Love's Captive Heart

by Phoebe Conn

  They would have gloried in the thrill of violence, striking terror into the hearts of all those not fortunate enough to escape their thirst for blood in their relentless pursuit of the treasures gained honestly by others. He knew exactly what sort of man Robert was, and he had no reason to believe he had moderated his behavior to satisfy King Charles’s edict that he adopt the French culture as his own. All Robert had done was accept the thin veneer of the French civilization; surely his heart was no less filled with greed and lust than it had ever been.

  Mylan would not trust Raktor to speak alone with Celiese and not abuse her, why had he forgotten in his efforts to win her freedom just how vicious Robert could be? “I will remain at your side only if you promise to give the replies Robert wants to hear. Is that a bargain?” He felt a slight twinge of guilt in asking for her word upon something he had already decided in his mind, but he was at his wit’s end as to how to make her present a moderate viewpoint to the duke.

  “That’s cruel!” she objected sharply. She was tempted to refuse his offer, but it was in her best interests to accept, no matter what terms Mylan might present. When he got up to leave she reached out to touch his arm. “Yes, it is a bargain. I promise to be so agreeable the beast will think me the most pleasant woman he has ever met.”

  Seeing the fire of anger blazing brightly in her eyes, Mylan leaned down to kiss her cheek lightly, his gesture a sweet one simply for spite. “Wear your hair in a modest style, and see if Marcela can find a suitable veil. If your appearance is more circumspect he will expect your answers to be also.”

  “Whatever you wish,” she replied through clenched teeth, yet she did not trust Mylan not to hand her over to the overbearing duke should the man have the audacity to demand he do so. Her heart fell at that prospect, for it would be a betrayal of an unimaginably evil sort, and more than her heart could bear to consider.

  Mylan was soon attired in the magnificent blue apparel he had worn for their wedding, and Celiese had again bathed and dressed in the new brocade gown. Mylan thought better of repeating any of the instructions he had given her earlier. If she did not understand what it was she must do by now, then he had no hope she would leave the duke’s palace alive.

  He had his dagger at his belt, but could see no way to wear his sword in the man’s home, although he would have preferred to have the deadly weapon at his side as well. “Are you ready?” His glance swept over her quickly; she had coiled her hair atop her head and covered it with a light veil as he had asked, but it made the elegant line of her slender throat doubly appealing. He extended his hand and she took it, her fingertips trembling slightly as they met his, and while he smiled, his expression seemed to do little to give her courage.

  *

  Robert was waiting for Celiese in a small chamber off the main hall. He had wine ready to serve and looked forward to winning several concessions from the striking beauty before he released her from his protection. Mylan would be traveling most of the time, so Celiese might prove to be an amusing mistress if he warned her sufficiently of what she would suffer if she did not please him. The thought filled him with a heady anticipation, and when the elegantly clad young woman arrived upon her husband’s arm he dismissed the young man immediately.

  “Michael, I have many things locked away in storerooms, items I neither want nor need. Have Jaret unlock one of the rooms for you now, and set aside those items you think would bring the best return in trade. I am anxious to see how skilled a trader you actually are.”

  Celiese recalled Andrick saying that he and Hagen were far more interested in profitable trade than their older brother, who sailed for adventure alone. However, if Mylan had convinced the duke that trade was his interest she would not dispute his word. She hoped he would now find some tactful way to refuse the duke’s offer; he had not been able to avoid becoming his sparring partner earlier in the day, and she feared he might again have to give in.

  “That is not an assignment I care to begin tonight, sir,” Mylan replied forcefully, his tone polite but firm. “I must see Celiese safely to her home where I will have to make extensive repairs to her house before I can devote myself to the ventures we have discussed.”

  Robert frowned impatiently. “Need I remind you I have not given permission for her to leave Rouen? It is pointless for you to worry over where she will live as long as I insist she reside here.”

  Mylan straightened to his full height, his posture proud as well as assertive, “Celiese is my wife, sir. Our reason for marrying today in your chapel was so there would be no argument as to my responsibility for her happiness. I plan to be the most protective, as well as loving, of husbands.” He waited a moment to be certain the threat in his words had been understood, and he could readily see from Robert’s furious glance that it had been. “Now what is it you wish to ask her, so we might have your permission to leave Rouen as freely as we entered it?”

  Fuming with frustration at his missed opportunity to have such a ravishing beauty, Robert could see no way to send Mylan out of the room when he had refused to go. He needed the young man’s skill to make the wealth he had accumulated grow in value through clever trading, and he would not jeopardize what could be an extremely profitable arrangement over a woman, not even one as lovely as Celiese. He poured himself a full goblet of wine and tossed it down his throat without bothering to invite his guests to have any. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he enumerated his demands as he strode up and down in front of them.

  “This province is mine to rule, as I see fit. I want no interference in the matter whatsoever. The peasants must not shirk the work of cultivating crops, for until sufficient Danes arrive to establish farms we are dependent upon their labor for our food.”

  Making a valiant attempt to hold her temper, Celiese inquired softly, “What is to become of these hardworking peasants when their land has been given away to strangers?”

