Twin Passions (21 page)

Anora's eyes grew wide. "Were you able to speak
with that merchant again yesterday, the one you told me about?" she asked
breathlessly, her heart pounding.

"Aye, I spoke with him, and 'tis all arranged!"
Gwendolyn replied excitedly.

"Oh, Gwendolyn! I can hardly believe it!"
Anora exclaimed. She leaned her head back against the timbered wall, her hands
clasped to her breast.

No doubt she is
thinking of Wulfgar's embrace,
Gwendolyn thought happily. Truly, their
escape had been easier to arrange than she had thought it would be!

She had accompanied Hakon several weeks ago to a
trading settlement only a short distance south along the fjord for winter
supplies. While he had been busy with an oil merchant, she stopped to admire
another merchant's wares at one of the large open-air stalls, and had
unwittingly asked him the price for a small knife, not in Norse, but in her own
tongue. Much to her surprise, the man answered her in English. Hakon had called
her away before she could strike up a conversation, but during another trading
visit the previous day she had been able to talk to the man for almost a
quarter hour.

Hakon had been overseeing the loading of supplies onto
his longship, so his attention had been diverted while she spoke to the
merchant. At first the man had been a bit wary of her, wondering why a slave
who obviously had no money would so strongly wish to talk with him. When she
asked how he had come to know their language, he had muttered reluctantly that
he was a Frankish merchant, but often traded in London, where it helped to speak
the native tongue. He then tried to dismiss her with a curt nod, and turned to
wait on two cloaked men standing at the far end of the stall. But she had
pressed on. She had not known if she could trust him, but she decided it was
worth a chance. Hurriedly she told him of how she and her sister had been
abducted from their homeland.

"But what is this to me, lad?" the merchant
asked impatiently. "So there are many slaves in this land who were taken
from their homes in England."

"Our father is the Earl of Cheshire, kind sir,"
she had whispered, her tone almost pleading. "He would most certainly pay
a king's ransom for our return to England, as would my sister's betrothed,
Wulfgar Ragnarson, a prince of the Danelaw!" The merchant's shrewd eyes
had suddenly glittered at this bit of news, knowing an opportunity when he
heard one. He rubbed his hands together, thinking hard.

"Aye, so I see," he muttered, his raspy voice
now no more than a whisper. "But what is it you want me to do, lad? I had
planned to sail on the morn, before the heavy snows start to fly. Truly, I have
no love for these Viking barbarians. I only journeyed this far inland along the
Sogn because their love of trade in this region is unsurpassed." He
pointed to the stacks of fine furs piled high along the back of his wooden
stall, luxurious proof of his words. "It will be a rough sea crossing as
it is, lad. I cannot afford to tarry here much longer."

At that moment Hakon suddenly called out to her from
his longship, gesturing for her to climb aboard. Gwendolyn noted his stormy
expression, and hoped fleetingly that she had not raised his suspicion.

"Please, sir, if you would only wait one more day,"
she had said hurriedly, her eyes desperate. "Lord Hakon and most of his
men will be leaving the settlement on the morrow after the midday meal to
journey inland. Your trading vessel is much too large to pass unnoticed along
the fjord, but if you could bring a small boat to just south of the settlement
after it grows dark, near the high waterfall, my sister and I could meet you
there! Then we could row back here, board your ship, and be off!"

"Aye, 'tis a good plan. But how do I know you
speak the truth, and that you are who you say?" he had asked, his narrowed
eyes searching hers.

"All I have to give you is my word," she
replied simply, "and my promise that your reward will be great. Are we
agreed, then?"

The wily merchant had shaken his head in assent. After all,
he had naught to lose from this venture. If indeed, it was a lie, he had no
doubt he could find plenty of traders interested in buying so striking a lad.
And if his sister was near as pretty, well . . . "Aye, I will be there,"
he had rasped, his eyes glinting with greed.

Gwendolyn had barely enough time to flash him a look of
thanks. Then she had run swiftly back to the ship.

Hakon glared at her as she jumped onto the deck from
the wooden dock. "What was so important that you held up our journey home,
Garric?" he
asked,
his voice low.

