Enchantress Mine (24 page)

In England it would be a different matter. There he was the heir of a landed thegn, and she the daughter of another. They would be social equals. Certainly after her period of mourning had expired her father would want her remarried. Marriage or the convent—that was a woman’s only choice. That red hair of hers didn’t betoken a spiritual celibate. He would wager she could keep a man hotter than hellfire itself on a cold winter’s night. He had wanted her from the first moment he had seen her. Eric Longsword grinned to himself. He would allow nothing to stand in his way for despite what Mairin said about life, he didn’t intend to be denied his pleasure.

They traveled west across Europe. This time Eada did not grow ill and tired. Their pace was brisk for they were anxious to reach England quickly. Most of the returning soldiers had been away for years. They would visit with their families before returning to the emperor’s service, but others, aware of the danger facing England, would stay to aid their families in the coming power struggle.

Each day the sun stayed longer, extending their travel time.

They reached the Italian kingdoms, and traveled swiftly through them along the incredibly beautiful and rugged Mediterranean coastline. Finally they arrived in the Languedoc to traverse roads that followed the great rivers of the various French kingdoms. Then one day they topped a rise in the duchy of Flanders to see before them in the sunshine of an early June afternoon the sparkling blue-gray waters of the English Channel. The Saxon soldiers gave a mighty cheer.

“It is so clear you can see our homeland!” Eada cried happily. “If we embark tonight we can be in England by morning!”

Mairin laughed for the first time in months. “Oh, mother! How father would tease you if he could hear you now. He was so proud to have shown you some of the world, and you cared not. You just want to go home! Well, so do I!” She flung an arm about Eada’s shoulders, and hugged her.

Eada turned her head and looked into her daughter’s face.

“Why, Mairin, my child, you sound happy for the first time in weeks. If you are, then I thank the Blessed Mother for it!”

“I do not know if I am happy, mother. I do know that with each mile we have traveled away from Constantinople I have become less bitter about what happened. I do not think the doubts and the sorrow will ever leave me,” she sighed. “At least I no longer hate Basil for what happened, and I am as glad as you are to be returning home.”

“Perhaps young Eric Longsword has something to do with your lightening mood,” noted Eada. “He is a handsome rascal, and as merry as a drunkard in his cups. I have seen him seek out every opportunity to ride by your side.”

Mairin smiled. “He thinks to court me, mother. I have not encouraged him. I do not really like him. Once we reach England we will go our separate ways. I shall not be bothered by him again.”

“He would not be a bad catch,” mused the practical Eada. “His father has almost as much land as does yours. Of course you’d have to have several sons fairly quickly to cement your position. The men of the Danelaw are not above taking several wives despite their professed Christianity.”

“Having their sons is no guarantee of keeping your husband in the Danelaw,” said Mairin wisely. “Has not Harold Godwinson put Edyth Swansneck aside? Is she not the mother of his only three sons?”

“Yes,” acknowledged Eada, “he did indeed put poor Edyth Swansneck aside in order to marry the earl of Mercia’s sister.”

“The murder of whose first husband Harold Godwinson neatly arranged. He thinks by taking Edyth of Mercia to wive he can bind Mercia to him,” snapped Mairin. “Thank you, no, mother!”

“You could do worse than Eric Longsword,” said Eada calmly.

“I have no intention of remarrying, mother.”

“Do you wish to enter holy orders?” Eada asked, knowing the answer.

“Of course not!”

“Then you must remarry, Mairin. There is nothing else for a woman. It does not have to be Eric Longsword, but you must eventually take another husband.”

“Why can I not stay home with you and father?” demanded Mairin.

“Aldwine and I will not always be here. You know it. Whoever Brand takes to wive will not welcome another female in a house that will one day be hers. What will happen to you if you don’t remarry?”

“Could I not have a little house for my own, mother, and live by myself?”

