Come Back to Me (41 page)

"You will be taken from here to the punishment post where you will remain until such time as you choose to speak honestly and completely about your actions."

Rycca gasped. She could not believe she had heard him aright. Neither, it seemed, could his people, for they too were suddenly agitated. A few murmured their approval but most seemed shocked even as she was.

Dragon turned away as though in disgust. He gestured to Magnus. "See to this, will you? She is my wife, I do not wish her hurt, yet must it be done. You understand?"

"Of course, lord," Magnus said quickly. He looked properly somber but also determined as he approached Rycca. "Come, lady."

So stunned was she that Rycca could not gather herself to protest. She spared a last look at Dragon but he was watching Magnus and did not meet her eyes. Her husband's loyal lieutenant took her arm and led her from the hall. Outside in the fog, he found his way to the post unerringly. The sight of it filled Rycca with horror, bringing as it did memories of such a post at Wolscroft and the terrible agonies endured at it. In her time at Landsende, she must have walked past the post a hundred times and never even taken note of it, so different did all seem here.

Had seemed. Everything was changed now. She could hear the people who had followed them from the hall but the fog was still so thick they appeared as no more than dark ghosts against the blankness of the world. A rope hung from the post. Magnus took hold of it. Briskly, he said, "Give me your hands."

She obeyed because she had no choice. Though her spirit cried out in protest, she had too much pride to engage in futile resistance. He looped the rope around her wrists and tied them snugly. She glanced up and found him gazing at her with fierce glee. In an instant, his expression was masked but Rycca was sure of what she had seen. She stepped away from him quickly. Her back pressed against the post. The fog was her friend now. Never mind that it was cold and dank, it hid her from the eyes she was sure were staring at her. The people of Landsende had come to see the Saxon bride humbled. But she would not be. She would keep her head high and endure no matter what. It was not as though she had any choice. Pride was all that was left to her.

Yet after some little time, she decided to sit down. There was no shame in that and it was vastly preferable to falling over. She had not eaten since the porridge at breakfast but the mere thought of food made her nauseated. Settling herself on the ground, she tucked the damp skirt of her gown around her and shivered.

The jarl—she refused to think of him in any other terms—had said she would remain at the post until she spoke honestly about her actions, but she had already done so and it had availed her nothing. How long could a person be made to stay like this? Without shelter, lacking privacy for the most basic needs, exposed to public humiliation, existence would quickly become hellish. A tremor of dread ran through her. She wished for the reassurance of his arms around her, strong and sure, arms in which she had found such fleeting happiness. Tears stung her eyes. She wiped them away angrily.

Moments later, Magda stepped out of the fog before her. The older woman carried several blankets, a bowl of steaming stew, and a ewer of water. Briskly, she wrapped Rycca in warm wool and put a spoon in her hand. "Eat, my lady. I will come back shortly and you will be released to see to your needs."

Startled, Rycca said the first thing that came into her mind. "I thank you, but you must not do this, Magda. I would not see trouble brought down upon you."

The older woman straightened slowly, a look of worry on her gentle face. She hesitated but finally said, "Do not be concerned about that, my lady." Then she was gone, back into the fog.

Rycca sighed deeply. She had one friend at least, so it seemed, and for that she was grateful. But gratitude did not undo the huge knot in her stomach and make it possible for her to eat. Not even the delectable aroma of Magda's stew could tempt her. She set the bowl aside and burrowed deeper into the blankets. They, at least, offered warmth.

She wasn't eating. Dammit, she needed to do that to stay warm. There was no telling how long this could go on
. On the verge of sending Magda back to try again, Dragon reconsidered. The serving woman had followed his instructions precisely. If this was to have any chance of working, he could not appear overly concerned. As it was, he was taking a chance staying so near. From his position near a corner of the stable, he could see the post through the fog but, he hoped, could not be seen himself. The sight of Rycca tied there tore at him. Not even a stern reminder that she might truly be guilty helped. He simply could not bring himself to believe it.

With a deep sigh, he settled back against the wall of the stable. Inside, Grani and Sleipnir whinnied as though they sensed their master's unhappiness. Toward evening, the fog began to lift. Dragon made sure he was well concealed and continued to watch. Magda came as he had arranged with her and led Rycca away for a short time. When they returned, the serving woman retied the rope although it obviously upset her to do so. He saw Rycca speaking to her consolingly. Magda frowned over the untouched bowl of stew, left a basket of fresh food, and made sure Rycca was well wrapped in blankets before she departed again.

No one else was about. Either the people of Landsende were sensible that their jarl would not appreciate their gawking or they had simply found it too disturbing to see a woman they had come to like in such distress. Whatever the case, they kept well away. No one dined in the hall that night and even the guards in the watchtowers kept their backs to the yard.

