Father gave a barely imperceptible shake of his head. ‘You will meet him soon enough.’
‘So he’s not from Banford?’
He shook his head again and looked away. ‘Nay, I’ve come from his village directly after arranging the agreement.’
If it were left up to him, she probably wouldn’t meet her groom until the wedding. Her father would deliver her in a grain sack, dropping her off like goods if common decency allowed him to get away with it. Thankfully it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her and she wasn’t marrying anyone he bid her to wed. Not if she could help it. She’d already decided that Alvey would be her new home and this only firmed her decision. Her task now was to get back inside before he forced her to disappear into the night with him. Then she would have to convince Lord Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn to take her side in the matter, but she would confront that in the morning.
Making a concerted effort to keep her voice stable, she said, ‘Then I’ll look forward to meeting him.’ It was the wrong thing to say. Father’s gaze narrowed in doubt. She had never once even hinted that she might welcome a marriage he arranged for her, so of course playing along now would rouse suspicion.
‘Good to see you again, Ellan. You’ve been missed.’ Galan stepped around the fire, seeming determined to end the tension between the two of them, and pulled her into a hug. For a brief moment she allowed herself to find comfort in his strong embrace. Galan had been the one she had always run to with a skinned knee or when a splinter needed removing. It was sad to know that he wouldn’t step in to help her now. He’d been poisoned by their father’s hatred.
‘And you as well,’ she said, stepping away lest her defences crumble completely.
‘We’ll be leaving in the morning for Banford,’ Father said.
‘Elswyth as well?’ Elswyth loved her husband too much to leave him.
‘Aye, Elswyth, too.’ Father’s voice was a little too proud, making it sound forced. He wasn’t certain of that at all.
‘Is that what she said?’ Ellan couldn’t help but ask. Elswyth had come out to talk to him earlier.
He sniffed. ‘She’ll do as she’s told. She always does.’ His eyes narrowed and she had to force herself to appear meek. He couldn’t suspect that she intended to rebel and stay in Alvey or she’d never make it back inside. And her only real chance of not leaving with him was to go back inside now.
She had made a grave error in coming out to speak with her family. Her father could take her now and disappear into the night with her if he chose. She instinctively took a step backward towards Alvey. The Danes chatted and roughhoused in the distance at their campfires, but they wouldn’t help her. No man would step between a father and his rightful claim on his daughter. No man but Lord Vidar. She hoped.
‘If we’re to leave at daybreak, then I should go back inside and collect our things,’ Ellan said.
‘There’s nothing you need from Alvey,’ Father said.
Her thoughts collided as she sensed his intention was to not allow her to go back inside. What a stupid mistake. She’d come out here because of her terrible need to win some sort of approval from her father. She realised now that she had wanted to see him and have him open his arms to her as Galan had done, but it had been a ridiculous fantasy. He didn’t care for her and he never would.
‘There’s not much, but Lady Gwendolyn gifted us each with a fine golden bracelet. They have a small value that might prove useful,’ she said.
There were no bracelets, but she could feel the weight of the prison Father carried around with him closing in on her and she would have said anything to escape. When his eyes glimmered with interest, she knew that she had won. If the talk of his joining with the Scots was true—and she was almost certain that it was, based on his reaction—then he’d need the gold to buy weapons.
He gave a curt nod and she turned blindly, nearly overcome with relief as she made her way back to the walls. Restored to her, her heart beat furiously, pushing blood through her body almost faster than her limbs could accept it. She felt light-headed while her knees were heavy, as if she were walking through ankle-deep mud. The open gate loomed before her like a beacon of hope, guiding her steps in a path that seemed to take for ever.
She only breathed again when she stepped through. None of the Saxons or Danes on guard seemed to notice her. The yard was still filled with men at this late hour. The usual excitement of Alvey crackled through the air, but instead of invigorating her, it drained her. Her shoulders shook from the effort of keeping her posture and her legs had now turned to water. She groped at the wall for support, the cold stone biting into the bare skin of her palm, and she welcomed the discomfort.
She would never leave Alvey again if she could help it. The question was: would she have a choice? If Lord Vidar decided that giving her over to her father would be justified, then she would have to go. Disobeying could mean punishment, or—more probable—he’d simply deliver her to her father bound if necessary.
‘Ellan.’ A smooth, deep voice called to her.
Aevir walked through the crowd, emerging into the light cast by a nearby torch. He walked like a man in charge, confident that no one would stand between him and his goal, and indeed the warriors moved out of the way for him. He was dressed as he usually was in rich fabrics that showed little wear, which somehow made her overly mindful of the fraying edges of her own tunic. A strange sense of relief moved through her even as a fluttering began in her belly.
‘Aevir?’ She grimaced at the breathless tone of her voice. She wasn’t quite certain what to make of their last encounter. Because he hadn’t bothered to acknowledge her since his return, she half-believed that he might not even remember it.
He looked out the open gates as he passed them, as if sensing the danger to her out there before he came to a stop in front of her. He carried with him the scents of the outdoors: evergreens, the crisp freshness of new snow and the faint hint of woodsmoke, while underneath was layered a richer spice she couldn’t name. It never failed to make her long to bury her face in his neck until she breathed in her fill.
