by Phoebe Conn
Her hand tightened around the small silver hammer she still wore suspended upon its pretty chain, her fingertips caressing the cool metal in a vain effort to affect a calm as icy as the delicate charm. She had never removed the pagan symbol, although Olgrethe teased her constantly for wearing it, but it was the only thing she had of Mylan’s and it provided the sweetest of memories. Knowing his room was nearby, she could not help but wonder if he had been able to fall into his usual untroubled sleep, when she could not even bear to lie down long enough to close her eyes.
Finally, deciding to seize the initiative, Celiese slipped silently out of her room and tiptoed down the hall. Finding the door unbarred she entered Mylan’s room quietly and slowly slid the bolt into place so they would not be disturbed while she was with him. She waited a moment, wanting to be certain he was alone in the comfortable bed, and when she heard the easy rhythm of his breathing she knew the dilemma that had plagued her mind that night had not troubled his. She approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to startle him by waking him suddenly. Finding room on the bed, she sat down upon the edge. Mylan lay upon his stomach, his cheek resting upon his arm, and she leaned down to kiss his shoulder lightly, letting her lips caress his warm skin while he continued to sleep, unaware of her gentle touch.
Enjoying herself too greatly to stop, she slid her fingertips down his back, and then over his narrow hips. His skin was smooth, taut over the powerful muscles of his shoulders, and she savored his warmth as she cast off her light shift and stretched out beside him to cuddle close. Winding her fingers in his soft curls she bit his earlobe playfully, and hoped he would awaken in an affectionate mood regardless of how little he liked or trusted her.
Mylan was exhausted. Oluf had hurt him more than he let anyone see, and his whole body ached from the brute’s punishing blows. As if that were not enough, Jens had struck a glancing blow to his left cheek. His eye was swollen and would be black by morning, but that was so minor a discomfort he had simply ignored it. He had fallen across his bed, wanting to sleep for days rather than contemplate for another agonizing moment what he was to do with Celiese.
When his father wanted her gone and she wanted to leave, why was he filled with such terrible dread at the prospect? He had to keep his promise, however, and escort her safely to France, even though she would then be lost to him forever. He knew he would never be able to forget her astonishing beauty nor the exquisite rapture they had shared far too briefly, but she was a liar, who possessed a heart made of a substance more unyielding than the finest steel, and those were faults he could not forgive.
When Celiese’s light kiss moved across the back of his neck Mylan stretched slightly, his sleep lightening by degrees until he came fully awake and realized the enchanting creature who so often filled his dreams was once again in his bed. He rolled over slowly upon his back, staring into the darkness as he reached up to touch her curls. She had such beautiful hair, such silken strands that tickled his bare chest as she leaned down to kiss him, her lips brushing his only lightly until he pulled her down into a far more erotic embrace. He swore to himself he would never let her go; she had slipped into his bed of her own accord, but she was a captive now, a prisoner of passion too strong to deny, and he felt her relax, her lithe body melting into his own, her mouth opening eagerly to accept his deep kiss, and all thought save one left his mind.
To have hoped for affection and be welcomed with such delicious ardor was more than Celiese had dared expect. Mylan was so alive, his strength and tenderness so finely meshed she could not seem to hold him tightly enough to enjoy all he wished to give. He caressed her soft curves as if memorizing every contour, gently fanning the glowing embers of her passion until they leapt into flames. She slipped from his grasp and trailed sweet kisses down the scars that ran across his broad chest, wanting only to give him the deepest of pleasures, the same glorious thrill he gave to her.
She knew the pattern left by the bear’s clawsâthe long sweep of the animal’s paw had slashed his bronze skin ruthlessly, yet the deep scars were as unique a part of him as his golden curls or his amber eyes, and she whispered softly, “You are the most splendid of men, Mylan, truly you are, and I have always thought you far more attractive than merely handsome.” Before he could argue with her sweet compliment, she slid her fingertips up the inside of his thigh, her tantalizing touch a promise of the love she longed to give him.
As she moved alongside his lean body her tongue sent a flickering flame through the muscles of his flat stomach, teasing his senses until she felt him shiver. Driven on by the untamed desire his mere presence kindled within her heart, she moved lower still, longing to bestow a gift of love so magnificent that the memory of her would fill his heart forever. Her lips burned his flesh with a fiery kiss, flooding his powerful body with a torrent of ecstasy so wild that he wound his fingers in her shining curls to make her finish what she had begun. He drew her close, savoring each delicious ripple of the joy shuddering through him, exploding at last in a shower of such brilliant rapture he could no longer keep silent and called her name in a low, slurred moan, his pleasure so close to madness he could not keep the delectable insanity from resounding in his deep voice.
Knowing she had pleased Mylan as greatly as she had hoped to, Celiese laid her head upon his chest, content to listen to the wildly thundering beat of his heart until it grew steady once more. His fingers moved slowly through her tangled curls, sharing the bliss with her still, and she was filled with the same marvelous peace he enjoyed and had no desire ever to leave his warm embrace. She wanted to make the night last forever, extending each precious moment to the fullest so her memories would all be sweet when they parted.
