His arms fell away. He nodded. ‘That is how I kiss my future bride, in case you are interested.’
Cynehild tested her lips with her tongue. They ached for more than just the briefest of touches. She was tempted to return to Brother Palni’s side, but her legs had turned to water.
She forced her knees to lock before stepping stiffly backwards, increasing the distance between them as quickly as she dared. ‘Our betrothal begins.’ Her voice sounded far too breathless for her liking.
‘You and the Jaarl Icebeard are betrothed?’ Luba fanned herself. ‘Oh, my... Nobody will have anticipated this. I wonder if the wagering remains open.’
Kal took off one of his golden brooches and pressed it into the woman’s hand. ‘Keep my secret and you will have another of these when all this is completed.’
Luba retreated. ‘If someone finds me with it they will think I had something to do with your disappearance.’
‘Keep it hidden until this is over,’ Cynehild said. ‘And tell no one about Kal’s injury.’
‘Not even my family?’
‘Especially not them.’ Cynehild took a deep breath. ‘They work in the hall, and we want to keep this our secret.’
‘I’d best be putting this away, then,’ Luba said, and left the room.
Kal watched Cynehild closely. ‘What happens after we discover who did this to me and bring them to justice?’
‘We go our separate ways.’ She pressed her palm against her belt. The tweezers dug into her flesh. ‘Return to our old lives. My desire to remain a widow is well established. Before I left Baelle Heale I made this fact known to my father.’ She gave a pointed cough. ‘Nothing that has occurred since has altered my views.’
‘I will abide by your conditions.’ He bowed, captured her hand and raised it to his lips. ‘Our betrothal lasts until it no longer suits our purpose.’
The soft touch of his mouth on her skin sent another pulse of heat racing up her arm. She gently tugged and he released her hand. ‘A second kiss?’ she asked.
He bowed. ‘The second agreement required one, my lady. May we find many things to agree to in the future.’
Cynehild ignored the renewed aching in her mouth. She was not about to fall into his arms. Her heart belonged to Leofwine, but she could not deny that the ice which had encased it for so long had started to melt.
‘There will be little need for a third agreement, I think,’ she said.
‘But I shall continue to live in hope.’
‘What do you want me to do, my lady?’ Brother Palni asked, elbowing his way between them, breaking the spell. ‘Someone is sure to notice your men milling about this place and ask awkward questions. Not wanting to pour cold water on your scheme, but I can see grave flaws in it. You should have discussed this sensibly before making an agreement.’
‘Return to Baelle Heale. Acquire a larger contingent of men. We may have need of them.’ Cynehild ticked off the points on her fingers. ‘Without my covered cart you will go much faster.’
‘It would be better if I went to Moir, even if the journey there is less straightforward.’ Palni frowned. ‘You should come with me, but I doubt you will do that. You are too stubborn for your own good.’
‘Can you visit both—Moir and Baelle Heale? We will be safe here,’ Cynehild said.
A great longing to see her son’s face swept over her. She wanted to cradle him to her bosom and drink in his little-boy scent. Wulfgar would squirm and protest, as he always did these days. But she was doing this for him, she reminded herself.
‘I’ve a message I want to send to my son, Wulfgar, Brother Palni—one I want you to deliver personally. And Father Oswald may have remedies which assist in recovering memories.’
Brother Palni appeared unhappier than ever. ‘We don’t have time to waste, my lady. I want to go to Moir and—’
‘No, you must go to Father Oswald and Wulfgar first. Promise me. That way you won’t get lost, trying to go across country.’
The monk gave an unhappy nod. ‘Where will you wait for me? Back at the cave?’
‘Is the charcoal burner’s cottage still empty?’ Cynehild turned towards Luba, who had returned from secreting the brooch. ‘The one in the middle of the woods?’
‘Imagine you remembering that place, my lady. I haven’t thought about it since the cankerous old man died. Far too fond of his own company for my liking.’ Luba was suddenly all smiles. ‘It remains empty as far as I know. You are wonderfully clever, my lady, to remember that tumbled-down hut.’
‘We will stay there, waiting for your return, Brother Palni. Far more sensible than returning to the cave. I reckon we will be fine for some days there.’
The monk made a few more clucking noises but promised.
Kal inclined his head. ‘My fortune changed when I encountered you, Lady Cynehild. But I think another long journey in that covered cart would have been the death of me.’
Luba promised to get all the information she could, as well as providing provisions for them, and began to bustle about the cottage, pulling out the various herbs Cynehild requested while Brother Palni and his men piled food and bedding into the cart.
‘My lady,’ she whispered as she handed the herbs to Cynehild. ‘It would not be a bad thing if you became his wife in truth, now that I turn my mind to it. He is a fine figure of a man and he would treat you well. I saw how he kissed you. And I know a love potion or three.’
Cynehild watched how the afternoon sunshine played on Kal’s face, highlighting his cheekbones and the network of silver scars on his skin as he attempted to help Brother Palni by carrying a feather pillow, rather than remain seated in the cart. This man was her enemy, who had ultimately taken away her son’s birthright. She was engaging in this play-acting to prevent a blight falling on this slowly recovering land, rather than because she harboured any notions about marriage or anything else with him.
