Captive Heart (30 page)

“We have no time now for one of your temper tantrums, Celiese. You must do exactly what I tell you to do. Keep out of any argument that might occur, offer no comments of any kind, and remain by my mother’s side as if you were the fine lady you claim to be. I may just be able to save both our necks tonight, and if I do, I promise to give the quality of your reputation my full attention first thing tomorrow morning.” Mylan’s voice was low, a seductive whisper as his warm breath caressed her cheek, but he was deadly serious and wanted her to know it.

“You needn’t bother!” Celiese tugged at the bolt, finally freeing it so she could fling open the door herself, but when she ran down the corridor to her own room Mylan followed right behind her. Pausing at her door she said flippantly, “I thought you wanted me to meet you downstairs.”

“I have decided that would be foolhardy when you have so little inclination to obey my commands.” When she opened her door he followed her inside and was immediately displeased by the size of her quarters. “Why were you given this room? It is no larger than a closet.” Scowling angrily, he surveyed the cramped space and knew instantly that she had been shown little in the way of hospitality in his home, and, for a reason he could barely name, that thought pained him greatly.

“It’s close to Olgrethe’s, and I have little to store and do not require larger lodgings.” She felt fortunate not to have been assigned a stall in the stable, but thought better of reminding him how she had come to be living in his home. She hesitated to disrobe in front of him, but he leaned back against her door, clearly meaning to observe while she changed her gown. “Would you please be so kind as to turn your back so I might have some privacy here? As you said, the room is a small one, and I am not used to having company when I dress.”

Mylan gave an exasperated chuckle, then realized to his dismay that Celiese was serious. “I am in no mood to admire your figure, so you needn’t fear displaying it will distract me. Just hurry, as every minute we spend here lessens our advantage in dealing with the Torgvalds.”

Blushing deeply in spite of his assurances, Celiese hastened to remove her new gown and lay it aside. It could be washed to remove all traces of the evening, but she knew she’d never wish to wear it again so made no plans to rinse it clean before the stains set. She washed as hurriedly as Mylan had, then slipped on the gown Olgrethe had loaned her since she thought it was so pretty.

Mylan took a deep breath and then another, but Celiese’s effect upon him was as profoundly erotic as it had always been. She was a woman like no other. He had not allowed himself to dwell upon how greatly he had missed her until that very moment, but the longings that flooded his senses now were impossible to ignore. He straightened up abruptly and opened the door rather than remain in the small room where the sweet perfume of her lithe young body overpowered his reasoning so completely that he had nearly forgotten what had to be done. He wanted to send someone out to wrap Oluf’s body and carry it down to the docks for the voyage to the other side of the fjord. “Hurry, there is no time to lose!”

“I need but a moment more,” Celiese called softly, but her fingers were trembling so she dropped her hairbrush and then inadvertently kicked it as she bent down to pick it up. It clattered across the floor, landing beside Mylan’s foot as if she’d deliberately tried to catch his attention, and she was horribly embarrassed that he would think that was exactly what she had done.

“Here.” Mylan picked up the brush and placed it in her outstretched hand, but she seemed so flustered he could not resist giving her a light kiss upon the cheek before he drew away. He then felt foolish for having been so sweet when he saw by her deep blush that he had made her all the more nervous. “Your appearance can not be faulted, Celiese, put the brush away and let us go.” Taking her hand again, he led the way down the back stairs through the kitchen, where they found several fieldhands talking to the girls who had worked all day to prepare the food for the guests. They were all slaves and flirting among them was commonplace, but tonight he had no time for such nonsense. Taking the men aside, he explained they were to get a blanket from his room, locate Oluf’s body on the path to the bluff, wrap it well so it would be easy to carry and then take it down to the docks. They were so terrified by that prospect that they lost all interest in the young women and dashed off to complete the errand before the death had been discovered and they had to pay for it with their own lives.

