Twin Passions (6 page)

Resting her gaze on his chiseled lips, Anora wondered
vaguely what it would be like to feel them possess hers in a lingering kiss.
Wulfgar had kissed her lightly several times during their brief courtship, but
always in the presence of her maid-in-waiting. She recalled the sense of
restraint she had felt in his arms, as if he were holding something back.
Gazing at him now, imagining his hands caressing her skin, she was shocked at
the boldness of her thoughts. Never before had she felt this way about any man.
He alone had awakened in her a mysterious longing that she knew only he could
fulfill. Mesmerized by her thoughts, Anora was startled out of her reverie by
Wulfgar's sudden flashing grin.

"I trust my appearance meets with your approval,"
Wulfgar laughed rakishly. He had finished his conversation with Earl Godric,
and had turned to find Anora studying him with
desirous
intensity, much to his delight.

"Do not mock me, my lord!" Anora blurted,
sudden tears glistening in her eyes. Flustered and embarrassed that she had
been caught staring at him in such a wanton fashion, she rose suddenly from her
chair, upsetting it.

Catching her quickly about the waist, Wulfgar gently
sat her on his lap, much to the amusement of several guests who had overheard
their exchange. He locked her within his strong embrace. "Do not try to run
from me, Anora," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her
neck. His voice was soothing as he stroked her long, silken hair. "It was
not my intent to mock . . . I simply spoke in jest. Your beautiful eyes have
betrayed you, Anora. They reflect a desire as strong as my own." He
nuzzled her neck for a moment, breathing in the lavender-scented fragrance of
her hair. "Soon, my love . . ."

By the blood of
Odin,
Wulfgar thought fiercely,
would
that
this were
our wedding night!
He had wanted
Anora for his own since the first day he had seen her . . . more than he had
ever desired any woman. Her innocence had beguiled him, her beauty had
bewitched him, yet it was the smoldering passion, reflected in the emerald
depths of her
eyes, that
had captured his soul. He
could feel her trembling within his arms, and the nearness of her threatened to
overwhelm him. Willing himself to release her, he leaned over and righted her
chair, and lifted her to her seat.

"Well, Lord Wulfgar, you have certainly given them
something to talk about!" Earl Godric laughed, gesturing toward the many
guests now watching the couple with great interest. He turned to Lady Bronwen,
his voice low. "I believe 'tis a good time to sign those documents. We
should summon the priest." She nodded in agreement.

"Grimbald, fetch Father Leofwine. I believe he is
sitting at the far end of that table over there," Lady Bronwen murmured to
the steward standing close by.

"Aye, my lady," Grimbald replied, hurrying
off to do her bidding.

Anora blushed heatedly. She felt as if all eyes in the
hall were upon her. She looked over at Gwendolyn. Her sister flashed
her a
warm smile of encouragement, but she could only nod
numbly in reply. Dazed by the tumultuous whirl of emotions raging within her,
she raised her goblet to her lips and took a sip of the honeyed mead. The spicy
liquid spread a warm fire through her body as she drank, and she quickly
drained the goblet. Feeling suddenly light-headed, she realized too late the
effects of the potent drink on her empty stomach. Her vision grew fuzzy, and
she could barely make out the stooped figure of the priest as he made his way
toward the dais.

"My lord, may I present the betrothal agreements,"
Father Leofwine stated loudly. He handed the two rolled parchment documents to
Earl Godric. He had spent many long hours hunched over his writing desk,
meticulously inscribing the elaborate text with inks of different hues, and he
was exceedingly proud of his contribution to this joyous occasion.

"My thanks, Holy Father," Earl Godric said
warmly. The old priest nodded, then took his place behind Anora, where he would
witness the signing. Earl Godric pulled the silken cord tied around each
document. Unrolling them carefully, he placed one in front of his daughter and
the other before Wulfgar.

Rising from his chair, Wulfgar motioned for one of his
men to bring forth the carved-ivory chest he had brought from his homeland. The
warrior set it up on the main table, then stood on guard before the dais. The
air of speculation heightened in the hall, and many guests stood to get a
better view.

