Harlequin Historical September 2014 - Bundle 2 of 2: Lord Havelock's List\Saved by the Viking Warrior\The Pirate Hunter (38 page)

She wished his face wasn't in shadow. She wished he'd walk over and take her in his arms. Anything to stop the terrible pounding of her heart. A faint breeze rippled over her skin.

‘There is a chance you will survive. A very good chance.'

‘Hagal wants me dead. There is no getting around that. He knows I live and made his vow to avenge his cousin's death through mine. I fear closing my eyes. Why watch stars when I can find peace in your arms? I'm asking for no more than that.'

‘I'm tired of watching stars as well.' His arm went around her. ‘And when we are done, no regrets.'

‘No regrets. This is about the here and now.' She put her hand on his cheek. Her insides felt hollow. Her heart had been buried with Aefirth and Richard, hadn't it? What she felt for Thrand was desire, not love, not something lasting and true. When they parted, she would remember the time with fondness, but would live the sort of life she was born to. She would return to being a Northumbrian lady.

She hated that her old life no longer held any attraction.

Chapter Ten

T
he farmstead stood unobtrusively near the river Tyne. It was not much to look at, but Cwenneth could tell with a brief glance that it was prosperous. The walls were well maintained and the sheep grazing in the meadow looked fat.

‘This is where the child is,' she said to break the uncomfortable silence which had grown up between them over the past few miles.

‘So I am given to understand,' Thrand replied, pulling Myrkr to a halt.

Without waiting, Cwenneth slid off. They had stopped briefly to sleep beside a stream. Her dreams had featured death and destruction. Only when she woke and had Thrand's arms about her did she relax. It had felt right to wake up in Thrand's arms. But she also knew that the farm marked a turning point. Every mile after this took her closer to her destiny and near-certain death. Was it wrong of her to wish for a reprieve? And to hope that Hagal could self-destruct without her being involved? Did she have to appear in person?

‘What is the woman's name?' she asked, trying to stop thinking about the future and her own cowardice.

‘Maeri,' Thrand said slowly. ‘Sven was wild about her. He wanted to marry her once he found out about the child.'

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Make sure the child is well looked after. I will make sure Maeri knows that he should be brought up as a proper Norseman and that several men have volunteered to foster him when the time comes. Knui would have formally welcomed him into Sven's family, but I will have to perform the ceremony instead.'

‘The child is a boy?' Cwenneth asked.

‘The message gave no clue to the sex. It has been passed from Norseman to Norseman.'

Thrand got off the horse and started to walk beside her. Cwenneth noticed how he evenly matched her stride. There was a steady companionship between them now. Her heart clenched. What was between them was temporary. Temporary allies, friends and now lovers.

Believing otherwise was to slide back into the same fool's paradise she'd inhabited when she thought marrying Hagal the Red would bring peace. Even if he wanted to marry her, where would they go?

‘How old is the child?' she asked, trying to keep from examining her feelings.

‘A year or so, I believe.' Thrand looked straight ahead, watching the curl of smoke from the farmhouse rise in the crystal-blue sky. ‘We have been in the south, keeping peace, not the north. It took a while for the message to reach Sven.'

‘Then do you know if the child is even alive?' she asked gently. Someone had to say it and prepare Thrand for the worst. The farm appeared peaceful and prosperous. The last thing they would need was a rampaging Norseman bent on destruction simply because something had happened which was beyond everyone's control. Children were fragile blessings. Her hand went instinctively to where her pendant had been.

She shook her head. Why was it so easy to believe this about another's child and not hers?

‘Sven wanted to know his child was looked after. He wanted to make it right for the mother and the babe.' He stroked Myrkr's mane. ‘We had gone out to wet the babe's head when the fight occurred. He took a knife in the back which was meant for me.'

Cwenneth reached out her hand. It made sense now why Thrand felt such a sense of responsibility towards this child and its mother. Even if he refused to see it, there was much that was good and honourable in him. She would be hard pressed to name other men who would do as much for a fallen comrade. Aefirth possibly; probably not her brother, Edward. ‘Sven's death wasn't your fault. You couldn't know. Were you the one who started the fight?'

A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘I finished it. They were drunken fools who objected to Sven looking at their women. But he wasn't the one interested in getting his leg over. I was. I often have a woman when I am in Jorvik. A different one each time. The black-haired woman had been flirting with me. Nothing had been decided. No coin had passed hands.'