That chore under way, Mylan and Celiese turned toward the hall. They could hear laughter and music; all the sounds of a joyful gathering echoed around them while they were each lost in their own dark thoughts. When Mylan stopped again to caution her to be silent, Celiese interrupted him quickly. “I will cause no further trouble, Mylan. All I can think of is how devastated Olgrethe will be to learn of her brother’s death. She had such high hopes that today’s party would draw us all closer together, and I am afraid she will blame herself for this unexpected tragedy.”

Gazing down into Celiese’s tear-filled eyes, Mylan understood exactly what Olgrethe’s hopes had been and how great a part he’d played in ruining them. He had come home for only one reason: to show Celiese how little he needed her company to live a contented life. He had tolerated Estrid’s clinging affections merely to hurt his willful wife, and the results of her sorrow had proven to be disastrous for them all. “Why did you leave the hall? What possessed you to go wandering so far from the house when you must have known it wouldn’t be safe for you to do so?”

Celiese looked away shyly. The answer seemed so obvious she could not bring herself to reveal the truth if he did not see it for himself. “It matters little why I left, the problem was that Oluf followed me.”

Mylan did not press her for the truth when he realized she was unwilling to speak it. Frustrated, he hesitated at the entrance to the large room, angry with himself that he had been unable to formulate a clear plan for dealing with Oluf’s unfortunate demise. He could see that Celiese was barely able to maintain her composure after what had happened, and he had no hope that Olgrethe would be able to do so either. “Would you like to take Olgrethe to her room and give her the news of her brother’s death yourself? I know how devoted you are to her, and this is not something she should hear from a stranger.”

“You are no stranger to her, Mylan.” Celiese was puzzled by his remark but appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I know I should be the one to tell her, but I doubt she will leave Andrick’s side, for they were both enjoying themselves greatly when I left them.” She fidgeted nervously with the soft folds of her borrowed gown. She dreaded telling her friend what had happened, but was even more terrified that Mylan might be seriously hurt if he persisted in his plan to speak with Jens alone. She longed for him to take her into his arms, to pretend if for only a moment that together they could overcome any problem, but he stood with his hands at his sides, staring impatiently and clearly in no mood to be loving. Forcing herself to be brave for his sake, she stepped forward. “I will tell her as gently as I possibly can. Now, let us hurry and get this frightful ordeal over with swiftly.”

Astonished by her courage, but admiring her all the more, Mylan took Celiese’s arm and escorted her into the noisy gathering. Suddenly the memory of their wedding night came back to him with the eerie tingle of the most frightening premonition, and he realized that was the last time he’d spoken with most of those present. The Vandahls were a large family, and he knew that night he’d need all the cunning and strength he’d inherited to avoid further tragedy. No matter how difficult Jens and his brothers proved to be, he knew Raktor would not rest until he’d extracted the most gruesome revenge possible for the death of his eldest son. The feud that had separated the Torgvalds and Vandahls for more than a generation would seem like a small squabble compared to the anger that would be generated over Oluf’s death. Not wishing Celiese to witness any further bloodshed, he gave her a stern command. “Go at once to Olgrethe and tell her any story you can to make her leave the hall with you. Now go, take her away!” With a wide grin he entered the hall and scanned the crowd for Hagen. Seeing him on the opposite side of the room, he made his way through the boisterous gathering, stopping frequently to return a jest with a teasing response and deep laugh.

Estrid sat pouting angrily, surrounded by young men she thought impossibly silly, and having no intention of forgiving Mylan for leaving her alone for so long. When he walked by without even looking her way, she nearly screamed with indignation. How dare the man ignore her as if she did not exist? He had spent the entire day with her, never once mentioning how foolish she’d been to break their engagement, and she had expected to leave the Vandahl home the next day engaged to him again. He was as handsome as ever, so dashing in his appearance and charming in his manner. She had thought Thulyn had invited her simply to give Mylan the opportunity to court her again without the formality of going to her home to do so. Now, she did not know what to think, except that the Frenchwoman who had been his slave was far more attractive than she’d been led to believe, and she was worried that he might have grown fond of the slender blonde. That was only natural, she supposed, for an unmarried man had needs that had to be satisfied somehow, but she would not be content until Mylan was finally her husband, and then she’d make certain he never saw the pretty young woman ever again. What they could have been doing together to have gotten so dirty she couldn’t imagine. Mylan was fond of his horses; perhaps they’d been in the stable. But that mystery didn’t really concern her now since he had returned to the party. All that mattered was that he was again handsomely groomed, and she wanted him to return to her side where he belonged.

