Viking's Love (27 page)

****

Ivar arrived with his entourage. Allisande
avoided the hall when he and his warriors were there. Joran didn’t
mind her avoiding the kitchens as it kept her in his room more.
Their lovemaking grew intense as a result, both throwing all
caution aside. Joran delighted in his eager bed thrall. Each day
began and ended in her silken arms, her violet eyes growing softer
as the days passed.

They no longer fought. He delighted in the
change in Allisande, thinking she accepted her lot finally. She
pleased him so greatly; his ready smiles made his people do
double-takes, hearing his laughter far more than his rages these
days.

His slave was quieter with the onset of
winter, her expressions guarded, leaving them to wonder if she
shared their Chieftain’s feelings.

Allisande refused to go down to the docks
with everyone else in the hall to greet the long ships, and busied
herself making more tea for Joran’s people. She was released from
working in the kitchens to tend to the sick, and was grateful it
kept her away from Ivar.

Most were feeling much better. Few else had
come down with the sickness. The people were regarding her with far
less distrust now, and some even approached her with
friendliness.

Allisande was overwhelmed by the warmth. In
light of her new status as Joran’s woman, she expected hostility
from the women. They were treating her with more respect than she
felt a slave deserved. It confounded her to no end when she was
given their gifts.

She received a bolt of fine cloth to make new
gowns from, a hair brush, tortoise shell combs for her hair, and a
bolt of fur to make a new winter cloak.

Allisande put the items in Joran’s room, and
was bemused when she returned to the hall, pleased despite her
morose feelings since learning of her father’s misdeeds. The hall
was overflowing with people she didn’t recognize now.

She shied away from the growing number of
warriors in the hall. She hadn’t seen Joran since he left her that
morning. She blushed when she recalled their heated lovemaking that
morning, and her growing boldness in his arms.

Allisande didn’t protest his use of her
anymore. He had but to touch her and she weakened. He was delighted
she came to him without argument now, and they did not speak of it.
She hesitated to serve the men who were now filling the hall.

They were a dangerous-looking lot. When she
spied Wulfstan, she was determined to remain out of sight. Elwynn
and the other women served the men ale. It was a rowdy group. She
grimaced when she saw many of the serving women were fondled and
frisked as they passed.

Allisande refused to subject herself to such
obnoxious behavior. She snuck out of the back of the kitchens to
avoid the hall altogether. She neared the front of the building
when she spied Joran speaking with his father.

Ivar was just as large as his son, but his
features were far harsher, and his hooked nose made him appear even
more ferocious. He was grinning as he was speaking with his son,
and suddenly his expression turned angry. They argued heatedly for
a time.

Joran was scowling at him. The two men
conversed animatedly before they entered the hall. She had some
inkling they were discussing the upcoming raids. She shivered
despite the warmth of the day. She remained outside as long as she
could.

Allisande was reluctant in returning to the
hall to face down the man who had destroyed her whole world. With a
sigh of resignation and a deep breath, she turned and reentered the
kitchen door.

The women were giggling uproariously when she
joined them. For once, they included her in their conversation
which seemed to center around a Viking by the name of Rowan, who
had all the women giddy and flushed excitedly.

“
He can warm my furs any time!” the
prettiest of the servers said with such exuberance, the women all
giggled in response. Eldred had been the least friendly to her out
of all the serfs. She tossed her brown curls, and rolled her eyes
dramatically, fanning the front of her dress and declaring herself
utterly in love with the handsomest of Ivar’s men, a mercenary
named Rowan the Bold.

Mira, a tiny blonde, was grinning broadly
when she informed them the size of the Viking’s nether parts. The
women laughed uproariously. All were vying to serve the paragon.
Allisande shook her head at their outrageous bawdy behavior, and
was about to comment when she noticed how ill Elwynn appeared.

The older woman appeared to have come down
with the same illness that had run its course throughout the
stronghold. Allisande felt her forehead, finding her to be burning
up, and declared she needed to take to her bed.

