Lord of Fire, Lady of Ice

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “You care for him,” he accused bitterly.

  “Nay,” Della denied, but her heart burned with the lie. “I care for Strathfeld and its people.”

  Stuart straightened his shoulders. “Then come away with me tonight. We will go to King Guthrum and get your marriage annulled. When we come back, we will rid this keep of the barbarian lord. We will do right by your people.”

  “You want that I should leave Strathfeld?” Della shook her head. “Nay, the marriage is of the king’s doing, he would be reluctant to dissolve it now. My marriage is legal, there are no grounds.”

  “Then come with me anyway.” He took a step toward her, but hesitated when she recoiled. “Leave this place until we may find a way to reclaim it.”

  “Nay, I cannot leave my home,” she answered. “I am married. It’s time you accepted it. I have.”

  Stuart said nothing.

  “Stuart?”

  “Yea?” he growled.

  “Why have you been camping outside the walls for so long? Your servants left after you, didn’t you see them?” She took a step back from him. He shifted his weight and she was finally able to see more of his face. His features were smudged with dirt and his eyes were wide, almost crazed in their intensity.

  “Yea, I let them go. If I’d stopped them, I would’ve been discovered. I have no need of their services here.”

  “Stuart, why are you hiding in the forest?” Della searched the trees for a sign that they were not alone. She couldn’t see anyone, but the thought gave her chills.

  “Now you question my honor, Della?” Stuart shook his head. “Very well, I’m here to protect you. To make sure you are truly happy. I’m here to make sure he hasn’t bewitched you and that your will is still your own.”

  “Don’t worry for me, dear cousin.” Della took another step back. Stuart was saying all the right things, but his eyes made her uneasy.

  “But I do.”

  “I should get back inside. They will be waiting for me.” She reached within a pouch hidden in the folds of her skirt for a flint to light the torch lying at the bottom of the passage. “Take care of yourself, Stuart. Mayhap come back in a few fortnights for a visit. I will speak with Blackwell on your behalf. Mayhap, after your tempers have cooled, a reasonable truce can be made. I should hate to never see you again.”

  “Nay, don’t waste your breath on my behalf.” Stuart stormed off into the trees. She could hear his voice in the distance as he yelled, “It would seem you have chosen your side.”

  Della waited a moment until she no longer heard him moving around. Turning, she made her way to the hidden entrance. She jumped down into the hole, found the torch, lit it and then hurriedly reached to latch the opening shut. Something in the way Stuart had looked at her scared her. He was no longer the boy she knew in childhood.

  Taking a deep breath to calm the skipping of her heart, she made her way back through the passage. With a determined frown, Della decided she would have their wars no more. She would speak to Brant about Stuart, heedless of her cousin’s passionate denial of wanting a truce.

  * * * * *

  “Where is she?” Brant grumbled under his breath. Fear for his wife’s safety made his temper hot and short. He didn’t like feeling helpless. He didn’t like not knowing where she was. Reaching his warhorse, he jumped on the animal’s back. He turned to Gunther who did the same. “They have searched everywhere for her. There is no sign.”

  “She has to be within the castle walls. The bridge has not been lowered,” Gunther answered. “Do you think Stuart has kidnapped her? He did say he would take back what was his.”

  “I don’t know, but it would seem likely.” Brant tried not to let his uneasiness show as he ordered a man to open the front gate.

  “Nay, m’lord!” Edwyn ran to the men. Brant whipped around on his stallion. The seneschal eyed their drawn swords. “Do not!”

  “Do you know where she is, Edwyn?” Brant asked.

  The elderly man shook his head in denial.

  “Then we have no time to waste. If she is within these walls, she is safe. However, if she is not, we must leave while there is still a trail to follow. Stuart could have crossed the moat with her.” Brant began to rein his horse away, but the man stopped him again.

  “If he did, it would be a mistake. Della cannot swim,” Edwyn insisted. “She would scream if he even tried to take her into the water. Sir Stuart knows this. You must come with me, m’lord. I have something to show you.”

