Nay, my heart shall never be free of him, Gwendolyn thought desolately. She could no more have stopped her tears at that moment than she could have denied she loved him . . . aye, loved him with every fiber of her being. She turned her head and met Anora's concerned gaze.
"Do you remember that day at the grotto, right before we were captured, when I asked you if a man's kiss burned like fire or ice?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Aye, I remember," Anora replied softly. "'Twas one of Leah's superstitious sayings. How did it go? 'If a man's kiss burns like ice, his love will bring pain and ruin, but if a man's kiss'—"
"— 'burns like fire,'" Gwendolyn finished for her, "'his love will be true.'" She hesitated, brushing the tears from her eyes. "You said that one day I, too, would know such a kiss."
"Aye, 'tis true. I remember."
Gwendolyn's voice shook with emotion. "I have found that man whose kiss is like fire . . . 'Tis Hakon, Anora. I love him more than life itself."
Anora was so completely stunned she could not speak for a moment. She stared wide-eyed at Gwendolyn, her heart pounding against her chest. "Sweet Jesu . . ." she said finally, almost as a whisper. Gwendolyn . . . in love, and with their Viking captor!
Gwendolyn rushed on, releasing the raging torrent of emotions she had kept welled up inside her for so long. "Hakon told me that he loved me the night that I was almost abducted by Rhoar, and that when he returned from Trondheim I would become a free woman . . . and his wife."
"His wife?"
"Aye. I tried to tell you of this after we exchanged clothes that morning the ship was to sail for Trondheim, but Hakon came into the stable before I had a chance."
"He did speak to me of making some kind of preparations for when he returned," Anora recalled, her fair brow creased in thought. "But I would never have imagined he meant wedding preparations!"
Gwendolyn caught her sister's hand. "Anora, I was afraid to tell you of my feelings for fear you would think I had betrayed my promise to you. But it was always my intent to hold to my vow, and find a way for us to escape. I swore to myself that I would fight against this love, but every time I was with him, every time he held me in his arms . . ." She sighed sorrowfully, painful tears welling up in her eyes as the torment of the past weeks overwhelmed her.
"Please, Gwendolyn, 'tis over," Anora said, trying to comfort her. "You did not betray me. You have been so brave, so strong, never thinking of yourself, but always of me." How she must have suffered, she thought, chiding herself that she had not seen the turmoil that had been tearing her sister apart.
"But 'tis not over for me, Anora." Gwendolyn shook her head sadly. She grimaced at the pain in her shoulder. Truly, she thought, the wrenching pain in her heart was far worse. "When I saw Rhoar standing over Hakon on the battlefield, with his bloody axe poised and ready to deal him a death blow, I knew then my life would be naught without him. Now I see that I have lost him just as surely as if he had died that day."
Anora looked away for a moment, overwhelmed by the agonizing despair reflected in the depths of Gwendolyn's eyes. She had never seen her sister like this before, yet she knew what she must be feeling. She had known the same sorrow, the same hopelessness, when she had been taken from Wulfgar on the eve of their marriage. She had looked then to Gwendolyn for solace, strength, aye, and protection, these past months, and she had never failed her. Yet now her sister needed the same from her.
She gazed down at Gwendolyn's pale face. She looked so fragile, so weak. If this news had threatened her sister's will to live . . . nay, there had to be something she could say to ease Gwendolyn's terrible heartache!
Anora suddenly recalled that night when she had told Lord Hakon of their guise. There had been such terrible anguish in his voice, such pain. He seemed almost a beaten man as he stared distantly into the fire, as if he had lost the one thing that had given his life meaning. And now that she knew he had planned to make Gwendolyn his wife, and had expressed his love for her . . . A faint smile curved her lips. So, her instincts had been right, then. He had felt more than lust for her sister. Lord Hakon truly loved Gwendolyn!
"Perhaps all is not lost, Gwendolyn," Anora said softly, leaning toward her. "Have you yet told him of your feelings?"
"Nay," Gwendolyn replied. "I could not, for fear I would be betraying my promise to you."