She would now have to take Elwynn’s place
serving Ivar’s men, and dreaded the prospect, but there were too
many of them to avoid overburdening Eldred, Stasia, and Mira.
Elwynn took a pitcher of the tea with her, and Allisande promised
to check on her later.

Allisande took a large pitcher of ale, and a
tray laden with several empty tankards and followed the others into
the hall. There were at least forty warriors surrounding the high
table where Ivar and Joran sat in deep conversation.

Allisande set down tankards of ale and deftly
side stepped the hands that reached out to fondle her as she
passed. She set down a tankard of ale onto a table and was pouring
ale into it when she noticed the man seated in front of her.

She was stunned by his outward physical
beauty and could only stare. He was as large and as muscled as
Joran. He had bronze-colored hair that fell to his shoulders in
lustrous waves. His eyes were a deep, emerald green, and narrowed
with interest when he noticed the raven-haired beauty serving
him.

His perfect features split into a wide, white
grin. He reached for the tankard, and his words of thanks were lost
upon her. Her tongue escaped her. She reasoned this could only be
Rowan the Paragon that had driven the serving wenches into
fits.

She mumbled a reply that was lost in the din,
and would have turned to serve the others, except the Viking pulled
her onto his lap. She shrieked in surprise, and pushed away from
him. The Viking laughed and said something to his companions that
made them chortle in response.

Allisande promptly dumped the contents of the
pitcher into his lap. He had no choice but to release her. She
scurried away, only to run into Joran’s chest as she fled. She
bounced off of him, and nearly fell, until he grabbed her to steady
her.

Joran didn’t appear happy as he faced Rowan,
who rose and eyed him warily. Joran nodded to his father’s man, and
slid his arm possessively around Allisande’s waist, drawing her
into the curve of his arm.

“
She is mine, Rowan!” Joran said in a
low dangerous voice with an undercurrent that Allisande didn’t
recognize, and wondered at. Joran pushed her towards the kitchens.
“I will not share her with any, so leave off!”

“
Relax, Joran, I had no idea she
belonged to you.” Rowan grinned as he watched Allisande scurry
away, and whistled appreciatively under his breath, his green eyes
watching her hips sway with undisguised interest. “Last I heard you
were with Merta. The girl is quite comely. You cannot fault my
interest in her.”

“
Stay away from her,” Joran ordered
sternly, loud enough for all to hear. “She is mine, and I will not
share her with anyone. Is that clear enough for you?”

“
You have been very clear, my friend,”
Rowan said in obvious amusement, and wiped the front of his sodden
garments with a cloth Eldred handed him coyly. “I can see you hold
the slave in high esteem, but there are thirty more at my back who
would not. It appears you have a dilemma keeping your slave to
yourself.”

“
There is no dilemma! She is mine, and
I will kill anyone who dares to touch her!” Joran shouted and
looked about the hall that had grown quite silent, except for the
giggling of the serving wenches, who sobered when they heard their
Chieftain’s voice raised in ire. “Do you see?” Joran looked about
and saw no man willing to meet his gaze directly for fear of a
challenge. “There is no question she belongs to me!”

Rowan grinned in delight as he watched the
girl hovering near the kitchens, winking at her in obvious defiance
of Joran’s claim upon her. Just remembering her lush backside
squirming upon his lap only moments ago made him as randy as a
goat. She was a rare beauty, and he was undeterred by Joran’s
warnings to stay away from her.

Joran realized he was making an ass of
himself, acting like a jealous husband instead of master to a slave
that should be fair game to all. Joran stomped back to the table to
join his frowning father. Ivar gazed at him in disgust, and shook
his head, his pale eyes narrowed as he noticed the tight set of his
son’s jaw.

“
I think you are far too smitten with
Harold’s daughter for your own good, Joran,” Ivar said unhappily
and pushed his tankard forward to be filled by Mira. He had never
seen Joran so upset over a woman before, and was angry it was his
enemy’s daughter who provoked it. The girl had a hold on his son.
He would cut that hold at the first opportunity.

