Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 2 of 2

by Harper St. George

  Cedric paused, but did not lower his dagger. ‘We cannot let him go. It will only be a matter of days before someone else is here for retribution. Their death will be followed by another seeking vengeance, and another in a never-ending cycle that will persist until a great war swallows us all whole.’

  Rurik stepped to the side, but Annis followed him, keeping herself between him and Cedric. She grabbed his thigh and a frisson of longing rippled beneath his skin. He took her wrist, intending to pull her away from him, but his hand lingered instead. ‘I will go in peace as long as I have the names of the assassins,’ he said.

  Cedric raised a prominent brow. ‘And we cannot trust you. There is no trust between enemies.’

  ‘Then we are at a standstill.’

  Silence descended on the chamber, only broken by the sound of Wilfrid’s harsh breathing. A gleam shone in Cedric’s eyes and the corner of his mouth tipped up in a slow smile. ‘There is one option left unexplored.’

  ‘Cedric, do not!’ said Annis, the panic in her voice suggesting that she still believed he meant death.

  Whatever the man was about to say, Rurik had the strange feeling that the conversation had been leading to just this moment all along, that Cedric had manipulated them towards it. He held his breath.

  ‘You could marry Annis.’

  Marry Annis? He could hardly put the two words together in his mind. ‘What?’

  ‘If you are Lord, you will hardly be inclined to bring destruction down on your own people. One would hope you would not want to harm your own wife, but if you did, there is the threat of death from Jarl Eirik to stay you. When you think of it, short of your death, it is the only way to protect Glannoventa from you.’

  Whether that were true or not, Rurik could not say. He could only stare in disbelief. When he could finally draw a lucid breath, he moved to look down at Annis. Her face was pale with two spots of colour riding high on her cheeks. She seemed to be as shocked as he was, which indicated that she had not spoken to Cedric about this. It was not planned. Or at least, not with her knowledge. He quickly looked down at Wilfrid, still seated at the table. The old man did not appear shocked at all. The glimmer in his eye indicated that he and Cedric had discussed this.

  ‘I do not understand,’ Rurik said. ‘How did we go from my death to this?’

  Cedric returned his dagger to its sheath and stood as if he had not threatened Rurik only a moment before. ‘Our meal is on the table. Let us discuss it as we eat. Wilfrid needs his rest.’ Before anyone could reply to that, Cedric left.

  ‘Did you have a hand in this?’ Rurik knew it was unlikely, but he had to know.

  Annis shook her head. ‘Not at all. This is not something you should consider. I will discuss it with Cedric.’ Turning her attention to the large manservant hovering behind Wilfrid’s chair, she said, ‘Irwin, see that Father is comfortable.’ Then she leaned down and placed a kiss on the old man’s cheek. ‘You have been plotting, I see. We will talk about this when you have rested.’

  He made a sound that might have been a laugh or a grumble and then she walked out after Cedric. Rurik watched the guard close the door behind her and felt as if his legs were wooden and his feet stuck to the floor. He could not go after them even though every part of his body urged him forward. They would not move.

  ‘Rurik,’ Wilfrid said in that way of his that fused the R and K sounds together.

  ‘You agree with Cedric? You believe that marriage is the best way forward?’

  The older man gave a jerky nod.

  ‘Why? What do you get out of this? You would marry Annis to the son of the man you claim to despise?’ Because Rurik was so shocked, his words came out more harshly than he intended, but Wilfrid did not seem to take offence. Instead, he gestured that Rurik should retake his seat. After some negotiation with his still-reluctant legs, Rurik accepted and sat down heavily.

  ‘I get to die knowing she is well.’

  ‘I came to kill you. How do you know that she will be well?’ None of this made any sense to him.

  ‘You’ve not killed me and you’ve not harmed her.’ His words were halting now as if he were having more trouble forming them. ‘You had chances. You didn’t do it.’

  ‘Perhaps I am simply biding my time.’

  For the first time Wilfrid looked impatient. His face flushed and it seemed as if the words wanted to spew out of him, if only his body would co-operate. His hand slammed down on the table, rattling the wooden figures and knocking a few to the floor. No one moved.

