The Wolf and the Dove (7 page)

Aislinn’s eyes flashed. “You are loathsome!”

His grin deepened. “Few women have said as much, but you are not the first.”

Aislinn glanced around in desperation for some object to hurl at him.

“Come now, Aislinn,” he cajoled. “I grow impatient. Let us see your worth.”

She stamped a slender foot. “No! No! No! I will not play the whore!!”

“Poor Kerwick,” he sighed.

“I hate you,” she screamed.

He did not appear concerned. “I have no great love for you either. I detest lying women.”

“Then if you detest me, why this?!” she demanded.

Wulfgar chuckled. “I don’t have to love you to bed you. I desire you. That is enough.”

“Not for me!” she cried, shaking her head furiously.

Wulfgar’s shoulders shook with his laughter. “You are no virgin. What difference is one more man?”

Aislinn stuttered in rage. “I have been taken once against my will,” she stormed. “That does not mean I’m a slut.”

He looked at her from under his brows. “Not even for Kerwick?” he taunted.

Aislinn choked back a sob and whirled in helpless frustration. She stood quivering in anger and loathing fear, unable to bear his mockery. Slowly she unfastened her gunna and let it fall to the floor. A tear slid down her cheek. The kirtle followed the gown and lay in a heap around her slender ankles.

She heard Wulfgar approach and he came to stand before her. His eyes burned and seemed to brand her where they touched as his gaze traveled slowly down her body and then slowly upward again, measuring every soft, splendid curve with a thoroughness that seemed to draw her very breath from her. Aislinn stood proud and tall, hating him, yet knowing a strange excitement stirring in her youthful body as this man stared at her.

“Yea, you are lovely,” Wulfgar breathed, reaching out to fondle a well-rounded breast. Aislinn steeled her body, yet to her shamed surprise felt a sweeping pleasure beneath the warmth and gentleness of his hand. He traced a finger between her breasts downward to her narrow waist. Indeed, she was beautiful, long of limb, slender bodied, yet with swelling breasts, ripe and delicately hued. They loomed eager for a man’s caress.

“Do you find me worth a man’s life?” she bit out icily.

“Most certainly,” he replied. “But that was never the case.”

Aislinn stared at him in bewilderment, and he smiled slowly into her eyes.

“Kerwick’s debt is not yours. His life is his own. I give him that. Yea, there will be punishment for him because he had dared much and must be properly rewarded. But nothing you can do will change what I have set aside for him.”

Aislinn went livid with rage and she struck out at him in her fury, but Wulfgar caught her wrist and pulled her hard against him. He chuckled unmercifully at her as she struggled to free herself. Aislinn felt his hands in contact with her body, momentarily touching here and there in his attempt to subdue her, and he seemed to enjoy her efforts thoroughly. He smiled into her flashing eyes.

“My fiery vixen, you are well worth any man’s life, even if all the kingdoms in the world were at stake.”

“You knave!” she cried. “You beggardly oaf! You—you bastard!”

His grip tightened to iron intensity and his smile faded. He held her so closely their bodies seemed to merge into one. Aislinn gasped in pain and bit her lips against crying out. Her thighs were caught tightly to his and she knew his raging desires. Her head swam and she could only whimper in agony in his cruel embrace.

“Remember one thing, damoiselle,” Wulfgar said coldly. “I have little use for women and a lying one even less. The next time you lie to me you will suffer greater shame than you just have.”

With that he thrust her from him, and she fell in a heap upon the floor at the foot of the bed and lay quivering, her body aching, her shame intense. Aislinn heard him move and glanced up to see him lift a length of chain her father had used to leash the dogs. As he approached her with it, she cringed in terror. Had her words provoked him so that now he must beat her to have revenge? What hell had she sought, trying to flee from Ragnor’s grasp? He would kill her, she was certain. Her heart drummed in her ears, and as he bent to her, she gave a gasp and leapt away, kicking at him as she tried to flee his outstretched hands. He dropped the chain and bounded after her.