Ivar saw Rowan lusting after the girl, and
his gaze grew thoughtful. Perhaps Rowan could be persuaded to cause
trouble between his son and his slave?

“
She pleases me well, Father. Leave it
at that!” Joran snapped irately and tapped his fingers upon the
table impatiently. “We both know Rowan can’t keep his cock out of
the henhouse! I have not forgotten that he dallied with Aelynn when
I was away.”

“
Everyone dallied with Aelynn when you
were away, Joran,” Ivar said tightly, and eyed his son sadly. “Had
you ever looked beyond her pretty face, you would have seen the
snake behind her mask. This English girl is a pawn here, nothing
more! I have sent another demand to Lockwraithe to sweeten the pot.
I’ve raised the ransom to two hundred pounds in silver. You will be
a rich man in the spring. You can thank me for it by accepting the
ransom, and sending her back where she belongs.”

Joran eyed Ivar in surprise. He knew his sire
was playing some game with Lockwraithe, but he didn’t realize he’d
been communicating with him directly these last months, and was
disturbed by it.

“
You beggared the man with the raid,”
Joran said in a stunned voice, and shook his head in incredulity.
“How do you propose her brother rally such an amount in silver, no
less?”

Ivar chuckled and folded his massive arms
across his chest and winked secretively. “That is for him to figure
out, and he will, mark my words. He is as arrogant as his father.
He will meet my price. Whatever I set it at. Do us both a favor,
and don’t grow too soft on the wench. She will cut your throat if
given the chance.”

“
What game do you play at now? You have
forced her brother’s hand, and his coffers are empty, thanks to us.
Where do you propose he get two hundred pounds of silver
now?”

“
In the most unlikely of all places,
but it is there, my son,” Ivar said mysteriously and shrugged. “He
knows the truth, as well as she does now. If I am correct, he turns
his eyes to Luxtley and Ulsted for the funds. If I am wrong, you
have gained a delightful bedmate.”

“
You seem overly sure he will pay it,”
Joran said with a scowl as he saw Allisande reenter the hall with a
serving tray, though she steered clear of Rowan, despite his
obvious attempt to capture her attention. “I am betting he will
not. You have overplayed this game.”

“
You get to keep the woman in the end,”
Ivar said with a hearty chuckle and slapped him on the back.
“Either way, you gain something come spring, though by the looks of
things, you would be better off with the silver. The wench has
gotten to you, my son, and my guess is she will have you chasing
butterflies in yon field if you are not careful of it.” His father
chuckled uproariously at his own jest, seeing his son’s thunderous
expression.

Joran wasn’t happy when he learned Ivar
raised the price of the ransom several times these last months. He
was pushing Collin to act rashly. Rash men made mistakes.
Allisande’s brother had only two choices. He could start extorting
from Luxtley and Ulsted to meet his father’s demands, or turn a
blind eye to his sister’s plight altogether.

He felt sorry for the position the unknown
noble found himself in, trapped in Ivar’s web as he was. His father
was playing with all the Englishmen now, pulling the invisible
strings to make them perform for him, having no idea where it would
lead.

He sighed in disgust, and watched Allisande
serve his father’s men, glad to see none tried to touch her as she
passed. He stared at the beautiful raven-haired girl and prayed her
brother left her to her fate with him, a sad feeling in his heart
to see her go.

****

Allisande was alone in the kitchens taking a
much-needed respite when Rowan appeared, blocking her path. She
glared up at him and her violet eyes met lust-filled emerald ones
defiantly.

“
I thought I doused any illusions you
had of me earlier, Viking?” Allisande’s hostile eyes glittered at
him like amethyst ice-chips. Rowan grinned in delight at her wit
and stepped closer, his eyes lingering upon her delicate features
as he folded his massive arms across his chest, seeming in no hurry
to leave.

“
I am not your enemy here, Sweetface.
Why the sudden claws in my direction?” Rowan’s green eyes were
twinkling as they slid over her with obvious interest. “I came only
to apologize for grabbing you earlier. I had no idea Joran took
another woman. It was my mistake.”