  ‘Cedric will tell you. Her options are few.’ The breath moved in and out of him in a slow and harsh rhythm. Irwin came forward and touched his shoulder, urging him to bed, but Wilfrid shook him off. ‘Take Glannoventa, take Annis and be done with vengeance.’

  * * *

  ‘What have you done, Cedric?’ Annis could not keep her voice from trembling as she faced him in the hall. She was too angry and bewildered to even try.

  ‘It’s not I. This was Wilfrid’s plan.’ She had caught him as he was about to take his place at the table, so he faced her with the well-laid table between them. ‘He conceived of it. He proposed the idea to me. We discussed it at length and, after a time, I understood him to be right.’ His voice was so calm in the face of her displeasure that it was a bit off-putting. It had the ominous tone of something that had been decided and now she was to receive the speech that had since been prepared to deal with her discontent.

  ‘You both discussed it, did you? And when did you think you would discuss it with me? Was I to wake up one morning to a wedding?’ A pang of regret crossed his face, and she felt a stab of victory.

  ‘I am sorry for the way that happened. It wasn’t my intention. Of course, I meant to speak with you first.’ He went to sit down, remembered himself and gestured to her own seat. ‘Please. Let us share a meal and discuss it.’

  The last thing she could do right now was eat, but she sat because she wanted his full attention. ‘There is nothing to discuss. I cannot marry the Norseman. There will be no good to come of it.’

  ‘You can and you should.’ He picked up a loaf of black bread and pulled off the heal. The words and you will floated silently in the air between them. ‘Let us run down your list of choices, shall we? If you marry fast, your options are Lord Strang and Hrypa of Whalley. The first is older than Wilfrid and the second would embroil us in a war to bring Mercia back to its former glory. I would advise against him, as sinking Glannoventa into war is not something you want. You are welcome to the first, but he has three sons and they would tear you apart in the fight that would ensue after his death. If you do not choose to marry fast, then you will either wait for another king to be chosen, or you will wait for Jarl Eirik to arrive, whichever happens first. The new King will likely send a man to you who will aid an alliance to usurp the Danes. This will anger Jarl Eirik and we will be sunk into another war with the Danes. Or, far more likely, Jarl Eirik is on his way here now and will arrive with a Dane for you. You will be married on the eve of his arrival—my guess would be week’s end—and have a Dane’s spawn planted in your belly before the year is out.’

  Her hands had come together during his speech and were clasped over her breasts with her heart pounding beneath them. She longed to refute every word of what he said, but she could only watch as he dipped the bread into his stew and took a bite of it. The problem was that it all made too much sense. Her options had been laid out before her and she did not like any of them. She hated them, in fact.

  ‘Then I am to marry the Norseman by week’s end and have his—’ she could not say the crude words ‘—have his child, instead?’

  Cedric’s eyes gentled as they landed on her stricken expression. ‘The way I see it, you have to marry—and soon. You have five options before you. Choose one.’

  Were they even really options when none of them were what she wanted? It was all s
o unfair that she wanted to plant her fist into the face of the first man who arrived hoping to claim her as his wife. After years of avoiding this discussion, it all seemed to be coming to a head at once. The only ways to avoid war were to wed the Dane Jarl Eirik put forward or the Norseman. Or were they? ‘How do you know that Jarl Eirik will not declare war once he learns I have wed the Norseman?’

  ‘Good question,’ Cedric answered between bites. ‘I do not know, but Wilfrid and I believe it can be avoided. Jarl Eirik is known to have a tenderness for his wife. If we are lucky, he will arrive with her. If we are not, then she may still have a gentling affect from afar. When he arrives you will believably profess your great affection and admiration for your Norse husband. Rurik will do his part to convince the Jarl that he will work with him. It will take a bit of doing, but I believe, in the end, Jarl Eirik will relent. Rurik has no allegiances that I’m aware of. I believe he can be convinced to align himself to the Jarl. Jarl Eirik might even consider it a boon that Rurik has ties to King Feann.’