Anora sighed. "You have kept your promise to me, Gwendolyn, so you need have no fear of betraying me any longer. Now it is time for you to think of yourself," she said gently, yet insistently. "When Lord Hakon returns to the settlement from Trondheim, tell him of your love. Perhaps there is yet a way to resolve all of this happily."
Gwendolyn felt a glimmer of hope suddenly flare within her at Anora's words. Aye, she would tell Hakon that she loved him and wanted to be his wife. Perhaps he could send word to Haarek Jarl that she did not want to return to her homeland, but instead wished to stay in Norge. Surely if Anora were returned safely, it would be enough!
Anora noted the rosy flush of color in her sister's cheeks and murmured a silent prayer of thanks. "Now, 'tis time you rested, Gwendolyn. I must go to the cooking house and fetch some more broth. I will be gone only a few moments," she said as she rose from the chair. She tucked in the fur coverlet around her sister's shoulders. "Try to sleep. 'Twould be a welcome sight for Lord Hakon if you are up and about when he returns." She walked quietly from the room and closed the door behind her.
Gwendolyn smiled faintly, the pain in her shoulder forgotten. Aye, she would run down the hill to the docks to meet him, and tell him of her love, she thought happily. She closed her eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep, his name upon her lips.
Chapter 38
Gwendolyn sat alone in the chamber, her chair turned toward the open window. The leather shade was drawn back, and morning sunlight was pouring into the room, the bright rays warming her upturned face. She reached out, her small hand trying to catch the tiny flecks of dust whirling about in the streaming shafts of light. Smiling to herself, she dropped her hand to her lap and leaned back in the chair.
She took a deep breath of the early spring air, scented with the musky fragrance of new grass and wet earth. The soft breeze blowing through the window teased the silver-blond tendrils framing her delicate features, and carried with it the joyful melodies of birdsong. She could just barely see green tufts of grass peeking up from the drifts of melting snow.
Gwendolyn sighed, the faint smile disappearing from her lips. The sky was a vivid blue, the color of Hakon's eyes. She had not seen him for almost three months now. She shook her head sadly. Would he ever return?
She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up an image of him in her mind, but for some reason she could recall the strong lines of his powerful body . . . but not his face. She shuddered suddenly, crossing herself. She hoped it wasn't a bad omen.
The days had passed by so slowly, merging into weeks, then months, and still Hakon and his crew had not returned to the settlement. The fierce northern winter had raged all around them, wrapping everything in a thick blanket of white as the snows had flown with a blinding fury the likes of which had not been seen for many years.
Her wound had healed well under Anora's watchful and caring ministrations, but slowly. Eventually there was nothing left to remind her of that awful day but the red scar just below her left shoulder, and the infrequent tinglings of pain that plagued her still.
She had stayed in bed for the first few weeks after Hakon left for Trondheim, too weak and light-headed to sit up. But one day, despite Anora's repeated pleas to wait just a while longer, she had swung her slender legs over the side of the bed, determined that she would walk to the roughhewn table near the window. She had hoisted herself up by holding on tightly to the carved corner post. Then, with her hand on Anora's arm for support, she had taken several hesitant steps.
Gwendolyn grimaced as she recalled the awkward sensation she had felt as her knees suddenly buckled beneath her. If it hadn't been for Berta's stan
ding so close behind her, she would have crumpled to the floor. She was hastily tucked back into bed, much to her chagrin. But on the next day's try she had succeeded, laughing with exhausted relief at her accomplishment.
As her strength returned, and along with it her sense of daring, each passing day had seen her walk a little farther from the bed. And soon she was able to walk about the hall without anyone's help. She had even begun a little daily ritual. Each morning, after she dressed, she walked to the entrance and slowly opened the great door. On some days the snow was falling so heavily that she was unable to see all the way down to the fjord. But on other days, when the sky was clear, she looked out over the sparkling, snow-covered hillside in the direction of the docks, searching for any sign of Hakon's longship. Yet she was always disappointed. The docks had remained empty, the stout posts and wooden planks glistening under a transparent sheen of thick ice.
