The Wolf and the Dove (40 page)

Wulfgar rose and stared down at her in anger. “You are mine, twice pledged from your own lips.”

Aislinn shrugged and smiled at him gently. “A choice of evils, once to ease the burden of a loathsome sort, once to see your honor held. Wulfgar, can I make you see?” She held out a hand to the door. “I can go yonder out upon the streets and would you say me not that I could bring to my bed this night an even dozen lords of high repute?”

Wulfgar shook his head and would have denied it but she spoke earnestly as if she could force the thoughts into his mind.

“Wulfgar, hear me out. What matter one or a dozen? What matter the cost? If I come willingly, then I am whore.”

Now he almost sneered at her, having lost his amorous bend. “Then what matter your handful of coppers or words spoken in some hallowed hall? What makes the difference but that you bind a man for his lifetime?”

She turned her face away from him and the tears welled again as she knew he little understood what made her the very woman he desired. Her words were spoken so softly he had to strain to hear them.

“I am here when you would have me. I may cry out and yield to you again, but again I shall resist you to the limit of my will.”

She hung her head in dejected defeat and tears dripped slowly on the back of her hands folded in her lap. Unable to bear the sight of her crying and equally unable to ease her mood, Wulfgar finally turned and angrily strode from the room.

He stood before the fireplace in the hall, staring broodingly into the flames. He gritted his teeth. “Must I ever rape the wench?” he murmured to himself. “When will she come to me as I would have her?”

“You spoke, my lord?” A nasal voice sounded behind him and he whirled to find Sanhurst staring at him.

“Saxon swine!” he roared. “Get from my sight.”

The young lad made haste to do his master’s bidding and in the chamber upstairs Aislinn heard Wulfgar’s voice and knew why his anger showered on others. She rose from the bed and went to the door, almost yielding from her own resolve. She sighed and shook her head and going to the window, leaned her head against the panes and stared out over the dark, murky city.

The fire had died on the hearth when Wulfgar came again to the chamber. In the bed Aislinn closed her eyes and feigned sleep, listening to him move about the darkened chamber, then the bed dipped as his weight came upon it. She felt him press close and she only sighed and stirred sleepily. Still Wulfgar could not resist her nearness. His hands moved and soon caressed her boldly. He pulled her beneath him until his weight held her on her back. His lips joined the attack and played upon hers, softly at first then fiercely until she was breathless and weak, pliant to his will.

“No, no, please,” she whispered, but he gave her words no heed, and she knew her battle was lost again. He took her and she sobbed as her body answered of its own. Again beneath him, the torrent grew until it obscured all else, then seemed to lift her up on its rising waves and sweep her swiftly to her doom.

As the passion ebbed, she lay exhausted in his arms and oddly felt no sobs or tears. She wondered at the strange contentment that seemed to fill her now and of his tender manner with her. He gave her gifts when he had vowed it was not his way. He had said he did not fight over women, yet he still did battle over her. Thus it was evident he could change his mind and he might change it again.

The next few days passed quickly as Wulfgar attended to his duties and was called often to the castle to see to the details of his estate. When they were in public together, Wulfgar and Aislinn seemed much as lovers; there was a lingering in their touch and when their eyes met it was with a gentle warmth. But when they were alone in their chambers, Aislinn became cool and aloof and seemed to fear Wulfgar’s merest touch. Her resistance began to wear on him. Each time he must start anew and attack her fortress with vigor and with patience, yet when their play was done, where before she had drawn away, now she lay close to him and enjoyed the comfort of his arms about her.

It was three days hence that a letter came from William releasing Wulfgar from his duties at court and bidding him to return to Darkenwald and attend to his duties there. He was drawn away by a number of matters that day and was late returning. Aislinn made her meal alone and later in her chambers waited for him with a platter of meat warming by the hearth and a mug of ale cooling on the window sill. Their last night in London they stood at the window, looking at the city until the moon rose high overhead, and between them there was a quietness, a serenity and contentment never felt before. Aislinn leaned against Wulfgar as he stood behind her with his arms folded about her, and she gloried in those tender moments as none before.

There was a rush the next morning. The last items were packed into bundles and carried down. Aislinn dressed and wrapped herself in the warm fur-lined cloak that she cherished and made her way to the hall where she had a quick breakfast before going to the stables. Her small roan punch was tied to the back of the cart without saddle or trappings as if to be led. With a puzzled frown she turned in bemusement and found Gowain standing near.

“Sir knight, am I to ride the cart?”

“Nay, my lady. Your mount is yonder.”