“Nay!” she shrieked and eluded him by running under his arm. She darted past him in a spurt of strength and flew to the door. Her fingers tried to lift the bar, but even lame, Wulfgar was fast, and he was close, a menacing step behind her. Aislinn could almost feel his breath upon her neck. With a cry, she flung herself from the door toward the hearth, her mind churning, trying to outwit him. But to her horror, her foot caught in the edge of the wolf pelt spread before the fire and she stumbled. Before she could regain her balance, he dove at her, throwing his arms about her middle. As they went crashing down, he twisted his body so that he bore much of her weight against him and took the full impact of the fall upon himself though it caused him no slight discomfort as his leg was jolted. Aislinn had no time to wonder if he meant it thus, for she was too busy trying to escape him. Her limbs flailed about as she sought to free herself, then she turned in his restraining arms to press a frontal attack. She saw the error of her ways when he laughed and pinned her to the floor beneath him.

“Let me go!” she gasped, thrashing her head from side to side. She was shaking uncontrollably until her teeth chattered, yet she was not cold for the heat of the fire near scorched her skin. Though she felt his stare upon her face she would not look at him but kept her eyes closed. “Let me go! Please!”

To her amazement he rose and drew her to her feet. He peered down into her tearful face with a twisted smile, reaching up to brush some of her wildly cascading hair from her cheek. Aislinn wrapped her arms before her to hide her nakedness from him and returned his gaze sullenly, feeling bruised and battered.

Wulfgar laughed and taking her slim hand into his, led her back to the end of the bed. He picked up the chain again and with a dry sob, Aislinn strained away, but he pushed her down to the floor. There to her utter amazement he fastened one end of the shackle to the bed and the other around her ankle. Now she gazed at him in complete bafflement. Glancing into her face he read her confoundment and apprehension. He smiled.

“I have no wish to lose you as Ragnor did,” he mocked. “There are no longer any brave and foolish Saxons for you to bury, therefore I doubt that you would tarry so close to Darkenwald’s door if you were left free to roam while I seek my rest. The chain is long and gives you some freedom.”

“You are overkind, milord,” she retorted, anger riding again over her fears. “I had no inkling your strength was so lacking that you must chain me while you do your worst to me.”

“It saves energy,” he laughed. “And I can see I’ll need all the assist I can get to tame the shrew.”

He rose and strode from her back to the hearth where he began to disrobe, setting his garments neatly aside. Aislinn contemplated him broodingly as she huddled naked upon the cold floor. Garbed only in chausses, he stared pensively into the flames, absentmindedly rubbing his thigh as if to ease the ache. She noticed that once inside the chamber he gave almost imperceptible favor to the wounded limb.

Aislinn sighed as she tucked her knees beneath her chin and idly wondered at the battles he must have fought. A long scar marred the bronze chest as if someone had laid a broadsword across it. Several smaller scars marked his body and the muscles beneath the sun-darkened skin gave evidence of a hard, rigorous life and of much time spent wielding a sword and riding a horse. It was easy to see he was not a man of leisure and even less difficult to guess the reason why she had not evaded him. His waist was trim and his belly hard and flat, the hips narrow and his legs long and well-shaped beneath the stockinged garment.

Now in the flickering light he suddenly seemed drawn and haggard and Aislinn could almost feel the exhaustion that sapped his strength and drooped his frame. She experienced a quick pang of pity for this Norman foe, realizing that he must be driving himself by will power alone.

Wulfgar sighed and stretched his weary muscles. Then sitting down, he removed the chausses and laid them aside with his other clothes. As he turned toward Aislinn her breath caught in her throat, for the sight of his male nudity brought her fear to the fore once more. She shrank away, trying to cover her own nakedness. At her movement Wulfgar stopped as if remembering her presence and read the fear written in the violet eyes she raised to him. A tawny brow lifted and mockery curved his lips as he reached to the bed where he seized several wolf pelts. He threw them to her.

“Good night, lover,” he said simply.

There was stunned bewilderment as well as relief in her expression as she stared at him for a moment. Then she hurriedly wrapped herself against the chill and settled herself gratefully upon the hard stone floor. Blowing out the candles, Wulfgar pulled himself to the middle of her parents’ bed, and soon his heavy breathing filled the room. Aislinn snuggled deeper into the furs and smiled, content.