“What nonsense you prattle, Mairin! Who would till your lands, and hunt for you? Who would protect you in times of danger? Do not tell me Dagda, for one day he will not be here either. You have been hurt deeply by what happened in Constantinople, and rightly so. But do not let that brief encounter with Basil Ducas destroy your life. He loved you, Mairin. I know it as your mother. He would not want you to stand paralyzed with fear for the rest of your days.

“You do not have to remarry immediately. Perhaps it is better you don’t until this matter of the English succession is settled. Your father and I have spoken on it, and we are sure there will be a war. There is no escaping it. You are a wealthy woman. There will be many suitors for your hand one day, Mairin.”

“Suitors seeking my gold,” said Mairin with a knowing chuckle.

Eada nodded. “Yes,” she said honestly, “but I know you will find the right man to love. A man who will love you in return as well as loving your wealth.”

“Perhaps,” Mairin allowed, “but Eric Longsword is not that man. When I first met him he made me feel things I had never known existed within me. He was the first man who ever looked at me through a man’s eyes as a grown woman. I have come to know him as we have traveled these last weeks. I find that there is something about him that makes me nervous and uncomfortable. He resists the natural flow of things in such a way that is discordant to me. I particularly do not like the possessive way in which he looks at me. As if he owned me, and I were already in his possession. I could never marry a man like that, and I will not.”

Eada nodded. She never discounted Mairin’s feelings. Her daughter seemed to have an instinct about people. How sad that instinct had not warned her of the danger of falling in love with Basil. Eada smiled wryly to herself. When was love ever logical? Eric Longsword was a very eligible young man, but if Mairin was not of a mind to encourage his suit there was nothing lost. There would be no difficulty in finding her a husband provided that all the eligible young Anglo-Saxons and Normans did not get themselves killed off in the coming war of succession.

They embarked late that afternoon, having found to take them several coastal vessels that traded back and forth between Flanders and England. The winds were right, and promised to hold. Although there were no cabins to shelter them from the night air, the weather was fair and the June night would not be cold. Their cloaks would be enough to keep them warm out upon the water.

The horses were led blindfolded into the hold of the vessel for they would not otherwise go willingly. Nara purchased a newly roasted capon, fresh-baked bread, a small wheel of soft cheese, wine, and a basket of just-picked cherries to take with them for their supper and morning meal. With luck they would reach England by dawn.

The winds lessened only slightly at sunset. Guided by the bright stars above, they moved steadily through the night toward their destination. Mairin could not resist standing in the bow of the round boat with the wind at her back peering deeply into the darkness ahead. She remembered back to the first time she had crossed these waters. She had been a frightened little child and, despite Dagda’s comfortable presence, lonely and afraid of what might lie ahead. She remembered how the slavers had used their female cargo for their own gratification. How Dagda had protected her from the sight.

The second time she ventured upon these waters she was on her way to Constantinople. Mairin closed her eyes, but still tears managed to squeeze themselves from beneath her thick eyelashes to run down her cheeks. Oh, Basil, she thought. I loved you! I believed that you loved me. Though it would pain me to learn you didn’t, perhaps I could learn to accept it. It is the doubts. The not really knowing that haunts me. Did you love Bellisarius more than you loved me? So much that you could not bear to be parted from him? I shall never know! Dear God, I shall never know! She shuddered, then stiffened as she felt an arm go about her.

“Are you cold?” Eric Longsword asked pulling her against him.

“No.” She waited a long moment. Then she said, “Take your hands from me, Eric Longsword. You have not the right.”

“Then give me the right, Mairin. Come dawn we will be in Engand where you and I are equals. I want to pay you court. I want you to become my wife.” His arm remained.

To his surprise she struggled against him, finally pulling away. Furiously she faced him, her violet eyes almost black with her anger. “How dare you, Eric Longsword? My husband is dead but four months! How dare you accost me while I yet mourn? But since you have, my answer is no, and no again a thousand times! I will never marry you!
Never!
”

He burst out laughing. The sound echoed eerily in the stillness of mid-channel. His arm snaked out to yank her back against him. Her fists beat an angry tattoo against his hard chest. Looking down into her face he growled, “A woman with spirit! I knew that flaming head of yours crowned a woman of spirit. By God, you’ll breed me up a race of strong sons, won’t you? Think of the fun we’ll have making those sons, Mairin! That half-man you were married to couldn’t have possibly tapped your passion as I will!”