  Whether that was true or not, she could not say. She rather believed that Cedric thought the Jarl to be rational when she held no such illusions. However, there was a bigger issue with her marrying Rurik than Jarl Eirik. ‘I cannot marry him.’ When he paused in his meal to look at her, she took a steadying breath and continued in a lower voice so as not to be overheard. ‘I was in Maerr. I was there, Cedric. Once he knows, he will not want to marry me when killing me will be so much more satisfying.’

  ‘You will not tell him that.’

  It shouldn’t surprise her that he would feel that way, but it did. ‘I cannot marry him and not tell him.’

  ‘You can and you will.’ He dropped his spoon and levelled a finger in her direction. ‘This will be the last we speak of this. You will not tell him. It is not information he needs to know.’

  ‘But he does. I cannot marry him under…under false pretences. It would be vile of me to do so.’

  ‘It would be vile of you not to do so.’ Cedric countered. ‘You must think about your people. Not yourself. Not even Rurik in this. This is about doing what is right for Glannoventa. These people have become your responsibility. You have spent the last years of your life shouldering that responsibility. You cannot, you must not, shirk it now.’

  Bristling under the weight of his displeasure, she drew herself up. ‘I have said nothing of shirking my responsibility.’

  ‘Fine. Then you can marry whichever Dane Jarl Eirik puts forth to you.’

  ‘I… That… I…’ Annis was aware that her mouth was opening and closing like a fish tossed up on the shore gasping for air. She simply was not able to stop doing it. This was all too much and far too soon.

  ‘The Norseman, then?’ He raised a brow.

  ‘How can you expect me to decide so soon? For that matter, how do you know that he will not wed me only to slit my throat as I sleep? You are putting me in a very difficult position.’

  ‘It is not me putting you in this position, Annis. It is simply the situation we find ourselves in.’ Cedric sighed. ‘Rurik could already have harmed you if that was his plan.’

  ‘But once he finds out about Maerr—’

  ‘You will not tell him!’ His voice rose so that it echoed off the high ceiling. ‘Never speak of that time again. You put all of us at risk, but especially yourself.’ Pushing back from the table, he came around to kneel before her. His hands took hers in a rare sign of physical affection. ‘Please, Annis. I know that you feel compelled to honesty, but it will not help you here. By all means, tell him if you must, but later. Much later. He is still a stranger to us in many ways. If you tell him now, he could very well marry you anyway with no one to stop him from carrying out his revenge on you. My protection can only extend so far.’

  He did not say it, but they both knew what he meant. At night in her chamber, no one could intervene. Though she had no doubt that Cedric would knock down doors to get to her, there were things the Norseman could do that would not be heard. A coldness crept over her and she had to fight to keep her limbs from trembling, though Cedric must have felt it in her fingers because he tightened his grip. ‘Have you told Wilfrid about Maerr? About me?’

  He shook his head. ‘I saw no need to share that. We both know the risk of upsetting him. Even that scene just now left me frightened for him. Wilfrid prefers Rurik because he wants to end the need for vengeance after he is gone. It does not hurt that marrying the Norseman will likely annoy Jarl Eirik. He does enjoy thwarting the man.’ He grinned in fondness.

  The door to the hall opened and Rurik stood there framed by two guards. She wanted to believe that he could be the saviour that Cedric, incredibly, believed that he could be. A large part of her trusted him, whether she wanted to or not. And the night they had spent talking had made her feel closer to him than was comfortable. But what did they know of him? What decision would he make if he knew her part in the massacre?

  Perhaps he would take the choice from her. Perhaps he wanted no part of Glannoventa and would leave at first light.

  But he stepped into the hall and took that final hope away from her. ‘I will wed you, Lady Annis.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Life could change in a day and sometimes in an instant. That had been proven to Rurik more than once. His mother’s sudden death from an illness, the wedding attack, finding out that King Feann was actually his uncle and now this. He was to be married into the same family he had come to destroy. As improbable as it seemed, with a night to sleep on his decision, he still believed he was making the right one.