Aislinn was rudely awakened the next morning by a lusty whack upon her buttocks that brought a screech of pain from her. She started up in agony and came face to face with an amused Wulfgar who sat on the edge of the bed grinning at her. Handing her garments to her, he watched appreciatively as she quickly donned them, feasting his eyes on the impudent breasts and the soft, ivory thighs before she snatched her kirtle over her head.

“You’re a lazy wench,” he chided. “Come, get me water to wash by and help me dress. My life is not so leisurely as yours.”

Aislinn glared at him, rubbing her abused posterior.

“You also sleep soundly,” he said.

“I trust you slept well, my lord,” she said, tossing her head to look at him. “You seem rested at least.”

Wulfgar gave her a slow appraisal that seemed to penetrate her simple garments and smiled, his eyes warm and glowing. “Well enough, damoiselle.”

Aislinn’s color deepened and she hurried to the door.

“I’ll fetch water,” she said and fled from the chamber.

Maida sidled up to her as she filled a pail with hot water from the kettle hanging above the fire in the hall.

“He bars the doors or sets a guard to it,” the old woman whined. “What must be done to save you from him? He’s not an easy man for you, the beasty. I heard your screams last night.”

“He didn’t touch me.” Aislinn said in some wonder. “All night I slept at the foot of the bed and he didn’t touch me.”

“What manner man would do that?” Maida demanded. “ ’Tis naught from mercy, I vow. Wait ‘til eventide and he’ll take you. This time, do not linger. Flee. Flee.”

“I cannot,” Aislinn answered. “He chains me to the bed.”

Maida screeched in dismay. “He treats you like an animal.”

Aislinn shrugged. “At least he does not beat me.” Remembering otherwise, she rubbed her buttocks. “Only a bit.”

“Huh, he would kill you if you crossed him.”

Aislinn shook her head, recalling the moment he held her tightly pressed against him. Even in his anger he did not abuse her. “Nay, his manner is different.”

“How do you know? His own men fear him.”

“I am not afraid of him,” Aislinn returned proudly.

“You are foolhardy!” Maida whined. “ ’Twill gain you naught to be stubborn and proud like your sire.”

“I must go now,” Aislinn murmured. “He is waiting to wash.”

“I’ll find a way to help you.”

“Mother, leave be! I’m afraid for you. That one called Sweyn guards his master’s back like a hawk. He’ll kill you if you dare anything. And I find Wulfgar more acceptable than these other jackals.”

“But what of Kerwick?” Maida hissed, glancing toward where he lay huddled asleep among the dogs.

Aislinn shrugged. “Ragnor ended that.”

“Kerwick does not think so. He still wants you.”

“Then he must realize it is a different world than a week ago. We are not free. I belong to Wulfgar now as he does. We’re no better than slaves. We have no rights other than what we’re given.”

Maida sneered. “Strange, daughter, I should hear you say that, you were always the haughty one.”

“What have we to be arrogant about now, Mother?” Aislinn questioned wearily. “We have nothing. We must think of staying alive and helping each other.”

“Your blood is among the best of Saxony. Your sire, a great lord. I will not have you whelp a bastard’s brat.”

Aislinn looked hard at Maida and her eyes flashed their anger. “Would you rather have me produce a bantling for Ragnor, my father’s murderer?”

Maida wrung her hands in consternation. “Do not scold at me, Aislinn. I think only of you.”

“I know, mother,” Aislinn sighed, softening. “Please, at least wait a time and let us see what kind of man Wulfgar proves to be. He was angry over the killings. Mayhaps he will be a fair man.”

“A Norman?!” Maida shrieked.

“Yea, Mother, a Norman. Now I must go.”

When Aislinn opened the chamber door, Wulfgar scowled at her. He was half dressed.

“It took you long enough, wench,” he growled.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she murmured. She put her burden down and raised her eyes to his. “My mother feared for my safety last night, and I only paused to reassure her that I suffered no harm.”

