MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves (34 page)

He didn"t make a bargain when she wished to, but he was very adept at forcing his own.

“What promise?”

“That you"ll not leave this fortress again without my permission. That you"ll do so only in my company or that of someone I approve.”

“Some other Viking,” she said icily.

“Your promise, Melisande.”

“I break promises,” she reminded him.

“But not to me. I see that they are kept.”

Her lashes fell over her eyes. She wrenched her wrists free from his hold and knelt to cradle the mail in her arms. She walked slowly back to the trunk and laid it out within it.

“I"m waiting,” he told her.

She kept her back to him, her spine very stiff. “You have my promise, milord Viking,” she said softly.

He would leave now, she thought. He had had his way. But when she spun around, he still stood by the door. “In the next few days it will not much matter,” he told her. “We leave for Rouen in the morning.” Her heart slammed against her chest. A small smile curved her lips.

“Ah, Rouen!” she said softly. “Yes, milord, now isn"t that the place where you"re expecting me to meekly repeat my vows once more for God and countrymen?”

“Indeed, that"s exactly what I"m expecting.”

“Well, we shall see then,” she murmured mockingly.

“Aye, we shall see,” he agreed, then bowed low and left her.

Again that night he stayed late in the hall. She lay awake waiting, wondering, her heart and soul in a tempest of misery.

She stared at the fire that burned low in the hearth. Her eyes began to close, and she dozed.

She dreamed, she thought. She felt the most tender of touches against her lips. Felt a soft, seductive stroke upon her shoulder, her arm. Her breast was cupped, caressed, a slow sure trail was drawn down the valley between them, drawn lower and lower until her legs shifted against each other. Then there was a forceful touch upon her, rolling her to her back. Her eyes opened, for it was no dream.

He was golden in the firelight. Golden, muscled, gleaming in the night, his eyes a cobalt blaze.

“I slept!” she murmured in feeble protest, determined to hide the wild delight that had filled her body, the excitement that seized her limbs.

The longing for him that had entered every part of her, heart, soul, being.

“I swear to you!” she whispered again, “I slept! I beg you, be a gentle lord, a civilized lord, and let me be!”

“Aye, tonight you slept. And indeed, lady, most often I would hesitate before rousing you from such easy rest. But then again, you recall, I am not a gentle lord, rather a Viking, and tonight I think it especially important that I remind you of something,” he told her.

“And that is?” she demanded imperiously.

“That you are my wife, lady. You are my wife.”

“Nay …”

“Aye!”

His lips touched hers. His hands molded her against the fire of his body.

And in moments she had no doubt at all.

Chapter Sixteen

The journey to Rouen had been arranged as an elaborate affair.

Odo himself arrived at the fortress to accompany them with his own contingent of men. Father Matthew was to ride with them, as was much of their household. Melisande was amazed by the extent of preparation that had gone on without her knowing, and she was deeply angered by it. But even as she discovered it, there was little chance to do anything, or tell Conar what she felt, for she didn"t find out about any of it until Odo"s men waited beyond the walls.

The horses and supplies had all been gathered in the courtyard, and the great count himself awaited her in the great hall, ready to scoop her up into his arms and give her a mighty hug, as if she remained a child.

“Melisande! Ah, child! We all warned your father you would grow to be the most exquisite woman the world over. How you"ve fulfilled that promise!” At the mention of her father she felt a stinging of tears at the back of her eyes.

“He"d be proud today. Delighted!” Odo continued. “You"ll have a magnificent ceremony to remember now, child, even if you were legally wed, though under much pain and duress. And today will give us the additional strength we seek!”

She lowered her lashes quickly as dismay filled her. Here was one of her father"s best friends, the handsome, powerful Odo, assuming she would be happy to further pass on her power to her husband!

To bind herself to him anew before the eyes of all men.

“I"m not so certain, Count Odo, that my wife will be so pleased with these arrangements,” she heard, and when she spun around, Conar was there.

He had seldom seemed so magnificent. The shoulders of his crimson mantle were adorned with a thick edge of wolf"s fur, as were the high pelt edges of his boots, rising to his knees. Beneath it his form-hugging chausses were fawn, his tunic a royal blue that brought out the searing color of his eyes. Over the tunic he wore his glittering mail. His conical helmet rested in his hand against his chest.

“Not pleased?” Odo said, distressed. “Why, any maid would be delighted with such spectacular pageantry.”

“Countess Melisande? Why, milord, "tis quite possible that we will walk the aisle and my fair wife will decry me.”

There was a startling silence, then Odo burst into laughter. “Melisande has always known how battles must be won and fought, how life must be lived, property preserved. You young people jest at my expense. Now come, this will be a long and tiresome journey with so many in attendance.” Melisande stared at Conar and felt an odd shivering within her. Count Odo"s hands were upon her shoulders, turning her. He led her from the hall, his arm lightly about her.

But Conar was right behind them. Helping her atop Warrior in the courtyard, Conar gazed at her intently. But then he turned from her, mounted Thor, and rode to the head of their large armed party.

The gates were opened. They rode out, several hundred armed men with them—fortress men, Conar"s men, Odo"s men—Marie de Tresse and countless other maids and servants, and a large number of churchmen.

Odo rode at Melisande"s side for quite some time. Later he rode forward with her to introduce her to his cousin, Lady Genevieve, come to serve as a feminine companion, and she talked politely with the woman, but found herself irritated to discover that Lady Genevieve was a deep believer in a woman"s subservience first to God"s will, and then to her husband"s. Melisande managed to rein in a bit and allow the woman to ride on. Ragwald was with them, too, and she was suddenly determined to ride with him, or Gaston. Only Philippe had been left behind with the fortress guard.

She made her way carefully around Genevieve and rode hard through the long train of travelers to find Ragwald, then suddenly reined in.

