Mistress of the Storm (18 page)
But she’d awakened with a resolve to let the days flow as they would and to take whatever enjoyment she could from them, from him, for their time together would be over soon and she would need to take another man to her bed and into her body.
Duncan stood when the meal was done and told her he would wait outside for her to finish. Harald followed him out. Isabel helped with the dishes, then grabbed her cloak and sought him. Not knowing what to expect, she found him in a playful mood. He asked her to accompany him while he saw to things needing his attention and she went along.
He continued to hold her hand or keep her close all through the day. He held her in his arms when the sun hid behind clouds and the air cooled, and he stopped in the shadows to kiss the very breath from her. Though she felt the hardened bulge against her when he took her mouth, Duncan never sought more than a kiss from her. As they walked out to one of the farther fields, she was certain he would find a secluded place and seek pleasure, but he did not. Only after their evening meal was concluded and everyone sought their rest did he hold out his hand to her in an invitation to join with him.
Duncan turned to her several times during the night, each joining different from the others, each one emptying her and refilling her at the same time. Only when she could not move, exhausted by the depth of their pleasure, did he stop, seeming content to hold her then. Just as the first light of dawn rose in the sky, he spoke.
“If I can come to some agreement with Sigurd, will you stay with me through the next ritual? You have helped me much during this last one.”
She was surprised. She’d thought he would bring up other things.
He seemed to finally accept her true role and asked her to see to his pleasure as the moon grew to fullness. Could she remain with him for two more weeks?
“If Sigurd agrees,” she said with a nod, “I will stay and see to your needs. Aye.”
He rose from the bed then, gathering some clothes and dressing. She watched as he moved around the chamber, searching through his trunk for something. Leaning up on her elbows, she saw that he was packing.
“Are you leaving?” she asked, sliding from the warmth of the bed. “Should I pack my things?” She would have little use for the garments she’d worn there, for they would not suit Sigurd’s purposes. Looking around the chamber, she comprehended how little of her would be left behind when she returned to Duntulm.
“Lord Davin sent a message that he needs me in Duntulm. While I am there, I will bargain with Sigurd for a few more weeks,” he explained, never looking at her as he folded a shirt and stuffed it in the leather satchel. She wanted to ask him so many things, but did not want to disturb the truce they’d reached the last day or so.
“Very well,” she said. “When will you return?”
“Two days, three at most,” he answered. “You should rest, for when I return, it will be time.”
Time for his relentless need of her body. Time to be the vessel that eased the terrible growing power within him. Time to play the whore. If she told the truth, the insatiable hunger she would face was easier to deal with than his kindness and caring.
“As you wish.”
“I love to hear those words from your mouth. Remember them when I return,” he growled, stalking over to her, kissing her fiercely, then walking out.
Chapter Nineteen
Duntulm Keep
S
igurd climbed the stairs, angry at being summoned like a common servant, yet mollified that he was being received in Duncan’s private chambers. He reached the top floor of the tower and followed the man’s servant to the door. Godrod waited below, included in the summons, but left waiting until called above.
igurd climbed the stairs, angry at being summoned like a common servant, yet mollified that he was being received in Duncan’s private chambers. He reached the top floor of the tower and followed the man’s servant to the door. Godrod waited below, included in the summons, but left waiting until called above.
The servant paused and motioned for him to wait, knocking softly on the door and entering it quietly. A moment or two passed and the door swung open, allowing Sigurd entrance. After closing the door, the servant poured wine into a costly gold goblet and handed it to him. Only when he stepped away did Sigurd get a good look at the rest of the chamber.
’Twas fit for a king!
Luxurious fabrics and tapestries curtained the walls and covered the large bed in one corner. Carved furniture of a wood he’d never seen before filled the room. A huge table that could seat eight or ten on one side of the chamber, three cushioned chairs in addition to the stools around the table, even the headboard of the bed, were all made of the same material and embossed with gold. A large gold pitcher held the wine he’d been served, the quality of it surpassing any he’d tasted at Davin’s table.
But Sigurd was enough of a merchant and trader to recognize the ploy—the man was displaying his obvious wealth to set the stage for negotiating. Still, it was difficult not to be impressed with such a show.
“ ’Tis a wood found in the far east, brought back and given to me as a gift.” The words were spoken from behind him. Sigurd turned to face his host. “It is supposed to last for generations of use.”
Sigurd watched as the servant poured Duncan a cup of the same wine and served it to him. After refilling Sigurd’s cup, the servant bowed away and stood by the door. Though Sigurd still smarted from having to conduct the prior negotiations for the slut with the servant, clearly the new matter surpassed that in importance.
“My thanks for coming to meet with me, Sigurd,” Duncan said. “I hope I have not inconvenienced you?”
“Nay, not at all,” he answered. “I am ever interested in hearing a business proposition that could benefit both of us.” That was what the summons had mentioned—a proposition that would be to their mutual benefit. He feared for a moment Isabel had failed him and disappointed this man. “Did she see to your needs?”
Duncan looked confused for a moment as though he could not remember her, then nodded. Taking a mouthful of the wine, he swallowed it and smiled. “She is quite talented.”
“And this new proposition?”
Duncan walked closer and slapped Sigurd on the shoulder, laughing. “So eager then? The promise of profit is appealing to you?”
Sigurd drank more of the wine and nodded.
“Very well,” Duncan said, “take a seat and be comfortable. Ornolf, food for our guest!”
Sigurd shook his head and waved off the servant as he sat in the proffered seat. “I thank you for your hospitality but I have eaten.” He did not want to waste time eating. He turned to his host. “About this business . . .”
“Ornolf, wait outside,” Duncan ordered.
