Or so she had thought.
Wilfrid gave a jerky nod in agreement. ‘He had the… He spoke of a marriage for you. Grim was not even… He was hardly in his grave.’ His eyes hardened as if the mere memory still had the power to stir the fire of anger to life within him.
She reached out to him, wanting to be able to reassure him that he did not have to think of it if it would upset him, but she could not say it. She was too shocked. ‘I had no idea.’ There had been rumours that the Jarl meant for her to wed, but she didn’t know the subject had come up so soon after Grim’s death.
‘I did not want you to… Too soon.’ His gaze trailed off across the room, as if he were lost in his thoughts of the time. Tenderness swelled in her chest at how he had shielded her from what would have been a painful thing to handle at that time.
Cedric gave her a warning glance, both of them aware of how dire the consequences could be of upsetting Wilfrid, and he reached over and placed a hand on Wilfrid’s shoulder, his touch lingering. ‘Eat, Wilfrid, while the food is still warm.’
Wilfrid’s food had already been cut into tiny pieces before being served to him. It spared him the indignity of having it cut and prepared in front of him. He could no longer use a knife, nor could he chew anything too large or too tough. His meat was specially chosen for him, so he received only the tenderest morsels. She hated that Rurik would be a witness to Wilfrid’s weakness, but he hardly seemed to be paying attention as he ate his own meal with enthusiasm.
Wilfrid took a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully. She wanted to give him time to eat, but she did not want to let this moment of lucid reminiscing pass. It was not often that they were able to speak of the past so openly. Waiting for him to finish chewing another bite, she finally asked, ‘What else did Jarl Eirik say of a marriage?’
‘Tell her,’ Wilfrid said to Cedric, already showing signs of strain around his eyes. His voice was fading as well. It was evening and his interrupted sleep the night before had taken its toll.
‘He wanted you to marry one of his Danes, to assure our allegiance,’ said Cedric. ‘Things in the south were still unsettled. He did not want to risk you marrying a Saxon enemy and the fight for control that would result from that. He was inclined to arrange a marriage for you. Someone from Alvey in Bernicia, but I cannot remember the names he put forth. It hardly matters. Wilfrid told him that he would not agree to such a marriage. At least not until you were out of your mourning. Harsh words were spoken and Jarl Eirik left soon after.’
‘And he has been pressing for my marriage ever since?’ She knew it was true, but she wanted the rumours confirmed. The look that Cedric gave Wilfrid substantiated them.
‘We can speak of it later,’ said Cedric.
The urgent sound of his voice made Wilfrid pause with his fork raised. ‘Speak now.’ His tone left no doubt that he still felt himself Lord here.
Sighing, Cedric set down his fork in favour of his chalice. ‘Every year he sends an emissary. I kept it from you, but he says that you are not to wed unless he approves the match. It seems he still intends you to marry a Dane. It is likely that he has men in the village making certain that you do not wed without his permission.’
‘You have kept this from me?’ Wilfrid asked.
Cedric opened his mouth to reply, but then closed it and took a drink of his wine. Annis knew then that Wilfrid had known, had likely been a party to these meetings. It was simply that he had forgotten.
Wilfrid trained his gaze on Rurik. ‘Are you here to marry her?’ Only the last words were clearly intelligible.
She gasped aloud before she could help herself.
‘No.’ Rurik’s voice was calm, immune to their family strife. ‘I was told of no marriage and have brought no messages about that.’
Wilfrid seemed to relax, but he asked, ‘Then why has Jarl Eirik sent you here?’
Silence descended over the table. When Wilfrid stared at her, she repeated the question in case Rurik had not understood, though it nearly killed her to do so. ‘He wants to know why you’re here.’
Several moments passed until Rurik finally broke it. ‘King Sigurd of Maerr was murdered. Word has reached us that someone here might have knowledge of the crime.’
Annis wanted to hide her face from the world. Their plan to not upset Wilfrid had not worked out as she had hoped.
CHAPTER NINE
Rurik stared at Wilfrid as his words settled over the room. He was looking for any sign that the man was surprised, any hint that Wilfrid remembered the part he had played in what had happened in Maerr. The man went still, his cloudy brown eyes meeting Rurik’s as his brow furrowed. ‘You will find no one here with that knowledge.’
The words were somewhat garbled and Wilfrid’s face was drawn tight with strain and fatigue. Whether he was lying or if he truly believed that, Rurik could not tell. Frustration made him drop the last of the leg bones so that it fell with a clatter on to the pile.
‘I am weary,’ said Wilfrid, turning subtly to Cedric.
This spurred Annis into action. Though she had barely eaten anything, she pushed back from the table and rose. ‘Let us bid you goodnight. I will see Rurik settled for the evening.’
She made to leave, grabbing his arm none too gently to prod him from his seat. He wanted to refuse—though his belly was full, his wine had not been finished—but then changed his mind and grabbed his chalice as he rose from his seat to follow her. Not knowing how dire Wilfrid’s physical health was, he decided that it was best not to chance the man having another attack, thus potentially robbing Rurik of the chance to ask any questions at all. He would work on getting the information from Annis until he was given the chance to talk to Wilfrid again.
