by Phoebe Conn
She turned as he worked swiftly to cut several inches from the bottom of the long gown. He was so close she could not resist reaching out to touch his golden curls lightly, her caress a fond one, but he looked up so suddenly she drew her hand away.
"Do not try and distract me. I mean for us to go riding." Handing her the excess material, He rose to his feet, and shoved his dagger back under his belt. "I will saddle our mounts. Use my comb on your hair, as it needs it badly." Scowling, he turned and left without a backward glance, and she had no idea why she had displeased him now when he had enjoyed her touch so much the previous evening.
By the time he was ready to depart, she had had sufficient time to prepare. She had braided her hair into a single plait that reached her waist, and had used the scrap from the bottom of her gown to fashion a belt. She looked exactly like what she was, the loveliest of young women clad in totally unsuitable garb, but she was looking forward to going riding and smiled warmly as she leapt upon the gentle mare's back. "Where is it we're bound, Mylan? Perhaps if there is time I can gather branches for my weapons."
Laughing at her insistence that she needed weapons for a sport that sent her into a faint, he teased her again. "I'll not have you hunting, not when you faint at the sight of a drawn bow."
"It was not the bow but you who frightened me. Must you be so mean?" Lacing her mare's reins through her fingers, she pretended to pay him scant attention while she peeked at him through the veil of her long lashes. He seemed to grow more handsome each time she saw him, and she thought that most unfair since she had not the benefit of even one nice gown to help her win his affections.
"You must cease to worry that I'll slay you when you would be so highly profitable to sell." The instant those words left his lips he regretted them. The pain that filled the pretty woman's eyes was tinged with such furious anger, he knew he had made a grave error in repeating what he knew to be a lie. Striking his mount's flanks lightly with his heels, he set their pace at a brisk canter, giving her no opportunity to make the hostile reply he knew she was about to speak.
The wind stung her eyes, but she forced back her tears. So she was to be reminded constantly that she was his slave! How could she have been so foolish as to have believed their relationship had changed when it so obviously hadn't? He regarded her as a piece of property, no different from the land over which they rode or the mound of furs upon which they had slept. His jest had sickened her thoroughly. She had hoped he would have more consideration for her feelings, but perhaps only his own were important to him. Yet when next he spoke, he seemed so seriously interested in confiding in her that she began to wonder if perhaps she had only imagined that his comment on her status had been an insult.
Mylan drew his stallion to a halt beneath a stand of linden trees and motioned for Celiese to come close. "The stream provides sufficient water for growing grain, the land is fertile, the crops plentiful, but I find myself too restless here to enjoy the peace this farm should afford. It is a prison without walls, not the pleasant sanctuary a home should be."
Surprised by the sudden change in his mood, she nevertheless responded in as serious a tone as he, "I do not believe it is a home you crave, but the freedom to seek your destiny elsewhere. Only you know what desires lay hidden in your heart, but you should simply live the life you long to live with no further thought of the drudgery this farm requires to maintain."
"Drudgery, is it?" He smiled at her term. "Torture is nearer the truth, but you do not understand, Celiese." Dismounting, he walked around to her side, placing his hands around her narrow waist to help her down. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the smooth grass beneath the trees and pulled her down beside him in the shade, leaving their mounts to graze undisturbed nearby.
"If I were content to sail no farther than Kaupang or Birka, or to the other commercial ports my brothers frequent, then I could sail now. But I want to go far beyond the horizon, to a world none has yet seen." He looked away, far into the distance, his expression filled with sorrow as he grew silent.
After waiting a moment Celiese could no longer suppress her curiosity. "If no man has seen this place, how do you know it exists?" Vikings were fond of relating their own adventures, or of listening to heroic tales told by scalds, men who were respected for their cleverness with words, but whether the tales they spun were true or not she did not know. "Have you heard a legend perhaps, or some story about this far-off land?"