Still astonished by Celiese’s lavish display of affection, Mylan hesitated to inquire as to its cause. He had no desire to provoke her, which he knew was all too easy a feat, for her temperament was a tumultuous blend of passion and fury he had never been able successfully to predict, but he could imagine no more splendid female creature ever having been born, and he remained silent until his need for her overpowered his reason once again.
Moving with exaggerated care, he pulled her lissome body against the length of his own. His injuries were no more than dull aches now, the sharpness of their pain blurred by the enchantment of her marvelous affection. She had moved over him with the fluid grace of the most entrancing of dancers, her every motion giving so rich a pleasure that he longed to repay her sensual gifts with a magic of his own. His lips caressed the soft curve of her throat and he felt the silver chain he had given her and smiled, for the charm had brought them both good luck that night.
He lingered at the hollow of her shoulder before seeking the flushed pink tip of her breast. Savoring the sweetness of her silken skin, he drew her near, turning her tenderly in his arms so he might run his fingertips down her spine. His touch was deliberate, yet honey-smooth, as his hands slid over her hips, drawing her closer still. She came to him readily, a perfect mate whose willowy body seemed designed solely to pleasure his, but again he moved with such loving devotion he made their union last until he felt the heat of her body’s response and knew the depth of her hunger for him had been satisfied.
He lost himself then in his own sparkling dreams of her. Swift and sure, his power still tender, he let his own need build to a rapturous release, and, hearing the softness of Celiese’s contented sigh, he drifted back to sleep with her cradled in his arms. He was not altogether certain he had ever been awake, for making love had never been more splendid, and he would not have been surprised to discover it had all been simply a magnificent dream.
While Celiese lay sleeping peacefully in his arms, Mylan was awakened by the distinctively metallic sound of steel scraping against stone. Someone had just walked by his door and had carelessly let his weapon strike the wall. Instantly alert to possible danger, he sat up, easing the delicate beauty from his arms before he left his bed and went to the door. Opening it no more than a crack, he waited, and, again hear
ing the sound that had shattered his dreams, he grew more bold and peered out into the corridor to discover what was amiss.
Two men stood at Celiese’s door and while he was certain one was his father he could not make out the identity of the other until he heard him speak. He recognized the man instantly then, and knowing Jens would have no good purpose visiting Celiese at that hour, he stepped out into the shadows and pressed his body against the wall, moving close enough to overhear the rest of their conversation.
Aldred’s voice was stern even at a whisper, and he insisted forcefully, “You must slip into her room without making another sound, or you will awaken the entire household! Shove the gag into her mouth so she cannot cry out as you tie her hands and feet, then carry her from my house as swiftly as you can. I will not question what you choose to do with her, but the night is coming to an end, and you must be on your way before this abduction is discovered.”
“I am no fool!” Jens responded with a hostile sneer. “My brothers are already on board our ship, and we will take Celiese without mishap. Now let us cease talking and I will finish the deed.”
Mylan watched as Jens entered Celiese’s room with stealth a cat would envy, but he was inside only briefly before realizing her small chamber was empty. Gesturing angrily as he returned to the corridor, he accused Aldred of some further piece of treachery, but the older man took him firmly by the arm and led him down the hall toward the stairs so they might discuss this unexpected predicament without fear of arousing those who still slept.
Mylan stepped back into his room, closed the door silently, and threw the bolt. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears he could scarcely hear his own thoughts. Never had he ever thought his father capable of stooping to such an evil plot as the one he had just discovered. Seeking to create harmony between two warring families was a noble quest, but not when it was accomplished at the cost of an innocent’s life, and he would not forgive the man for betraying Celiese to further his own goals. Furious, he tried to catch his breath, but the thought that she had escaped being kidnapped and murdered by so narrow a margin appalled him and he could not force himself to affect a calm he did not feel.
Forcing himself to think clearly to devise the most devious plan for eluding her pursuers, he could not help but contemplate what Celiese’s fate would have been had she not come to him that night. He remembered his grandfather’s funeral vividly. A handsome man, his posture had still been proud despite his years. After his death, his body had been burned with that of his favorite female slave. She was a young woman whom Mylan recalled fondly, for she had often looked after him when his mother was busy with his twin brothers. On the day of the funeral the attractive slave had been brought to the spot on the beach where his grandfather’s ship had been towed and surrounded with firewood. His body was already on board, inside a tent so none might see what transpired before the pyre was lit.
A curious child, he had watched the pretty young woman drink deeply, dulling her senses with the intoxicating beverage she had been given. She had sung a song, a soft, sweet ballad that had touched him even then with its sadness. After telling her friends goodbye, she had been led into the tent, but his mother had taken him away then, not wanting him to witness what was to come. But he had pestered an uncle to tell him the truth, and the man had explained that his grandfather’s sons had all lain with the woman. Next the old woman known as the Angel of Death, the same one who had prepared his grandfather’s body for the funeral, had entered the tent. She had placed a rope around the slave’s neck and given the ends to two men to pull, strangling her so she could not cry out as the Angel plunged a dagger into her heart. To a child the ritual murder had seemed strange and awful, but now as a grown man he was thoroughly sickened by the memory of what had taken place that day.