  Brant swung down from his horse and hurried to follow the seneschal, giving the order to leave the front gate closed. The man at the wall nodded, signaling the change in orders. As Brant strode after Edwyn, Gunther followed right behind.

  The seneschal led him into his chamber. Taking a torch off his wall and lighting it, he moved to the small hidden door.

  “Do not waste my time for this, Edwyn. I have looked in the secret chamber.” Brant began to turn in exasperation. His heart pounded with dread and he felt Della was not within the walls of the keep. His head ached with all that could happen to her out of reach of his protection.

  “Nay, it is the secret passage,” Edwyn persisted when Brant would go.

  “What?” Gunther asked, surprised. “There is a secret chamber?”

  “Yea.” Before Brant needed to explain further, Edwyn opened the door leading to it. The men followed the seneschal through the small door into the domed chamber. Gunther let loose a low whistle of appreciation. Brant scowled. Gunther shrugged.

  “Where does the passage lead?” Brant looked around the room, not seeing an exit.

  “Outside the bailey walls, m’lord,” the old man answered. “If she was taken, then it would be best if they didn’t know you came.”

  “Yea, he’s right,” Gunther added. “Sir Stuart would be listening for the bridge. All it would take is one good archer to knock you from your horse.”

  “Quiet,” Brant ordered suddenly. He dashed his hand through the air. “What is that noise? Rats?”

  The men turned to the sound of scraping stone. It came from the other side of the chamber. Unexpectedly a false wall fell forward and a snuffed torch was thrown onto the floor to land at their feet. The Vikings watched in amazement. Edwyn grimaced in foreboding. A delicate hand reached up, feeling around the ledge until it found hold on a stone.

  Brant knew that hand. The ring he had placed on his wife’s finger gleamed under the light of Edwyn’s torch. He stormed forward and grabbed Della by the wrist, hauling her up and out of the passage in one swift motion. She screamed in surprise and he shoved her behind his body as he peered down into the hole. Satisfied she was alone, he turned his blazing eyes to her.

  “Br-ant,” Della stuttered in astonishment. She rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed her, searching the other two men before turning back to her irate husband. Her words deceptively innocent, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I should ask you the same thing.” Brant kicked her discarded torch aside as he loomed over her.

  “Come, Edwyn, this is not our fight.” Gunther ducked out of the secret chamber. The old seneschal quickly leaned over to shut the passageway entrance before following the soldier.

  “I was walking,” she answered as soon as the men left. Della stumbled away from him, maneuvering to put a table between their bodies for protection.

  “With whom?” His tone deadly in its seriousness, he followed her. Shoving the table out of the way with one hard push, he felt small satisfaction as it screeched along the stone before crashing to a stop against the wall. Della jumped at the noise.

  “I don’t like the accusing tone in your voice, Lord Blackwell.”

  “You will like the beating I give you even less, lady wife,” he snarled viciously at her. He’d been so scared, so worried, so jealous that she might be with Sir Stuart. “Who with?”

  “No one.” The words were breathless. He wanted to believe them, but how could he? “I was walking alone.”

&n
bsp; “You dare to go outside the castle on your own? Unescorted?” Brant seized her about the shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “What were you about?”

  “It’s not as bad as all that,” she protested weakly.

  “Oh, yea?” Brant gave her another hard shake. He saw the fear in her and lessened his grip. Even now, he couldn’t hurt her, not like the warrior in him wanted to. Gritting his teeth, he asked, “Then why was the manor turned upside down looking for you?”

  “You were worried about me?” She tried to hide her smile, but failed. “You were worried I was gone?”

  “Yea,” he whispered, entranced by the way her smile dove into his chest to stop his heart. Her eyes twinkled just so, making him forget his suspicions.

  “I didn’t think you would notice.” She bit her lip. “You really looked for me? You knew I was gone?”

  “Naturally, I knew.” He kept his fists at his side, uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. “You were not at the eve meal as you properly should be.”