He raised a hand and pointed. There was an odd smile on his lips but he would say no more and turning, walked away. Aislinn frowned after him and went to see for herself, following his gesture. There in the stable was the fine dapple-gray mare. Upon its back sat her sidesaddle and before it, a warm robe to cover her legs on the journey. She ran a hand down the mare’s flank to admire the depth of muscle there. She caressed the mare’s muzzle and shook her head at its soft bluish gray. Suddenly feeling a presence behind her, she turned to find Wulfgar watching her with an amused smile. She opened her mouth and he spoke instead.

“ ’Tis yours,” he said brusquely and shrugged. “I owe you one.”

He turned and led the Hun outside where he mounted. Aislinn again knew a warming in her breast and again was reminded of his words that he never spent much on his women. Happily she led the mare outside and cast her gaze about as there were none to help her mount. Seeing her predicament, Sir Gowain made a great show of leaping from his own horse and giving her a hand, settling her carefully in the saddle and tucking the robe snugly about her. Then he swung up on his own horse and the party was off. Aislinn had no word or gesture from Wulfgar and so sought a place in the caravan some few paces behind him. They made their way carefully through the streets of London with the cart creaking along behind the knights and the bowmen bringing up the rear. They crossed the bridge and traversed the road through Southwark and out into the open country. Here Wulfgar looked over his shoulder again and again as if to assure himself that all was well behind him. At last he lifted the Hun’s reins and slowed until Aislinn
was at his side. The pace picked up again and she smiled, for she now occupied a wifely place beside her lord.

The day grew cold and a camp was made that night with tents, one for Wulfgar and Aislinn, one for the knights and one for the rest of the men. Hlynn was left to what space she could find in the cart which rested close beside Wulfgar’s tent. A great fire was built and after a warm supper they retired to the tents against the cold night air. All was quiet and Aislinn could see the flickering of the dying fire through the walls of the tent. Great robes covered them and soon she felt Wulfgar move close beside her, and then his hand began to explore. A rattle came from the wagon where Hlynn made her pallet, and Wulfgar’s mood was broken. But a few moments passed and again Aislinn felt his touch and again as if by design a noise came from the cart. He withdrew. She heard a mumbled curse and then his voice came in an aggravated whisper.

“That one beats about out there like a bull in a breeding pen.”

He came close and tried again, and again Hlynn settled herself in the cart. With a disgrunted curse, Wulfgar rolled over and drew the pelt close about his neck. Aislinn giggled at his chafing and knowing herself well safe for the evening, snuggled close against his back to share his warmth.

The next day dawned bright and cold, and the horses breathed great clouds of steam which misted on their bridles and frosted the bits. They set out again and Aislinn’s heart lifted, for she knew that night she would spend in her home at Darkenwald.

The day was cold and clear as January days are wont to be. There was no fanfare of trumpets to greet them, but it was the only thing missing as the gay procession entered the courtyard of Darkenwald, for it seemed as if every person from miles around had turned out to welcome the lord back to his manor. Aislinn was warmly wrapped in the voluminous folds of the fox-lined cape as she sat lightly on the mare. The animal was long legged and spirited and pranced with excitement, but she checked her to stay carefully behind Wulfgar. He guided the Hun through the mass of people and dismounted before the hall. As a lackey took the bridle of Aislinn’s horse, Wulfgar swept her from the saddle to stand her beside him. He bent forward as Aislinn lifted her head to ask him a question, and Gwyneth’s brow furrowed as she watched the couple from the doorway, noting that when they touched it was almost a caress. As they came toward the hall, a cluster of people jammed close about them—the knights who had accompanied
Wulfgar and the Normans who had stayed; a rabble of children daring each other to touch the knights, particularly Wulfgar; and a press of townspeople seeking news from afar. Gwyneth moved back into the hall and when the door was thrown open, the sounds from within mingled with those from without. Dogs barked at the strangers and shouts of greeting rang loud. The sweet smell of a roasting boar drifted from the hearth where two young lads were set turning it. It blended with the stench of sweat and leather and the tangy spice of newly tapped ale.

Here Aislinn knew each voice and each odor. The bedlam assailed the senses, but she seemed to grow more alive and alert in this cacaphony of sound, sight and smell. Her heart thumped wildly as she was welcomed by familiar faces. She was home, away from the stilted posturing of the court. Women shouted to hasten the feast and the knights and warriors found horns of ale to quench their thirst. Many were lifted and toasts were shouted back and forth across the hall. The crushing noise dulled to a low roar, and Aislinn found herself among the circle of men as they bantered back and forth with Wulfgar. Feeling out of place, she tried to draw away from his side to join the women, but though he did not cease his conversation, his hand on her shoulder held her and drew her back to his side. Content to stay, Aislinn relaxed against him where he stood, enjoying the deep sound of his voice and his ready laughter.

The hall grew still as the ring of Gwyneth’s words overrode the gaiety. “Well, Wulfgar, have you had your fill of slaying Saxons?”

She came toward him with a deliberate pace and others made way for her.

