Sighing, Zora lowered the trapdoor and re-covered it with wet clumps of moss and pine needles. Then she bent to pick up her bags. Straightening, she winced as something hard landed upon her foot. “Ouch!”
When she heard several more thuds, she realized that the bag Semirah had given her must have come open for it was lighter in her hand. Kneeling to retrieve her gold, Zora found nothing but small rocks at her feet.
“What? Why…she lied to me!”
Hugging her damp cloak to her body, Zora looked around her nervously, the dense forest suddenly grown menacing in the dark. No gold grivna…no horse and no guide. Damn that Khazar woman! How did Semirah expect her to find her way to Novgorod? The tunnel had been so long, Zora had no idea in which direction lay Rurik’s compound, let alone her uncle’s city.
Hearing a branch snap somewhere behind her, Zora gasped and spun. Might there be marauding thieves in these woods like there had been at the portage? And surely wild beasts had to abound in this vast northern forest, bears and wolves…
“Oh, no, that’s it,” Zora breathed in horror. Semirah had never intended for her to make it back safely to Chernigov; she wanted something terrible to happen to her out here! Then she would be rid of her forever.
No, I mustn’t panic, Zora told herself firmly, clutching the remaining bag to her breast. She still had the jeweled circlet and her wedding ring, and she had made it this far. She could still escape.
All she had to do was find her way back to the compound and then skirt along the clearing to the road. Then once she was in Novgorod, she would find some shrewd merchant willing to risk the perils of a journey to Chernigov not only for the gold she would give him but for the vast reward that would be his upon her safe return—
A sudden rustling too near for comfort caused Zora to jump, but before she had a chance to run, she was collared roughly from behind.
“What have we here?” came a harsh guttural voice as Zora gasped in terror. Her captor held her so tightly around the neck that she couldn’t even turn her head to catch a glimpse of him. “I’m out hunting for a little supper and snare a pretty forest sprite instead. You’re a tempting one, wench. Wait till the rest of the lads get a look at you.”
“Let…let me go!” Zora rasped, scarcely able to breathe for the pressure of her captor’s arm against her windpipe. Clawing frantically at his sodden sleeve, she fought the swamping fear that was threatening to overwhelm her. “My husband is Lord Rurik of Novgorod! He will kill you if you hurt me!”
“Nay, wench, the wife to a great lord would never be alone in these woods,” he scoffed. To Zora’s horror, his hand strayed beneath her cloak to squeeze her breast. “She would know that thieves and cutthroats abound, along with hungry beasts on the prowl for a tender bit of flesh—”
“No! Stop!” Tears smarted Zora’s eyes as she struggled against him with all her might. “I have a gold circlet I could give you if you would just leave me alone…and…and my wedding ring! I dropped the bag when you grabbed me, but I know we could find it—”
“Aye, let’s get down on our hands and knees, wench, and see what we can find.”
As he began to push her to the ground, Zora began to scream wildly, blindly, kicking her legs and twisting in her captor’s grip so desperately that she was hardly aware of it when she was swept up into his arms.
“Let this be a lesson to you, wife, when next you think of fleeing from your home and husband. If such a man as I pretended to be had found you, no amount of kicking or screaming would have saved you.”
“Rurik!” Zora had never thought that she could be so glad to see him, and she almost threw her arms around his neck. Yet she was just as swiftly shaken by outrage that he would frighten her so cruelly, and on purpose. She was about to let him know exactly what she thought of him when a host of warriors suddenly came riding through the trees, their smoking torches lighting up the surrounding forest.
“Lord Rurik, we heard screaming—”
“My wife is well, men, just startled.”
Startled? Bristling again, Zora nonetheless decided to hold her tongue when she met Rurik’s eyes. His gaze was hard, his expression even harder.
“Come, wife. It is time you see the damage you have caused from this night’s work.”
Realizing that Rurik was referring to the fire, Zora felt a lump of apprehension in her throat as he strode with her to his horse, which had come trotting from the trees at his low whistle.
