Beyond the Sea Mist

by Mary Gillgannon

  “You can count on me,” Orm responded.

  Magnus started to walk into settlement. As he left the dock, an idea took shape in his mind. What if he left Ailinn here in York when they sailed? He could purchase a house and some servants, and pay a visit to King Guthrith. If she had the king’s protection, she should be safe.

  While he felt certain she would always yearn for her homeland, she must know how impossible the idea was. Ireland was a violent, unsettled place, and he had no way to protect her there. He must convince her that she would be happy here in York.

  The thought made him move faster in the direction of Njall’s shop.

  * * *

  “Orm wants me to go with him to the other ship.” Brina spoke in a shy, tentative voice, then raised her gaze to meet Ailinn’s. “Does my lady give me leave to do so?” Her blue eyes were pleading.

  “You know, of course, what he intends.” Ailinn felt she must warn Brina, though she knew her maid wouldn’t listen. And why should she? The fact that Orm was asking Brina to lie with him rather than forcing her seemed to indicate the young man had feelings for her beyond simple lust. The thought of it made Ailinn’s insides twist with regret over her own situation.

  “Aye, I know,” Brina answered. “And the thing is, Lady...I want to.”

  Ailinn repressed a sigh. If Magnus asked her to lie with him, she would be more than willing. How could she condemn her maid for doing the same? “Do what you will,” she told Brina. “You might as well get what pleasure you can.” Who knows what will happen on the morrow?

  Brina favored her with a glowing, dimpled smile before hurrying to where Orm waited. He carried a beverage skin and other provisions and looked very smug. Ailinn turned away, bitterness growing inside her. She wished she could be like Brina and enjoy life without a thought for duty. Nay, that wasn’t fair. In fact, Brina took her responsibility to Ailinn very seriously. That was why she’d asked Ailinn’s leave to go off with Orm. And if Ailinn were able to find a way to return to Ireland and asked Brina to come with her, she had no doubt Brina would do so.

  The truth was that life was hard and brutal and most people could do no more than snatch what joy they could, whenever they could. Ailinn told herself she would do well to remember that. If Magnus gave her another chance, she would take it, even if it made their parting more wrenching and miserable in the end.

  When she rejoined the other two women, Gormlaith immediately asked, “Did you find what you were looking for, Lady?”

  “Nay.” Ailinn glanced around the ship. This would be the perfect opportunity to hunt for the metalwork. But if Orm were willing to leave her alone on the ship, the treasure couldn’t be hidden here. Magnus must have sold it already.

  Ailinn let out a sigh and sat down on one of the sea chests. She couldn’t help but imagine Brina and Orm on the other ship, kissing, laughing, sharing the beverage skin. The awareness of their happiness made her ache with regret. Closing her eyes, she slid down onto the deck and leaned back against the chest. To fight her dark, disheartened thoughts, she conjured images of her home before the attack. Red valerian and pink foxglove climbing the fortress’s stone walls in spring. The smell of new hay in the meadows down by the river. The cook’s cat, Sithe, dozing in the sun by the herb garden...

  * * *

  “Lady. Lady, wake up!” Gormlaith’s urgent whisper pierced Ailinn’s hazy doze. “The Norseman is asking for you.”

  Ailinn sat up and tried to focus her thoughts. It was still light, but that meant little this time of year when the sun set for only a few hours. She got to her feet and smoothed her gown. The words “the Norseman” aroused so many emotions. Her heart began to pound—with anticipation, with longing, with apprehension. What did he want with her now? Had he found out she was searching for the treasure? She must try to explain. Make him see she had a duty to avenge her family and she must do whatever was necessary to fulfill that duty.

  He stood a few paces away, his tall form silhouetted in the blue twilight. “Ailinn,” he said. “Collect your possessions and come with me.”

  Her anxiety deepened. “Where are we going? Why do I need my things?”

  “Don’t argue,” he said.

  Ailinn’s chest tightened with dread. He must be taking her to her new master.