“Have you won this fair place and all with it or must we soon pack our belongings and move elsewhere?”

Wulfgar smiled tolerantly. “ ’Tis mine, Gwyneth. Even Ragnor found it impossible to take it from me.”

Her brows raised questioning. “What do you mean?”

His gaze was mocking. “Why, Gwyneth, we did joust for this fair land and the Lady Aislinn.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Aislinn accusingly. “What has the whore been about now? What deception brought you and that worthy knight to arms? ‘Twould be like her to further fill your head with vicious slander of me. I can well imagine her simpering lies as she rolls her eyes in innocence.”

Wulfgar felt Aislinn stiffen against him, though she gave no outward sign of her anger.

Gwyneth held out her hands to him and spoke pleadingly as Wulfgar met her eye in calm regard.

“Oh, don’t you see her game, brother? She seeks to rule Darkenwald through you and turn your head from us. You must fight down these basic urgings of a bastard and thrust her aside before you are undone. You would do well to watch the finer bloods at court. Your habits and your frolics with this whore do not become a lord, and she will be the end of you.”

Gwyneth considered Aislinn with haughty distain as she continued with her tirade.

“She set the serfs against me. In truth, she even barred my way when I would have punished that insolent Ham for disobeying my command. Yea, even Sweyn was drawn into her treachery and no doubt will side with her.”

She raised a brow to Wulfgar and smiled.

“Has she told you of her fondness for her former swain and their games while you were gone? ‘Twas convenient for them that you brought that slave here so they could dally together in your absence.”

She did not miss his darkening brow and saw success in her game.

“Why, good Haylan whom you sent to share the hall”—she turned and smiled toward the object of her words who stood somewhat uneasy but beautiful and arrayed in another of Aislinn’s former gowns. “Aislinn set upon her and would not share the merest rag to clothe her body until I made the matter right. I could not see the harm in making her share her garments when we were in need. Above all that she has done, this slave demanded a free woman roast meat and prepare food like any serf.”

Wulfgar glanced about him at the silent faces gathered around them. In some he saw doubt and in others rage. Gowain stood stiff and angry beside him, ready to defend Aislinn if his lord did not. Wulfgar turned back to his sister.

“I heard no slander until you appeared, Gwyneth,” he remarked quietly and watched Gwyneth’s eyes widen in surprise. “Indeed, Aislinn spoke nothing of you nor Haylan.”

Gwyneth stuttered in confusion and Wulfgar smiled sardonically.

“It seems, dear sister, no lips but yours have betrayed you. But now that you have aired your complaints, I beg you to take this close to your heart.” He spoke tersely. “I am lord here, Gwyneth, and now so titled. I am also judge and if I choose, executioner. Understand, no punishment is given here but in my name and you have no privy claim to my authority. ’Tis mine alone and cannot be usurped by any other. You must as anyone here abide under my laws, and I will tell you true, I would not be against giving you the same as you would another, so tread carefully, sister.

“As for those I sent.” He, too, marked Haylan with his eyes much to that one’s dismay. “I sent them here to serve these lands with every talent they possess and none of them was meant to take a place within this hall.”

His attention moved to Aislinn for a moment before meeting Gwyneth’s eyes again.

“You refuse to see that Aislinn serves me well and faithfully in all things and mends what you would set atroubled. I enjoy her company and she abides within my house, thus within my guard as you have. I must tell you again that she is the lady of my choosing. What is hers I gladly cede her for her labors, if not for my own desire. Kerwick knows this well and also knows the weight of my hand, so I have little doubt that he would lay the lightest touch on any of my possessions.”

He gestured to the clothes both Haylan and Gwyneth wore.

“I see you have shared those meager rags well, but what is hers she owns and henceforth, if taken will be considered stolen. I do not fancy you wandering in my chambers as you will. Do not enter there again without my leave or Aislinn’s.”

Gwyneth stood in embarrassed silence and could find no retort to hurl in his face.

“In deference to your father and our mother, I say this gently,” he continued. “But venture you with the most of care that you do not press my mercies again.”

“I had not expected you to see my sorry plight, Wulfgar,” Gwyneth sighed. “What am I to you but sister?”

She turned and made her exit carefully with a quiet dignity that deceived the hearts of some. Haylan watched her in bewilderment until she disappeared, then went to the hearth where a boar and other game roasted. She found Kerwick regarding her with mockery in his clear blue eyes.

“Your garments are too fine for this labor, my lady.”

“Cease your prattling, lout,” Haylan hissed. “Or I will see you bereft of the simple wits you boast. My brother, Sanhurst, is here now and will come to my defense.”

Kerwick cast an eye to the one mentioned who at that moment was laboring up the stairs with Wulfgar’s chest. His laugh rang with an edge of spite.

“It seems Sanhurst is too busy with his own to care much of your woes. A good lad, he does not seek to share his master’s table but is content to be about his duties.”