“Your mother? Which one is she? I saw no lady of the hall, yet Ragnor said she still is about.”

“The one you refer to as hag,” Aislinn said softly. “She is my mother.”

“That one,” he grunted. “She was ill-used by some heavy fist, I vow.”

Aislinn nodded. “I am the only one she has left. She worries about me.” She swallowed hard. “She speaks of vengeance.”

Wulfgar peered at her, now fully alert. “Do you seek to warn me? Will she try to kill me?”

Aislinn’s gaze fell nervously. “Mayhap. I am not certain, my lord.”

“You tell me this because you do not wish to see her slain?”

“Oh, God forbid!” Aislinn gasped, beginning to tremble. “I would never forgive myself if I let that happen. She has taken enough from the Normans. Besides, your duke would slay us all if you were killed.”

Wulfgar smiled. “Your warning is taken and I will look after her and will tell Sweyn to take care.”

Releasing a grateful sigh, Aislinn lifted her gaze to meet his. “I thank you, messire.”

“Now, girl,” he sighed heavily. “Help me finish dressing. You’ve tarried too long for me to put that water to good use. However, I shall want a bath tonight and my anger will be sorely aroused if you delay too long then.”

The hall was empty but for Kerwick when Aislinn followed Wulfgar down. Her betrothed was still chained with the dogs but now he was awake. He watched her as she crossed the room behind Wulfgar, never wavering a moment in that intense regard of her.

Maida came to serve them herself and scurried to place warm bread, meat, and softened honeycombs before them as Wulfgar seated himself before the table and gestured Aislinn to a place by his side. Kerwick’s gaze had remained steadfastly on his former betrothed until Maida brought the food. Now his hunger for that stuff was even more important. Maida waited until Wulfgar served himself and Aislinn then took the rejected heel of bread and gave most of it to Kerwick, keeping only a small piece for herself to gnaw on. As she squatted near him and exchanged whispered comments with him, it was apparent the two had found some common ground and now shared confidences in their grief. Wulfgar studied them over his meal, and then suddenly his belt knife rang on the table, drawing the attention of all. Aislinn saw a quick flash of anger pass his features, leaving them taut but thoughtful. She puzzled at what had disturbed him, but his voice broke her train of thought as he spoke tersely.

“Old hag, come here.”

Maida seemed to crouch even lower as she sidled in front of the table as if she expected more blows to descend upon her.

“Stand up, woman,” Wulfgar commanded. “Straighten your back, for I know you can.”

Slowly Maida drew herself to her full height, slight though it was. When she stood straight backed before him, Wulfgar leaned forward. in his chair.

“Is it you who was known as Lady Maida before your master was slain?”

“Yea, lord,” Maida bobbed her head in a birdlike manner. She glanced nervously at her daughter who sat tense and waiting.

“And is it you,” Wulfgar questioned further, “who was lady of this hall?”

Maida swallowed convulsively and nodded once more. “Yea, lord.”

“Then, dame, you do me ill service when you play the fool. You dress in rags and fight the dogs for food and bemoan your lowly station, when if you displayed the courage of your husband and had decried your status, you might now reside as is thy wont. You play me false before your people. So I bid you now, seek your garments and clothe your frame, and in the course of such, wash the filth from your body and do not carry this game beyond my endurance. Your daughter’s chambers will be thine. Now get thee hence.”

As she withdrew Wulfgar returned again to his meal. When he glanced up he found Aislinn watching him with an almost tender expression upon her face.

“Do I perceive a softening in your heart for me, damoiselle?” He laughed at her scowl. “Beware, maid. I will tell you true. After you will come another and then another. There are no strings that can tether me to any woman. So guard your heart.”

“My lord, you greatly exaggerate your appeal,” she replied indignantly. “If I feel anything for you, ‘tis hatred. You are the enemy and you are to be despised as such.”

“Indeed?” He smiled slowly into her eyes. “Then tell me, damoiselle, do you always kiss the enemy so warmly?”

Aislinn’s cheek flushed scarlet. “You are mistaken, lord. It was not warmth, merely passive resistance.”

Wulfgar’s grin deepened. “Shall I kiss you again, damoiselle, to prove that I am right?”

