by Denise Lynn
Apparently startled by the more formal address, he glanced briefly over his shoulder at her.
Avelyn laughed at his expression, then explained, ‘I thought I should be more formal now, so I don’t accidentally give those at court any morsel to gossip about.’
Fulke chortled. ‘Lady Avelyn, rest assured, they will find something with or without you providing any morsels.’
She frowned and looked down at the bed rolls tied to keep her on the saddle. Tapping the one before her, said, ‘These will have to go before we reach the castle.’
Elrik nodded. ‘Before we get to the village, we’ll stop and remove them.’
‘How much further is the village?’
He glanced up towards the sun. ‘Not much longer—before midday.’
It took her only a quick glance to realise midday would soon be upon them. ‘So, very soon.’
‘Yes.’
She pulled back on the reins of her horse. ‘Then we should stop now.’
Elrik’s sigh would have been humorous had she not sensed his sullen mood. Shouldn’t she be the one disquieted by the coming end of this journey?
He didn’t argue; instead he, too, stopped and dismounted. The other men followed suit. After handing his reins to Samuel, Elrik came to her side and wrapped his hands around her waist.
Unbidden, a soft gasp escaped her lips at his touch. He closed his eyes and hesitated a heartbeat before looking up at her to ask, ‘Ready?’
No. She wasn’t ready for what was about to come. But nothing could change what awaited her, so she nodded and allowed him to assist her from the saddle.
He unlaced the bed rolls, tossed them to Fulke, ordering, ‘Switch the saddles.’
Avelyn agreed—his high-cantle saddle would appear out of place on her smaller horse. Besides, if they were attacked, his battle saddle would be wasted on her.
When the bed rolls were stowed and the saddles switched, Avelyn managed to scramble up on Little Lady without help. Elrik adjusted the stirrup for her and paused to whisper something in the horse’s ear before getting back on his own steed.
* * *
Even though they’d reached the village about an hour later, Avelyn felt as if she’d been on horseback for days. She slid to the ground and would have fallen had Elrik not been right there.
‘Steady.’ He grasped her arms, saying, ‘Take a moment.’
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, amazed at the sudden shyness once again overtaking her. She felt as if everyone in the busy village had stopped to stare at her—a woman travelling alone with three men.
Elrik released her and stepped back. ‘Stay here with Samuel and Fulke.’
The two men drew closer, while Elrik disappeared inside the inn.
He exited the inn in a matter of moments and, halfway back to her side, stopped to glare at the crowd gathering.
Elrik had expected to draw attention since he and his men were known in the village. But from the way Avelyn appeared to shrink between Samuel and Fulke the gathering was making her uneasy.
He picked out one of the men familiar to him. ‘Something you wish to know, Timothy?’
The village’s blacksmith nodded towards Avelyn. ‘Be that her?’
There was no point in trying to put the gossips off the scent of what had to be the tale of the season thus far. ‘Yes.’
He scanned the nodding faces. Their tongues were already wagging. To give them something else to dwell on he said, ‘We are in need of a suitable garment for court.’
An older woman instantly stepped forward. ‘I have just the thing. It might not be as fancy as some, but it is nicely made.’
‘Thank you. Have it delivered here quickly.’
He held his hand out towards Avelyn. ‘My lady, a room is ready for your use.’
She hesitated, looking from the still-lingering crowd to him a couple of times. Then she straightened her spine before stepping forward.
While her first footstep seemed confident, her chin was tipped down, giving the appearance of an obedient child. Elrik caught her gaze and lifted his own head. She apparently understood his unspoken order and lifted her chin.
The woman who walked from between the horses to come to a stop before him looked every inch the lady she would soon become. Beneath the grime and dirt of the road, her bearing would do her great-grandfather proud.
And just that quickly Elrik felt a sharp sense of loss, making him wonder how he’d so easily become infatuated with a woman—not just any woman, but with Brandr’s daughter. Soon his feelings for her would no longer matter, as she’d not be in his company, and this unwanted sense of loss would quickly fade.
He lowered his arm and stepped aside to motion her towards the inn. ‘After you, my lady.’
Her bewildered gaze searched his face. He knew she didn’t understand the lack of warmth in his tone. She would never understand his sudden withdrawal. But at the moment it was the kindest thing he could think of doing for the both of them.
She turned away and he followed her into the inn with his men on his heels.
Ever ready with his tongue, Fulke said, ‘Never seen such a dolt afore now.’
Elrik wanted to turn around and throw a well-aimed fist into Fulke’s teeth, but that would only lend truth to the man’s words. So, instead, he ignored the comment.
A mistake, because it prompted Samuel to add, ‘Could be fear.’
‘Enough.’ Without turning around Elrik nearly growled the order.
Thankfully both men saw fit to cease their unwanted comments.
Once above stairs, Elrik used the key the innkeeper had provided to unlock a door at the far end of the hall. ‘Lady Avelyn.’
