Twin Passions (3 page)

Anora walked quietly across the room, her eyes wide
with apprehension. "Is she well?" she asked fearfully.

"Aye," Lady Bronwen answered, noting the
anxious concern radiating from her daughter's emerald eyes.

Anora's delicate shoulders slumped with relief. "Could
I stay with her awhile, Mother?"

"Nay, Anora, I think 'tis best that Leah stay with
her this night," Lady Bronwen replied gently. "I have already sent
for her." Seeing the disappointment on her daughter's face, she continued
gently. "Tomorrow will be a long day for you, Anora, and you must rest
well tonight. I am sure you would want to look your best for Wulfgar's arrival."

Lady Bronwen smiled at the sudden blush in Anora's
cheeks. She had no doubt that her daughter would be the fairest woman at the
betrothal feast —well, save for one, she amended quickly, gazing at Anora's
mirror image sleeping peacefully in her bed. Together her twin daughters made a
radiant pair, neither surpassing the other in beauty, but equal in loveliness
of face and form.

"Aye, Mother, you are right," Anora murmured.
"Good night, then." She bent and kissed Lady Bronwen's cheek, then
turned just as Leah walked into the candlelit room. "Good night, Leah,"
she said softly. With one last look at her sister, Anora left as quietly as she
had come.

"'Tis time you also rested, my lady," Leah
admonished gently, having overheard their conversation. She clucked her tongue
disapprovingly as she walked to the bed. What kind of trouble had the lass
gotten
herself
into this time?

Lady Bronwen seemed to read her thoughts. "Now,
Leah, let us not judge too harshly," she murmured, trying, unsuccessfully,
to suppress a smile. The faithful maid had been with the family for many years,
and had no qualms about speaking her mind, especially when it came to Gwendolyn.
"Would you sit with her this night? I would remain myself, but there is
still so much to be done before the betrothal feast tomorrow."

"Go on with
ye
, my lady.
I will see to the lass," Leah reassured her. Aye, she had seen both Anora
and Gwendolyn through many a fever, but from what she could tell so far, there
was no illness this night. "And mind you, get some rest yourself, my lady,"
she repeated, noting with concern the faint circles under her mistress's eyes.

Lady Bronwen nodded,
then
rose
from her chair. She leaned over and lightly kissed Gwendolyn's cool forehead. "She
seems to be fine now, but if she should call out for me, or grow feverish—"

"I will wake you if there is need, my lady,"
Leah murmured.

"Very well. Good night, Leah and my thanks."
She looked gratefully at her maid, unspoken words of comfort passing between
them.

Turning toward the door, she was not surprised to see
the shadowed figure of Earl Godric standing inside the threshold. She walked
over to him and took his proffered arm, the look in her luminous eyes telling
him all he needed to know. Relief surged through his body, and with a last
backward glance at their sleeping daughter, they descended the stairs together.

Chapter 3

"Will there be anything else, my lady?" the
maid questioned softly as she poured a generous amount of perfumed lavender oil
into the steaming bath water.

"Nay, everything is fine," Anora murmured
contentedly, settling deeper into the large brass tub. Reaching for a small
cake of lavender-scented soap, she began to hum softly.

What a luxury!
she
thought, soaping a silky leg. The perfumed soaps
and oils, gifts from the household of the king, delighted her beyond measure.
Breathing in the fragrant steam, she giggled as she flicked scented droplets of
water at the gray kitten curled up asleep on the soft towel at the foot of the
tub. The kitten stretched, its little pink mouth yawning widely, then snuggled
deeper into the towel.

Anora leaned her head against the rim of the tub, the
smile fading from her lips as her thoughts drifted back to the night before. A
troubled look crossed her brow, startling the maid, who was laying out fresh
garments on the bed.

"My lady, are you not feeling well?" the maid
asked, voicing her concern. With only two more days until the wedding, she
could think of nothing worse than Anora's becoming ill.

"Have you any news of Gwendolyn this morning?"