He was very near the front of their procession, riding with Odo.

Behind him was Conar. And Brenna.

Their horses rode so close, they brushed one another. Conar"s head was bent, listening to her words. He laughed softly and flashed her a warm smile.

Melisande felt dizzy. She reined back.

Odo wanted her to do this.

But then Odo assumed that she was pleased with her marriage. No, perhaps Odo would not care if she was or wasn"t. Conar had been her father"s choice, Conar had avenged her father. Odo might just assume that this was her duty, and that she would be too well bred to do anything other than strengthen her home and country.

“Lady Melisande!”

She reined in to see that Bishop LeClerc, the greatly admired churchman selected to perform the ceremony in the beautiful church at Rouen, was calling to her.

Alas! All she needed was a churchman at this time, when her heart lay in such tempest! She was not terribly sure that she was as Christian as she should be, if she really believed in God anymore. God had deserted her the day her father had died. He had not seemed present often since.

But she smiled, reined in, and awaited the man.

He had a full head of snowy white hair and a kindly wrinkled face, and reminded her somewhat of Ragwald. There was a deep wisdom within his eyes, yet there seemed humor there, too, intriguing in a man of such a pious reputation.

“Lady, do you feel up to all this?”

“My health is excellent,” she assured him.

“We must thank God for that!” he told her, but his merry green eyes seemed to be sparkling with amusement. “But I asked, my dear, if you were up to this.” She lowered her head, lashes covering her eyes.

“Do you love your husband?”

She looked to him quickly, startled. His gentle smile deepened. “If you do, child, you are most fortunate. If he loves you, it is a greater blessing still.”

“I believe this was all Count Odo"s planning,” she murmured.

“Aye, for Odo is a man deeply concerned with the welfare of our land and people. As was your father. Still …” He shrugged. “This is a solemn occasion, and the ceremony will be one under our Lord God in his heaven. Perhaps you should think on your vows again, milady. Stay with my household, lady, chaste in prayer these evenings while we travel onward.”

She stared at him and realized what he was offering her. An escape for the several nights it would take their huge party to reach Rouen.

Conar would be powerless against the church he had been so willing to involve himself with.

She nearly smiled but managed to bow her head instead and answer gravely.

“Perhaps deep meditation on God"s will would serve me well these few days,” she murmured.

“As you wish it, Melisande. You may think upon it, and then let me know.” They stopped at a monastery that evening, it being the only place along the way large enough to accommodate their party, with wide open fields for the fighting men and their horses, separate quarters for the nobles and their ladies.

Melisande had scarce seen Conar throughout the day—he had spent it riding with Brenna and Ragwald.

Mainly Brenna.

Even as the monks scrambled about to serve their party, he was with Brenna, approaching Melisande only when she had set her plate down. He reached for her hand. “Come. We"ve been offered the nicest room in this sparse establishment.”

She bit into her lip, ignoring his hand, then looked into his eyes.

“I cannot join you tonight,” she told him.

“What?”

“Bishop LeClerc has suggested that I seek God again in prayer, that what we do is a grave matter.”

“You"ve been my wife for years—” Conar began angrily, but then he broke off. He drew her suddenly to her feet, drawing her close, and his rough words were for her ears alone. “This is your choice, Melisande?”

“Mine. And you must abide by it—”

“Nay, lady! There is nothing I must abide by! You know that. Were it my choice, I would drag you away here and now, and none would dare stop me.” His hold upon her eased. His whisper remained harsh. “But perhaps we both need an evening to reflect upon our situation. You will have the peace you desire. And perhaps my dreams will be filled with a gentle female who does not choose to fight and deny me night after night!”

He suddenly released her, and to her surprise her knees were so weak that she sank back to the rough plank where she had been sitting.

She retired soon to the minuscule, barren monk"s chamber she had been so courteously offered.

She even tried to pray.

But the words would not come. She lay awake, tears stinging her eyes, and she wondered where Conar slept.

Melisande would be quick to deny that she was either stubborn or proud, yet her pride and her determination not to give to Conar more than he had already taken were all that kept her away.

It took them three more nights to reach Rouen. She ached through each of them, tormented herself, suffering cruelly. In her waking hours she tried very hard to be solemn with Bishop LeClerc and assure him that she thought carefully each night on God"s will.

She rode often with Marie and tried to spend time with Lady Genevieve, yet often found some polite means of escape.

She watched Conar, still riding often with Brenna, who knew him much better than she did, shared much more with him.

They came to Rouen at last, and there would be one night there before the solemn ceremony in the morning. Odo kept a huge house here with an abundance of servants, which was well, for the house was a crowded place and the meals required for all the guests were extensive.

That night she found herself swept along with Odo and Swen before the fire where Brenna was casting runes from a skin satchel.

Her runes were fine, highly polished stone, the symbols beautifully carved into them. Melisande sipped wine beside her host, watching with a fascination that startled her—she was usually so careful to keep her distance from Brenna.

First the stones fell for a young woman. Brenna assured her that she would wed and have a house full of children. Genevieve, flushing, murmuring that she didn"t believe in such pagan fortune-telling, found herself the next one for whom the stones were cast. Brenna looked into her eyes.

“Have I a husband there, seeress?”

Brenna ignored the words and paused just a moment. “I see the life that you desire. You, in your goodness and piety, lady, will become one of Christ"s brides.”

“I will enter religious orders?”

“Aye,” Brenna said softly, and Genevieve was oddly appeased.

“I should have mine cast now!” Odo said, bowing low to Brenna. “If you will, my good woman.”

A fire crackled high behind Brenna. She sat on a bearskin rug, her blond hair a cape around her shoulders, her eyes a fascinating shade between blue and green as she studied people, and then stone.