  “Then you were only worried you would look bad in the main hall.” Della nodded. Ice fell over her expression, hiding what he thought might be disappointment. It was too hard to be sure. He wanted so much for her to feel something for him that he didn’t trust his judgment when reading her. How did he know any tenderness in her face wasn’t his own mind grasping for a reason to hope?

  “Where did you go?” Brant tried to ignore the rise and fall of her chest. The soft globes of her breasts were just beyond his reach.

  “I was outside the castle walls.” Her shoulders relaxed, as if she realized he wasn’t going to beat her. “Walking.”

  “Could you not walk within the bailey?” His hands loosened a bit more, unclenching at his sides.

  “Yea, but I wanted to be alone. Have you ever just wanted to be alone? Away from the prying eyes of servants and knights?”

  Brant studied her eyes. She looked so earnest that he found himself believing her.

  When he didn’t answer, she lifted her hand to his face, brushing her palm against his whiskered cheek. “I did naught that you would consider dishonorable. I promise.”

  Brant wanted desperately to trust her. Foolish as it might be, he did. The alternative was too painful. That she could be unfaithful hurt too much. “You are not to leave the castle again without my permission and I will inspect this exit later with Gunther. We may have it stoned in.”

  Della nodded, though she clearly wasn’t happy with the decree. His flesh stung where her hand met his cheek. The familiar smell of her, mingling with the freshness of the forest, sent longing throughout his very being. He missed her touch, her attentions. He missed the way she felt against him. But he was a warrior, a soldier. Men like him didn’t feel such deep emotional need, not for a woman, not for a wife. The emotion was too strong, too uncertain. Mayhap the spell was of her doing, for she ensorcelled him.

  “M’lord, before you stone the passage in, please consider this first.” When he lifted an eyebrow, ready to argue she rushed on, “Just consider how convenient another exit is in such a castle as this. It leads out into the woods and would be very useful if one was in need of an escape. Many within these walls cannot swim and they would drown in high moat waters if they were to try and escape during a battle.”

  “Yea, but have you considered we may also be attacked by means of such a weakness?” He frowned in thought. “Or do you mean you would be the one in need of an escape? For I hear it is you who cannot swim the moat.”

  “Nay.” Della made a small choking noise. “It would be for times of war, which is why I designed it.”

  “Who all knows of it?”

  “Edwyn and I. Outside builders were contracted and they are all dead or off in faraway lands.” Della looked guiltily away and he wondered if she was lying. Did someone else know? “And now Gunther and you, m’lord.”

  “Lord Blackwell. M’lord.” Brant scowled in displeasure. “Must you always be so formal with me? I am your husband, wife.”

  “What would you have me call you?” Her body swayed nearer.

  “Call me what you wish,” he responded hoarsely. “It was only an observation.”

  “Have I done aught to displease you, m’lord?” Della hesitated.

  “Besides wandering about the countryside without a proper escort?”

  “Yea, I mean before then. Is there a reason why you do not look to me this past sennight? Is there a reason you have not touched me more than in brief passing?” She dropped her hand from him, looking shyly away as a pretty blush spread over her features.

  “Nay.” He swallowed hard as he uttered the half-truth. “I have been busy training the men. It takes a lot of my energy and time. There is much I need to accomplish if the knights are to fight well together.”

  Della obviously didn’t believe him, but he was glad when she did not question his answer. “Methought, perchance, I did not please you anymore. That you had grown tired of me.”

  Brant’s hands turned caressing as he moved them to cup her cheeks. He liked the insecure way she was looking at him, as if weighing his answers very carefully. It meant she cared, at least a little. “Nay, Della. I’m not unhappy with you.”

  He dipped his mouth to lightly kiss her. She moaned, instinctively leaning into him, winding her arms around his neck to return the kiss. Della sighed and trembled. The sweetness of her embrace drew over him.

  Brant growled and tore his mouth away. “Let us go abovestairs, lady wife. And I will show you how unhappy I am not.”

  * * * * *

  Della bolted upright in bed. A loud knocking resounded on the chamber door. The early morning light shone through the narrow slit of a window. She tried to pull out of her husband’s arms, squirming in his embrace, but he held her fast in their nakedness. Brant laughed and pulled her tight against him until she was once more along his side. Grabbing the fur coverlet, he pulled it over her.