  Her hands trembled as she went to the tent and collected the leather bag containing her spare clothing, her sewing kit and the few pieces of jewelry Croa had allowed her to keep. “I’m ready,” she said. The words came out in a choked whisper.

  Magnus didn’t respond, but motioned with his head to indicate she should precede him down the boarding plank. The plank was uneven and she started to slip. He grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip and steadied her. Supporting her with his hand, he helped her the rest of the way down the plank. As soon as they reached the solid surface of the dock, he released her.

  Desperation rose up inside her. She must make him understand why she’d done what she had. But how could she? Even Brina and the other women thought she was a fool for trying to avenge her family.

  Turning toward him, she said, “Magnus, I want to explain why I was looking for the metalwork. I want...”

  “I told you to be quiet,” he said. “I would advise you to do so.”

  The calm with which he said the words her alarmed her. That was how some men were, she recalled. When angry, they didn’t yell and bluster but grew subdued. If she continued to provoke him, he might lose control of his temper and strike her. Although she didn’t fear the pain of his blow, the idea of him hitting her made her feel even more anguish. At one time, they’d been so close. She’d never before experienced such tender feelings toward a man. How had they come to this? It was her pride, her stubbornness. But how could she be other than what she was?

  She took one step forward, then another. Her heart was like a stone in her chest.

  * * *

  She seemed distressed. He regretted that, but didn’t feel he could ease her apprehension without talking about things he wanted to forget. Let this night be a new beginning for them. No lies. No manipulations.

  He wanted to return to the way he’d felt when he’d first spoken to her. When he’d first observed her on the dock, he hadn’t been aware of how beautiful she was. But once he saw her up close and she looked at him with her green-gold eyes, by Freya, it was all over for him! He’d fallen into their mysterious mossy depths and slipped hopelessly under her spell.

  He took a deep breath as he remembered. Tonight there would be nothing between them. He wouldn’t allow anything to interfere. They would be alone, and he would love her, love her until she was speechless with ecstasy.

  As they walked through the darkening streets of York, Ailinn’s agitation grew. She wondered if she should try to run, to escape into the maze of walkways and alleyways of the settlement as Cailin had in Dublin. She gave a brief thought for her former companion, wondering what had happened to the defiant, headstrong young woman. The images that came to mind chilled Ailinn and made her abandon any thoughts of fleeing. Besides, she doubted she would get very far. She had no idea where she was, while Magnus had clearly been in this part of the settlement before.

  As he gestured for her to turn and head down another pathway, Ailinn’s breath quickened. God help me if he’s taking me to my new master! What will he be like? Old and ugly? Certainly not as comely as Magnus.

  She glanced back at Magnus, feeling the familiar agony. Was it really too late to make him feel for her what he once had? Wasn’t there some way she could convince him not to sell her? She’d already tried everything she could think of to make him understand she cared for him. If not for duty and the beliefs by which she’d been raised, she’d be happy to live the rest of her life as his bed thrall.

  Well, perhaps that wasn’t true. She didn’t think she could ever be happy as a thrall, even if she loved the man who owned her. That was the difficulty. Magnus wanted too much. He wanted her to accept her lot as his slave, and she couldn’t do it.r />
  It was probably better this way. If he sold her to another man, she would be able to hate her new owner with complete conviction. She could concentrate on escaping, instead of being torn in two as she was with Magnus.

  They turned down another walkway and Magnus pointed to a small thatched dwelling and indicated she should go inside. All her hard-won determination to accept the inevitable vanished. It was only with great effort she forced herself to walk to the house, unlatch the door and enter.

  It’s so small, she thought with surprise. Surely any man who can afford to purchase me must live in a larger and grander dwelling.

  On the other hand, the dozen candles that lit the small chamber spoke of extravagance. They were costly beeswax candles, not the usual tallow ones that smoked and stank. Perhaps this was where the man was meeting them. He might have chosen this place for its privacy. At the thought, butterflies swirled in the pit of her stomach. Her new owner might plan to bed her here. That might be why an amphora, cups and platters of food were arranged on the table.