Aye, but that ritual had soon ended, Gwendolyn thought with a secret smile. She remembered with distaste the strange queasiness that had begun to plague her each morning after she awoke, and she found herself miserably retching the contents of her stomach into a wooden bucket. She had thought perhaps it was the sleeping herbs making her ill, but her intuition was confirmed when she twice missed her monthly flow.
Thankfully the sickness was over now, Gwendolyn thought as she lay her hands gently over her stomach. It was still flat, only perhaps slightly rounded near the center. She reveled in the knowledge that she carried Hakon's child within her. It was one more link that bound them together. Yet she had made Anora swear not to say a word to anyone, and especially not to Hakon when he returned. Aye, it was her secret. Hakon would learn of it from her lips alone.
Yet despite the happiness she felt about the child, it had not served to make the days go by any faster. The settlement had become completely snowbound. And though narrow paths had been dug out between the longhouses, it had been deemed unsafe for her and Anora to venture outside.
But there had been a few bright spots to relieve the boredom of their wintry confinement. A loom was set up in Hakon's chamber for them, accompanied by sacks of fine yarns, though Gwendolyn found little pleasure in that. It was Anora who spent many contented hours working on a beautiful tapestry, and stitching delicate embroidery with silken threads of every hue.
Nay, it was Berta who had truly enlivened their days. She had spent a great deal of time with them, once she had gotten over her initial shock at their true identity. Her countless ribald stories of her past, when she had been a young serving wench in the service of Magnus Haardrad's household, Hakon's lusty father, had both embarrassed and amused them. She had also seen to it that they had plenty of well-prepared food to eat. Gwendolyn sometimes wondered if perhaps Berta had somehow guessed her secret from the constant, prying questions about her health. But she had simply smiled, assuring the kindly woman that she had never felt better.
And occasionally Olav had come to visit. At first he never stayed but a few moments, just long enough to inquire gruffly after their well-being. But eventually he had spent several afternoons in their company, seemingly delighted to sit and chat with two such lovely maidens. He told them entrancing tales of the sea, and of his boyhood home far to the north of Trondheim, where he had tamed strange, wild creatures called reindeer.
Yet, when pressed for any news of Hakon's expected return, Olav had always grown silent, saying only that perhaps the fierce winter weather had kept him from sailing homeward. Gwendolyn had not missed the worried expression in his eyes, though he had done his best to hide it. His apprehension had not helped to ease her own mind in the least.
The haunting sound of the great horns brought Gwendolyn suddenly out of her reverie. She sat forward in the chair, listening, her heart pounding furiously against her breast. The rich tones echoed about the steep hillsides surrounding the settlement, surging, crescendoing.
A thrill of excitement coursed through her slender body. Could it be the horns were a signal of greeting to an approaching longship? She stood up and quickly walked the few steps to the open window, leaning on the wide ledge as she looked outside. It was almost as if the very air was charged with anticipation. Viking guards were running by the longhouse, shouting and whooping, some pointing in the direction of the docks. She waved to one of them, a tall, black-bearded warrior, trying to get his attention.
Somewhat taken by surprise that the Jarl's concubine would wish to speak with him, the Viking stopped in his tracks, then strode over to the window. "My lady?" he asked, smiling broadly, his bold eyes raking over her.
Gwendolyn ignored his heated gaze, though a warm blush spread over her cheeks at his frank perusal. "Why have the horns been sounded?" she asked almost breathlessly. "Is there a ship approaching the settlement?"
"Yea, my lady, 'tis Hakon Jarl!" he replied excitedly. "His longship has just been sighted, rounding the bend in the fjord. 'Twill not be long now before it docks!" He looked over his shoulder, the smile disappearing from his bearded face. Several other Viking guards were standing not too far away, watching him. He shifted his feet uncomfortably, anxious to be on his way. He did not wish to be seen speaking overlong to Lord Hakon's woman. Even though it was common knowledge throughout the settlement that she and her fair sister would be soon returned to their homeland in England, they were still under his protection. He turned back to her. "If I may go, my lady?" he muttered, growing more ill at ease with each passing moment.
