The Viking's Heart

by Jacqueline Navin

  “Shh,” he said, closing his eyes. He hated himself for the surge of joy washing through him. She had committed a criminal act of defiance and all he could think of was that she was still his own and no other’s. “You did right. Rosamund, you were very brave.”

  “Nay, I was a coward.” She shook her head, her hair brushing the exposed flesh at his throat. “I should have spoken to Robert. If I had told him…but Cyrus—I kept thinking of Cyrus, and I was too frightened.”

  “My love, I believe Robert would welcome your news with a glad heart.” At her incredulous look, he explained, “Robert loves Veronica. I would wager he did not wish to wed you any more than you did him.”

  She pulled back, her eyes wide with dismay. “What?”

  “Aye. I saw him go to Veronica after the ceremony, and I witnessed their grief. Later, I realized why you could never find him to tell him your wishes. We were too busy sneaking off to be together to realize they were doing the same thing.”

  “Robert and Veronica? Then, why would he still want to wed me?”

  “Cyrus called upon Robert’s honor, telling him you wished the union, and Robert must have felt he had no other choice.”

  He felt her shiver. Pulling her close, he stroked down her back, soothing her. “With me, he used more brutal tactics,” she said. “Cyrus threatened to slay you. As if that weren’t enough, he said he would kill Alayna, Aric and the babies, and anyone else I loved if I refused.”

  “He used the same tack with me. He is effective, if unimaginative.”

  “He would do it, Agravar. That is why I had to obey.”

  “Aye,” he answered as his fingers curled distractedly in her curls. “I had no doubt he would.”

  She stiffened. Looking up at him, she closed a trembling hand over her mouth. “Oh, Lord, Agravar—what have I done? When Cyrus finds that I fled the bridal chamber, what will he do?” Her voice quavered. “How could I have not thought of it?”

  “Nay, love, listen to me. There is something I realized when I saw Robert and Veronica together. Robert was cleverly maneuvered by Cyrus to believe he had a duty to you. This can be the only reason he went ahead with a marriage he clearly did not want. He can know nothing of what Cyrus has been doing to force our cooperation.”

  “Do you suggest we tell him?”

  “Aye, we must. Robert is our ally, and a powerful one. Remember that there is no advantage in this marriage for Cyrus without Robert’s goodwill. ’Twas this he sought to curry with the alliance between your families.”

  “But what will it gain us to bring Robert into it at this time? ’Tis too late. We are wed before God.”

  “Robert will want to dissolve the union while he still can so he can marry Veronica.” Giving her a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkled. “Although how he could miss your more obvious charms, I cannot fathom.”

  She seemed reluctant. “I do not understand, Agravar, how this brings us out of danger. If the marriage is dissolved, Cyrus would carry out his threats.”

  “Aye, but the annulment shall be Robert’s doing, and I believe Cyrus would not be so foolish as to try to use his brutish tactics with a man as impressively well connected as Robert. It would be too simple for him to be found out and gain him no advantage.”

  Rosamund spoke with dismay as understanding dawned. “Aye. Aye! Robert is powerful, with influential friends in the highest offices at court. Cyrus cannot threaten him. And he cannot harm us once Robert knows of what he has done. He shall serve as our protection. Oh, Agravar!” She collapsed back into his arms. He heard tears in her voice. “Can it be true? Have you truly found a way for us?”

  “If Robert does what I suspect he will, then, aye, we have found our solution, Rosamund. We have only to speak to him. Then I shall marry you, and no one can say naught about it.”

  “Robert will help us.” She dashed away the moisture beading on her lashes. “I know it. If he loves Veronica and she him, then he will be as happy as we to put this marriage aside.”

  “That is what I am counting on,” he murmured, taking her face in his hands. His thumbs caressed the high ridge of her cheekbones. “Although I must admit my pride would like it better if I could deal with Cyrus my own way.”

  “How can you smite wickedness with a sword? Cyrus’s cunning is too low, too base for honorable battle.” She tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, what does it matter? We have found our freedom. At last, Agravar, there shall be nothing to stand between us.”