She ignored the small place in her which instead of whispering now screamed, Liar! ‘That will never happen,’ she said.
* * *
Kal regarded the small cottage which had once belonged to the charcoal burner with a dispassionate eye. His childhood home had not been much bigger than this. It was marginally better than the cave for comfort, but he agreed with Lady Cynehild that it would be easier to supply and there was even a half-ruined outbuilding where the covered cart could be stored.
Lady Cynehild had put herself in danger for him, but he wasn’t quite certain of the reason why. He was grateful, but he didn’t flatter himself that she secretly wished to be his wife or was seeking power. There was something important about her visit, something she wanted to keep hidden from him, but the precise knowledge hovered just on the edge of his memory, tantalising him with its nearness. He would have to discover another way to get her to reveal her secret.
The memory of how her mouth had trembled under his and how it had left him longing for more filled him. He wanted her, but their coming together had to be her decision, even if he would be delighted to assist in the making of that decision.
‘Does it suit?’ Cynehild asked, coming up to stand beside him.
Her gold-blond hair had slipped from its confines, and a dirty smudge had taken up residence by the side of her nose, but what he really noticed was the brilliance of her expression.
‘Despite it not being used for a few years, the roof is not in a bad state of repair,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow my men will begin working on making it even more secure.’
Kal forced his gaze upwards. A few small holes showed in the thatch. ‘This cottage will have to be put to good use after we go. It is hard to believe I was unaware of it.’
‘How do you know you were unaware?’
‘Because I know what good shelter can mean to a person.’
He pushed away the memory of his father’s hovel. A place like this would have once mean
t so much to his family and he’d allowed it to decay. What sort of leader had he become?
‘Are you willing to do all this simply to deliver a sword?’ he asked.
Her hands trembled as she began to sort through the herbs, separating them into piles. ‘I haven’t travelled all this way to give up now.’
‘Then I’m grateful.’
She handed him several pillows. ‘Put those on the pile of ferns over there. You’ll need to rest and regain your strength.’
Before he could ask more, she hurried off, shouting orders to her men. Lady Cynehild was one of those managing women Kal normally avoided, but he stood for a heartbeat longer, watching how her skirts swayed about her full hips, revealing the slenderness of her calves.
‘Lady Cynehild was an excellent lady to my former lord,’ Luba said, sidling up to him with a further pile of bedding. ‘You could do far worse than to get her for a wife. Her figure is fuller than it used to be, but still pleasing, yes?’
Kal took the furs from her. The pain of losing Ranka and their son had diminished steadily since he’d left the cave. But he knew he did not require another relationship like the one he’d once had—one of passionate fights and even more passionate coming together at the beginning, and one in which he’d feared coming home to Ranka’s uncertain temper and her scorn at his lack of ambition near the end. He wanted a partner to share confidences with, to grow old with, to spend time with.
‘Are you trying to be a matchmaker? I’ve no need for one. I will get a wife of my own choosing—those are words which I have probably repeated over and over throughout the years.’
Luba rushed over to the ferns and rapidly made up a bed. ‘At my daughter’s wedding you admitted that you would have to marry soon as you required sons. Alff shouted out that you must ensure any wife you chose was capable of bearing live children. You agreed. Lady Cynehild has had a child.’
‘You heard the lady—our relationship will end when my enemy is unmasked.’
‘It is something to think on, my lord.’ The woman patted the bedding meaningfully. ‘Ponder how your destiny lies, if you get my meaning.’
Kal’s heart plummeted. He greatly suspected the woman had made a similar remark to Cynehild. No wonder she’d appeared more nervous than an unbroken horse earlier.
‘Nothing can be settled until I regain my lordship and the person who did this to me is punished.’ He pointed towards the door. ‘I need time to heal, with Lady Cynehild as my nurse. Time to plan my next move.’
Luba curtsied. ‘I understand, my lord. You can count on me and my family.’
‘Excellent. Return to your cottage and get about your business, before people start questioning you on your whereabouts, and you will have yet more gold.’
The woman hurried off. He watched her retreating figure and hoped that he was doing the right thing in allowing her to go. She appeared loyal, but appearances could be deceptive. Kal resisted the temptation to touch his aching head. In his gut, he knew Cynehild and her men had not caused the injury, even though he strongly suspected they would be blamed for it unless he could find the true culprit. He couldn’t do enough to keep her safe.
Cynehild stormed into the cottage, hands on her hips, nostrils flaring. ‘That woman! She seeks to matchmake! Despite her promises to say nothing, I am certain she will find a way to place a wager on us marrying.’
Kal tried not to smile. ‘I take it you overheard the conversation?’
Her feet skittered to a stop. ‘Luba spoke out of turn to me earlier. She has always had a romantic streak, but this is beyond ridiculous—she put herbs for ensuring my womb won’t quicken amongst the ones I require to make a salve for your head. I want you to know I’ve no intention of marrying you, lying with you or anything else Luba might have suggested.’
Her tongue moistened her bottom lip, turning it the colour of a newly budded rose. Kal fought against the urge to grab her hand and pull her down to the bed with him.
