Captive Heart (20 page)

When at last he could again think clearly, Mylan let his lips trail down the inviting curve of Celiese’s throat as he 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 wanted.”

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 Mylan 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’d die before he would speak them!

Astonished to have lost the most tender of lovers with a question she’d 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’d laid the garments in neat stacks, but what she’d hoped to find he didn’t know. Not wishing to frighten her as he had before, he yawned loudly so she’d realize he was awake before he spoke to her.

“The porridge is ready, Mylan. I thought if I hurried I might be able to fashion something I could wear today. I want to go hunting with you and—”

Mylan 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, Celiese 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 your wasting your time on garments that are already worn out.” Bending to lift another tunic from those she’d 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, Mylan, they do not look as though they have ever been worn.” Celiese looked up, surprised he’d want her to have such nice things. “The green would be handsome on you, too, don’t you like it?”

Laughing, Mylan 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, Celiese took the things he’d offered. “I will try my best. If I have the outfit completed, may I please go hunting with you tomorrow?”

Mylan 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.”

Celiese 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 and—” Realizing he was bragging shamelessly, Mylan stopped in midsentence, for there was no reason for him to attempt 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 think she had.

After washing their breakfast dishes, Celiese studied the cut of Mylan’s green tunic closely, trying to decide how best to make a garment tailored for his broad shoulders fit a woman. Since there was a generous amount of the soft deerskin, she decided to simply take out all the seams and begin anew to cut the pieces to her more diminutive size. She worked carefully to fashion a smaller version of the tunic, then sewed the pieces together with a double row of fine stitches before turning her attention to the trousers. Since they had a drawstring waist, she hoped she would have to do no more than adjust the length, but she found the fit so poor that she had to rip them apart as well. She spent the entire day working diligently on her new clothing and was amazed when she looked up to see the sun hanging low in the west before she was finally satisfied with her efforts to expand her wardrobe. She then had to race down to the stream to bathe hastily before slipping on the new garments and hurrying back to the house. She began the preparations for their evening meal as quickly as she could so Mylan would have no cause to criticize her for being idle.

Mylan had again been gone all day, but he’d spent as much time resting while he tried to think of some clever new strategy to use upon Celiese as he had in hunting. When he came through the door he stopped to stare in wonder, for he’d expected the attractive young woman to create a gown from his apparel, not a miniature version of his own attire. She looked at first glance like a handsome boy, but the curvaceous lines of her figure made that mistake readily apparent under more careful scrutiny. Even dressed as a youth she was a beauty, and he tried unsuccessfully to hide his smile. “As a seamstress you’re far more clever than I’d imagined. I am glad to see you chose to make a practical suit rather than a merely pretty one.”

Insulted, Celiese turned slowly, trying to see what he found so amusing. “I want to go hunting, not attract suitors, Mylan. I thought my work skillful, are you saying that it is not?”

The slight frown that creased her brow as she questioned him brought a momentary stab of remorse to Mylan’s heart, but he quickly forced that weakness for her feelings aside in favor of heeding his own. “I just complimented you, do not beg for more flattery until you deserve it.” Suitors! The word exploded in his mind with the pain of a thousand knives being turned in his flesh. That men might make offers for Celiese with marriage in mind was a possibility he’d not even considered, but it was obviously a most likely happening in her view, or she’d not have mentioned it. That was all he needed, men coming to court her! He had so little control over her behavior now he could scarcely bear it, but she’d be impossible then. Perhaps the fact that his farm was so remote from any others would finally have some value, at least he hoped it would, for he had no intention of allowing her to entertain male callers. He tossed the small birds he’d shot upon the table, then went to place his bow and arrows in the corner in an effort to gain the time he needed to control his temper. When he turned he spoke far more softly than he had. “Those are tasty when roasted. Pluck them clean and I will build the fire outdoors. Since you are doubtless a fine shot with a bow, I will expect more variety to our meals in the future.”

“I may go with you tomorrow, then? You promised to tell me your decision this evening.” Celiese held her breath, not daring to hope he wasn’t simply teasing her again.

“I have much to do here which I’ve neglected, but we’ll go out for a while at dawn. If you are up when I am ready to leave.”

“Oh, you can be certain I will be,” Celiese purred coquettishly as she carried the fowl through the door. “I’ll be waiting for you—so see you are not the one to oversleep.”