The long twilight finally gave way to night. Dragon stretched to ease the stiffness in his back and legs. His people would presume he was in his lodge, brooding over the treachery of his wife. It was his hope that whoever among them had thought to harm her, if indeed there was such a person, would make himself known shortly. She was tied, helpless. Surely, the opportunity would appear too good to pass up.

His stomach twisted. Never in his wildest imaginings would he have conceived of using Rycca in such a way, to lure out a traitor. But he truly could not think of anything else he might do. Over and over, he told himself she was not in any real danger. He would see anyone entering the yard immediately, long before an assailant could get near the post. And when he did see him—

There was some grim comfort in considering the price he would exact but it did not distract him from his vigil. Utterly still, all but invisible against the wall of the stable, the Dragon kept watch over his Saxon bride.

The moon was high in the sky when Rycca jerked awake suddenly. She was startled to discover she had slept, disbelieving really, for never would she have thought that possible. Yet exhaustion had finally overtaken her. Stirring in her cocoon of blankets, Rycca realized several more had been added to the pile. Magda must have come back without her being aware of it.

She had been dreaming of Dragon, imagining him there with her. What a cruel, stupid trick for her mind to play. Better she not sleep at all than surrender to such pitiful fantasies. It was very quiet in the yard. The moon was full and shining over all. Sharply etched shadows stretched across the ground. She heard a sudden
whish
and looked up in time to see an owl embarking on his night's flight.

So beautiful… so treacherous. To be given a glimpse of such a place only to have it snatched from her was worse than never having known it at all. How much kinder life would have been had it ended in her flight off the cliff.

Oh, no, that was too much! Never would she yield to such self-pity. Life was a gift from God no matter what hardships it brought.

Absently, for no better purpose than to distract herself, she twisted the rope that held her wrists. The knot was very loose. With only a slight effort, she could free herself.

And do what? Flee again? She swallowed a bitter laugh. There was nowhere to run to. She was in a prison of her own making, bound by ties she could not break to a man who believed her capable of the lowest treachery. Yet, oddly, she was not afraid. When the wanderings of her weary thoughts reached this point, Rycca stiffened in surprise.

She was not afraid.

How could that possibly be? She who had suffered through years of nightmares because of the violence she had witnessed at the hands of Vikings was now tied to a punishment post in a Viking town and yet she was not afraid. What shock and dread she had experienced were gone. In their place was only a strange serenity.

It would be all right.

She was innocent and somehow Dragon would find that out, as he had with Olav and, she was willing to guess, with others. When it became clear to him that she had nothing more to say, he would reassess what he knew and realize there had to be another explanation. Unlike her father, he was not a cruel or vengeful man. He would not hurt her. She had only to wait until the truth became evident to him.

Indeed, she had been foolish to think he might be angered by Magda's kindness to her. He would not blame the older woman who had been loyally in his service for so many years. Loyally… Rycca's eyes widened in the moonlight. Magda was utterly, unswervingly loyal to Dragon. Never would it occur to her to do anything that might displease him. Which meant—

She stared into the silvered night, straining to see. Nothing moved in the yard. There was not a hint of anyone about. And yet the conviction grew swiftly in her that she was not alone.

Hesitantly, feeling just a little foolish yet emboldened by yearning she could not deny, she whispered, "Dragon? Are you there? Can you hear me?"

Scarcely believing that she had guessed his presence, bewildered as to what that must mean, Dragon told himself he should not answer. The very person he hunted might already be about, only waiting for what seemed a safe moment. He could wreck it all by speaking. And yet he could not withstand the soft pleading in her voice.

Tensely, he answered. "Rycca, be quiet. No one must know I am here."

Joy flooded her. She had to suppress the urge to shout with relief. Her faith was not misplaced. He had not left her alone in the cold and dark.

"Dragon, why—?"

"Hush! We will speak of this later."

Ever obedient—the thought almost made her laugh out loud—she pressed her lips together and kept silent. Yet there was no such restriction on her thoughts. He was there, keeping watch over her, which meant he expected something to happen. What? That she would be so foolish as to try to escape? Not for a moment did she believe he would seek to trap her like that. No, he was waiting for someone else, the real villain who had sought to harm them both.

Waiting and hoping to lure him out by the simple expediency of using her as… bait.

That husband of hers—that dear, darling husband of hers—was going to have some serious apologizing to do when this was over.

Fearing that the sheer expanse of her smile would give the plan away, Rycca pulled a corner of a blanket up over her face. A short time later, she drifted off to sleep again, secure in the knowledge that she lay under the watchful eye of the Dragon.