by Phoebe Conn
Startled by the tragic tone of her response, Mylan spoke in a sympathetic tone, “Yes, that might be true, but surely whatever home you now establish will be in the same location. Where might that be? I will need this information too so that I may see you there safely.”
Celiese looked up at the two tall men. She knew them to be honest, but they were Vikings still, and she had no intention of leading them to her home. She was no traitor to her people and would not be used as such. “Mylan, if you take me as far as the mouth of the Seine I can find my own way home, and it would be far better for both of us if you did not try and find me next spring, Hagen.”
Mylan took a deep breath. He would not simply put Celiese ashore on French soil. He planned to see that she was left with a roof above her head and food for the winter, at the very least. “Is your home near the Seine, with a view of the sea, or was that just part of your story and not the truth?” He had not forgotten what she had confided on their wedding night and wondered if she remembered as well.
Blushing, she nodded shyly, for she recalled exactly when she had told him about her home. “Both the Seine and the sea bordered my home. It was the truth.” As was everything else she had ever told him, but she did not protest, when it would only serve to anger him once more.
Growing more curious, Mylan persisted, “On which side of the Seine, near Bayeux or Rouen?”
Appalled that he knew her homeland so well, she could not decide which would be worse, to lie or to tell the truth. Mylan’s glance was so insistent, however, that she dared not lie. “Rouen is nearest my home. If you were to ask for me there, Hagen, someone would be able to give you directions to the home of the d’Loganvilles.”
“Rouen is that not where…?” Hagen’s surprised question was interrupted by a hearty slap upon the back from Mylan, and he knew enough not to complete it.
Laughing, Mylan gave his brother a warm hug and bid him goodbye. “We cannot stand upon the dock discussing geography all day. Come, Celiese, we must be gone, and if Hagen cares to seek you out in Rouen next spring he may do so.”
With a warning glance to his brother, Mylan led the slender beauty up the gangplank of the Surf Falcon and gave the order to cast off the lines securing the graceful ship to the dock. It was all done so quickly that neither Celiese nor Hagen had the opportunity to say goodbye.
“Are your parents and Erik not coming to bid you farewell, Mylan?” Celiese thought his sudden haste extraordinary and wondered as to the cause, but figured as usual his motives would be beyond comprehension.
Since his parents had no idea he was sailing, Mylan thought it unlikely they would appear. His father had forbidden the voyage, so he would certainly not come to offer advice and encouragement. As for his mother, he was uncertain what to think of the good woman. If she had known Celiese was to be kidnapped and had not warned her then he would not forgive her, either. No indeed, he had no desire to see either of his parents that morning, and Erik would probably not leave his bed before noon.
“You heard my father last night, he wanted you gone. Do you really believe he would come to tell you goodbye?”
She looked down, sorry now that she had asked about his family when their poor opinion of her had been so unhidden. Perhaps their dislike had prompted Mylan to hurry, but it was more likely he meant to spare himself trouble rather than out of any regard for her feelings. It would be a long voyage, and she did not wish to be in the way. She had enjoyed standing at Andrick’s side as he held the tiller, but doubted Mylan would welcome such informality.
“Where would you like me to stay?” she asked. “I do not want to interfere in any way with your work or that of your men.”
Mylan laughed out loud at that sweet offer. “It will be the first time you haven’t!” When he saw by her expression that she was not amused, he softened his tone, but only slightly. “I have told the men to drape a tent over the stern so you will have some shade in which to rest. Sleep as long as you like. I will command the Falcon as best I can without your advice.”
Hurt by his scorn, she turned away and walked toward the rear of the ship, stopping to wave at Hagen as she passed by. He looked no more pleased than Mylan, and she wondered how a voyage begun with such haste and bitterness could possibly end well. She was going home again, however, and that prospect would have to sustain her. She found that not only had a tent been raised, but also fruit and bread had been left for her, as well as the softest of blankets. After eating a light breakfast, she was too tired to feel the hardness of the deck beneath her as she stretched out and, planning to rest only a moment, was soon sound asleep.
The wind was strong and Mylan made swift time, not once looking back toward his home but constantly glancing over his shoulder to be certain no ships came in pursuit. He had taken the best of Hagen’s crew, but knew if his father really wanted to he could find men among their houseguests to man a ship. That thought presented a painful possibility, for he did not want to fight any sort of battle against his own father, but the man had brought it upon himself by betraying Celiese so cruelly.
As little as he relished the thought of facing his father, the Torgvalds presented a far more dangerous threat. They would need time to mourn Oluf, but once he had been laid to rest, what would their next thought be? Revenge, he thought without question, but would they attack his home or come after him when they found he had taken Celiese out of their reach? A warship could easily overtake a knarr, but he had the advantage still, for he had had a vessel ready to make a long voyage, and as far as he knew the Torgvalds did not. By the time they assembled their supplies and made ready to sail, he would be so far ahead they could not overtake him.