Mylan chuckled at her jest, but when he awoke the next morning he found Celiese curled up in a chair at the table. She was already dressed in the green suede outfit she’d made and was eyeing him with a mischievous delight he found most disconcerting. Stretching to flex his muscles, he wondered how long she had been sitting there waiting for him to awaken. Perhaps hours, she was so determined a creature, and he admired that trait greatly, although he doubted he would have left without her regardless of how late she’d slept. She had again made a paradise of his night and therefore deserved some consideration from him, and he would have shown it. Yet the fact she did not realize that pleased him as well, it was an advantage he would not waste. “Give me a moment, Celiese. Stir the porridge so it isn’t filled with lumps for a change, and I will be grateful.”

The tall Viking was out the door before Celiese could grab a bowl to hurl at him, but she was certain he’d never found a single lump in the porridge she served him. He never seemed to exhaust his list of complaints, however. He claimed the porridge was either too hot or too cool, too thick or too thin, never properly made, but she noticed he always ate his fill and knew his stomach appreciated her cooking even if his pride would not allow him to admit it.

When Mylan finished his breakfast they left the house, searching for straight branches to make weapons for Celiese as they walked. She went skipping with the enthusiastic gait of a child as she bounded ahead of him, and any game they might have sighted she scared away, but he could not bring himself to call her back. Her joy was infectious that morning, and he counted his pleasure in watching her well worth the cost of a few missed birds. Finally, reminding himself he should be instructing her in the proper techniques of skillful hunting, he caught up with her and bent down to whisper softly in her ear. “Let us rest for a few moments, the hour grows late and we need to find something soon or we’ll go hungry tonight.” He stretched out in the closest patch of shade and patted the grass beside him to invite her to join him. “That you are so at home in the forest is more than I’d dared hope, Celiese, but there is something to be said for approaching prey stealthily rather than dancing over the ground while you sing to yourself. I fear there is no animal, nor fowl living nearby who was not warned of our presence long before we could be sighted or our scents perceived.”

Sinking down beside him, Celiese realized her delight in his company and the beauty of the day had influenced her to exceed the proper limits of cautious behavior. She brushed the stray curls away from her eyes as she apologized. “I have been very foolish, haven’t I? Would it be better if I followed you?”

“Not for me it wouldn’t,” Mylan admitted slyly. “But you must not make so much noise, or we will have no hope of having a successful hunt.”

“I will be so quiet you will forget you brought me along,” Celiese promised sincerely. “Shall we continue?” Seeing his frown as he hesitated to rise, she touched his right knee lightly and wondered out loud. “If your leg pains you, I will massage away the tension in the muscles. That will surely help.” Before he could offer any protest, she began to run her fingers down his thigh with a slow, easy rhythm, her touch that of an expert as she concentrated upon her task unmindful of the effect she was having upon him.

When the dull ache that seldom left his leg began to subside, Mylan found Celiese’s nearness, as well as her tantalizing touch, impossible to ignore and spoke crossly as he pushed her hands away, “If you are as intent upon going hunting as you claim, rather than merely arousing me, I suggest you stop what you’re doing so we might continue with our original purpose, which was a quest for game!”

Blushing deeply, Celiese scrambled to her feet and backed away. She’d meant only to soothe away his discomfort, not to create far more for herself. It was ridiculous of her to react with such modesty after she’d lain with him so often, but still she considered herself to be a lady and expected to be treated as such, no matter where they were or what they might be doing.

Mylan threw back his head and howled with laughter, for Celiese’s embarrassment was so greatly amusing he forgot why he’d scolded her and could not contain his mirth. “Here, help me up.” He extended his hand, but when she took it he pulled her down across his lap, catching her in an affectionate embrace as he nibbled her ears playfully. “You are all the game I want now, Celiese, for you are far more delicious a treat than any prey we might encounter.”

Celiese knew better than to pretend an indifference she didn’t feel and snuggled against him, the pleasure his nearness brought lighting her smile with an irresistible warmth. She wanted so badly to say she loved him, it was nearly impossible to swallow the words as they leapt to her lips, but she did no more than smile as she reached up to kiss him.

Mylan had never known a more affectionate woman and he planned to enjoy her favors endlessly, but the lazy warmth that enveloped them turned his thoughts to such sweet ones he was content to do no more than hold Celiese in his arms for a moment while he kissed her flushed cheeks lightly. He liked the long sweep of her lashes as she looked up at him, for that dark fringe made her glance all the more inviting, but as he watched her expression the clear green of her eyes darkened noticeably, as if the most disturbing of thoughts had crossed her mind, and he drew back, startled that she did not share his euphoric mood. “What troubles you, my pet, there is still time to hunt, we’ve not wasted the entire day.” Not yet at least, but he now counted no time he spent in her company wasted.