‘Then you're not to blame for another's fit of temper,' she said, trying to keep her voice light. ‘I, for one, am very glad you didn't die. Who would have saved me otherwise?'

She waited for his laugh. His face settled into its old harsh planes.

‘Sven had so many plans for the future. He wanted to go to Iceland and start afresh with his Maeri. He thought they could be free there to live the way he wanted to live. There is land for the asking and no king. Iceland had become an obsession with him. He'd half convinced me that I ought to go, but I've promises to keep.'

‘Had he talked about Maeri before he knew about the baby?' Cwenneth enquired gently. Iceland where people could be free had nothing to do with her. Like Thrand, she needed to destroy Hagal. ‘The message took a long time to reach him. Surely if he felt deeply about her, he would have gone to see her. He had to have known how babies were created and that there was a possibility.'

‘On and off. And it is not that easy. We had a job to do in the south.' Thrand gave a little shrug. ‘We used to tease him about it. He nearly had me killed when he left her the last time. He used to say he owed me for saving his life that day, but he was my comrade-in-arms.'

‘He sounds like he was a good friend.'

Thrand's face became set in stone. ‘He was like the brother I never had. If not for him, I would have lost my life a dozen times over on the battlefield.'

‘And how many times would he have lost his life?'

‘That is not the point. I failed to save him. And I've killed the man he sent to welcome his child into his family.'

‘You're far more of his blood than his cousin could have ever been.' Cwenneth shuddered, remembering the way Knui had talked. ‘He would have sold that child for gold.'

‘I'll make it right for Maeri. There is enough gold to give her a comfortable life and I have Halfdan's promise that the child can enter the king's service when the time comes, if it is a boy. If it is a girl, a suitable marriage partner will be found.'

‘And she will be content with this?'

‘She will have to be.' Thrand frowned and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

‘What is it, Thrand? What is wrong? You've been worse than a bear with a sore head today.'

‘You will help me break the news? I can't stand a woman's tears,' he admitted, running his hand through his hair. ‘I'd far rather face a horde of angry Northumbrians armed to the teeth than one woman's tears. And Maeri is a weeper. The way she clung to Sven the last time...'

‘I shall have to remember to keep my eyes dry when we part,' Cwen said, forcing a smile. She knew the instant they parted for the last time, the tears would flow, but she would refuse to cry in front of him. She wasn't going to stoop to trying to hold him. Allies, friends and lovers, but they would go their separate ways.

‘Cwen!'

She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. ‘I will be at your side, but you'll find the right words. I have faith.'

He nodded with thinned lips. ‘That makes one of us.'

* * *

Thrand fixed the farmer with a hard stare. He was hiding the woman, or at the very least knew where she could be found. His refusal to meet Thrand's eyes and shifting feet gave him away.

Years of experience collecting Danegeld from men who wanted to cheat had taught him to pay attention to the little clues. He would get there without actually resorting to violence, but the farmer would understand the consequences for his continued refusal.

‘I wish to speak to Maeri, the woman who used to work on this farm,' he repeated the words slowly, taking care to emphasise each word. ‘Fetch her.'

The farmer went red and then white. Thrand flexed his hand close to the man's face. ‘She...she isn't here. You are wasting your time.'

‘Where is she?

The old woman standing behind the farmer shifted uneasily, but remained silent. Thrand gave Cwen a helpless glance. He didn't want to beat the information out of the farmer, but he had little choice if they continued to defy him like this. She shook her head and mouthed
no violence
.

‘Where is her child?' Cwenneth asked, moving between him and the farmer. ‘Can you tell us that much?'

‘Aye.' The burly farmer clicked his fingers. ‘Fetch Maeri's brat.'

A rat's-tails-for-hair girl raced across the farmyard towards where the animals were kept. After a few heartbeats in which the farmer and his wife looked more and more uncomfortable under the heat of his glare, the girl emerged with a little boy dressed in rags and covered in dirt. His fetid stench wafted towards them.

Thrand frowned. Children should smell of fresh air and sunshine, not reek of manure.

But he immediately saw a likeness to his old friend in the boy's nose, chin and hair. He had the mother's dark brown eyes, but there was a definite look of Sven about him.