“I…I didn’t set it—”
“You might as well have. Semirah wouldn’t have committed such an act if you hadn’t given her encouragement.”
No wonder Rurik had known where to find her! Zora thought, astonished. “How did you learn that it was Semirah…?”
“Her own carelessness,” he answered in a grim voice. “And if you haven’t discerned it already, wife, there was treachery behind her willingness to help you. She knew the dangers you would face. It is my belief that she hoped you would become food for wolves, and for that I cannot forgive her.”
Rurik said no more as he lifted her to the saddle and from the tight clenching of his jaw when he mounted behind her, Zora could tell that his mood was black indeed.
As they set off with his men at a thundering pace through the woods, the rain becoming a cold drizzle, she wondered what Rurik had meant from his ominous statement. Yet she didn’t dare to think that he might have said it because he cared about her, no matter how fiercely he held her, his cheek against her wet hair.
As they rode through the gates, Zora had never known such guilt when she saw the damage, a row of still smoldering ruins, all that was left of ten longhouses.
“I never intended…” she began, but one look at Rurik’s dark expression was enough to silence her.
“Fortunately no one was hurt,” he informed her as he slowed their mount to a walk, “but there are families tonight without their homes and belongings. The hall and my own longhouse would have been next if the rain hadn’t come.”
Zora wisely held her tongue, the strong smell of charred timber making her stomach twist. What could she say? That she was sorry about the fire? She doubted Rurik would accept her apology. Yet at least she could offer part of her own dwelling as temporary quarters for one of those unlucky families. It might help to make amends and soothe her sense of blame.
“The main room of my longhouse is large, Rurik. I’m sure that it could sleep six people—”
“And what of your bedchamber?” His arm tightened like a vise around her waist. “Perhaps four more?”
“I…I suppose, but where will I…” She swallowed uncomfortably, recalling all too well his unwanted summons. “I mean, you must have a lot to do tonight because of the fire—”
“No more than a few orders will handle,” he cut in harshly. “The first one will be that all of your things be brought to my longhouse. Until new housing is built for the people your actions so callously displaced, you’ll be staying with me.”
Zora was stunned. “But…but what of your other women? Surely such an arrangement will only displease—”
“They have no say in the matter, nor do you. The decision has been made.”
This last statement was delivered so resolutely that Zora knew no amount of argument would sway him. As Rurik deposited her in front of his longhouse, he gave commands to some of his warriors who reined in their exhausted steeds behind him.
“See that my wife is well guarded and remember, men, she likes to stray, especially through windows. I will return shortly.” Then to Zora he said, “Go inside, Princess, and make yourself comfortable. I will send Nellwyn to attend to you needs.”
Zora stared at him, trapped. Rurik had told her that outside the compound lurked every manner of danger, yet at this moment, from the look in his eyes that appeared black and glittering in the hazy torchlight, she feared him more. She had the most unsettling notion that he was soon to devour her more hungrily than any beast.
“I said go inside, Zora. Or sha
ll I dismount and carry you myself over the threshold?”
She didn’t hesitate but turned and hastened through the door held open for her by a somber-faced warrior. Grateful when it closed behind her, blocking Rurik from her sight, she leaned against the intricately carved doorjamb and pressed her hand over her heart. It couldn’t have been beating any faster, like a rabbit’s in a snare.
“Is there anything else you’ll be needing, my lady?”
Seated at the foot of the huge bed, Zora nervously fingered the embroidered edge of her sleeve. She was tempted to ask Nellwyn for the impossible, that somehow the slave woman might whisk her magically away from what she knew now was inevitable, but instead she shook her head. Bathed, perfumed, and dressed in the sleeping gown she had hoped never to wear, Zora supposed she was ready, if only outwardly, for whatever was to come.
“No, Nellwyn, nothing.”
“Then I’ll leave you,” came the stiff response. “Good night, my lady.”