  “But, the door,” Della said, horrified. Her eyes rounded in embarrassment as she motioned weakly to the thick oak. She’d been awaked by her husband’s tender kisses on her neck, only to be jarred to her senses by the knock. Torn between the need to hurry and the feel of his taut length against her, she eyed him and then the door. His hardened arousal pressed suggestively against her thigh. Brant was winning.

  “You are my wife and there is naught to be ashamed of.” Brant chuckled as he ran his hand over her hip, lightly rubbing himself suggestively along her leg. “Do you think no one knows what goes on between us?”

  A small sound of derision escaped her tight throat. Realizing he was not going to let her go, Della drew in her arms to bury herself in his chest. She turned her head to peek at the door.

  “Yea?” Brant yelled when she settled.

  The door creaked and Ebba poked her head around the side. Her face paled in shock at the scene on the bed.

  Della groaned and hid her face in Brant’s chest. Feeling his soft chuckle, she pinched him obstinately in the stomach. It didn’t affect him. When she glanced up at him, she saw him grinning.

  “Yea? What is it?” he inquired.

  “Raiders, m’lord,” Ebba stammered. “Along the west this time. Two o’ the cotters just arrived. Gunther said to wake yer lazy arse… He said it is time you awoke and I was to tell you that he would meet you by the gate with yer horse.”

  “Thank you, Ebba,” Della dismissed the girl. She pushed lightly at Brant’s chest, trying to be free of his grasp. “His lordship will be right down.”

  Brant frowned. “Yea, Ebba, begone.”

  Ebba shut the door. Della pushed away from Brant, all desire having faded from her body at the news. Worry filled each breath as she hurried to her trunk to don a fresh undertunic. Her hands shook with her need to help as she pulled her hair back to the nape of her neck. More to herself than to him, she said, “I should never have stayed in bed so long. What was I thinking?”

  Brant stood and grabbed his braccas, sighing in obvious disappointment as he sli
pped them over his hips.

  “I should have been belowstairs.” She hurriedly pulled on her dress. “Not in bed doing naught.”

  “Naught? I would not say we were doing naught, lady wife.” Brant pulled on a new undertunic.

  “I shall ride immediately,” Della announced, barely looking at him. She swallowed hard, not daring to ask his permission. “I should have ordered Ebba to ready my horse.”

  “Della, you will not be going.” Brant’s tone made the finality of his decision unmistakable. She didn’t intend to obey.

  “Nay, I will. It’s still my responsibility to care for these people. Just because you are my husband does not give you the right to forbid me from doing my duty.” She placed her hands defiantly on her hips before looking up at him. Fire burned in his eyes, but she didn’t back down.

  “Because I am your husband, I do have that right. I will see to it, Della. It is a man’s affair to be dealt with. You will handle only the womanly concerns of the keep.”

  “And what is a woman’s concern?” Della preened with a false smile and bat of her eyelashes. Inside she fumed at his daring.

  “Cooking, sewing, cleaning,” Brant stated. He gave her figure a meaningful look. “And keeping your husband’s bed warm.”

  “Nay,” she insisted with a tight snap of her jaw. “A woman’s concern is to care for and to nurture the people of her keep. Mayhap that sometimes means feeding and clothing them, but more likely it means a woman should ride to the site of a raid and help with the care of the survivors. It’s likely I will be needed there more than you. You are a man and a man should stick to what he knows—fighting and leaving a mess for the woman to clean.”

  He didn’t move and she was secretly glad.

  “The services of your sword are most useful while fighting. I can handle the aftermath.” With that, Della brushed a wayward strand of hair from her eyes.

  “Della…” Brant began in warning.

  “If you try to leave me behind, I will just follow you. So better you take me along. Better that than to have me traipsing along the countryside alone, unescorted.” Della stood her ground. She’d been feeling sorry for herself long enough. Ever since he’d arrived at Strathfeld, she’d forgotten her responsibility to the people. She would wallow in self-pity no longer.