  He looked down at her and a fierce, primitive emotion surged up from his soul. Pure possessiveness. She was here with him, here in his room where the whole of the world was held at bay. Here in this bed, where they had lain before, where they had loved before.

  He trapped her gaze with his. Her smile melted. He studied her mouth for a long moment before lowering his head. Touching his lips to hers, he felt himself slipping away. Losing himself in her, as he had done so many times before.

  But this was different. Whatever plans they had for the future, the fact remained she was another’s wife until released by the church.

  It was, in fact, her wedding eve—the night where she should, by rights, be lying in her husband’s arms for the first time, sealing the contract of marriage forever.

  Still, her hands moved over him, hungry and stirring. Happy to oblige her, he slipped off her shift and bent to her breasts, licking and sucking the plump mounds of flesh the way he knew would inflame her. Her small cries made him hard, impatient.

  Far back inside his brain, some vague bleating of his conscience sounded, some vestige of the honor he had sworn himself to amend for his father’s base savagery. It warned him that it would be unspeakably indecent to lie with her, touch her in the ways that he had no right to.

  The possessive savage in him answered—she was his. By right of the heart, if not the law, and the voice was quelled, lost in the glory of her kiss, and the wild abandon of her lovemaking.

  It troubled him not the least as he finished undressing her. Nary a twinge interrupted the pleasure he found as he entered her deliciously welcoming body and loved her until they were sated and at rest.

  He fell to sleep with only selfish bliss in his thoughts, the niggling little voice that could have saved them having been thoroughly vanquished.

  When the pounding woke them, he came cleanly and suddenly out of sleep. Panic exploded before he even sat up.

  His first thought was that he had not bolted his door. He swung his legs to the floor.

  But it was far too late. The portal opened and Lucien entered his chamber.

  “Agravar, wake. You are not going to believe this, but that wretched girl has gone missing again—” Lucien stopped.

  Beside him, naked under the furs, Rosamund shrank into his side. Slowly Agravar rose from the bed, positioning his nude body to shield her from view.

  Lucien said nothing. He stood perfectly still.

  Agravar broke the silence. “I realize we have, as brothers do, little formality between us. But I believe that in the future, you should knock before entering my chamber.”

  “Get her out of here,” Lucien snapped suddenly. “Robert is right behind me.”

  The warning was futile. Robert stood in the doorway.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Rosamund slowly reached for the crumpled shift on the floor. Her humiliation was boundless, even with the Viking’s massive body shielding her. She slipped the garment on and wrapped herself tightly in one of the furs, tucking her chin into her chest and wishing devoutly to disappear.

  Robert broke the silence at last. “I came in search of my wife.” His voice held no rancor. Only surprise, and a vague regret she didn’t as yet understand. “Lucien suggested you might know something, where she might have gone. I doubt he suspected how correct he would be.”

  Agravar took a step forward, his hands held out before him. “Let me explain.”

  Lucien’s voice cut in sharply. “For God’s sake, Agravar, make it good.”


  Rosamund was relieved when she saw the Viking retrieve his leggings and pull them on. His nakedness, as well as her own dishabille, made her feel all the more vulnerable.

  Agravar turned to face her husband. “I love her. And she loves me. She did not wish to marry you. ’Twas Cyrus who forced her.”

  Robert’s gaze slid to Rosamund. “If this is true, why did you not tell me so?”

  She slowly extricated herself from the bed and stood before him, forcing her head up and refusing the unrelenting urge to cringe. Her trembling, however, she could not control. It made her voice waver. “’Tis my fault, all of it. I…I was afraid to tell you. I have no excuse for what I did. I was wicked. I was…weak.”

  “Rosamund, hush! Do not do this.” Agravar stepped in front of her as if to shield her. To Robert, he said, “She is not to blame. ’Twas I who should have known better. I could have set things aright.”

  Rosamund shoved him aside and went to stand before her husband. “’Twas deplorable, what I did. You may punish me any way you see fit.”