As Zora watched Nellwyn hurry out, she was not surprised that the slave woman hadn’t offered any words of reassurance as she had earlier that day. Nellwyn was clearly upset that Zora had deceived her.
Sighing, Zora imagined that everyone must despise her now for her part in the fire, but then again, any other woman in her predicament might have done the same thing! Telling herself defiantly that she didn’t care what Rurik’s retainers thought about her, she rose from the bed and went over to the chest that held her things.
It had been an awful moment when male slaves had borne it into the room and set it down with an all too final thud right next to Rurik’s. Hoping that these Varangians were fast builders so she might soon be able to retreat to her own long-house, Zora pulled a lightweight cloak from the chest and whirled it around her shoulders. She felt naked in this sleeping gown, the apricot color of her nipples plain to see through the filmy fabric, and she’d be damned if that was the first thing Rurik saw when he returned.
When was he going to return? Zora wondered. Beset again by apprehension, she began to pace the room.
Would he take her at once and have done with it? Glancing at the bed that seemed to dominate the room, the thick headboard carved with grinning beasts and coiled serpents that to her appeared decidedly heathen, she felt a nervous rush of warmth in her stomach. It was too easy to conjure an image of them lying amid the soft furs mounded upon the mattress. She paced even faster.
Perhaps Rurik had found that there was more to be done than he had anticipated, she considered, clutching the ends of her cloak with trembling fingers. He had said he would return shortly, but he had left her hours ago. She imagined the supper that had been set up for them near the hearth had grown cold by now, which made no difference to her. She certainly had no appetite—
A sharp scraping sound from the main room caused her to gasp and she whirled, staring wide-eyed at the door. All the slaves had gone. It had to be Rurik.
Zora waited, her breath caught in her throat. But he did not enter. She wondered if she had only imagined the noise. Then she heard a dull thunk, and another. Her curiosity pricked, she hurried almost on tiptoe to the doorway and peeked outside.
Rurik was just rising from a bench, his boots lying at his feet. He must have sensed her standing there for he looked over at her and smiled. Smiled!
Chapter 19
“Good evening, wife.”
“H-hello.” Flustered by the husky warmth in his voice that matched the heat in his eyes, Zora’s cheeks reddened.
What in heaven’s name was the matter with him? She had expected him to be angry, gruff, hostile. When Rurik continued to smile at her, his appreciative gaze wandering over her lazily as he unfastened his sword belt and lay it upon the bench, she grew all the more bewildered, her blush creeping up to her scalp.
“Your…your supper has grown cold.” Then she rolled her eyes. How inane she must sound, and what did she care if his food was no longer edible! To her surprise, he chuckled.
“I suppose it has.” He began to pull his tunic over his head, his voice muffled through the fabric. “Forgive my delay, but I thought it good for morale to share some ale with my men, especially after what happened tonight.”
“So that’s it,” muttered Zora, her suspicion confirmed when Rurik swayed slightly while freeing his arms from the sleeves. She could not help noticing how boyish he looked with his silvery blond hair rumpled about his handsome face, but there was nothing boyish about the powerful span of his chest now bared to her gaze, or the muscular definition of his abdomen…
“What?”
Zora started, embarrassed that she had been staring at him so blatantly. “You’re drunk.”
Rurik smiled at her again, and this time it held a taunting edge.
“Only a little, Princess, and for that, you might count yourself fortunate.”
His hands moved to the drawstring at his trousers, and Zora’s heart began to thump…hard. Thinking desperately that she might be able to distract him with some conversation, she left the doorway, and averting her eyes from him as he undid the knot at his waist, she went to stand by the table where their supper was waiting.
“Fortunate?” she queried lightly, although her fingers were shaking as she fussed with a linen napkin. Hearing movement and the sound of something being tossed to the floor, she didn’t dare look up. Yet she could sense that he no longer wore a stitch. “How so?”