"'Twas naught, my lord. That ridiculous merchant
wanted me to buy a knife, of all things! I told him first I had no use for any
weapons, and second, that I had no money with which to buy it." She
shrugged,
then
quickly made her way to her bench,
hoping he had believed her. He said nothing to her all the way back to the settlement,
so she considered the matter dropped.

***

"So when do we leave? What should I do?"
Anora asked, interrupting Gwendolyn's thoughts. Her eyes were ablaze with
excitement.

"We shall leave tonight, though I think it best
you do not know all the details," Gwendolyn whispered. "As soon as
Hakon and his men finish their meal later today, they will be leaving for a council
meeting across the valley. Ansgar has said they will be gone for several days,
which will give the merchant's ship plenty of lead time, should Hakon try to
follow us once he returns and finds us gone. If he does, by the time his
longship reaches the mouth of the Sogn we will be sailing across the seas
toward England!"

Anora hugged her sister tightly. "Oh, Gwendolyn,
you promised we would escape, and tonight we will!" Suddenly she realized
she had been gone overlong from the cooking house. "I must get back before
Berta comes looking for me. Where shall I meet you?"

"As soon as the Vikings ride out of the
settlement, meet me here. There will be guards scattered about, but I know of a
way we can avoid them."

Anora nodded,
then
hurried to
the door of the stable. "Tonight, then," she murmured, her eyes
shining. She slipped through the door.

"Aye, tonight!" Gwendolyn watched her sister
walk quickly down the path until she disappeared from view around the corner of
a nearby longhouse. Turning back into the stable, she could not suppress a
joyful leap into a pile of hay. Frightened chickens scattered in every
direction, their squawking and cackling drowning out her happy laughter.

Anora smiled to herself as she hurried along the outer
wall of the longhouse. Soon she would feel Wulfgar's strong arms around her
again! She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she did not see the tall,
cloaked figure waiting for her under the gabled entrance until she almost ran
into him. Startled, she looked up into a pair of startling blue eyes.

"M-my lord," she stammered, her heart
suddenly pounding in her chest. How long had he been waiting for her? Sweet
Jesu! Had he perhaps overheard their conversation in the stable?

Hakon's hands gripped her arms tightly, pulling her to
him. "I went to the cooking house in search of you, and Berta said you had
gone to the stable with some food for your brother. I was only just now on my
way there."

Anora relaxed visibly in his arms. So, he had not
heard. Relieved, she tried to pull away, but he only drew her closer, hugging
her to him beneath his fur cloak. She could feel the heat of his muscled body
through her thin shift. His breath was warm against her cheek. "You seem
to grow more beautiful to me every day, Anora, though perhaps it is because I
have been gone from the settlement overmuch."

Indeed, he had been gone overmuch, Hakon thought
wearily. His duties as Jarl had kept him busy from the day of Eirik's burial
until
now,
and even today he had to leave on another
journey to a meeting of the council at his uncle's settlement across the
valley. He had only just returned from the Hardanger, where he had taken
Bodvild and her small daughter, Erika, to live with her family. It had been her
wish to do so, though he wanted her to stay on with him at the settlement. He
smiled faintly, remembering their conversation a week past.

"But I know nothing of running a household,"
he had groaned, shrugging his broad shoulders in exasperation. "'Tis women's
work, Bodvild. Stay on here at the settlement as the honored wife of my
brother, and help me!"

But she had only laughed at him, her gray eyes full of
mirth. "Nay, 'tis not seemly for me to stay, Hakon, and well you know
that. The settlement is now your responsibility, including the household,
though I will miss it . . ." Her voice trailed off, a hint of sadness in
her expression. "Nay, I wish to return to my homeland. Erika and I will be
happy there. This place holds too many memories for me."

It had pained him to see the haunted look on her
beautiful face. Kneeling on one knee, Hakon mock-pleaded for her to stay,
though in his heart he had known she was right. His antics had served to
enliven her spirits, for her laughter had rung out once again in the great
hall.

"'Tis time for you to take a wife, Hakon Jarl,"
she admonished him, her face sobering. Taking the bunch of keys from the belt
at her waist, she had laid them in his hand. "For the new mistress of
Sogn,
whoever
and wherever she may be!"