Aislinn returned his gaze with distain. “Far be it for a serf to argue with a lord. If you imagined response, then who am I to say you nay?”

“You disappoint me, Aislinn,” He chided. “You give up the game too easily.”

“ ’Tis that, milord, or suffer through another kiss or worse yet another mauling such as I had last eventide. I fear my bones will not take another crushing as you seemed wont to give them. I would much rather concede.”

“Another time, damoiselle.”

Kerwick withdrew to the shadows as the great door was flung wide and Ragnor swept into the hall, his breath curling around his head like streamers of fog. He paused before Aislinn, and bowed shortly.

“Good morningtide, my dove. It seems that the night has well agreed with you.”

Aislinn’s mouth curved upward into a winsome smile. If he could play this game of polite nonsense, so could she.

“Yes, sir knight. It pleased me well.”

She sensed his surprise and was aware of Wulfgar’s amused gaze upon her. At the moment she thought she hated both men equally.

“ ’Twas a chilled night to be warmed by a wench,” Ragnor remarked casually and turned to eye Wulfgar. “You might taste that maid, Hlynn, if you tire of thorns and nettles in your bed.” He grinned, rubbing his thumb against his torn lip. “She’ll do whatever you command without a struggle and her teeth I’ll wager aren’t nearly so sharp.”

Wulfgar grunted. “I prefer a livelier game.”

Ragnor shrugged and seizing a horn, poured himself a hearty draught of ale from the flagon while Wulfgar sat quietly, waiting the man’s good time.

“Aaargh.” Ragnor cleared his throat and banged the empty horn down. “The peasants are up and about their labors as you ordered, Wulfgar, and the men set to guard against thieves and roving bands of looters and in the twain to watch the villeins.”

Wulfgar nodded his approval. “Set patrols to ride the perimeters of the lands.” Thoughtfully counting with the point of his knife upon the rough-hewn planks of the table, he continued. “Make each group consist of five men to return three days hence and send a new group every morn except for the Sabbath. Let each group take a different way, one east, one west, one north, one south. The warning should be a trumpet sounded at the mile mark or a fire burned at the five. Thus we know that each patrol completes its ride and should they not, we are warned.”

Ragnor grunted. “You plan well, Wulfgar, as if you always deemed it your due to be made lord of lands.”

Wulfgar arched a brow at him but said nothing and the conversation stiffly turned to other things. Aislinn noted the two men as they talked, wondering at the difference in them, for where Ragnor was arrogant and superior and demanded the allegiance of his men, Wulfgar was calm and reserved. He led by example rather than by orders and simply assumed that his men would follow. He did not question their loyalty but seemed to know that each would lay down his life rather than disappoint him.

Aislinn was still considering these points when she raised her eyes and with a gasp half rose in reflex, for there at the head of the stairs stood her mother as Aislinn had known her for many years, small of stature, yet proud beyond her size. Maida stood now poised in her own clothes, clean and with a head rail covering her hair and draped to hide much of the swollen face. She strode down toward them with the grace and bearing that seemed natural to her and Aislinn’s heart swelled with gladness and relief. Here was her mother indeed.

By his silence Wulfgar gave his approval, but Ragnor came to his feet with a roar and before any could stop him, leapt forward and snatched at Maida’s hair. The veil came loose in his hands and with a screech Maida fell to the floor, the idiot’s grin again twisting her face. It was doubly cruel for Aislinn to watch her beloved mother fade and the hag return, for now with her shoulders hunched and whimpering for mercy at Ragnor’s feet she seemed no more than some wretched crone in stolen finery. Aislinn caught her breath in a sob and fell back into her chair again as her mother whined louder.

Ragnor raised his fist in rage at the old woman. “You dare dress yourself in rich clothes and strut before your lords like some regal wench at court. You Saxon sow. ‘Twill bring you naught, for I will have wolves chewing at your stringy bones!”

He bent to seize her, but Wulfgar’s fist came down hard on the table.

“Hold!” he commanded. “Do the old one no harm, for she is here and thusly gowned at my request.”