  Another unusual thing caught her attention and she sucked in her breath. On the other side of the table was a large tub of water. The sweet scents of herbs wafted from its steaming surface. The size of the tub made its purpose clear. It was meant for bathing. Her new owner wanted her to come to him clean and fragrant.

  Her urge to flee returned. It was fine to say she’d accepted Magnus’s decision to sell her, quite another to contemplate having a strange man bed her. At the thought, she shuddered. Magnus saw and frowned. Then he said, “There’s water for bathing. Also, a clean shift to replace the one you’re wearing.”

  As he started toward a door in the back of the dwelling, Ailinn asked in a panicked voice, “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be back when you’ve finished.”

  At his words, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t abandoning her yet. She might still have a chance to say goodbye to him. But that was absurd. How could she possibly care for him? He was her captor, and he was selling her off as if she were a piece of livestock.

  But she did care for him. The thought of never seeing him again was almost unbearable. She knew she would yearn for him the rest of her life. The vision of his face would remain in her heart until she died.

  Putting aside her choking despair, she began to undress.

  The scent of the bathwater drifted to her enticingly as she climbed in. The water was blissfully hot and soothing. She leaned back against the edge of the tub and inhaled. The heady scents of lavender, meadowsweet and some other flower she couldn’t name filled her senses. She imagined herself back in Ireland, sitting in a flower-strewn meadow on a summer’s day. No cares. No worries.

  She indulged the feeling for a few moments, then began to wash. There was a pottery bowl of soap beside the tub. As Ailinn dipped her hand in the slippery liquid, she was amazed to discover it was rose-scented. Nothing like the harsh, burning stuff they’d been given the one time they’d had an opportunity to bathe in Dublin. She let the fragrant substance linger on her skin for a few moments before washing it off.

  Next, she ducked her head under the water to wash her hair.

  * * *

  This is agony, Magnus thought as he waited in the tiny room where the wood-framed bed took up most of the space. With every moment that passed, his arousal and impatience seemed to increase tenfold. He wanted to go into the other chamber and watch her bathe. But if he did that, he feared he wouldn’t be able to control himself. If he saw her naked, he suspected he would lie her down right there and have her on the floor. He must force himself to wait a little longer.

  He took a deep breath and tried to cool his ardor. After making arrangements for the house, he’d gone down to a clear but shallow area of the river and had his own bath. But if he didn’t distract himself now, he’d end up soaked with sweat and his efforts to freshen himself would be wasted.

  He clenched his hands into fists, then relaxed them. It was hard to wait when he was so close to fulfilling his fondest desire. Everything was perfect: the bed cushioned with a straw mattress and spread with linen sheets and fur coverlet, the radiance of the dozen candles, and most of all—the beautiful woman in the next room.

  He’d hope the bath would relax her and make her feel like the pampered princess she’d once been. Perhaps he should have asked the serving woman to stay and tend her. But he’d wanted them to be alone. Wanted her to be utterly his for this night.

  He forced his thoughts away from that tantalizing pathway, but his body still thrummed with impatience. How long did it take a woman to wash? Another thought came to him, freezing him in place. What if she ran away? He couldn’t imagine she’d be such a fool as to try to flee in a place like York, but she'd done some strange and witless things already.

  Half-panicked, Magnus went to the door between the two chambers and thrust it open.

  Ailinn stared at Magnus, wondering why he’d burst into the room. Was she taking too long? Or had something else gone wrong?

  If only he’d say something. Did he want her to get out of the tub? She licked her lips nervously and her heart began to pound. Why did he stand there staring at her? Why didn’t he leave so she could finish bathing? It was unfair of him to make this so difficult for her. The longer she looked at him, the more she wanted him to be the one to take her maidenhead.

  Perhaps it could be him. If she stood up and let him see her naked, perhaps he would forget his plan to sell her.

  She got to her feet, dripping water everywhere. His eyes remained on her. The harsh, almost violent expression on his face didn’t alter. She climbed out of the tub and, taking up the linen cloth lying near the soap, began to dry herself. She made no attempt to conceal herself. Let him look, and live with this image of her nakedness burned upon his consciousness, just as the images of his handsome face and manly body were burned upon hers.