‘Where have you been?’ he asked with a neutral expression. The thick, blonde strands of hair around his face were secured back at the crown of his head, but the rest hung to his shoulders.
‘I spoke with my father.’ She gave a shrug towards the gates and pulled her cloak tighter around her, disliking the way she responded to him, but unable to stop the reaction. When he was near it was as if she forgot how to think. She’d tripped over her own feet and misjudged the distance between a pitcher and tankard on more than one occasion in his presence. He probably thought she was a dolt. It was his eyes, she’d decided. A blue so light they might pass for grey, they seemed to look directly into her soul and see far more than she wanted them to.
His gaze roamed over her face in a slow glide that did strange and wonderful things to her belly. ‘What did Godric say to you?’ His voice seemed tinged with a suspicion she didn’t understand.
‘The usual. Saxons are good, Danes are bad.’ His lips twitched in the beginning of a smile. ‘He wants us to go home to Banford in the morning,’ she added.
He sighed and the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair across the small distance between them. ‘Then this is goodbye?’
Something was odd about him tonight. ‘I hope not,’ she answered with a bit more honesty than she had intended.
As he let out a soft breath, his gaze met hers. His eyes had deepened, becoming intense, and his stare lingered on her mouth. Almost as heated as how he had looked at her outside the hall. ‘What do you want, Ellan?’
His well-formed lips curved upwards, revealing even, white teeth and creases at the corners of his eyes. It made him look more human than godlike with an earthy attractiveness. Not once in her entire life had she ever felt this mindless infatuation for anyone else.
The memory of their kiss tr
ied to take over, but she shook it off to say, ‘I want to stay here.’
‘Really?’ He seemed surprised as his head tilted to the side a little. His gaze had turned discerning. ‘How will you thwart him?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll speak with Lady Gwendolyn. I’m certain she’ll allow me to stay.’ If only she were as confident as she sounded.
‘She might want you to stay,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but don’t you think your father will insist? Will she go against his wishes and risk angering even more Saxons?’
It was the same question she asked herself. Swallowing down her panic, she said, ‘I don’t know. I do know that she frowns upon women being forced to wed. Her own forced marriage turned out well for her, but she doesn’t approve of the practice. She’ll at least speak with him on my behalf.’
‘Forced marriage? Has Godric arranged a marriage for you?’ Lines formed between his brows. She wanted to believe that his interest in her prospective marriage was personal, but she didn’t think whatever was between them would inspire such concern.
‘Aye, but he wouldn’t tell me the man’s name.’
‘Why would he not tell you? Are you not close to your father, Ellan?
Perhaps it was the stress of the evening, or simply the way she felt safe in Aevir’s presence, but something made her tell him more than she should. ‘To say that I am not his favourite daughter would be a great understatement. He simply wants to be rid of the burden I bring him.’
‘He doesn’t like daughters?’
‘He likes Elswyth well enough...or he did before she married a Dane. It’s only me that he despises.’ She shook her head, feeling heat creep up her chest because she had revealed her deepest shame with very little prompting from him. ‘It doesn’t matter. He can’t make me go through with it.’
‘You’re certain?’ He didn’t sound convinced.
Nay, she wasn’t certain at all and that was the problem. In all probability she would be married to this unknown Saxon in a sennight. Her mind raced for a way out.
He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression becoming neutral and guarded again. ‘You could always do as your sister has done. Marry someone else and your father has no control over you.’
Everything inside her came to a shuddering stop. Lord Vidar would never take Elswyth from Rolfe and send her home with Father. No man would come between a husband and his wife. It was so perfect she wanted to kiss Aevir, but managed to hold that unruly impulse in check. ‘You’re right. I can marry without his approval. Father won’t have any control over me then.’
His stare didn’t waver as he seemed to be attempting to read her expression. Suspicion still clouded his eyes, but when he finally spoke, he asked, ‘Did you have anyone in mind?’
‘A Dane. Someone who won’t fall under my father’s influence.’
‘Any Dane will do?’ he asked. His eyes narrowed and dipped back to her mouth.
Her heart pounded in her head. Realistically, she knew that Aevir would never offer for her. She had no wealth or status to bring to a warrior who commanded his own small army of men. Yet, when she thought of taking a husband, he was the one she wanted.
Would it really be so out of the question? Elswyth had married Rolfe, who commanded the entire Norse division of Lord Vidar’s army. Rolfe didn’t seem to mind that she brought him nothing but herself. It was true that Ellan barely knew Aevir, but she would hardly know anything about any other man she chose so quickly.
If she didn’t ask, then she would never know. Taking in a ragged breath, she gave him a tremulous smile and tried to make her words come out light and teasing. ‘I do not suppose that you are looking for a wife?’
Chapter Three
A fierce wave of protectiveness overcame Aevir. It was so sudden that it staggered him, forcing him to take a step back from the lovely green eyes staring up at him with such a tender plea in their depths. The eyes of a girl who could potentially be in league with Godric’s hatred towards them, he forced himself to remember. A girl Aevir should not want nearly as much as he did.