  “I have no plan to put them to the sword!” Robert exploded angrily, then seeing her startled reaction he took a more moderate tone. “There is room here for us all to dwell in harmony, if you and others of your class make no effort to subvert my will.”

  “The king has made you the duke, sir. My family was loyal to Charles, and I shall continue to be so as well.” Celiese hoped her answer would satisfy him although she had not replied directly to his angry demand. He was a tyrant of the worst sort, in her view, and she would never lift one finger to help him.

  Mylan could barely suppress a smile. He knew Celiese to be a clever young woman with the most facile of minds when it came to getting her own way, and he could see she had confused Robert completely and prayed she would continue to do so.

  “I have your word, then?” Robert demanded harshly.

  “I beg you to ask King Charles himself if the d’Loganvilles have not always been loyal to the Crown,” Celiese responded demurely. “As for those residing upon my land,” she continued smoothly, “I know they will follow my example, but if I have no home I will be unable to provide any sort of influence upon anyone.”

  Knowing her point was well taken, Robert stopped to regard her with a fixed stare. “The d’Loganville estate shall be yours then, for as long as I can depend upon you to serve me as faithfully as I know Michael will.”

  “I have taken him again for my husband, is that not proof enough that my loyalty lies with the Danes?” Celiese smiled in the most charming fashion possible, dazzling the arrogant man completely with her radiant beauty.

  “The matter is settled, then.” Stopping now to fill two more goblets with wine, the duke proposed a toast. “To our new home in France!”

  “To France,” Celiese responded readily, but the intent of her toast was far different than his. Mylan raised his goblet without speaking, but his gaze was upon her, and she understood his unspoken salute clearly.

  Escorting them into the main hall where the many others who resided in the sumptuous home had already begun to gather for the evening meal, Robert found himself in a surpr
isingly good mood, despite his failure to seduce Celiese as he had planned. Power was an intoxicating substance and he was again drunk with it, proud he had gotten his way with the willful young woman, since he could not hold the province without the support of the French residents, no matter how grudgingly they gave it.

  Mylan drank nothing that night, and he was not surprised when Celiese did not either. They would not think clearly on empty stomachs though, so he insisted they dine with the others. That they had chosen to remarry sparked gentle teasing, but he responded in kind, and at their first opportunity he gave the excuse of wanting to enjoy their wedding night, and taking Celiese by the arm led her upstairs to their suite of rooms. His mind, however, was not upon romance.

  “Gather your belongings quickly, and we will go. I want to reach the sea before dawn, for the promises you gave Robert were transparent ones, and I don’t want him to remember them in the morning and reconsider his decision to let us depart.”

  Having no wish to remain even one moment longer under the despicable duke’s roof, Celiese took the garments she had brought with her from the wardrobe and folded them into a neat bundle without argument. That she had managed to fool the villain with such vague statements had surprised her too, but she had given Mylan her word she would try to please him and was grateful she had.

  “Will he change his mind after he has given us his word?”

  “Not if you behave as he believes you promised to do.” Wasting no more time, Mylan changed his clothes, and carried his own possessions as well as hers as they slipped out of the mansion and made their way down to the docks. He had come and gone so frequently in the last week that he was recognized and not challenged by the guards they met, but he had taken the precaution of wearing his sword at his side, just in case such an unlikely event occurred. When they were safely on board the Surf Falcon he gave the order to weigh anchor, and catching the evening breeze they followed the winding moonlit path of the river Seine all the way to the sea.

  *

  Too excited to rest, Celiese stood at the rail for the entire journey, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of the shore near her home. When she sighted the cliff she remembered, she begged Mylan to take her ashore, even though the dawn had not yet begun to lighten the eastern sky. Wanting to rest as much as he wanted to please her, Mylan readily agreed, taking the ship in close to the beach so they did not get thoroughly drenched making their way to the dry sand. Taking their blanket with him, he held her hand as they skirted the small village and made their way to the ruins of her once magnificent home.

  Deliriously happy, Celiese skipped up the gentle hill. “Everything will be as it was before, Mylan; I know it will take time, but we can make it happen, I know we can!”

  He did not waste his breath insisting she use his Christian name, but her childlike enthusiasm saddened him greatly. She seemed to see nothing in the shadows that surrounded them but the happiness of her past, and he had failed in his efforts to make her focus on a future she would want to share with him. What he needed and wanted mattered so little to her she could not even remember to use the name he had taken when he had accepted her God as his own.

  He had done so much, and all willingly, not only in hopes he would be able to save her life but to win her respect and trust, as well. Yet as he watched the joy sparkle in her eyes he knew the walls of the half-destroyed mansion meant more to her than he ever would. “I would be content if instead of constantly swearing that you are my wife, you would be one!” he shouted suddenly, the sound of his deep voice echoing against the few stonewalls that remained standing.

  Startled by his outburst, Celiese approached him warily. “What is wrong? I did as you asked; I did not anger that swine who dares to call himself a duke. He did not forbid me to rebuild my house, but said we may live here as the d’Loganvilles always have. Why are you so angry with me?”