  Robert’s look was full of pity as it settled on Rosamund. “Oh, child, you are only unhappy. Is this why there was always such sadness in you, always so remote? Because you love him? Because you feared me? How could you not know I would never, never harm you?”

  She hung her head. “I could not see it. I…”

  “Answer me. Is it true you love him?”

  Somehow, the betrayal of her heart seemed worse than that of her body. Pushing the words past her fear, she whispered, “I do. So much.”

  “For God’s sake, why did you never tell me?” He shook his head, his face full of misery. “So much could have been avoided had you but spoken of your heart.”

  Agravar spoke up. “She was afraid to do it.”

  “But why? What did I ever do to inspire her fear?”

  Again Agravar answered for her. “It was Cyrus who terrorized her. All throughout her early years, she saw—she lived—unspeakable things, giving her a terrible dread of marriage, and of men. When she had finally resolved to speak with you, Cyrus arrived at Gastonbury. He threatened to kill you, and me.” Indicating Lucien, he said, “He would have slain Alayna and the children, and Veronica—all who were dear to Rosamund.”

  Lucien’s eyes flashed instant fire. “What is this? Alayna was in danger, my children were threatened, and you did not tell me?”

  “Have you forgotten my father, Lucien?” His voice was harsh. “He would slaughter a village on a whim. Boredom was cured by torturing one of his slaves. How many times were you victim to his cruel amusements? They are of a kind, Cyrus and he. Cyrus told me he had assassins ready to carry out the executions after his death. I did what I thought was best to keep you all safe.”

  Robert placed his index finger under Rosamund’s chin, tipping her face up to him. “Did he likewise threaten you to make you wed me?”

  She couldn’t meet his eye. “He did. I—I am so sorry.”

  He waited a long time before speaking. “Perhaps there is no excuse for what you have done. But there are reasons. And I can understand love, Rosamund.” He closed his eyes and dropped his hand. “Unfortunately, I am bound by my honor to do what I must.” He drew in a deep breath and turned to Agravar. “Captain, it gives me no pleasure to do this, but I challenge you to a battle on the lists, to repay the debt of honor.”

  Lucien raked his hand furiously thorough his hair.

  Agravar seemed preternaturally calm. “I will meet your challenge. Yet, I dare ask a boon of you. One favor. If you prevail, you must never take revenge on Rosamund. There is much you need to know, to understand her and the choices she made. ’Twas not her fault. You must forgive her.”

  Robert gave a short, humorless laugh. “I shall grant you this favor, Captain. But let us be realistic. I am an excellent knight, adept at the sword, if I may say so without prejudice. But for heaven’s sake, look at the two of us. Look at you. Consider your profession, your size, your strength. I am older, a statesman now. You are a warrior.” He paused, then added grimly, “I shall not prevail. My honor dictates that I challenge, and ’twill be met just as duty demands. But I shall not prevail. We both know that.”

  Agravar’s eyes narrowed. “We shall see. Men of faith believe that the righteous always triumph through the intercession of God. You are to remember your promise, Robert, should Providence find you the worthiest.”

  Terror flared in Rosamund’s breast. She realized then that Agravar meant to die.

  Rosamund was sitting alone in the solar when Veronica swept in.

  The room was empty. Everyone was down on the lists, watching two good men fight a battle neither one had any taste for. All because of her.

  Veronica’s smartly clicking footsteps drew closer, coming to an end just before Rosamund’s bent-over body. Raising her head, Rosamund lifted her eyes to the woman she once called friend. “Is it done?” she asked in wooden tones. “Is Agravar dead?”

  Veronica reached out and grabbed Rosamund’s arm, yanking her to her feet. “Nay, he is not dead, and he will not be if I can help it.” She whirled and pulled her toward the door.

  “Please, nay!” Rosamund protested. “I am not going down there. I will not see him die.”

  “You are going.” For a petite woman, Veronica’s strength was not minimal, but it was more her indomitable will that made it impossible to refuse.