Rurik knew exactly what she was doing, trying to delay what had tortured his dreams for weeks. He decided to humor her for a moment, if only because he could see from her flushed cheeks and her trembling hands just how nervous she was.
“Because I haven’t come to you angry, Zora, as I might have earlier this night. Ale is a most curious drink. It can either drive a man already pressed to his limit into acting recklessly, and perhaps ruthlessly, or it can calm him. Tonight for me, it seems the latter.”
When she still did not look at him, remaining silent as she anxiously chewed her lower lip, Rurik walked toward her.
His impatience to enfold her in his arms was mounting inside him like a fire burning ever hotter, just as his desire for her had been escalating since the first time he had felt her writhe in ecstasy beneath him. Yet unlike that night, tonight he would savor every tantalizing inch of her. Reaching out, he stroked the silken curve of her cheek, her musky rose scent inflaming his senses.
“Come, wife.”
Zora jumped and met his eyes, acutely aware that he was naked and fearing to glance down for what she might see. He was so close now that his smell of smoke and sweat made her nostrils flare, but she did not think it unpleasant. Far from it.
“What…what of your supper?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Wine, then,” she said distractedly as if she hadn’t heard the finality in his voice. “Let me pour you—”
“I have drunk enough .
“But—”
Within the blink of an eye he had taken her in his arms and swept her from her feet, startling Zora so completely that she could find no voice to protest as he carried her into the bedchamber. But when he lay her down upon the soft furs and covered her with his massive body, she came alive and began to struggle beneath him, striking his broad back with her balled fists.
“No, damn you! Stop! I don’t want you! I don’t want…this!”
“I think that you do.” He caught her wrists easily with one hand and drew her arms over her head. Touching his lips to hers, his warm breath scented with ale, he whispered, “Probably as much as I.”
“No, you’re wrong!” Zora jerked her head to one side, even as she shivered at the ticklish pressure of his mouth upon her throat. When he turned her chin back to face him, his fingers caressing the stubborn line of her jaw, she cried, “You may not have attacked me in Chernigov, but tonight that is what it will surely—”
His lips came down upon hers before she could finish, not a feather-light kiss this time but not rough, either…somewhere all too disconcerting
ly in between. His mouth seemed to mold to hers, and as he kissed her like he had all the time in the world, not rushing to force her lips open, Zora felt herself responding despite herself, the tension melting from her body.
It felt so wonderful…she could not deny it, and she soon found herself craving more. She heard him chuckle from deep in his throat when she parted her lips beneath his, but to her amazement, she didn’t care. All she wanted was an answer to the yearning that was building in some mysterious place inside her, and he gave it to her when his tongue delved into her mouth, his kiss growing possessive and increasingly demanding as if he could not get enough of the taste of her.
How long she was lost to the wet swirling wonder of his kiss she could not say, but when Rurik lifted his mouth from hers, she felt flushed all over and light-headed and grateful that she was lying down. Surely if she had been standing her legs would have collapsed beneath her! She sighed, awash in delicious chills as he first nibbled gently upon her bottom lip, then laved it with his tongue.
“You see, Zora?” he teased in a half whisper, not taunting or holding triumph but in a playful tone that secretly thrilled her. “It’s no terrible thing to surrender to desire. I promise that before I take you tonight, you will want me a hundred, no, a thousand times more. You will beg me to end your torment.”
“And you, Rurik,” Zora said softly when he lifted his head to stare into her eyes, his gaze darkened with passion in the golden lamplight. She did not understand why it was suddenly so important for her to know but she felt that she must ask. “Is that what you are doing tonight, surrendering at last to a desire that has caused you to send three concubines untouched from your bed?”
The change in him was lightning swift.
“Who told you that I sent them away?” he demanded, releasing her wrists to rest his weight on his forearms. “Semirah?”
Seeing the ire in Rurik’s eyes, Zora sensed he had wanted to hide this from her. But why? Could it really be as simple as what Nellwyn had said…that Rurik thought only of her? Perhaps she meant something to him after all. It could explain so much
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