The days were still long and hot, autumn barely begun, but those cowards would think twice about sailing now, when winter might overtake them with unexpected swiftness. Plotting strategy as he held the ship to a steady course, Mylan went over each possibility, and how he might best counter an attack. His crew were not the experienced warriors Raktor could summon with a snap of his fingers, but mariners whose only talent lay in making long voyages with both skill and daring. If he so chose, Raktor could pursue him in a ship with fifty armed men, each a worse cutthroat than the next. It was not a pleasant prospect to consider, and with his only weapon being time, he prayed he would not lose the advantage.
So far north the autumn days are long, night fleeting, and Mylan did not look for shelter until visibility became so poor he was forced to do so. While he had sailed his own country’s coast himself, he had memorized the rest of the route in the few minutes it had taken Hagen to explain it. He knew if he followed the coastline, France could be reached easily enough, and with a river so wide as the Seine for a landmark, they would have no trouble finding Celiese’s home, or what was left of it. That it was near Rouen disturbed him as greatly as it had Hagen, though, for he knew Hrolf was living there, and the surrounding lands were now his.
After a long nap, Celiese spent the afternoon standing at the rail, watching the coast of Denmark pass by. The country was a remarkably flat one, with only a few rolling hills, rather than the beautiful countryside backed by mountains shrouded by a lavender haze she had loved at home. She watched Mylan as he spoke with his crew. He worked them all hard, but spent long hours himself at the tiller, which had to be the most strenuous job. She was tempted to ask if he was not being foolish to waste what strength he had when the other men could have kept the ship upon a true course. He had taunted her about giving him advice and she kept still, but worried about him all the same. They sailed long past the time she had expected him to put in to shore for the night, and she was yawning sleepily when he did look for shelter.
Mylan was tired and dirty, and the last thing he wanted was Celiese’s company, but he dared not assign one of the young men of his crew the duty of seeing to her needs. He had noticed that the men’s curious stares had constantly drifted in her direction, and he had no intention of allowing any of them to befriend her, or worse. That would be all he
would need, he thought bitterly, to have the members of his crew falling all over themselves to impress her!
To make her situation clear, he would gather the men together after dinner and explain she was not on board to provide an amusement. She was a passenger and no more; that she was so pretty to look at was a distracting nuisance they would just have to ignore. He would be blunt with them. If they could not stop regarding her as a lovely female creature, he would make the fact she was his woman abundantly clear. He laughed to himself as he realized how simple a fact that would be to prove.
Hagen had given him charts as well as verbal directions and, while he did not know how reliable those drawings would prove to be, he hoped the harbors marked as safe would still be tranquil. Often what one man discovered on a voyage did not hold true for the next to follow the same route. The land did not change, but the mood of the inhabitants frequently did, and he hoped to find deserted inlets in which to sleep each night and fresh water to replenish their supply. That the weather was fair was a good omen, for it made navigation a simple matter, but if the temperatures turned cool, or if there was a fog that made the sky and sea one immense gray sphere, their progress would be slow, and the Torgvalds’ chances of overtaking them all the better.
Celiese sat on the edge of the circle of men gathered around the fire. They had eaten well and enjoyed the ale Mylan had provided in generous amounts, but she could tell from their frequent glances that her presence among them was causing undue stress. She had expected Mylan to speak with her at least, if not to spend all his time with her that evening, but he had taken a place on the far side of the circle and had not looked in her direction once. The men all had bags made of hides as he did, which they used to store their clothing in and to sleep upon at night, but while they appeared to be getting more comfortable as they lounged around the fire she felt increasingly out of place and wished there were some discreet way for her to ask Mylan where she should sleep. Finally, too tired to care about risking his disapproval, she rose to her feet, and carrying the blanket she had found aboard the Surf Falcon went to look for a secluded spot to rest.
As soon as Mylan saw Celiese disappear into the shadows, he cleared his throat and spoke convincingly. “Our passenger is always to be treated with the same respect you have shown her today. You may answer her questions should she approach you directly, and being the inquisitive sort, she just may, but do not take it upon yourselves to keep her entertained. I will take care of that responsibility myself.” With a sly grin he knew they would readily understand, he followed Celiese into the darkness, wondering why it had taken her so very long to seek some privacy in which to sleep when he could not have kept his eyes open much longer.
“Celiese?” he called softly, not wanting to frighten her unnecessarily.
She turned quickly, afraid she had offended him by leaving those at the fire. “I do not belong with your men, Mylan, they seem uncomfortable with me nearby. I hope you will not object to my sleeping here by myself.”
“Oh, but I most definitely do.” When he saw she did not understand he reached out to encircle her narrow waist and drew her into his arms. “I have no intention of allowing you to sleep alone, Celiese. I am positive I told you once you would not escape me any time I wanted you. I probably said that more than once, didn’t I?”
Surprised by his sudden interest after he had ignored her all day, she was quick to disagree. “I will never forget the beauty of last night, Mylan, but please, let us end what was between us, for to continue it will only make our inevitable parting that much more painful.”