‘I should send you back to your cell.’ Annis spit the words out through her clenched teeth the moment they left the hall. They were standing in a wide corridor with faded and chipped frescoes of some long-forgotten Romans on the walls.
‘You would add liar to your growing list of crimes?’ He could not help but enjoy taunting her, though genuine anger simmered beneath his words.
Her eyes flashed at him and then settled on his chalice as if she wanted to knock it from his hand. Deciding not to chance losing it, he took another long swallow of the rich wine. ‘You did not uphold your end of our agreement,’ she said.
He shrugged, knowing what she meant, but unable to deny himself the pleasure of her anger. ‘How so?’
She nearly screamed her outrage, but glanced back at the closed double doors of the hall and tempered her words. ‘We agreed that you would pretend to placate him.’
‘Ah, but then you are the one who told him we are not lovers.’
‘Only in the physical sense. We could still pretend to have a fondness. Why could you have not said that you were sent here to see if I was ready for marriage and left it at that? Cedric nearly fed you the words you were meant to say.’
Anger rose within him. ‘Because I am here to find my father’s murderer. Do not forget that. I kept up our deal while still doing my part to find the men responsible.’
‘You upset him.’ Her voice was raised and she pointed towards the hall as she said that.
Rurik was dimly aware of the warriors who had stood on either side of the door closing in on them, faintly confused and ready to intervene if they were needed to subdue him. However, the bulk of his attention was focused on the woman before him and the way her cheeks went rosy in her anger and her eyes flashed with heat. For a moment he wondered what it might be like to have all of that intensity beneath him, her eyes alight with a different kind of heat.
He blinked to break the spell she had cast and took a step back. ‘You do not even begin to understand how upset he has made me—’
Surprising him, she closed the distance between them to bring her face close to him. She was tall, but still had to look up to meet his gaze at so close
a distance. ‘Do I not, Norseman? You might have lost your father, but I lost my husband…along with any hope I have of a child.’
Pain had replaced the heat of her anger, leaving her eyes shining up at him. A tender swell in his chest made him forget his own fury for a moment. ‘I did not mean it in that way, Annis.’
She blinked—whether it was at his conciliatory tone or the fact that he had used her name, he did not know. Shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts, she stepped away from him, visibly relaxing her stance as she took in a breath. Her hands unclasped and she turned away from him. ‘Follow me,’ she said, not even bothering to look back to make certain that he had obeyed.
Then again, she did not have to make certain. The two warriors who had apparently been appointed his guard stepped closer, their eyes making it clear they would carry him if he did not comply. Cursing under his breath, he took the last swallow of wine before tossing the empty chalice away where it bounced off the stones and rolled towards the wall. One of the men gave his shoulder a rough push and Rurik began to follow her.
His gaze took in the house as he walked. Torches lit the way, lighting up the tapestries he passed and reflecting off the stone floor, turning it a deep orange. It felt old, but in a way that conveyed years of knowledge and living rather than decay. It should have felt forbidding and menacing—it was his prison, after all—but it did not. Strangely, it felt like a home, cosy and a refuge from the world. Cold winter wind howled outside, but, aside from an occasional flicker of the light, it did not touch them here.
The creak of a door drew his gaze to Annis as she disappeared through a doorway. This chamber was off the atrium and not the garden like her own chamber and Wilfrid’s had been.
‘Here’ came the voice of a guard at his back as they approached the open door.
Wary of what might be inside, Rurik paused at the threshold, taking in what appeared to be a bedchamber almost the same size as Wilfrid’s, but not nearly as well appointed. A large bed sat in the centre of the room with a few chests and tables scattered about. Otherwise the chamber was bare, making it appear as if it were not currently occupied. One of the guards pushed him and he stumbled into the room. He turned, drawing his fist back to drive it into the man’s smirking face, but he moved backwards too quickly.
Annis gave the man a harsh glare before turning her attention to Rurik. ‘Your new home. For now.’ She stood near the head of the bed, her features closed as if she had overcome her anger.
‘It is much better than my cage, I will admit,’ he said. He could not help but eye the bed with longing as he approached. Last night had been long and it seemed ages since he had slept in a good bed: the straw pallet in the cage, the boat and, before that, his time in Killcobar with Alarr looking for King Feann. They had slept on the ground and in dirty hovels much of the time.
His body longed for rest, but he could not forget the important task before him. He had to get closer to Annis somehow, to get her to confide in him, at least until he could make more progress with her father-in-law. ‘Will you share it with me?’
Her glaring disapproval answered him even before she said, ‘Never.’
He could not help the grin that spread across his face. Something about her simply begged him to unravel her. ‘I meant the bed, not your body.’
She swallowed hard as he walked closer. ‘Why would I do that?’
He shrugged. ‘Wilfrid already believes us to be lovers.’
Shaking her head, she said, ‘Not physically. I explained to him, you heard me.’
‘I know what you explained.’ Coming to a stop before her, he gave her a long look up and down. He wondered at how she seemed to trust him. He could hurt her now, quickly before the guards could get to him if he wanted. Did she even realise how she trusted him? Whether she did or not, he found himself liking that.