He stopped just inside the doorway to do a quick survey of the chamber. Certain she had everything she required—water, soap, towels and a comb—he said, ‘Your clothing will be here soon. If there is anything else you require, we will be right outside the door.’
Avelyn took a step towards him. ‘Elrik...’
His name, spoken in such a soft, pleading tone, and the shimmer in her gaze sent him rushing backwards into the hallway where he quickly closed the solid door between them.
With his back resting against the closed door, he took a breath, then he took another less shaking one.
Fulke, to his left, cursed. Samuel, on his right, softly said, ‘Just breathe, Elrik, just breathe.’
He hadn’t felt this angry, or this lost, since the day he’d given his life in exchange for his father’s. That was the only and the last time he’d raged—and shed tears over the loss of something he’d never have, but couldn’t change.
He’d only given away his soul that day.
Both these men had been with him then, too. They’d been at his back when he’d prostrated himself, along with his brother, at King David’s feet to beg mercy for a foolish old man’s act of treason. Without arguing, giving excuses, or even placing the rightful blame on Brandr for their father’s act, they’d both pledged their lives in exchange for his.
Since that day he’d not begged, nor had he prostrated himself at anyone’s feet—he wasn’t about to do either now.
He swallowed hard and nearly smiled at the obvious sound of two heavy sighs echoing on either side of him.
If these emotions buffeting him were love, he wanted no part of it. There was no room in his life for this uncertainty—or this weakness. Were they to be attacked right this minute not only was his life in great peril, so were the lives of his men. One split second of indecision could cost him all.
King David’s Wolf had not the time nor place for this distraction. Perhaps some day, when his service was completed—if that day ever came—he would find a woman to take as a wife. Someone malleable. Someone who didn’t befuddle his mind in such a disturbing manner.
But not now and never this woman.
>
Footsteps coming up the stairs caught his attention. His hand fell to rest atop the sword hanging from his side.
‘Oh, my lord. I meant not to startle you.’ The older woman from the village arrived with two young girls, arms laden with clothing, behind her. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I couldn’t decide which tunic would find favour with your lady, so I brought a couple for her to choose from.’
He stood aside and let the woman and her helpers into the chamber. Avelyn’s abrupt squeak of surprise told him she probably wasn’t clothed enough for him to enter, so he simply said, ‘Your clothes have arrived.’ And quickly closed the door.
* * *
After what seemed hours, the door once again opened and the older women, with her helpers, exited the chamber. Elrik followed them below to settle the sum for what she’d provided. When he returned above stairs, the door to the chamber was still open. Both Samuel and Fulke shrugged before nodding towards the opening.
Wondering what was keeping her, Elrik walked into the chamber and came to a rocking halt.
To say she was lovely would have been a grave injustice to beauty. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
The dark blue, nearly black tunic was slashed on both sides down to the middle of her hips and was laced so tightly that no curve or dip was left to his imagination. The plain darkness of the garment was broken at the neck and hem edges with a thin line of brilliant needlework. A snowy white chemise peeked through the lacings at her sides. They had combed her inky-dark hair until it shimmered about her shoulders, a thin silver circlet held the tresses in place.
She glanced away, staring down at her toes a second, before lifting her gaze back to his. ‘Elrik?’
Her throaty one-word question threatened to steal away what little control he still possessed. Like the sirens spoken of in tales of old, he was drawn to her.
He longed to close the distance between them, take her to the waiting bed, strip off her finery and claim her as his—fiercely, as a wolf in the wild claims its mate.
These urges washing over him had nothing to do with such a weak emotion as love. This was lust. Pure unadulterated lust.
And thankfully, no matter how strong the urge, he could control lust. That knowledge lent a measure of calm to his previous worries.
She swished the skirt of her tunic back and forth. ‘Am I presentable?’
‘Very.’ Even in her clothing made from coarse wool she would outshine the other women in the court.
She dropped her hold on the skirt to smooth her hands over her stomach. ‘This isn’t too plain?’
‘Are you fishing for compliments, Avelyn?’
She nodded and then smiled. Her smile seemed to light up the chamber.
He wasn’t about to tell her that while she might be the best-dressed lady at her father’s court, in King David’s she would be seen as plain. He’d not hurt her feelings in such a manner. Besides, from this minute forward, she would always be the standard by which he measured beauty.
Elrik stepped forward and took one of her hands in his. ‘Aye, my lady. Your loveliness will put the other women to shame.’
That much was true. Amongst the brightly coloured tunics and dazzling jewels, she would shine brighter.
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and grabbed her small satchel. ‘Is there anything else you need?’
‘No.’ She glanced around the chamber. ‘Everything I own is already packed away.’
Elrik nodded towards the door. ‘Then let us be on our way.’
Chapter Seven
Avelyn tried not to stare at the people crowding the courtyard, but there were so many of them that everywhere she sent her focus she encountered yet another curious onlooker. Had the entire area turned out to see what was going to happen to her? She looked down at her feet, it was the only place free of other faces.
Elrik lifted her hand to place it on his arm as they ascended to the walkway leading into the castle. ‘Chin up. It is almost over. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your fear.’