Haylan bristled at his jibe and with a glare at him turned to test the meat.

The feast was done and the hour was late when Aislinn followed Wulfgar up the stairs to their chamber. Wulfgar closed the door behind them and watched as Aislinn pirouetted about the room, entranced with being once more at home.

“Oh, Wulfgar,” she cried. “This happiness is too much to bear.”

He frowned at her inanity and glanced about the chamber, half feeling the welcome here. His mood had been disrupted by Gwyneth’s words. They could not be dismissed lightly, and now his mind sought an answer.

Aislinn stopped and swayed giddly as a dizziness caught her then with a giggle threw herself full length upon the bed. Wulfgar moved to the side of it and stood gazing down at her as she rolled about and in joysome frolic scattered the pelts, flinging some to the floor.

He bent the full frown of his countenance upon her. Aislinn saw his scowl but knew no reason for it. She gazed up at him, sitting back upon her heels.

“Are you ill, Wulfgar?” she asked, somewhat worried at his manner. “Does some wound perchance hurt?” She patted the bed beside her. “Come, lay here. I’ll knead the pain away.”

His brows knitted in a dark storm. “Aislinn, have you played me false?”

Her eyes widened in stunned dismay.

“Before you speak,” he counseled slowly, “be it known I must find the truth. Did you bed your Kerwick while I was gone?”

She rose slowly until kneeling on the bed, her eyes level with his. The gray ones were clouded with indecision, but the violet eyes grew darker until they snapped with anger. Aislinn trembled with rage at the thought of his affront. To take her pride and then question her faith. Her fury broke. Her fist, clenched tight and backed with every ounce of strength she could muster, struck squarely the center of that broad chest. Pain numbed her hand and brought tears to her eyes but he stood unmoved. Her temper flared the higher.

“How dare you! You made me your slave and took what virtue I could call my own, then you dare ask such a thing of me! Ohhh, you betraying ass—”

Angrily she snatched up a pelt and flung herself from the bed. She flew to the door where she whirled to face him, yet she still could find no words to vent her wrath. In outraged ire, she stamped her foot and spinning on her heels, fled down the stairs and across the hall, unmindful of Bolsgar who turned from the hearth to stare at her in some surprise. She marched across the courtyard, then having no better destination in mind, turned along the narrow path that led to Maida’s cottage. She startled her mother no end when she flung open the door and slammed it closed behind her, dropping the heavy bar in place and nodding her head once in definite satisfaction of this deed. Without a word of explanation Aislinn threw herself into the single chair and gathering the pelt around her, pouted her petulance at the fire. The old woman read the signs and saw in her daughter’s rejection of Wulfgar a high revenge indeed. A cackle burst from her lips and she pranced from her bed in glee, dancing about her daughter
who scowled at her from beneath her brow. But Maida silenced suddenly as heavy footsteps sounded without and the door was tried and then rattled under a heavy pounding.

“Aislinn.” Wulfgar’s voice rang.

Aislinn threw an angry glance over her shoulder at the offending portal and returned a stony gaze to the flames.

“Aislinn!”

The rafters shook but Aislinn gave no response. Then with a crash the bar splintered from its brackets and the door was torn from its leather hinges and fell to the floor. Maida shrieked and scurried into a dark corner. Aislinn came to her feet and whirled to him in rage. Wulfgar stepped over the broken panels and faced the exercised Aislinn.

“You Saxon wench!” his voice rumbled. “No locked doors will ever keep me from what is mine.”

“Am I yours, my lord?” she jeered.

“You are,” he roared in reply.

She spoke slowly, biting out each word as if it hurt. “Am I yours, my lord, by right of conquest? Or perhaps, my lord, am I yours by the words of a priest? Or am I yours but by your own simple tongue?”

“Did you bed the cur?” Wulfgar shouted.

“Nay!” Aislinn stormed, then continued more softly and slowly as if to make each word crystal clear. “Could I have bedded the cur with Hlynn, Ham and my mother present and Sweyn guarding my door? Would I have played the game for their enjoyment?” Her eyes brightened with turbulent tears. “Would I say you nay on every turn of hand and bid you spare me some dignity if I had none? Believe what Gwyneth says if you must, but do not expect me to bow and scrape before you in amends for that which is naught. ’Tis your choice whether you hold my words dear or Gwyneth’s. I will not answer you again of those accusations, and I will not plead for you to see my way.”

Wulfgar stared at her for a long time then reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

“You have found a place within me, Saxon wench, where only you can do me hurt.”

He snatched her to him and gazed down into her eyes, his own aflame with passion and desire. Without a word he lifted her in his arms then stepping over the shattered door, bore her through the night to the dimly lighted hall. As he crossed the hall with her, Bolsgar chuckled softly in his ale.