‘Our relationship is purely for show,’ she went on. ‘I must insist on it being strictly platonic.’
Platonic. The word fell like a hammer blow. The hand which had almost reached for her stayed at his side. His task was going to be harder than either he or Luba anticipated, but he wanted to show Cynehild just how good it could be between them. Her earlier response to his kiss had already proved the existence of a strong attraction between them.
‘We will find an excuse which suits when the times comes,’ he said.
Her hands toyed with her belt, clinking the scissors and tweezers together. ‘I just wanted to make sure you understood.’
‘There needs to be a spark of affection between us if we are to convince people we have agreed to meet face to face to discuss a betrothal.’
‘There wasn’t between my husband and I to begin with. It was all my father’s doing. He sought to increase his power at court with our marriage.’ Her gaze dropped to the rushes. ‘Affection and desire came later, but when it arrived I knew I never wanted another husband.’
A surge of jealousy coursed through him. Familiarity had certainly bred contempt in his marriage on Ranka’s side. But Lady Cynehild had genuinely loved her husband. He was going to be fighting a powerful ghost if he enticed her into his bed. But before their time here ended, he hoped Cynehild would reveal that her entire heart hadn’t been buried with Leofwine.
‘Your devotion to your husband continues beyond the grave?’
‘I’ve a son to raise. He needs to be the sort of warrior his father would have admired.’
‘Yet you’re here without your son. You entrust his care to another.’
Her hands clenched. ‘Travelling can be dangerous. His safety is my paramount concern. Keeping him tied to my skirts would have been a poor idea. He’ll need to start his proper training soon. But I miss him with every breath I take.’
Her explanation was almost too pat and easy, as if she’d rehearsed it. Was she expecting trouble when she laid Leofwine’s sword? Or did she simply want to ensure Kal did not make the wrong assumption about her?
He balled his fists and concentrated, trying to remember why he’d permitted her journey here in the first place. What had he wanted from her? Why had he invited the widow of his enemy onto his lands? He pressed his fist into his forehead.
‘You’ve gone pale. You’ve done far too much today.’ She pointed towards the bed. ‘If you won’t go willingly, my men will force you.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll find me more willing to obey if you lace your orders with honey, rather than coat them in vinegar. A promise. An inducement. Go to bed, Kal, and I will tuck you in.’
‘You’re older than four.’
‘I still like being tucked in. What say you, Lady Cynehild—shall we get to bed?’
Her cheeks turned bright pink. ‘Distractions won’t work. My son constantly tries them as well.’
He bent towards a chair, but the world tilted and then righted itself. He sat down heavily. ‘The spring sun on my face warms me. I’ll rest here for now and save bed for when you are in a more indulgent mood.’ He deliberately crossed his arms and closed his eyes.
‘Until the cart is unloaded, then. But don’t try my patience. You will lose.’ Her heels clicked against the stones as she strode away.
‘Deniscan! I know you are awake!’ Brother Palni said, setting something down on the floor with an almighty crash.
Kal opened one eye and quickly shut it again.
‘You might have fooled her with soft words and an appreciative look or three, but I know what your kind are like. Anything happens to her—anything at all—and I will come looking for you. Then you will really wish you’d died out there on the hill. My skills with a knife are renowned.’
Kal sat up straighter. Should anything dire happen to Lady Cynehild, Brother Palni would not have to do anything, because Kal himself would e
nsure her attacker didn’t live. But he refused to give Brother Palni the satisfaction of knowing that.
‘Christian monks take a vow of peace and charity towards all, don’t they?’
Brother Palni stuck his nose closer to Kal’s. ‘Sometimes I have trouble with my vows.’
‘I’ll carry your words in my heart and ponder them at regular intervals.’
The monk gave a large huff and stalked away, his robes twitching in disapproval.
* * *
‘I’m going to try one last time to convince you to leave, my lady,’ Brother Palni said, standing beside his horse, his weathered face creased with concern.
Cynehild hugged her arms about her waist. The missing gold represented so much more to her than precious metal—it was Leofwine’s final gift to his son, proving that in his final breaths he’d understood the necessity of ensuring Wulfgar’s future and trusted her to give their son that future. He’d finally shown that he believed she could do more than simply keep house, and she didn’t want to betray that faith in her. If she left now, she betrayed everything.
‘I gave Kal my oath to look after him before God, Brother Palni. I know you consider the promise unwise, but I refuse to abandon him for expediency’s sake.’ She touched the monk’s arm.
‘But why can’t someone else place the sword?’ he asked.
‘It wouldn’t be the same and you know it.’
‘Kal Randrson lied to you earlier—he omitted to tell you that he was Jaarl Icebeard. No one, my lady, becomes as great as Icebeard without being ruthless. He seeks to play games with you. Why keep a promise to one like him?’
‘I will let Moir know you think so highly of men who become jaarls.’
‘There were circumstances for Moir acquiring power, as you well know.’ Brother Palni jabbed his finger towards her. ‘But Jaarl Icebeard!’
Betrothed to the Enemy Viking Page 7