‘But you do not realise how beautiful you are. No man would be a lover to you in fondness only as you explained to him. Wilfrid might be physically deteriorated and he might have memory problems, but he is not a daft man. Were you mine, I would have you in my bed every night and again every morning.’ His voice had lowered as his words lit a fire in his belly. He had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from reaching for her.
She gasped and he did not miss the flare of heat in her eyes before she took a step back. ‘Nevertheless, we are not lovers and we will not be lovers. Wilfrid can think what he wants.’
‘Then I will ask that you stay.’
‘Why?’ She tilted her head to the side.
‘Because you are the only one I trust here.’
‘Why would you trust me?’
He grinned again. ‘Because I am not dead yet. I have no idea of the intentions of others, but you do not seem inclined to kill me.’
She gave a harsh laugh at that. ‘I can assure you the guards have been ordered by me not to harm you unless you give them reason.’
He glanced back at the two men near the door. They were not who he was worried about. ‘And Cedric? He also has been given this order and he abides by your decision?’
A look of uncertainty crossed her face before she smoothed out her features. ‘You need not be concerned with Cedric.’
Her assurance did not have the ring of truth. Cedric saw him as a threat. Cedric had stormed into her bedchamber in the early morning hours because he had found Rurik’s cell empty. He hadn’t forgotten the man had gone looking for him in the dead of night. Whether or not Annis realised it, Cedric would rather see Rurik dead than see him become a complication. Rurik had no doubt of that. ‘You are certain he will not come in the middle of the night and slide a dagger between my ribs?’
She glanced at the door and then back at him. ‘You will have a guard just outside the door. This chamber has no windows so there is no other way to gain entry.’
Lowering his voice so that only she could hear, he asked, ‘And you are certain that the guards are loyal to you and not Cedric?’
She opened her mouth to speak, but then sent a quick look to the two men standing inside the open door. She was not certain. She might want to believe it, but there was something there that made her hesitate. As a woman, there were bound to be warriors who were loyal only to Cedric. Gratified to find that his hunch had been right, he drove the point home. ‘I would prefer to have you as my own personal guard.’
Her troubled gaze lighted on him briefly before going to the bed. She looked very much like a reluctant bride who was about to be forced to endure a wedding night.
‘You have my vow that I will not touch you. Unless you want me to.’ He could not help but add that last part.
‘I would be a fool to accept your vow on anything.’
She was right. Not that he would touch her against her will, but that he was willing to say almost anything to get the answers he wanted. Before he could challenge her, she said, ‘If I stay here with you, you will be chained.’
‘No.’ He said the word so harshly that she straightened, clearly stunned by his vehemence.
‘You must. You cannot expect me to sleep here, to lower my guard, based solely on your word that you will not touch me.’
‘I will not be bound again.’ The very idea of it set his blood to boiling.
‘If you will not agree to be bound, then I will not stay.’ Her chin went up a notch, a move he was coming to know meant that she was holding her ground.
‘Then I will be so loud that no one will get any sleep tonight. I am certain I will be louder here than below stairs.’
Anger flared to life again in her eyes. ‘Then I can bind your mouth.’
He stared at her, trying to determine if she was bluffing. He knew that his captivity did not sit well with her. She was not glorying in her ability to hold him prisoner. Would she actually see him gagged for the night? ‘You would not.’
Whether it was his direct challenge
or her own guilt at keeping him captive, he could not say, but something made her walk behind him to the guards.
‘Make certain everyone believes I am in my chamber for the night. No one is to know I’m in here. I’ll tell Goda that I am not feeling well and do not have need of her tonight.’ Relief lightened his shoulders. She was staying. But then she mumbled something to the guard and it was so low that he could not hear enough to make out the commands. One of them ran off as she turned to him.
‘Chains, or we do not have a deal.’
CHAPTER TEN
The look of satisfaction that adorned Annis’s face as the guard pulled the leather restraint tight on Rurik’s wrist was unmistakable. Rurik knew that he had got under her skin and this was her way of getting her revenge. Thank the gods she did not have a vicious streak in her, or the punishment could be worse.
‘On the bed,’ the guard said. When Rurik glared at him mulishly, the man shrugged. ‘Unless you would rather stand for the night.’
Apparently, it was not enough that his hands would be bound, she wanted him chained to the bed as well. He scraped his free hand across his jaw as he stared at her. She seemed to stifle a laugh as she turned to give him a modicum of privacy. In the time it had taken the guard to retrieve the restraint—a suspiciously short amount of time—Rurik had been divested of his boots and tunic, so that he stood in only his trousers and undershirt.
With an inward sigh of frustration, he climbed on to the bed and held his hands up to the headboard. The guard pulled the restraint around a sturdy piece of wood and fastened the cuff to Rurik’s free wrist, effectively chaining him to the bed for the night.
‘I find it odd that you have all these chains and restraints at your disposal. Do you make a habit of befriending men in taverns and bringing them home to chain them up?’ He could not seem to help his unhealthy obsession with goading reactions out of her. She made it far too easy to want to ruffle her. The fact that she usually responded as he wanted her to only sweetened the enticement.
Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 10
