedly brief and the
feast a dull affair. His mother wept through it all much to his
disgust.

Lancaster hadn’t deigned to attend his own
daughter’s wedding. Collin watched as they prepared his bride for
bed with a frown. The tradition wasn’t necessary but they carried
off his bride. Soon he was also carried away to join her in the new
chambers recently finished. He gazed at his shy demure bride and
approached her with a frown as he saw her trembling.

She was terrified, it was obvious. The thin
nightgown she wore gave him an ample view of her childish body. He
felt despair as he withdrew his blade and approached the bed. She
eyed the blade in horror as she believed herself to be murdered at
that moment. He drew back the sheet and cut his hand with the tip
of the sword and smeared it upon the sheets.

The incongruous blue eyes that met his were
wide as she watched him show evidence they consummated their
marriage. She breathed a sigh of relief as he went to sit in a
chair before the fire, eyeing her wearily as he replaced the blade.
“It is not my desire to bed a child,” he said with a grimace
twisting his handsome lips and gazed at her in the ridiculously
provocative night gown with a glimmer of mockery in his violet
eyes. “You may cover yourself ah…whatever was your blasted name
again, Girl?”

“
Meghera, my lord,” she whispered
softly and watched as he folded his arms across his chest and eyed
her in amusement.

“
You may cover yourself, Meghera. We
have several moments to wait and you will be spared the rest of
this ridiculous tradition.” She smiled weakly at his words and
shrugged into a robe that covered her from his sight. Meghera was
unaware of what they waited for, having never been told what to
expect, but when he rose after a half of an hour and grinned as he
bade her goodnight, she assumed whatever it was had been achieved.
She glanced at the soiled bed in confusion until a riot of
attendants arrived to whip the sheet off the bed and parade it
about the keep.

Meghera slid into bed alone, wondering what
manner of a man her husband was. She withdrew the doll from under
her pillow and hugged it to her chest and went to sleep.

Collin of Lockwraithe didn’t even remember
her name, she thought before sleep claimed her. She must find some
way to remind him every day. A husband forgetting his wife’s name
was an unconscionable affront.

****

Ivar’s men returned from sea. They joined
their leader in his hall, claiming they hadn’t arrived in time to
intercept the girl from Rowan before Joran reclaimed her. Ivar sat
in silent rage as his man gave him the news Allisande had been
returned to his son.

He sipped his ale, and wondered why Joran
wasn’t breaking down his door in a rage over his complicity in the
matter. He glowered when Rowan arrived. The man grinned at him as
he approached.

“
It appears your son has a fondness for
the girl,” Rowan said and enjoyed the way Ivar scowled at his jab,
and was nonplussed at the livid expression he was tossed. “I said
nothing to him of your part in it. He believes the girl went with
me with the promise of her charms as payment to see her away. She
said nothing to Joran when he came for her. She knows you used her,
but she has kept silent. You have much to answer for if she chooses
to tell him all. ”

Ivar glanced at him in surprise at this news.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he dwelled upon this. “She told
my son nothing about my offer? That is most strange.”

“
Allisande of Lockwraithe is not like
other women, Ivar,” Rowan said with a fond smile, and sipped his
ale. “She will not paint you the villain in this, if that is what
you are worried about? Besides, who would believe her? You saw to
that when you involved me again.”

Ivar glared at Rowan and did not answer,
still unable to believe the English girl hadn’t told his son of his
betrayal. Either Allisande had some motive to maintain her silence,
or Joran was still too angry to listen to her. He couldn’t figure
out what her game was. He frowned darkly, rather irritated to be
surprised, learning Allisande did none of what was expected.

Aelynn had been exceedingly easy to eliminate
because of her vanity and unlikable nature. When all else had
failed to drive a wedge between his son and his wife, he told her
false tales of his son’s many conquests during raids. Aelynn was
too vain and rash to know she was being manipulated, and sealed her
fate with her endless infidelities after that.

He further fueled the tales when he paid his
men to entertain her in his son’s absences. Joran didn’t believe
her when she told him of his father’s part in it. It was very easy
to remove Aelynn, but Allisande was remaining close-lipped, as if
waiting for him to plot his next move against her. He frowned
ferociously as he realized for once someone held the invisible
strings over his head now, and wasn’t pleased.

****

Allisande tried to speak to Mira when she
delivered her food that morning, but the girl glared at her and
refused to acknowledge her. It was much the same with every serf
that delivered her meals. She gave up trying to speak with them at
all. She had been back for nearly a week, and hadn’t seen Joran
since he brought her down here.

She was freezing in the nights, and longed
for his warmth beside her. Tears of self-loathing often threatened.
She realized the child was the cause. She never cried so easily.
She was relieved her arm was healing, and used the hours in her
cell to practice the exercises she learned during sword practice to
keep from becoming too bored.

The hours stretched by at an interminable
rate. She felt she was growing mad from lack of contact with
anyone. She was singing softly to herself when she heard a tinkling
laugh above in the hall which could only be Merta’s.