Wulfgar opened the intricately carved lid, his voice
resounding throughout the hushed hall. "I, Wulfgar Ragnarson, prince of
the Danelaw, having sworn fealty to King Edgar, my liege lord, do hereby
present to Anora, daughter of Godric, Earl of Cheshire, a marriage gift, in
hopes that she will accept it willingly and look upon me with favor."
Reaching into the chest, he lifted out a small wrapped bundle and set it
carefully before Anora. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the silken ribbon
that securely tied the bundle. It seemed like an eternity passed before she was
able to untie the knot, but at last the linen folds fell open to reveal the
contents.

"Oh!" Anora gasped. She stared in awe at the glittering
brooch that sparkled at her in the bright candlelight. She had never seen
anything like it before! Made of shimmering, beaten gold, the oval brooch was
encrusted with emeralds and creamy-white pearls. She could feel Wulfgar's
heated gaze upon her as she shakily held it up for all to see, and she started
when he laid another bundle before her. Larger than the first, it contained a
set of perfectly matched earrings and two gold filigree arm rings inlaid with
ivory and precious stones.

"The jewels are beautiful, my lord," Anora
murmured, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked up at him.

"No more beautiful than the woman who will wear
them," Wulfgar replied softly, his voice a whispered caress. Smiling at
her pleasure, he lifted a small, rolled parchment from the chest. Unrolling it
gingerly, he read aloud: "I, Wulfgar Ragnarson, present to Anora, daughter
of Godric, ten thousand acres of land adjacent to my own estate. Henceforth,
this land is her own property, to do with as she sees fit." This announcement
brought great shouts of approval from the stunned guests, with the realization
that Anora was now one of the richest women of the Danelaw.

Earl Godric, slightly overcome by his daughter's good
fortune, addressed her gently. "Anora, do you accept the marriage gift of
Wulfgar Ragnarson, and agree to go with him willingly as his wife?" The
great hall suddenly grew hushed, all awaiting her answer.

Anora rose gracefully from her chair and turned to face
Wulfgar. His handsome features were inscrutable, yet the steely blue depths of
his gaze were searching. His hand reached out to her, and she grasped it with
trembling fingers. It was warm and strong, and reassured her. "I do
willingly accept, and look upon Wulfgar Ragnarson with great favor," she
answered in a clear voice, loud enough for all to hear.

The words had barely escaped her lips when a great roar
went up from the guests. Servants rushed to fill empty goblets as the rounds of
toasts began anew. The great beams of the hall echoed with the revelry that
would no doubt continue far into the night. Oblivious to the merriment, Wulfgar
bent his head and kissed Anora's lips, lingering for a moment as he savored
their tender warmth.

"Ahem!" Coughing sharply, Father Leofwine
gestured toward the documents still lying unsigned on the table.

A deep chuckle rumbled from Wulfgar, and, turning to
Earl Godric, he laughed. "Your priest truly has your interests at heart,
my lord." Dipping the pen into a small jar of ink, he made his mark on
each document,
then
handed the pen to Anora, who did
the same. Content that all formalities had been
observed,
the aged priest bowed before the couple and took his leave.

"We are in agreement, then," Earl Godric
said, offering his silver goblet to Wulfgar.

"Aye, my lord." Wulfgar
nodded,
his eyes upon Anora. Taking the goblet, he drained it with one draft.

Chapter 6

Anora sipped slowly from her goblet as she watched the
celebration around her. The revelry showed no signs of abating, even though the
hour was growing late. She glanced at Gwendolyn, unable to suppress a smile at
the sight of her tempestuous sister surrounded by anxious suitors. Gwendolyn
was smiling prettily, but her eyes flashed dangerously — a strong indication of
what she truly thought of their unwanted attentions. Anora sighed. She only
hoped her sister would one day find the same happiness she felt this night.
Wulfgar's kiss still burned upon her lips, and she closed her eyes for a
moment, remembering his embrace. A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over her.
Shaking her head, she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with concern.

"'Tis the honeyed mead, I fear, my lord,"
Anora murmured, rubbing her temples to ease the dull ache in her head.
Accustomed to drinking only small quantities of the potent brew, she could not
recall how many times her goblet had been refilled. She knew only that she had
never felt so light-headed before. Chiding herself for her foolishness, she
rose unsteadily to make her excuses.