"Aye. My thanks," Gwendolyn murmured, sensing his obvious discomfort. She dismissed him with a nod. Without even a backward glance, the warrior hurried off down the hillside to rejoin his fellow guards assembling at the docks. She stood at the window for a moment, staring into the distance as her tapered fingers nervously clutched the silken tassel on her belt. Hakon, home at last! She felt a rush of relief to know that he was safe, then a tingling warmth of pleasure as she imagined herself within his strong arms once again. She could hardly wait to tell him of her love!
Anora suddenly rushed into the room, the door opening all the way and slamming against the timbered wall behind it. The loud noise startled Gwendolyn, and she whirled around in surprise.
"Gwendolyn, I have wonderful news!" Anora blurted, her fair skin flushed with excitement. "'Tis Lord Hakon! He has returned! I had just stepped from the cooking house when I heard the horns. Come quickly!" She ran to Gwendolyn's side and grabbed her sister's arm. "The longship is still a good distance away, but if we hurry we can meet it just as it arrives at the docks!"
But Gwendolyn held back, a strange sense of apprehension welling up inside her. Then she shook her head. Nay, she would not allow any worries to plague her this day! She looked down at her clothes, her trembling hands smoothing the pleats of the silken tunic. "But surely I should change into a finer gown, Anora. This one is so plain."
Anora smiled at her sister's self-consciousness. She had never thought she would see the day when Gwendolyn would show the least bit of interest in what she wore!
"'Tis hardly plain, dear sister!" she assured her. "You have never looked lovelier." And, indeed, Gwendolyn was a vision, Anora thought admiringly. She wore a shimmering gray silk chemise that hugged the slender curves of her body, and a vivid blue mantle embroidered with silver threads that heightened the emerald color of her eyes. Aye, her sister had truly blossomed over the past months, which in itself was remarkable, considering the length of her recovery from her awful wound. Her creamy skin glowed with renewed health, and her eyes sparkled warmly. Perhaps it was the babe, Anora thought fleetingly.
"I am sure Wulfgar will find you just as lovely when he sees you again," Gwendolyn replied, looking at her sister. Anora's lustrous hair was growing long once more, and already reached just below her shoulders. She, too, was dressed in a fine silken chemise and tunic. Truly, they had never seen such beautiful clothes as the ones they had been given to wear!
Her observation was instantly rewarded by Anora's radiant smile. "Come, Gwendolyn! 'Tis the moment you have l
ong awaited. Now, we must hurry or we shall miss his arrival!"
"Very well. I am ready," Gwendolyn murmured. She took just a moment to run an ivory comb through her short hair, then threw a light cloak about her shoulders. Together they hurried from the hall.
Gwendolyn's heart felt as if it were in her throat as she and Anora walked side by side down the steep path toward the shoreline. Hakon's longship had not yet reached the docking area. She held up her hand, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the morning sun. The longship looked like a proud serpent as it skimmed across the glistening waters of the fjord toward them.
She gasped as she recognized Hakon's tall figure standing beside the dragon-headed prow. He looked so strong, so magnificent! The brisk wind was rippling through his hair, and his black cloak whipped out behind him. The steel of his broadsword, raised in salute, glinted brightly in the sun.
"Let us stand over there," Anora murmured, nodding her head toward a slight rise in the hill that was just beyond the docks. "We will be close enough for him to see us clearly, but not in the way."
"Aye, that will be fine," Gwendolyn agreed breathlessly, following close behind her sister. She could hardly tear her eyes away from Hakon. She could just now make out the expression on his face. He was smiling, his teeth a flash of white against his bronzed skin. God's blood, he was handsome! More so than she remembered!
A great roar went up from the gathered warriors as the longship slid up against the dock. Their loud, boisterous cries of welcome drowned out the scraping of wooden benches as the crewmen jumped to their feet to secure their oars. Thick ropes were tossed over the side and caught by outstretched hands. It was not long before the mighty ship was moored.
Gwendolyn watched as Olav jumped onto the deck and caught Hakon in a bear hug. Hakon responded in kind, slapping his burly helmsman on the back. Their laughter rang out heartily above the din. The two men stood talking for several moments, seemingly oblivious to the raging commotion about them. The crew began unloading the ship, the muscles in their bare arms bulging as they heaved several large chests up onto the dock.
Twin Passions Page 30