A wave of sorrow passed through Thrand. It should be Sven standing here, viewing his son, not him. His friend lived in his child. Sven would have loved this moment and would have known what to do and how to put this right.

Could he trust these people, including the absent mother, to look after Sven's son?

He dismissed the thought as pure folly. He had done what was right by coming here. And Sven had always proclaimed what a wonderful mother Maeri would be and how she longed for children. Perhaps these people's idea of looking after children was different from his own.

‘And the boy's name?' Cwen asked, kneeling down and holding out her hands to the children. ‘Come here. There is no need to be afraid. This man knew your father. He is here to make sure you are properly looked after.'

The girl came hesitantly forward, half carrying and half tugging the little boy. Closer, the boy appeared more like a wild animal than a child. ‘Pretty lady, is that Aud's father?'

Thrand's heart thudded and he leant forward to hear what Cwen might say about him.

‘His father's friend. His father sent him because he was prevented from coming. But he'd intended on coming and claiming the child as his own.'

Thrand's heart twisted. Trust Cwen to come up with the right words. She seemed to possess the knack of it. When the time came, she would say the right words to Halfdan and destroy Hagal for ever. She had to. He couldn't bear the thought that she might die or worse, be under Hagal's control. He pushed the thought away and concentrated on the girl. Focusing on the far-off future was never a good idea.

‘His mam's dead, pretty lady,' the girl said with a curtsy. She jerked her head towards the couple and whispered. ‘They didn't want to say on account of what he might do. They know his reputation. He wintered in these parts afore like.'

Cwen gave him a warning glance over the boy's head as the news thudded through Thrand's brain. The boy was an orphan. It changed everything and nothing.

He gave Cwen a nod and made a gesture that she should continue with the questioning.

‘What is the boy's name?' Cwen asked.

‘Maeri called him Aud.' The old woman made a clucking noise in the back of her throat. ‘Too unchristian for the priest. We call him Adam when necessary.'

Thrand nodded. Maeri had named him after Sven's father. She'd expected Sven to come back. That was a good sign at least. Once again, he wished that he had taken the knife, instead of Sven. Pure luck. A little voice in his mind whispered
but then he'd never have met Cwen and would never have experienced peace in her arms
. He silenced it. Sven was a good man. He didn't deserve to die in the way he had. And now the proper arrangements for the child had to be made.

‘Is there a reason for the child's filth?' he asked, eyeing the child warily. Although he was used to the stench of war, he knew the difference between a battlefield and a farm.

‘He sleeps with the pigs,' the girl said, releasing Aud and coming to stand in front of him. Her dress was dirty, there was a smudge on her face and she was far too thin. ‘I'm not afraid to tell the truth. He sleeps there because it is the warmest place and he can get a few scraps.'

‘Keep quiet,' the old woman scolded. ‘Please, sir, Hilde works in the kitchen for the scraps. We took her in as a charity...when...my niece died...' Her voice trailed off at the farmer's look.

‘Pigs,' Aud said proudly, lifting his chin and looking in that instant precisely like Sven. ‘Pigs. Pigs. Pigs.'

Thrand frowned. Sven's son should not be sleeping with the pigs. Once his temper would have exploded, but with another warning look from Cwen, he struggled to contain it. Her soft words appeared to be yielding the information required. ‘It certainly smells like he has rolled in pig dung.'

‘We can clean him up, sir,' the young girl said. ‘He is a good boy. Does what he is told most times.'

‘Do that!' he ground out. He pointed to the old woman. ‘You help. That child smells of manure and rotten food. Children should be clean. They should smell like children, not dung heaps.'

The old woman rushed off, dragging the protesting child with the girl not far behind, chattering about how they were going to bathe and look proper for the Norseman.

Thrand breathed deeply, urging away the feeling that he wanted to tear the farmer limb from limb for treating children like that. ‘I wait for an explanation.'

The farmer's colour rose, and he refused to meet Thrand's eye. ‘We had given up hope of anyone coming. It has been such a long time since Maeri sent the message.'

‘When did she die?' Cwenneth asked, placing herself between Thrand and the farmer as her mind raced. Anyone with half an eye could see the child was neglected. Something had to be done, but Thrand had refused to consider taking the child when they had spoken about it earlier. And she didn't trust the farmer to look after the child or the little girl. But Thrand losing his temper and striking the farmer would inflame things, rather than improve them.