‘I cannot marry you,’ he said.
Her smile widened, surprising him. ‘Ah, then I suppose I’ll be forced to find another.’ She shrugged and made a show of looking towards the warriors moving about behind him as if she had expected him to refuse her all along.
Was she really that determined to thwart her father’s wishes or was this some elaborate trick to get close to a Dane warrior? He couldn’t decide. He, who had made his living from his ability to size up his opponents and potential employers, couldn’t determine if the girl before him was authentic. He couldn’t look past his desire for her to see the truth and it made her dangerous to him. Rolfe didn’t seem to think the sisters were a threat. He had told Aevir in no uncertain terms that the girls were as much victims of their father’s hatred as the Danes. Perhaps he was right and Aevir simply wanted her to be a spy so that he could rid himself of his fascination with her.
Giving her a nod, he went to turn away. Let her deal with her own problems. She was not his concern. Except as he turned, his gaze fell to her mouth one final time and he saw that her lips were trembling. Her eyes were unnaturally bright in the torchlight, unshed tears flickering in the shadowed night.
Odin save him, he wanted to help her.
Nay, the pure and undiluted truth was that he simply wanted her. Before he realised what he was doing to stop himself, he palmed her jaw, gently stroking her lush bottom lip with his thumb. Her mouth was as soft and warm as he remembered. He half-expected her to pull away, but she simply stared up at him, mute in her misery.
Why did that misery twist something deep inside him?
‘I can help you another way.’
‘How?’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
Part of him wanted her to refuse him. A bigger part of him thrilled that she might accept him. ‘Become my concubine.’
Her lips parted in shock and he forced himself to stop touching her lest he take her mouth beneath his.
‘Lord Vidar will hardly allow... Father would... I...’ Her gaze dropped to the ground and she crossed her arms beneath her cloak, pulling it tight around her shoulders.
She wasn’t the type of woman to become a warrior’s concubine. She wasn’t sophisticated or particularly wise in the ways of the world. Her life had revolved around her farm and village until she had come to Alvey. Good sense demanded that he rescind the offer, but he couldn’t. The need to have her was too great. ‘Is it such a shock? You know that I want you.’
She glanced at him, her eyes taking in his torso and drifting downwards until she realised what she was doing and looked away again. She wanted him, too. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, she was tempted to accept his offer.
‘I’m not certain that I understand.’ She whispered now, as if worried they might be overheard. ‘How would the arrangement help me?’
‘You would be under my protection. I would compensate Godric so that he would not force a marriage on you. You would stay in Alvey until I make my home elsewhere.’
‘And I would...?’ She swallowed visibly. ‘I would...?’
‘Share my bed, see to the care of my clothing and supplies, all the things a wife would do. In return I would provide for you and protect you.’
‘And what about after?’ She finally looked back up, meeting his eyes.
‘After?’
‘I believe that such arrangements are not permanent.’ It was too dark to see clearly, but he would have sworn her face had reddened.
The truth was that he hadn’t thought that far into the future and he’d never kept a woman beyond several weeks before. This would be something new for him. Shrugging, he said, ‘I would reward you for your loyalty and leave you with enough to see you well until...’
‘Until I find another protector.’
He gave a
short nod, not at all liking the thought of her with another man. By the time that happened, however, he would likely have tired of her.
After a pause, she said, ‘Lord Vidar would never allow it.’
He shook his head. ‘He might not prefer it, but he would relent.’
Aevir was certain that he could gain the Jarl’s cooperation as long as her father and betrothed were compensated. They would be the biggest hurdle to the arrangement and he wasn’t at all certain he could overcome their objections. But he was willing to try...for her.
‘Aevir,’ she said and then paused to take in a breath. ‘I believe you know that I... I favour you very much.’
Her gaze dipped as she admitted that and the urge to crush her to him was nearly overwhelming. Instead, he grinned and said, ‘I know that you do. Give me an hour in my bed and you’ll have no more hesitation.’ He had no doubt that he’d overcome any objection she had.
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. ‘If your kiss is any indication, then I believe you. But I’m afraid it’s only a temporary solution. Once our arrangement ended, I’d be back in this position.’
‘How?’
‘My family would disown me if I accepted such an arrangement, leaving me obliged to accept the suit of any man who offered. What if there were no other man I favoured?’
‘I would hardly leave you destitute. You would receive a generous settlement,’ he explained.
Her face jerked to the left as if something about that had hurt her. ‘You speak of it so coldly.’
He let his fingertips come to rest on her cheek, unable to keep himself from her. ‘There would be no coldness between us, Ellan,’ he whispered.
‘Nay, I know that,’ she said, her gaze coming to rest on his. He only realised then how much closer he had moved towards her. Her breath touched his. ‘And that’s my fear. It would be too devastating in the end.’
He wanted to kiss her, to reassure her in some way, but he couldn’t. His heart pounded and blood rushed in his ears. She was right. It was why he should turn away right now and leave her behind. ‘Ellan...’
Longing for Her Forbidden Viking Page 3