A beautiful young woman had been sacrificed along with horses and cows to serve a dead man, and he was certain now that she must have been Christian, as was Celiese. Her place in paradise would therefore have been far different than that occupied by his grandfather’s spirit, so what had been the purpose of such a senseless death? None; and he was ashamed to think that on more than one occasion he had threatened Celiese with such a ceremonial slaughter. He shuddered as though chilled. Her death would have served no useful purpose whatsoever, and he swallowed hard to force back the nausea filling his throat as he realized what a gruesome fate awaited her should she fall into the hands of the Torgvalds.
They were brutal butchers, all of them. They would send Celiese to her death at Oluf’s funeral after raping her so often she would welcome the Angel’s blade, and he was so outraged at his father’s duplicity that it was all he could do not to take up his sword and challenge him as he would any other man bent on harming Celiese. Had she been afraid, perhaps terrified that she would be given to the Torgvalds at dawn and had come to seek his protection? She was clever, perhaps she had seen what he had not and knew her hours in his home were numbered. He had been warned now too, though, and if it had been protection she had sought she would have it.
Dressing hastily, Mylan stopped to gather extra clothing, which he quickly shoved into a suede bag before he went to the bed to awaken Celiese. He shook her shoulder as he spoke. “You must come with me now, Celiese, there is no time to lose!”
Since she had had no more than the briefest of rests, she yawned sleepily, not understanding Mylan’s words until he repeated them. “Where are we going with such haste at this hour?” she asked in a puzzled tone.
“To France; we will sail with the rising sun. Now get up, for there is no point in my leaving without you.” Still frightened for her safety, Mylan coaxed her out of the bed and tossed her the shift he had found upon the floor. “Get dressed, we must go!”
Celiese had never seen Mylan in so anxious a mood and reached out to catch his hand. “What is wrong, tell me first so I will know what danger to expect.” She sat down on the bed, ready to listen.
“There is no time to discuss it now. We must gather your clothing and enlist my brothers’ help. Put on that shift or I shall drag you down the hall naked!”
Her green eyes widening at the harshness of his tone, she nonetheless rose from his bed and slipped the short linen garment over her head. She shook out her curls to keep them away from her eyes, and then walked to his side. “I did not realize you wished to sail with the morning tide or I would have packed what few belongings I have last night.”
His emotions still in turmoil, Mylan could do no more than frown as he reached for her hand. “Do not ever remove that silver charm, Celiese, for surely Thor saved your life tonight, and his emblem should be regarded as your greatest treasure.”
Surprised by his serious comment, she replied truthfully, “I prize it because it was a gift from you. Thor has no reason to protect me, but what danger existed tonight when I lay in your arms?”
Mylan took the gleaming sword that was never far from his side, and after opening his door he looked up and down the hall to be certain Jens and his brothers were not lurking nearby. When he saw the way was clear he replied distractedly, “That I will not reveal, but whether it was your passion for me or Thor’s intervention that saved you we needn’t debate. Now, how much do you have to bring?” Leading her the short distance to her room he ushered her inside and lit the oil lamp by her bed. He waited impatiently, looking about the room for what she might think necessary.
“I have little once I am dressed.” Celiese picked up the gown she had removed several hours earlier and explained, “Olgrethe has always lent me her clothing, will there be time for me to borrow something more and bid her farewell?”
“No more than a moment.” Mylan paced nervously, too preoccupied to notice how lovely Celiese looked as she dressed. Her cheeks were filled with a delicate blush and her eyes sparkled with excitement as she gave him her full attention when he spoke. “The ship Hagen and Andrick command is a knarr, a merchant vessel, as is mine. Since theirs is ready to sail and mine is not, I will simply make them a
trade. I should have returned long before they wish to set sail in the spring, so that they will again have their own vessel when next they wish to trade goods.”
“Yes, I understand. I have my cloak, but I would like to have an extra dress and another pair of slippers. I will speak with Olgrethe about that while you talk with Andrick.” Ready to leave, Celiese preceded him to the door, but he put out his hand to stop her and looked out again to see if the corridor was unoccupied.
“Mylan, this is your own house, but you act as though we were trespassing,” she said, puzzled.
“Just stay behind me, Celiese, my caution is not foolish no matter what you might think. Now the way is clear, and we must go.” He took her hand again as they walked to the quarters Andrick shared with his bride, At the door he knocked softly, and his brother soon came to see who might wish to see him at that early hour.
“I have little time, Andrick, you must lend me your ship and permit Olgrethe to give Celiese a few articles of clothing. We are leaving for her homeland now and have no time to search for apparel to supplement her wardrobe,” Mylan told his brother urgently.
Andrick wore no more than a towel knotted low upon his hips. Having been awakened from his dreams, he was clearly astonished by both of Mylan’s requests.” You may have the ship, of course, and anything Olgrethe can spare, but is this not a peculiar time to depart?” He yawned loudly then, and rubbed his hand over his eyes to keep them open.