"Wait, Anora," Wulfgar bade her gently. He
turned to Earl Godric, his voice low. "My lord, I beg leave to escort Lady
Anora to her chamber. It seems the drink and
excitement have
proved too much for her this evening."

Caught off guard by Wulfgar's request, Earl Godric
leaned back in his chair, shrewdly appraising the younger man.
God's blood, he's impetuous,
he thought.
Then he chuckled. He could still vividly recall his own haste to bed the
beautiful Bronwen eighteen years ago, and gazing on his radiant wife this night
he was not surprised that he felt the same even now. Yet, he pondered,
sobering, propriety must be maintained. Without the proof of Anora's bloodstain
of innocence on the marriage bed, the marriage agreement would be annulled.

Sensing Earl Godric's thoughts, Wulfgar stated bluntly,
"No harm shall befall her, my lord. She will be on her wedding day as she
is this night . . . a virgin. You have my word."

"You may escort her, then, Wulfgar," Earl
Godric consented, a look of firm understanding passing between them.

Wulfgar only hoped that Anora had not heard that rather
indelicate exchange. Offering her his arm, they descended the stairs from the
dais. Engrossed in their revelry, very few guests noticed the couple's
departure as they slipped through a side door that led to the family quarters.

The darkened corridors, dimly lit by sputtering
torches, were a relief to Anora from the brightness and smoke-filled air of the
great hall. Pausing for a moment to get a breath of fresh air from an open
door, she looked up at Wulfgar. "Forgive me, my lord," she began, but
he hushed her words with a gentle finger to her lips.

"Come, my love, the hour is late." Leading
her by the elbow, Wulfgar carefully guided her through the narrow winding
halls. Grateful for his assistance, Anora doubted that she would have been able
to walk to her chamber alone. Her head was pounding incessantly, and another
wave of dizziness caused her to stumble on the first step that led up to her
chamber.

Suddenly she felt herself lifted by Wulfgar's strong
arms, and he took the wooden stairs two at a time as if she weighed no more
than a feather. Crushed against his broad chest, she could hear the steady beat
of his heart. The rhythmic sound sent an odd thrill coursing through her body,
and she tensed within his arms. The day's past events seemed a jumbled
confusion to her now, and she struggled to clear her clouded mind.

At the top of the stairs, Wulfgar swung open the door
and set Anora down just inside the threshold. A copper brazier, glowing
brightly in the comer, was the only light in the darkened room. "It is far
too warm," Wulfgar announced. Crossing over to the small window, he pushed
aside the tanned leather that served as a covering. Cool night air swept into
the chamber.

Wulfgar took a deep breath of the bracing air.
You are a fool to have brought her here,
he thought distractedly, fighting to control his senses. He had never seen
Anora look lovelier, or more vulnerable, than she did this night. He longed to
hold her in his arms and caress her delicate curves, to awaken the smoldering
passion that lay dormant within her. Leaning against the window, he tried to
reason with himself that she would be his completely . . . forever . . . in
only two days' time.

Anora swayed unsteadily as she stood by the door. Soft
moonlight was streaming in from the window, and she could see Wulfgar's tall
form illuminated against the indigo sky. "Wulfgar?" she questioned
softly, fearful she had displeased him. She had never meant to drink so much
mead, and she wondered if that was why he was so silent. Perhaps he had changed
his mind, and there would be no wedding. The thought of being without him was
more than she could imagine. A low, anguished cry tore from her throat,
shattering the stillness of the room.

Suddenly she felt Wulfgar's arms around her, drawing
her firmly to him. His lips, warm and hard, possessed her mouth and seemed to
draw the very breath from her body. He held her so tightly she could feel the
muscled hardness of his chest through her clothing. Returning his kiss with a
passion born of innocence, Anora felt an urgent core of longing begin to surge
within her and she trembled uncontrollably.

"Anora . . . my Anora," Wulfgar said softly
against her ear. He nibbled a tender earlobe, sending shivers of hitherto
unknown passion racing through her. By the blood of Odin, he could take her now
but for his promise to her father, he thought wildly. Her very nearness
threatened to overwhelm his resolve. Parting her lips, he deepened his kiss,
his tongue gently probing the honeyed recesses of her mouth.