"No but there are lands to the north of us, I have been to them. Why should lands not exist in the west, as well?" he pointed out logically. "I have no wish to follow another's lead, I want simply to sail toward the setting sun until I have discovered all the secrets the world has hidden still."
In the clear light of the spring day, his eyes were a vibrant light brown, filled with the golden flecks that gave them their remarkable topaz shine. Staring into those eyes, which seemed to see wonders beyond imagining, she hoped only that he would realize his dream. Her hand still lay in his, and she clasped his fingers tightly as she spoke. "You are well, Mylan, truly you are, and you must follow your heart wherever it leads you, for it is plain you will never be content living here." Not even with me here to love you, she thought wistfully.
For the briefest of moments he wondered what sane man would sit as calmly as he and seek the advice of his slave. A few tendrils of silvery blonde had escaped Celiese's braid to curl softly upon her cheeks, and she was so appealing a young woman he was tempted to accept her recommendations as most sensible regardless of her lowly status.
"Strong enough for most things, that is true." A sly smile curved across his lips as he continued. "To grow grain, to hunt deer, to make love to you; but I am not strong enough to begin a voyage of many weeks across the widest of seas. If it were no more than my life I would gladly risk it, but I'll not needlessly endanger the lives of my crew."
That he would mention the intimacy they had shared so casually pained her greatly, but she would not let him see that hurt and changed the subject to a far safer one.
"Your brothers sail well, with hands so light their ship nearly flew across the waves. Raktor and his sons are brutish in all things, that their ships do not sink beneath them as soon as they leave their docks amazes me, for they understand neither the winds nor the currents, but only the greed that fills their own hearts."
It was not only the beauty of his slave's appearance that he enjoyed, but the acuteness of her perceptions, which continually amazed him. "I could not have described their failings better, and your compliment for my brothers pleases me, as I am the one who taught them as children. They were clever boys who learned rapidly how to sail our craft."
"It was you who taught them, not your father?" she asked with an enchanting smile, encouraging him to continue.
"The weather is best for sailing in the summer," he explained simply.
That comment instantly shattered her composure, for she knew exactly where his father had been—away stealing what other men had earned! Her revulsion showed clearly in her expression as she responded in a vicious whisper, "Traders, your mother swears you all are. Is she so foolish as to believe that preposterous lie?"
Reacting instantly to her insult, he snarled angrily, "No one could tell more preposterous lies than you!" As she turned away, ready to spring to her feet, he pulled her back down beside him. "I promised you would never escape me any time I wanted you, and I find your anger a most powerful aphrodisiac."
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her with such savage passion that he left his own lips bruised as well as hers, but he did not release her from his confining embrace when he at last lifted his mouth and leaned back to judge her reaction.
She attempted to break away but he was much too strong to elude, and he pushed her down upon the grass with only a slight effort. Not one to take such mistreatment without a fight, she continued to struggle, making his task a near impossible one, despite his far greater size and strength. But she knew it would take only one good b
low of his fist to end her resistance, and her panic increased tenfold.
She could scarcely breathe, let alone scream, but, suddenly remembering the knife he always carried she ripped it from his belt and raised it to his throat as she swore, "Damn you, I'll kill you before I'll let you rape me!"
Mylan stared into the defiant young woman's brilliant green eyes and in that instant saw the horror she imagined. He felt her outrage as well, and drew away, shocked where his passion for her had led. Releasing her swiftly, he rolled over on his back, stretching out upon the grass as he forced himself to take several deep breaths. She continually drove him to distraction, but he could not believe what he had almost done, for he took great pride in the fact he was a man who could control his emotions so they would not betray him as brutally as they almost had.
"I have never raped any woman, and I had not meant to begin with you."
Celiese kept his knife close to her body, suspecting some trick to which she had no wish to fall victim, but as time passed and he did no more than lie quietly by her side she began to relax. "I would rather you killed me than used me so badly. I could not bear that from you." Indeed, it would have broken what little remained of her heart, for she had always given herself willingly to him. The only beautiful memories she had as a woman were of the love they had shared.