Mairin tried to squirm free of his iron grasp. She was angrier than she could ever remember being in her whole life. Then she felt him hard and hot pushing against her thigh, through the very fabric of her gown and her chemise. “Release me at once!” she commanded him, but he had seen the slight widening of her eyes as he had pressed against her. He believed he was well aware of the reason for it. Though she might deny it, she desired him.

Lowering his blond head he pressed kisses upon her face. Mairin quickly turned her head away from him so that his mouth found itself facing the side of her head. Tightening his grip so that she could no longer successfully struggle, he ran his tongue with deliberate slowness about the inside of her ear, whispering warmly to her, “You’ll fight me, won’t you, Mairin? You’ll bite and you’ll claw, but it won’t do you any good. You will sweetly sheath my sword. I will pierce you to the heart until you’re begging me not to stop. Then I will pour my seed into you. I like a woman who fights me! Christ, you’ve made me hot! I could take you now right here upon this very deck! Then you would have to marry me, wouldn’t you?”

She could feel his big hand crushing her breast, and for a moment she panicked. Then the anger poured back into her veins, and bringing her knee up hard into his sensitive sex she brutally unmanned him. His arms fell from about her as the air was expelled from his lungs. She stepped quickly back to see her opponent, his blue eyes bugging from his head, gasping in shock to breathe, unable to even howl his terrible pain. She added to his misery by drawing back her hand and hitting him across his handsome face as hard as she was able.

“Don’t you ever dare to lay hands on me again, Eric Longsword,” she hissed at him through gritted teeth. “If you do I swear I shall take the first weapon that I can lay my hands upon, and I will kill you!” Then turning on her heel she strode away from him down the deck of the ship to the stern end where her party lay sleeping.

Eric Longsword rubbed his injured parts with a gentle hand, and gradually a grin began to turn his mouth up into a smile. She was absolutely wonderful! She was just what he had always sought in a wife. She was strong, and spirited, and intelligent. He wanted her and he intended to have her at any cost. He was not such a fool as to believe that the daughter of Aldwine Athelsbeorn would not have a number of suitors for her hand. Many of those suitors could be easily discouraged. He might even have to fight for her but he would win.

She was the most beautiful woman in the world. He was certain, of course, that she now possessed great wealth from her first husband, which would help his family become more powerful. There was no reason for her father to deny his suit. Mairin would have little to say about it for women seldom did. He knew from talking to the servant, Nara, that there was an elder brother who would soon be marrying. No man wanted a houseful of women. She was as good as his even if she didn’t know it.

It would not hurt to have her family on his side. With this in mind he intended escorting her to Aelfleah even though it was greatly out of his way. He would meet her brother, make friends with him, and then when her father came home he would return and ask for her. If the brother was his friend, and her mother liked him, then she would have little recourse. She would be forced to obey her father’s wishes.

The pain was subsiding slowly from his lower regions. He was now able to take long deep breaths which helped even more. He licked his lips in anticipation of eventual victory, thinking as he did so that she had nice breasts. They had just filled his hands. He wondered what they looked like. Were her nipples large, or were they budlike? He could feel himself pulsing again at the thought of what she looked like without her clothing. Then he shook himself like a wet puppy. He was behaving like a boy who had yet to fuck his first woman. It had been a long time since any woman had made him feel like that.

The winds had blown steadily all through the night. Now as the sun rose behind them to the east they could see the harbor of Dover before them. Their vessel was made fast to the dock, and they eagerly disembarked to await their horses. It was then that Eric Longsword joined them, a smile upon his face.

“No land smells like England, does it, my lady Eada? It is good to be home at last!” He looked at Mairin. “Did you sleep well,
princess?
”

“Quite well, Eric Longsword,” said Mairin with false sweetness.