Taken aback, the maid realized Anora had not even heard
her question. "Aye, she is fine, but still sleeping," she replied,
clucking her tongue and shaking her head. "She had a fitful night, Leah
says, tossing and turning and mumbling about dragons, demons, and such."
She would have continued to recite what she had heard earlier that morning in
the kitchen, but thought better of it at the sight of Anora's stricken face. "Don't
you worry now, my lady, she'll be just fine," she soothed, seeking to
allay any needless fears. "I'll be back shortly to help you dress."
With a reassuring glance, she left the room.

Hardly feeling reassured, Anora sighed as she recalled
the frantic scene in the great hall the night before. It had been like a bad dream.
When Gwendolyn had not returned with her guards in time for the evening meal,
their father sent half his men out into the raging storm to search for them. He
had then called loudly for a stable hand to saddle his own mighty steed, but
had been stayed by the shouts from outside the hall. A drenched thane entered
with the news that Gwendolyn had been found.

Anora shuddered. She remembered all too painfully her
feelings of dread when Gwendolyn was carried into the hall, shivering and
bedraggled. Her own body had felt chilled at the sight of her sister, and a
feeling of helplessness had welled up deep within her. Shivering in empathy,
she had experienced a strange sense of sharing in a frightening vision, but the
feeling had quickly passed. Only later, after visiting Gwendolyn's chamber, had
she felt reassured. Her mother's presence had lent an air of calm, and she
returned to her own chamber much relieved.

But what was this talk of dragons and nightmares? Anora
wondered. A shiver suddenly ran through her body, recalling her sense of
foreboding from the night before. Feeling the water in her bath growing tepid,
she realized she had lingered overlong. She stepped out of the tub so quickly
that water sloshed onto the sleeping kitten. With a startled yowl it streaked
from the room, leaving wet paw prints across the floor. Smiling once again,
Anora took a towel from the table near the tub and dried herself quickly.

Wulfgar. She could hardly believe her future husband
was now within the stronghold. She had heard the commotion of his arrival
earlier that morning. The thought of him made her senses reel with excitement
and longing.
Do all young women feel this
way,
she wondered,
on the eve of
their marriage?
Her fingers trembled as she loosened the ivory pins from the
thick coil of hair at her nape. It tumbled about her shoulders and down her
back in a riot of silvery-blond waves. Standing in a stream of sunshine from
the window, she luxuriated for a moment in the golden warmth.

Returning from the kitchen with a light breakfast, the
maid paused just inside the door.
Aye,
here is one that was made for the love of a man,
she thought approvingly,
proud of her mistress's beauty.

An air of innocence surrounded Anora as she stood lost
in some private thought, a smile playing about her lips. Her lustrous hair
framed her long, graceful throat and delicate shoulders, falling like a
gossamer cloud about her narrow waist. Her breasts, high and firm, were small,
yet perfectly rounded, the nipples pale roseates that peeked out from beneath
her long tresses. Walking over to the bed, she picked up a white silken camise
and drew it up over the slender curve of her hips, then slipped her slim arms
through the embroidered straps.

"Here, let me help you, my lady," the maid
offered, setting the breakfast trencher on a low table near the bed. She straightened
the camise about Anora's body, smoothing the myriad soft folds that fell almost
to the floor. "May I suggest the blue tunic for the betrothal feast?"
she asked, glancing over at the array of garments spread out on the bed. Lady
Bronwen's seamstresses had worked many hours preparing the fine clothes for the
wedding festivities, each seeking to outdo the other in their choice of fabric
and decorative stitching.

Anora nodded her approval, sighing appreciatively as
the silken fabric of the tunic was slipped over her head. The rich, sapphire
blue silk felt cool to the touch, caressing her creamy skin. The neck, wrists,
and hem of the tunic were stitched with fine embroidery of silver threads. After
the tunic went a gray silk mantle fastened at the shoulders by two filigree
silver brooches.

"Mistress, you are truly beautiful!"
exclaimed the maid, clapping her hands together as she surveyed her handiwork.
The gray silk of the mantle enhanced the emerald depths of Anora's eyes, which
were dancing with anticipation.