  “It was my first name I changed, Celiese, not my last, and this ruin is now the home of the Vandahls. You may lie to everyone around you, but you’re a fool to lie to yourself, and if I ever find you lying to me again I will finally give you the beating you have always deserved.”

  Appalled by his threats, she responded wearily, “It always comes back to the day we met. You saw me for what I truly am for so few hours, and I’ve never had that same sweet, acceptance from you ever again. That was better than any paradise could ever be, but I had your love for so short a time I can scarcely remember its beauty now.”

  “How can you speak to me of love when I have never had yours?” he responded bitterly. “You betrayed me on our wedding night, risked your life gladly to escape what you described as the agony of being my slave, accepted the hospitality of my family while you used my brother’s affection simply to gain passage to France, and then, when I brought you here to save you from certain death at the hands of the Torgvalds, you let your passion for revenge lead you to insult a man who could have ended both our lives with the snap of his fingers. You are the most selfish woman ever born, and you have not once stopped to think of me!”

  Her senses reeling under his barrage of vicious insults, Celiese nevertheless sprang to her own defense. “Why is it you constantly twist each of my actions as though it were the worst possible choice? How can you believe I spend all my time seeking new ways to hurt you? You mean the world to me. I speak the truth with you, but you despise me all the same.”

  Mylan took two steps away, then turned back to face her, “I will help you as best I can to rebuild your home, and I will work often enough for Robert to satisfy his requirements so that you may keep your land. But unless you give me your promise now that you will lead the most circumspect of lives so he will never have any cause to suspect you are working to undermine his authority, I have no intention of being your husband.”

  Confused by his demand, Celiese stared up at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I mean. If you plan to spend your time plotting schemes to drive the Danes from France after we have the king’s invitation to remain and establish this province for our own, you will do it alone. I gave my word to Robert that I would be loyal to him so you could keep your precious land, to say nothing of your life, but if you’re going to continue to lie to me as well as to him, then you will live in whatever splendid dwelling we can erect by yourself, as I will never set foot inside it.”

  Her happiness of only moments before vanished in the face of his rage, but she saw no way she could promise to mend her ways when she had not committed any of the crimes he had imagined. “I see; but when I say I have never lied to you, you consider that a lie in itself, don’t you?”

  “Which you know it is!” he shouted fiercely. “What I want is a wife who will consider my feelings for a change. A woman I can trust not to leave me again and again without the slightest provocation.”

  “I have never left you,” she replied indignantly. “You threw me off your farm yourself when I begged to stay, and it was Hrolf, or Robert if you will, from whom I was running yesterday, not you.” She was miserable, desperately sorry he had not accepted the reason she had given him the day before as the truth.

  “Why are you bothering to argue with me? The past is a dead issue, I want only your promise that you’ll bring no more pain to either of us with any more thoughtless actions in the future. Will you give it or not?” He had lost his patience entirely with her now and voiced his demand with a hostile sneer.

  “How can I give you my word on any subject when you don’t trust me? And there’s no point in my promising that my behavior will be above reproach when you accept none of my actions as good.” Tears stung her eyes, for she could think of no way to please him when no matter what she attempted she failed.

  The sun’s rays had just broken over the horizon behind her, illuminating her shimmering curls with the bright glow of a halo, but Mylan saw only a young woman so defiant she would never be tamed. Pushed beyond all reasonable limits by her refusal to accept terms he thought most generous, he dre
w her into his arms; crushing her in an embrace from which she could not hope to escape. Not bothering to spread out their blanket, he lowered her to the dew-covered grass; for once letting the passion she aroused in him rage without restraint through the tensed muscles of his powerful body.

  His blood aflame with an all-consuming desire, he sought only to break the power of her enchantment, to take all she could give in one last act of love that would for all time satisfy his compelling need to possess her.

  Shocked by the speed with which he had moved, Celiese wound her fingers in Mylan’s golden curls, wanting only to capture his mouth in a kiss whose affection would inspire the tenderness he had always shown her. Barely aware of her gesture, Mylan was lost in a glorious quest, seeking only to end the agony of the insatiable desire her slightest touch created within his heart.

  The heat of his passion ignited her own, and she drew him close, her need expressed in a far more subtle manner, but her hunger for love no less deep. She found his affection intoxicating, no matter how he chose to give it, the pleasure undiminished by the wildness of his mood, and she accepted his strength with the same eager surrender she had always given to invite his tenderness. She wanted to bring a smile to his lips and laughter to his amber eyes, to please him in the only way she knew she ever had.

  When he had first lowered her to the grass, he had expected her to fight him, to scream and call him vile names, but instead she had astonished him by enfolding him in a loving embrace, her sweetness encouraging the passion he could not hope to control. His conscious mind refused to consider her purpose; he knew only that he would never have enough of her smooth, graceful body and honey-sweet kiss, for the more he wished to give the more eagerly she responded, until the brightness of the new day went unnoticed through the haze of their passion’s flames. If it was magical spells she cast, he could not fight their power, and once again he became her willing slave.