She stiffened her spine at his words. ‘I am not afraid.’
To her surprise the area near the double doors leading into the Great Hall was less crowded. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Elrik pulled her off to the side. ‘Listen to me, Avelyn. Remember, show no fear. Do not grovel or cry. King David has a soft spot for women, but he has no patience for tears.’
She looked up at him. ‘Thankfully nobody can see that my legs are already shaking.’
His half-smile felt so safe, so familiar that it was all she could do not to lean against his chest for support.
‘Speak plainly. Do not mince your words. When he asks what you desire, tell him exactly what you want—not what you don’t want.’
Avelyn held back a laugh. If she told the King exactly what she wanted right this moment, Elrik would be horrified. She wanted him. If she had to wed someone, she wished it could be him.
She closed her eyes against the sudden urge to sob. Now was not the time. Later tonight she could cry into her pillow with none the wiser.
Avelyn nodded. ‘I promise to remember all you have told me, Elrik.’
When he turned to lead her into the castle, she pressed her fingers into his forearm, stopping him. ‘You will be there?’
‘For as long as I am permitted, yes.’
She couldn’t ask for more.
Just before shoving through the doors, he glanced down at her. ‘Breathe.’
Not realising that she’d been holding her breath, Avelyn sucked a shaking gasp of air and laughed at herself.
The second Elrik pushed open the double doors, the noise that had been drifting through the solid doors ceased.
Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall turned to look at her.
Avelyn felt her legs go weak and did her best to remain upright. There were so many people and she didn’t recognise any of them.
The only evidence Elrik gave of noticing her near stumble was the tightening of his arm—giving her the support she needed to stay on her feet.
The crowd of people seemed to part before them, leaving an open path the length of the hall. Did these people fear him so greatly? If so, they were foolish to be afraid of such an honourable man.
She kept her gaze straight ahead, focused on the raised dais at the far end of the hall.
It helped her to ignore the obvious—she was grossly under-dressed for this gathering. If Elrik had lied to spare her feelings, he’d not done her any favours. These women wore brightly coloured overgowns that seemed to shimmer with jewels, making her look like a peasant out of her element.
Yet it would have been impossible not to notice the attention of the men. She felt, rather than saw, the measuring stares.
Once again Elrik tightened his arm beneath her fingers. Had he, too, seen the looks? Now that there were other women present, did he find her lacking in comparison?
She wanted to look up at him to judge his mood, but her gaze caught sight of her father sitting at the King’s table and suddenly the only thing she wanted to do was to run from the Great Hall and keep running until there was at least an ocean between them.
Without turning his head, Elrik whispered softly, ‘He can’t naysay the King. Focus on David.’
How would that be better? The King was going to do the same as her father—give her to a man not of her choosing.
Like so many times before, she wished her mother was still alive. At least then she’d never have been forced to leave her village and she would be marrying someone she knew.
The warmth beneath her fingertips reminded her that if her life had taken such a different turn of events she would never have met Elrik. Never would have seen the dark desire in his gaze, or experienced the thrill of his kiss. As much as she wished not to wed Bolk she was
n’t willing to give up her memories of the days with Elrik—those memories were all she would have in the long weeks, months and years ahead.
As they neared the dais, Elrik lowered his arm, leaving her to stand on her own. King David rose and motioned for her father to join him. He then addressed Elrik. ‘Roul, join us.’
She and Elrik followed her father and the King into a small chamber behind the dais. Once inside, King David sat before a table strewn with books and documents. Her father stood to the right of the table, facing her and Elrik.
The King picked up a rolled scroll and tapped it against his free hand while pinning her with a hard stare. ‘What do you have to say for all the trouble you have caused?’
Avelyn clasped her hands before her. ‘While I truly apologise for the trouble to others, I do not regret my actions.’
Her father gasped, his face red with rage, and took a step towards her.
Elrik moved forward placing himself directly between her and her father, preventing her father from reaching her. Avelyn held her breath as the two stared at each other. To her amazed relief, her father dropped his gaze and took a step back. Remaining immobile for a heartbeat longer, Elrik then stepped back to her side.
King David’s eyes widened slightly at the silent exchange between the two men, but made no comment. Instead he once again spoke to her. ‘You understand that you have no say in who you marry?’
‘Yes, my lord, but—’
He raised a hand to cut her off. ‘You will wed where it best benefits your father and me.’
‘But—’
Again, he cut off her words. ‘Bolk brings your father a few men, a small plot of land and gold, which in turn benefits me. A marriage to him further binds your family and Bolk’s not just to me, but also to King Óláfr.’
Avelyn nodded. Yes, she’d been told that at least a time or two the last few days.
‘However...’ The King paused, giving Avelyn hope that perhaps he wasn’t as in agreement with this marriage as she’d feared. She held her breath while he continued. ‘There are other concerns.’
‘Concerns!’ her father near shouted, before turning to look at the King and asking, ‘What concerns have you with my daughter’s marriage?’