Seating her on a cushioned chair, the maid brushed the
few tangles from Anora's lovely hair. As a final touch she placed a finely
etched silver circlet on her head, as a symbol of her maidenhood. After
marriage, the circlet would be worn with a transparent veil to cover her hair.
The maid then handed Anora a small metal mirror, holding her breath as she
anxiously awaited a response.

A radiant smile lit Anora's face as she gazed at her
reflection in the mirror. "Aye, I truly feel beautiful today." She
blushed, secretly hoping that Wulfgar would also find her appearance pleasing.
Thanking the maid for her assistance, she gently dismissed her, wishing to be
alone for a while.

As the maid shut the door behind her, Anora stepped
over to the small window and gazed out into the courtyard at the busy scene
below. Servants were bustling to and fro from the great hall on their varied
tasks, some carrying great rounds of cheese, others laden with piles of fine
table linens, and still others hurrying toward the kitchen clutching squawking
chickens. Large barrels of ale and mead were being wheeled into the hall from
the brewing house, guests were beginning to arrive, and the sounds of
boisterous laughter could be heard all around.

Anora spied one of Wulfgar's men crossing the yard and
her heart leaped to her throat. How she had yearned for this day! Wulfgar had
left her for his lands near York a few weeks ago to make preparations for her
arrival after their marriage. Knowing that he would soon return for her was
consolation enough, but the days had passed achingly slow. The thought of
him—his handsome
face,
and the memory of his strong
arms around her —had filled her every waking hour. But it had been her dreams—veiled,
breathless images of passion she had never before experienced—that had caused
her to awaken trembling and flushed in the night, calling out his name.

How different she felt now, as if she had never known
life without him, she mused, remembering with some chagrin the day her father
had told her of his agreement with King Edgar concerning her marriage. Shocked
by the abruptness of his announcement, she had retreated to her chamber in a
flood of tears. Earl Godric, who had been at a loss as how best to present the
news, realized he had failed miserably as he watched his daughter flee the
hall. With a reproachful glance at her startled husband, Lady Bronwen rushed
out after her. Shaking his head at the strange ways of women, he had slumped
resignedly into his chair before the fireplace.

Sobbing miserably into her down pillow, Anora had felt
that her childhood dreams were shattered forever. With her mother's comforting
arms about her, she tearfully poured out her secret wish that she would one day
marry for love. She knew the marriage of her parents had been decreed by
others, but fortunately a great love had grown between them. Grasping a glimmer
of hope that her mother would be able to make her father understand her
feelings, she had watched through tear-dimmed eyes as Lady Bronwen hurriedly
left the room.

Anora shuddered as she vividly recalled the loud voices
she had heard resounding from the great hall. Never before had her parents
raised their voices to each other! Feeling fresh tears burning her cheeks, she
had rushed dazedly back to the hall to tell her father she would accept the
proposal — anything to restore harmony. To her amazement she found her parents
no longer embroiled in a heated argument, but wrapped in a tender embrace.

Her father had asked her to be seated,
then
explained the king's reasoning behind the marriage and
his hopes for a continued peace in England. Glancing briefly at Lady Bronwen,
he continued in a low, solemn voice. She remembered his words as if they had
been spoken only yesterday: "Anora, 'tis my hope that you will honor the
agreement between myself and King Edgar, and accept Wulfgar Ragnarson as your
husband. But as your mother and I do not wish for you to be unhappy, we have
agreed to allow you to decide for yourself if such a marriage would please you."

Aye, it pleases
me,
Anora thought happily.
It pleases
me very much.
The sudden creaking of the door startled her, and she whirled
around.

"You have not touched your breakfast, my lady,"
admonished the maid as she bustled in the door. "It is almost midday, and
your lady mother wishes to see you in the solar."

"I will try to eat something later," Anora
replied, eyeing the buttered bread and honeyed wine with little appetite.
Truly, she did not feel hungry at all, what with butterflies of excitement
fluttering in her stomach!

Hurrying down the steps and into the corridor, Anora
wondered how she would fill the long hours before the feast that evening. As
she reached the solar, she heard laughter filtering through the heavy wooden
door, and the voice of Edythe, her mother's lady-in-waiting, rising above the
din.