  He spoke in a hoarse, almost croaking voice, “Are you finished?”

  “Aye,” she answered. “Do you want me to dress, or should I wait for my new master naked? After all...” Her voice turned brittle. “...he’ll soon see me that way.”

  His eyes widened, then his expression turned murderous. Ailinn knew a sense of satisfaction. Good. Let him be feel anger at the thought of some other man looking at her. Let him be miserable with regret over all he was giving up.

  He took a step toward her, his voice raw with emotion. “What do you mean—your new master? Did you think I was having you prepare yourself for some other man?” He took another step toward her. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. “You are mine, Ailinn. Whether you wish it to be true or not.”

  The drying cloth fell from her nerveless fingers. The next moment she was in his arms and his hot, wet mouth was devouring hers.

  Chapter 17

  The kiss lasted only a few seconds, then he thrust her away. “Nay,” he gasped. “Not like this.”

  Ailinn gazed at him, pleadingly. Her body felt the loss of contact with his so intensely it was painful. Her skin ached for his touch. Her whole being screamed to be joined with his.

  “Nay,” he said again. He swallowed, visibly struggling to regain control. His chest rose and fell like a bellows and his face was flushed. He desired her. Why did he fight it? She didn’t understand. The longer he hesitated, the more unsettled she became. He wanted her. Why didn’t he act on it?

  “Finish,” he said in a choked voice. He pointed to the bench by the tub. “Put on the shift and comb your hair. When you’re ready, come into the other chamber. I’ll be waiting for you.” He turned and left.

  Ailinn walked over to the bench. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the carved antler comb and began to rake it through her hair. Nothing made any sense. He’d been infuriated when she suggested he was selling her to another man. He’d made his claim upon her utterly clear. Yet, he appeared unwilling to act upon it. Did he mean to keep her as his thrall but not bed her? What man would do such a thing?

  The
oddness of his actions gnawed at her. Maybe he was going to sell her after all. He might be having difficulty coming to turns with the idea of giving her to another man, yet still intended to go through with it in the end. If he left her maidenhead intact, she would be worth much more. Was that why he’d said, Nay. Not like this? Did he have some plan to engage in sexplay yet leave her a virgin?

  Taunted by her thoughts, Ailinn had difficulty finding the patience to untangle her hair. As she yanked the comb through her wet tresses, she considered how Brina would chide her. If only Brina were here. She needed her maid not only for her expertise in grooming hair but also to help her figure out this puzzle named Magnus.

  Perhaps the best course was to finish quickly and go into the next room and find out what he intended. She hurried to smooth her hair as best she could, then slid the shift over her head. As the garment settled on her body, Ailinn found herself staring at the fabric. It was very finely woven, and made of a kind of thread she’d never seen before. So smooth and soft...and sheer. She could see her nipples beneath the thin garment. Her maidenhair was also visible. What was the point of donning a garment so transparent? She might as well be naked.

  But the shift felt wonderful against her skin. It would be a joy to wear under her wool gown. Why all this concern for her comfort? She glanced around the room again, amazed at the luxury surrounding her: the candles, the scented bath, the shift, the exquisitely carved comb. She hadn’t had such fine things at Dun Carrig. Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to make certain she felt like a princess rather than a thrall. Had Magnus arranged all this? But why? She must find out. And the only way to do so was to go into the other room and see what awaited her.

  Breathless with anticipation, she pushed open the door between the two chambers. What she found stunned her. A large bed. More candles. And Magnus.

  She’d never looked more beautiful, Magnus thought as he drank her in. Her hair flowed in red-gold waves over her shoulders. Her skin was flushed and glowing. And her body—the shift seemed to emphasize every curve and hollow and reveal much more than it concealed. Magnus swallowed, wondering if he should have had her put her woolen gown back on. He didn’t know if he could maintain control. Perhaps he should take her now, rough and hard, and have done with it.