Mylan stood silent for a long moment, confused by her request when her nearness overwhelmed him as always with an unquenchable desire. Filled with that intoxicating warmth, he lowered his mouth to hers, softly ending any hope she might have had of eluding him. She had always responded to tenderness, to a sweet caress or a gentle kiss, and he was pleased when she let the blanket slip from her fingers to wrap her arms around his neck. He deepened his kiss then, savoring the luscious curves of her body with no more than the slightest pressure from his fingertips, until he felt the need he had created shudder through her slender body with a wave of cresting passion.
He attempted to undress her swiftly, but was so clumsy in the darkness that she pushed his hands away and slipped her gown off over her head without bothering to unfasten the brooches at her shoulders that had caused his predicament. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight with an iridescent sheen, and he sank to his knees, covering the soft curve of her stomach with light kisses that made her giggle until she begged him to stop. When he would not, she sank down upon the blanket beside him, as lost as he was in the delicious enjoyment they always shared.
Her touch was far more demanding than his as she helped him out of his clothing. He had bathed and put on a fresh tunic but he now tossed it into the bushes with little regard for the garment when he had such a delightful purpose in mind. He wanted Celiese too desperately to play with her emotions now, and he gathered her into a confining embrace, pinning her body beneath his own as her passionate kiss demanded all he could give, her invitation irresistible. It was then he paused, his voice hoarse even in his own ears, as he asked the question he had not dared to ask the previous night.
“When you want me as badly as I want you, why did you refuse to be my wife?”
She could barely hear his question, let alone make a coherent response. The sounds of the night surrounded them with a rhythmic purr as steady as that of a complacent cat. She wanted the splendor of her loving to make such a ridiculous question unnecessary, and she wound her fingers in his curls, pulling his mouth down to hers so he could not speak in any language save that of love.
With a low moan of surrender, he gave up all pretense of caring what Celiese’s answer might be. He knew only that no matter what she thought, she was the only wife he would ever want or have. His mind was filled with her smiling image, her grace as she had moved through the forest at his side, the sparkling light of the sun reflected upon her gently flowing silver hair. No adventure he had ever had compared with the excitement she had brought to his life, and he vowed to do all in his power to recapture the love she had once felt for him, and he had foolishly thrown away.
Exhausted by pleasure, Celiese lay dreaming in Mylan’s arms, a blissful smile lighting her pretty features even in the darkness. The only true peace she had ever known she had found in his embrace, and she loved him more dearly with each passing day. His intelligence and ready wit had always delighted her, and the beauty of his affection captivated her anew. He had asked an unanswerable question, but through the veil of her dreams she could not even recall what it had been.
*
At dawn Mylan dressed hastily, fearing one of his men might come looking for them, but when he walked back to the place where they had built the fire and cooked their supper he found them all still asleep. Criticizing them sharply for such sloth, he woke them. He then returned to the secluded spot he had shared with Celiese and bent down to kiss her cheek sweetly.
“Wake up, my pet. If the sun finds us here lazily enjoying our leisure, someone far less tolerant may discover us as well.”
Holding the blanket modestly to her breast, she greeted him warmly. “It is another fine day for sailing, isn’t it, Mylan? I will dress quickly so as not to delay our departure.”
“First I want an answer to that question you would not answer last night. There is no reason for this voyage to continue if you will but agree to be my wife now.”
Swallowing hard to force back a wave of dread, she shook her head. “What of Estrid, I thought perhaps you were again engaged to her? Was there time for you to tell her goodbye?”
Mylan was tempted to describe Estrid in such precise terms that Celiese would never again question his dislike for the haughty redhead. He had only used the woman as she had used him, and he felt not the least bit of guilt now that they were even. “Estrid is not the issue here. You are. I want to hear your reasons for re
fusing me, if you have any.”
She had never felt so uncomfortable. He was demanding the truth of something she thought too obvious to bear comment. “You do not love me, Mylan. You did not want me when I was your bride; so do not tell me you want me now simply to save yourself the trouble of this voyage. I am sorry I asked you to take me home when Hagen was more than willing to do so.”
His face filling with rage, he got to his feet and backed away. “We will have to continue this discussion tonight. Dress and join us for breakfast as soon as you are able.” With that terse command he was gone, disappearing from view as he made his way back to the beach, but she sat staring after him, completely bewildered by his anger when she had done no more than repeat his own words to him.
*
As Mylan pushed the Surf Falcon to a speed his brothers would have envied, he wished the hours of the day would pass with the swiftness of the wind. Still keeping a watchful eye, he hoped the entire journey would go as well as the first day had. He had not forgotten, as he had feared he had, how to make a wooden craft follow his command, but the Falcon responded to almost as light a touch upon the tiller as his own Raven did, and he was pleased with her, after all. The sail was stretched taut, filled with wind, pushing them toward their destination, and he felt the same ageless thrill his ancestors had known when they had first taken to the sea in search of adventure.
This was an adventure, indeed. Seeing Celiese again standing at the opposite rail, he wondered what caused her pensive expression. She had every reason to sing the entire way, but he could readily discern her mood did not lend itself to expression in song. More confident of his ship on this second day, he called another man to take the tiller and crossed the deck to her side.
“When we are making this voyage simply to please you, why do you appear so downcast?” he shouted in order to be heard above the noise of the brisk wind.