"Please do not destroy the happiness I've found with you. Please do not do that to me."
"And I'll thank you not to tease me with a knife in your hand, that is too dangerous a sport for both of us." He waited quietly for her to make the sudden move he planned to counter with a vicious jab, for he knew she could not stab him without lifting her arm and putting her whole body behind the downward thrust. While he appeared to be resting, all his senses were attuned to the motions of the slender woman by his side. He wondered why she was hesitating so long before moving to kill him.
As confused by his words as he had been by hers, she tossed the sharp dagger aside before reaching out to lightly caress his deeply tanned cheek. "I have never teased you, not ever, so why do you persist in teasing me so cruelly?" When he did not immediately begin to argue with her over that question she lay down beside him, placing her head upon his shoulder so they both might rest more comfortably. "I wish..." She stopped abruptly, unable to express the desires filling her heart. She knew he would scoff at her dream of a marriage between them rather than the bondage holding a slave to her master.
Puzzled to find himself in the arms of a woman who had so recently sworn to kill him, Mylan prompted the reluctant beauty to continue. "Wish what? Since the day is so pretty, and I am in such a pleasant mood, I may grant your request if you'll make it."
"Just hold me in your arms as you sometimes do, that is all I'll ask of you now," she replied softly, unwilling to beg for more.
Lifting his right hand to her hair, he slowly unfastened her braid, letting his fingers slide through the silken tresses with a gentle caress. She fit so naturally against him, and he found himself as content as she until she reached up to brush his lips lightly with hers. That subtle invitation was all he needed to recall swiftly what his original purpose had been, but this time he moved far more slowly, holding her gently in his arms as he continued to savor the sweetness of her kiss.
He waited until she drew him near, pressing her body closer to his own before he slid his hand down the curve of her thigh and beneath her shortened gown. The coarse wool had scratched her tender skin, leaving it flushed, but his touch was light, as delicate as the early afternoon breeze, and he caused her no further pain, but gave her instead a warm, soft glow of pleasure that swelled through her loins and then sped along her spine to the lengths of her graceful limbs.
Her legs were entwined with his, her whole body eager for his loving, and still he waited, wanting her to feel the increasing passion that throbbed within his veins until it was a driving rhythm creating a need he could no longer control. Her gown came off easily in his hands and he lowered his mouth to her breasts, sliding his lips over their creamy fullness before straying lower still. His tongue flicked across her ribs. She was so slender now he could count them easily, yet he still thought her delicate figure superb. The smooth skin of her stomach was pale, and so soft. He tightened his hands around her waist to hold her close as he began to nuzzle the triangle of blonde curls that beckoned to him with an irresistibly enticing promise of delights he meant to savor to the fullest.
Celiese gave no more than the smallest cry of surprise, for the pleasure Mylan gave with his ever more demanding kiss was too great to allow a moment to either question or protest his methods. Her shock was dulled by the sheer joy of her body's response, and she lay back upon the soft spring grass, unable to do more than wind her fingers in his thick curls so he would not draw away and leave her on the edge of an unbearably delicious ecstasy rather than plunging with her into its depths. His name escaped her throat in a low, husky moan the strength of her need matching his own as she lured him beyond his own desire to an awaking awareness of the beautiful woman who longed to be his wife.
He felt the exquisite pleasure he gave shudder through her and wanted only to give more, to command her loyalty with the most splendid gift possible for a man and woman to share. He adored her in that instant, and when he was certain he had pleased her as greatly as any man ever could, brought an end to his own anguish, conquering her vibrant body without the slightest bit of resistance this time. She welcomed his loving with a tenderness that made his pleasure as great as her own, deepening the bond that had grown between them. He would not speak of love, and she dared not give voice to her feelings.
When at last he could again think clearly, he trailed teasing kisses down the inviting curve of her throat and whispered, "I have been alone too long, for it was this wonderful devotion I meant to inspire within your heart, not a knife fight to the death that I craved."