  Still Rosamund pulled against her and wailed, “’Tis enough I am the cause of his death.”

  “Stop being a ninny and listen to me, Rosamund. I need you to have courage. One of those half-wits is going to die and the other’s life shall be ruined if we do not do something.”

  “You shall stop them?” Hope flared, choking her as Rosamund stopped struggling and fell into step beside the older woman.

  Veronica strode with grim purpose, never letting go of her grip, down the hallway and out the door into the upper courtyard. She headed for the inner wall, which would lead them down to the lower wards, to the training yard where the deadly challenge was taking place.

  Rosamund grew impatient. “Veronica, please tell me—what are you going to do?”

  “Exactly the question which has plagued me since I learned of this impossible situation. Then it came to me. I only hope ’tis not too late.”

  “What? What is it you plan?”

  “Not I. I can do nothing. ’Tis you. You, Rosamund. You must stop them.”

  “I? But, Veronica, how can I?”

  “Do you not tire of being a victim, child?” Veronica’s voice was sharp, but it shook, laden with feeling. “Do you not grow weary of ever being helpless? You must fight, Rosamund. For God’s sake, fight—with all you have in you. You must, or your love will die and mine will be his murderer. For once in your life, child—fight!”

  Rosamund cried, “Fight how? I have no way to fight against them.”

  “Women have had to survive by their wits since the dawn of creation, for we are smaller, weaker in body. You have the means within you, child. Search yourself. You will find the words.”

  “I am too afraid!”

  Veronica stopped and with a jerk of her elegant arm, she swung Rosamund about to face her. “Then your man will die. ’Tis your choice. Make up your mind.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The crowd gathered at the lists was utterly silent.

  Robert slipped on his gauntlets. He picked up his sword and inspected it.

  Agravar stood motionless and stared at the nervous movements of his opponent. He was ready.

  Over on a dais set up with a brightly colored awning to shield it from the sun, Agravar spied the man whom he wished could fall under his blade. Cyrus was not pleased with what had transpired, especially since Robert had made it abundantly clear that he wished no further alliance between their two houses, his union with Rosamund notwithstanding. Now, the Lord of Hallscroft glared at Agravar with ferocious heat. Agravar read the look. Cyrus wanted vengeance. He wanted blood.

  There was a touch
of bitterness in giving the bastard his wish.

  Swiveling his head to the other side, he saw Lucien standing with a very pale Alayna. Beside them were Pelly and some of the major knights of Gastonbury. His comrades, his friends.

  She wasn’t here. He was disappointed, but he understood. It was best she stayed away, he supposed, and yet his soul silently keened her name.

  “I am ready,” Robert called.

  Agravar began swinging the broadsword to loosen his arms.

  Lucien came to stand at Agravar’s side. He swallowed, then said carefully, “You had better fight, damn you. If you throw in your lot, I shall never forgive you.”

  Agravar stopped and bowed his head, studying the dirt between his feet. “I loved you like a brother. You were my only kin.” And then he strode onto the field.

  Robert was waiting for him. He raised his sword in salute. Agravar returned the gesture. His muscles tensed as he awaited the signal.

  A movement out of the corner of his eye brought his attention to the people lined up on the fringes of the field. Someone was shouting—a woman. He turned just in time to see Rosamund burst out of the crowd.

  She stumbled onto the field, her feet tripping her up so that she spilled onto the dust between the two combatants.

  Behind her, hanging back a ways, Veronica made a more graceful entry.

  The wave of dismay quickly hushed when Rosamund slowly rose to her feet and raised her hands. “I demand you stop this.”

  As incongruous as it was, Agravar feared he might laugh. She looked ridiculous, this scrap of a girl, warding off two armed knights about to battle.

  Quelling the urge, he said, “Rosamund, step aside.”

  She ignored him. Instead, she turned to Robert. “You would murder him?”

  Robert blinked, caught off guard. “I challenged him.”

  “And you know he will not fight you. He is prepared to die today. I ask you—for whose sake do you murder him? For yours, or mine?”