She stiffened and sat up. Her violet eyes
filled with rage when she realized he had his former leman back in
his home. The most painful feeling in her chest formed at the
thought of Merta back in his bed.

He wasted little time in
bringing the red-haired bitch back
, she thought
unkindly, as she practiced parrying with her invisible sword, and
pretended it was Joran she was jabbing at as she kept herself
busy.

After her running away with Rowan, she had no
right to be jealous, knowing what he believed. She caused her own
pain, she knew, but it did not settle well within her to know it.
The days passed slowly. She developed a routine that was soon
interrupted by the sickness that came upon her, retching up
whatever she ate into slop buckets.

The queasiness stayed with her long into the
day. Her breasts grew amazingly tender and sore. A defined
roundness appeared where her belly had once been flat. When the
serfs arrived to deliver her meals and remove the slop buckets,
they made no comment as they viewed the contents in almost every
bucket.

Weeks passed, and she chiseled the days upon
the wall of her cell to keep track, finding little comfort in her
brooding thoughts. Joran didn’t return. She lay upon the fur
blanket moodily as she realized she was wrong to trust Ivar from
the start.

The serfs brought her fresh water to wash
with and saw to her needs, but did not attempt to speak with her.
She ignored them when they entered her cell and didn’t see the
pitying glances they sent her way when they removed the slop
buckets.

It was obvious to every woman in the house
that Allisande was with child, but none deemed it their duty to
inform their Chieftain. Merta returned and was back in his bed.
They were resentful of the woman’s presence and discussed it at
length amongst each other. Joran was hurting over his slave’s
defection into Rowan’s arms. His pride was badly injured to have
taken the redhead back.

Janna was the most vocal about this newest
development. Even she refused to be the bearer of the news.
Allisande remained locked below. Their Chieftain sat stone-faced
with the simpering redhead at his side. He drank more often than he
normally did, and was surly and combative, and unmerciful upon the
practice field.

The men were eager to raid Luxtley. It had
been put off when Allisande ran away. Joran would be gone a month,
and informed his serfs that Allisande was to remain locked up
during his absence.

Merta arrived outside the cell one day after
the raiding party left to taunt her. Her green eyes took in her
rival in the dank little cell with a wrinkled nose and a grating
laugh.

“
You are not so proud now, are you,
Slave?” Merta chuckled as the dark-haired girl ignored her and
stared at the wall of her cell. “Just so you know how your little
adventure with Rowan has helped my cause; Joran and I will be wed
in the spring when you are ransomed back to your brother.” She was
disappointed this announcement brought no reaction from Allisande
at her cruel words. Merta tired of her game and left.

Allisande wept bitterly when the woman left,
and rolled onto her side. Elwynn entered to bring her the evening
meal. The older woman sighed as she stared at the girl on the
pallet, hearing the desolate crying, and unable to bear it any
longer.

“
You have to tell Joran you are with
child. He will let you out of here for the sake of your
health.”

“
No, I will not.” Allisande sat up and
eyed the woman she considered her friend with a sardonic glare.
“Not when he will doubt it is his, as he surely will. I will tell
him nothing. He has Merta back. I have nothing to say to
him.”

“
You are stubborn, Allisande. You
brought this upon yourself when you agreed to Ivar’s plan,” Elwynn
said sadly, tired of treating the girl unkindly for her actions. It
wasn’t her place to judge Allisande for what she did. They had all
known she would try to escape eventually.

“
You knew of it?” Allisande winced as
the older woman glared at her in such a mean way and looked down at
her hands. “I didn’t know what to do when I learned of the child.
He said he would take it from me if he found me to be breeding
before the ransom was paid. I didn’t want to leave my child behind.
Ivar offered me the means to leave. I didn’t expect him to come
after me.”

Elwynn eyed her compassionately. She was the
only one who had seen her conversing with Ivar the day before she
disappeared, and she said nothing. She feared her Chieftain’s wrath
for not going to him, and would long blame herself for saying
nothing since. Had she had the courage to go to him, he would have
thwarted her departure with Rowan.

It was too late now to reflect on what she
could have done. The present dilemma brought her up short in her
blaming thoughts. “You must tell him you didn’t lie with Rowan,”
Elwynn said fiercely, and shook her head sadly. “You will let him
believe the worst, won’t you? It is how Ivar destroyed his love for
Aelynn. Do you not have some small feeling for him, Allisande? Do
not let him believe this of you. It will destroy him.”

“
He is a grown man, not a child!”
Allisande cried and flung her a moody look. “He can think for
himself and he chooses to believe what he is told, rather than what
he sees with his own eyes! You waste your time, Elwynn, for he has
no heart, and no love for any woman!”

“
That is not true! I have eyes to see
that he has grown to care for you, Allisande, and in your heart you
know it as well. This is precisely what Ivar wants!” Elwynn said
and shook her head. “The only person that kept him from joining
Ivar’s army was Aelynn, and he got her out of Joran’s life. Do you
not see? It is the same with you! He fears the change in Joran
since he has been with you, and he thinks he will leave his army if
he finds another to love. You are a threat to him holding onto his
son.”