A devilish gleam lit her green eyes as she reached up to tousle his curls. "Why, Mylan, was that an apology?"
She was teasing him as an equal would, as any beautiful woman would tease her lover, but he was appalled, his blissful mood shattered, and he shoved her away as he snarled, "I seldom apologize to women, and never to slaves, most especially not to you." Rising quickly to his feet, he yanked his clothing back into place and strode off to get the horses so they might continue their ride without any more of her maddening distractions. Apology indeed! If she did not feel the apology in his kiss and caress, in the way he held her and made love to her, then mere words would never pierce the steel of her heart, and he would die before he would speak them!
Astonished to have lost the most tender of lovers with a question she had not thought unreasonable, Celiese made no effort to hurry to follow him. The warmth of his love filled her still, and she was sorry hers had meant so little to him. Finally, she pulled the gray wool gown over her head. Leaving her hair free, she went to join him.
* * *
Mylan awoke the next morning to find Celiese sorting through his clothing. She had laid the garments in neat stacks, but what she had hoped to find he did not know. Not wishing to frighten her as he had before, he yawned loudly so she would realize he was awake before he spoke to her.
"The porridge is ready. I thought if I hurried I might be able to fashion something I could wear today. I want to go hunting with you."
He swore under his breath. "When it takes all your talent to prepare porridge, I do not think you can spare the time to hunt, Celiese." He turned away as he rose from his bed, grabbing his soft suede trousers but not bothering with his tunic as he went outside to the stream.
Ignoring his taunt, she chose a honey-colored tunic and trousers that appeared to have had considerable wear and laid them aside. She was not at all certain she could make his clothes fit her and did not want to ruin any of his finer garments if she could help it. When he returned, she showed him her choice. "I think you can spare these, Mylan, may I take them?"
"No, the color is faded, and there is no point in y
our wasting your time on garments that are already worn out." Bending to lift another tunic from those she had laid out, he made a suggestion. "This green is nearly the color of your eyes; take this and the trousers that match instead."
"But these are new, they do not look as though they have ever been worn." She looked up, surprised he would want her to have such nice things. "The green would be handsome on you, too, don't you like it?"
Laughing, he went to fill a bowl with the bubbling porridge. "Yes, I like the color, but I'd rather see it on you. Now stop arguing and make something that fits by the time I return this afternoon."
Putting the other clothing away, she took the things he had offered. "I will try my best. If I have the outfit completed, may I please go hunting with you tomorrow?"
He watched the pretty young woman's shy smile widen until he could no longer refuse her politely worded request. "I will decide tonight, not before, so cease your begging, as I am hungry and want to eat and leave without having to listen to any more of your chatter."
She saw his smile as he pretended to concentrate on his breakfast and hurried to his side to give him a warm hug. "Thank you! You will not be sorry. As soon as I have weapons of my own I will help you gather all the pelts you want. I will make you rich, Mylan, I promise I will."
"Have you forgotten I am already wealthy? This house may be small, but the farmland is large and fertile. I have many trunks at my father's home filled with riches beyond your imagining." Realizing he was bragging shamelessly, he stopped in midsentence, for there was no reason to impress a slave with the extent of his resources. Finishing the rest of his porridge in two hasty gulps, he grabbed his tunic and weapons and started for the door. "You will find needle and thread on the shelf above the chest. Now get to work so you do not neglect your other chores." After striding through the door he ran the short distance to the edge of the woods, then took up a more cautious pace. Celiese was so delightful a companion in bed it was a shame they could not find that harmony after the sun rose—but she had been most agreeable that morning. Perhaps it would not do his cause any harm to take her with him once or twice. She might find his trails too strenuous and ask to remain at the house, or she might actually be of some use, which he doubted, but he decided, to tell her that evening that she might accompany him a few times just so he could see if by some stroke of good fortune she did possess the great skill she seemed to believe she had.