  In truth, he could remember very little of the previous evening. He remembered clearly right up until the moment Cedric had suggested marriage. After that, the bits of memory became vague and matched together in a way that did not seem to follow a logical trail of time. There was Annis’s horrified expression. That particular memory kept coming back and it smarted. There was Wilfrid and the almost sage way he had pressed Rurik to consider marriage. There was Annis’s face again when Rurik accepted. She had excused herself, but he honestly could not remember if she had accepted as well. Cedric had spent the meal—all with guards still present—droning on and on about Glannoventa’s great history, but Rurik did not recall a word of it.

  Earlier that morning, Alder, the guard who seemed to be assigned to him most and the one who had hit him that first night outside the tavern, brought him food and requested he ready himself for an outing. He half expected that Annis had arranged for his imminent demise. A little while later he had been given his fur and led out a set of doors and was now standing in a courtyard. A low wall surrounded it with a gate that was open to the outside. Alder disappeared into a stone building that seemed to house horses if the smell of manure and straw coming from it was any indication. The warrior returned, leading a mare, just as the doors to Mulcasterhas opened.

  Annis and Cedric stepped outside, Annis with a look that suggested she was being led to the gallows, though Cedric seemed more resigned and less likely to stab someone at a moment’s notice.

  ‘Good morning,’ Annis said. He noticed she left off any form of address. ‘We thought that you might like a tour of Mulcasterhas and Glannoventa, before…’

  ‘Before our wedding?’ He supplied the words, while gauging her response.

  She flinched, an unusual reaction for her, and glanced at a boy who brought out two more horses. Instead of answering, she walked past him to her horse, a sturdy-looking animal that whinnied in greeting at her approach. She stroked his muzzle and he dipped his head to get a scratch behind the ears.

  Rurik found himself admiring her tall, lean frame as she moved. He had always found her attractive, but now that he had agreed to wed her—and it seemed that she had accepted him—his interest intensified. His body knew that she was his even if his heart and mind were slow to catch up. He liked the way she took the time to stroke the animal, before making use of
the stool placed down for her to assist in mounting. He liked how she still crooned to him softly from his back as she settled herself. He liked how she sat in her saddle, both graceful and strong.

  ‘Will you come with us?’ she asked, when she caught him watching her.

  Surprised to see that Cedric was already mounted, he hurried to the horse Alder had presented to him. She waited long enough for him to settle himself in the saddle, before leading the way through the gate. Cedric dropped behind with the three other guards who trailed along, allowing them a modicum of privacy as she showed him around. Mulcasterhas and the surroundings were on the remnants of a Roman fort and much of the original was still visible. Stone stalls had been converted to living quarters and wattle-and-daub huts had been built more recently to replace the ones that had disintegrated with time. The barracks had been rebuilt and enlarged to more comfortably house Wilfrid’s warriors…soon to be his warriors if all went as planned. A new weight came over him as this realisation settled in. This would be his. An arrangement he was not likely to find in Maerr, even before the massacre.

  The responsibility and the opportunity it presented was appealing. To rise from a barely tolerated acknowledged bastard to lord of all this was a heady proposition.

  She showed him all of it with pride in her voice. The barracks had been a project she had instigated and they were well done.

  ‘How many warriors?’ he asked.

  Pride threaded her voice as she gave him an accounting of the warriors stationed here and those that could be called in if they were needed. He followed her arm as she indicated the endless hills that rolled far beyond their corner of the world. All of that would be his. ‘Come.’ Giving him a hesitant smile, she led the way up the stone steps to the top of the wall that surrounded Mulcasterhas.

  And what a world it was. He had not had the time or inclination to appreciate the beauty of the landscape when he had arrived. But now, it was impossible to miss. Despite the fact that winter was upon them and white dusted the tops of the highest hills, the abundant evergreens kept the world from turning completely brown. Sunlight shimmered on at least two lakes hiding in the valleys where a silver thread of water snaking through the hills joined them together. He imagined how lush and verdant the summer would be and felt a pang of longing for Maerr and what had been lost.