Celiese watched Mylan walk away and prayed it would not be the last time she saw him alive. She felt chilled clear to her marrow, despite the warmth of the room, and she knew Olgrethe would see her mood and completely misunderstand its cause.

Andrick noticed Celiese approaching and whispered to his bride, “Something is wrong, I have never seen Celiese so pale. Perhaps you should convince her to go to her room if she is ill.”

Olgrethe turned to greet her longtime companion and had to agree. “Whatever have you and Mylan been doing? I care not what the secret might be, I insist you tell me all that happened between you two just now.” Eager for that confidence, Olgrethe drew near and waited for Celiese to respond.

“Will you please excuse us, Andrick?” Celiese smiled sweetly, hoping he would think she had some tantalizing bit of gossip to impart and allow his wife to leave. “I want to speak privately with Olgrethe, if I may.”

Seeing the merry sparkle in his bride’s eyes, Andrick could not resist the charms of two such pretty young women and readily agreed. “Of course, she will not be content until you have satisfied her curiosity, but do not be gone long, my love.”

“We will be no more than a moment,” Celiese assured him. “I believe Mylan wants to speak with you, why don’t you join him and Hagen while we are gone?” When the young man gave his wife a light kiss and walked away to join his brothers, Celiese took Olgrethe’s arm and led her toward the door. “I want no one to overhear my words, let us go to your room to talk.”

Olgrethe could barely contain her curiosity and followed willingly. Mylan had looked more than merely pleased with himself when he’d escorted Celiese into the room, and she was certain he’d asked her to again be his wife.

Mylan wasted no time in explaining to Hagen how he’d become involved in a fight to the death with Oluf, and when Andrick joined them he enlisted his aid as well. With a few well-placed suggestions to several close relatives, they managed to draw the Torgvalds away from the center of the room, isolating them in one corner where they kept them amused and drinking steadily until most of the other guests had retired for the night. A few of those living close by had left for home, while others and those having to travel to more distant locations had been given lodgings for the night.

Aldred saw what his sons were doing and approved. As usual, Mylan had taken charge of a difficult situation and appeared to have it well in hand. He was speaking to the Torgvalds of nothing more serious than hunting, but watching their reactions closely in order to be better able to predict them. He was proud of all four of his sons, but Mylan had been his firstborn and had enjoyed that privilege all his life. That he was again looking so well and fit pleased the older man immensely, but he knew they all still had that night to survive before they could make any plans for the future.

When Aldred joined their small group, Mylan looked up in surprise to see the hall nearly empty and knew he could no longer delay in reporting Oluf’s death, and he proceeded to do so. As he saw it, Olgrethe’s brothers had gotten the better of him once, while he had outfought them in their own home in return. Things had stood even between them, but he knew he was about to tip the scales, and the delicate balance they’d held that day would be destroyed for all time if he was not careful. “We have never before met together as friends, and I deeply regret what I must tell you now.”

Ansgar did not bother to cover a wide yawn, then finished the last of his ale before he interrupted rudely. “I want only to find a bed, as Oluf must have done.” With a sly wink he continued, “Knowing him, it is a bed with a wench in it!”

Mylan looked toward his father for assistance when he saw the Torgvalds’ jovial mood had not been dampened by his somber statement, but Aldred shook his head and encouraged him to continue on his own. Clearing his throat, Mylan tried again to explain. “That is precisely the problem. Oluf did indeed try to bed a wench, who happened to be most unwilling.”