***

A wife, Hakon groaned inwardly, breathing in the heady
fragrance of Anora's silky hair. Nay, that was not what he needed, nor wanted,
at this moment. He already held in his arms the one woman he desired most of
all.

He held Anora's slender body tightly against his,
reveling in her softness. Bending his head, he suddenly brought his lips down
upon hers in a crushing kiss. He would drive her fear away, he thought wildly,
savoring the sweetness of her mouth, deepening his kiss. He had to . . .

Summoning all her strength, Anora pushed away from him
so abruptly that he was almost knocked backward against the timbered wall of
the longhouse. Before he could reach out and grab her, she was running down the
path, her long hair flowing out behind her, as if Gorm, the hellhound of the
gods, was snapping at her heels.

Hakon cursed vehemently under his breath.
You are a fool to think she will ever come
to you willingly!
he
raged at himself. Truly, his
patience was wearing thin. He had tried everything he knew to gain her trust:
he had spoken to her with gentleness, but she had spurned his every advance; he
had given her beautiful silken clothes, but she had refused to wear them,
preferring instead the simple linen shifts that the rest of the slave women
wore; he had given her freedom of movement, but she had confined herself to the
cooking house and the solitude of her own chamber in the women's slave
house—all this and much more he had allowed her, but still the expression of
fear had not left her emerald eyes.

Hakon strode angrily toward the great hall, firmly
resolved that after his return from his uncle's settlement, he would wait no
longer. She would come to him, willing or not!

Anora dashed into the cooking house and slammed the
wooden door behind her. She leaned against the roughhewn wall for a moment and
closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her
breath. She felt as if her heart were in her throat. The Viking's kiss still burned
upon her lips, and the skin on her arms had red imprints from where his hands
had held her so tightly. She took off her cloak, her hands trembling
uncontrollably, and hung it upon its hook near the door.

Berta, hearing the slam of the door, called out to her from
the hearth, where she was turning some loaves of bread on an iron griddle. "Did
Garric enjoy my stew?" she asked pleasantly, knocking the crusty top of
one of the loaves with her third finger and thumb.
Yea, these are done,
she thought, straightening up. She lifted the
heavy griddle to the table near the hearth where other loaves were cooling. "Anora?"
Receiving no answer, Berta looked toward the door.

Anora was sitting silently upon a stool, her eyes
downcast,
her
face pale and drawn.

"What is it, lass?" she queried, bustling
over to Anora's side and putting a fat arm about her shoulders. Yet she already
knew the answer. Her keen eyes noted well the red marks on the young woman's
slim, white arms.
Yea, 'twill not be long
now,
she shook her head knowingly,
before
Lord Hakon will have his way with her.

"Why don't you go to your room, lass, and lie down
for a while?" she said gently. "All is in readiness for the midday
meal, and if I need aught else I will get one of the others to help me. Go on
with you, now."

Anora looked up gratefully. "Thank you, Berta,"
she murmured. Aye, a rest was what she needed, she thought numbly, wrapping her
cloak about her once again. It would hasten away the hours 'til it grew dark.
Then soon enough she and Gwendolyn would be gone from this cursed place
forever.

Berta shook her head as Anora closed the door behind
her. "Someday the lass will surely look back on this and realize her fears
were for naught," she muttered under her breath, walking over to the
hearth. To her mind, there could be no greater honor than being the concubine
of a great chieftain . . . especially one
so
handsome
and powerful as Hakon Jarl!

Chapter 21

"If rumors are to be believed, it seems Rhoar
Bloodaxe continues to strengthen his forces against you, my lord," Olav
said,
his voice low. "Perhaps 'twould be best to
postpone this meeting of the council across the valley for another time. Even a
few days' absence from the settlement could prove too tempting an invitation
for that bastard!" Olav leaned forward in his chair, the concern evident
on his swarthy face. He took his new role as adviser to Hakon Jarl very
seriously, as he had taken his former position as helmsman on his longship. It
was his belief that though Rhoar had not attacked the settlement upon Eirik's
death, his threat was still very real . . . and possibly imminent. He was
merely waiting for the right opportunity.