He looked at Sigurd. “I will make this simple—you have a daughter I wish to marry.”
Sigurd choked at the declaration. “You wish to marry Isabel?”
Duncan laughed and shook his head. “The whore? I am no fool, Sigurd. I can pay for the whore when I need her. I want your real daughter to wife. Thora is her name?”
Of all the matters Sigurd had thought the man would discuss, marriage to Thora was not one of them. Why would he want her?
“I am presently in discussions with several for her hand in marriage,” Sigurd said, testing to learn Duncan’s true intent. “I could not accept any offer until—”
“I will double whatever they have offered.” Duncan scoffed at the notion of other suitors. “More than that, I offer you my friendship.”
A trick of the light, surely, Sigurd thought as the man’s eyes seemed to glow. “Your friendship?”
“The king seeks to back strong men, those strong enough to rule over his far-flung lands,” Duncan explained with a sigh. “Davin seems to be falling out of favor and I would offer my friendship and resources to someone high in the king’s regard.”
Sigurd took and released a breath, forcing himself to remain calm and evaluate the words. Before he could reply, Duncan continued.
“I have been asking about you, seeking information about how you have risen to such a high position. Everyone speaks highly of you and your abilities . . . and your ambitions. I would like to ally myself with such a man as you.”
Compliments aside, Sigurd was pleased his machinations and money worked, guaranteeing that what he paid those he controlled to say, they said. And believably, for Duncan had accepted their word.
“And I gain what from this alliance you offer?” Sigurd waited to see what would be offered and whether the true bargaining chip would be put in play at all or left aside for later.
“I know you have sought to learn about my abilities and I think you know what I offer for your use. Ask your man Godrod what he found.”
“He has spoken of things that seem unbelievable.” Did Duncan know the slut spied for him, too? Sigurd wondered.
“Believe them.” Once more Duncan’s eyes seemed to be on fire but his voice sounded as though more than one spoke. Sigurd shivered as he faced him and felt some power he did not understand . . . or control. He swallowed several times, his mouth going dry at the sound.
“Better still, call Godrod here and let me show you so you can judge for yourself.”
“I do not understand,” Sigurd admitted.
“My man said he bashed Godrod with a branch when he found him assaulting the whore who, I remind you, I’d paid good coin to have exclusive use of. There was a bleeding wound.” Duncan walked to the door and put his hand on the latch. “Summon him and let me demonstrate what an alliance with me could gain you.”
Sigurd nodded. He pulled the door open and tipped his head at his servant to approach from below. Godrod stopped at the door until Sigurd gave permission for him to enter. Duncan waved at his own servant and Ornolf pulled the door closed.
Sigurd had not taken close notice of the wound, but from the look and smell of it, it was infected badly. Pus and blood oozed from the haphazardly-sewn gash. It served the man right for disobeying his orders and trying to sample the girl’s flesh before her task was done.
“What do you need him to do?” Sigurd asked, waiting to see if the slut had babbled the outlandish tale or simply lied outright.
“Kneel here.” Duncan pointed to a spot in front of him.
Godrod delayed, not knowing why he was there and most likely expecting retribution for overstepping. That would come in good time when he least expected it, but Sigurd commanded him to drop to his knees.
Sigurd stood a few paces away, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for whatever the demonstration would be. Duncan closed his eyes and leaned his head back, standing in complete silence for several minutes. When he straightened his head up and opened his eyes, Sigurd knew he was no longer looking at something human.
Flames filled the man’s gaze and his face glowed, pulsing with heat and power. His hands grew bright. Holding them out, he placed them on Godrod’s head. Sigurd expected him to scream in pain, but only their breathing could be heard in the silence. As he watched in total fascination, Duncan’s hands seemed to melt into Godrod’s skin and reform it, from bloody wound to healed, intact skin.
No wonder the stupid bitch had babbled after watching something like that! And she’d been right—Duncan harnessed a terrible power and used it to heal. His hands held the power of life and death in them! As soon as the healing was over, the flames flickered out and Duncan became a man once more.
Godrod stumbled to his feet, touching his head, searching for the wound that had been there just moments ago. Sigurd knew he must gain control over Duncan and use his powers. Never one to dawdle when an opportunity presented itself, Sigurd grabbed Godrod and tossed him into the hall. Matters needed to be concluded rapidly, for he could already see many possibilities. But he was not stupid.
“Why have you offered to aid me?”
“You are a man who knows how to manage people and can help me profit from whatever this power is. It is reaching its peak and I want enough gold and property to keep me comfortable, and protected for the rest of my life. You will see to exploiting my power wisely and arrange things.”
“Why Thora?”
“A wealthy man needs heirs, so I need a wife.”
The man was coldly calculating, just as Sigurd would be in a similar situation. He smiled. “And you would pay for her?”
Duncan stumbled a bit, the effects of exercising such extraordinary power. “Name your price.”
Sigurd quickly calculated an obscene amount of gold and silver and told him.
“Done. Now, I must rest. Ornolf will bring the contracts to you and we will sign them before witnesses on the morrow. I would see this done within two days.”
“Two days? Surely not. Thora is not even here in Duntulm.” What was Duncan’s hurry?
“Bring her to Uig, to my home. Once the betrothal papers are signed, Ornolf will arrange for payment of her bride-price. I am building a new house there and she should have a say in it since it will be hers to control as my wife.”
Sigurd did not speak, not agreeing to the plan or naysaying it.
“If you do not want this alliance, simply say so. I but offered it to you first. There are others . . .”
Of a certain there would be others willing to pay for the chance to use his power. Others Sigurd could name immediately. Hesitation would be costly, so he nodded, accepting the arrangement. It would be difficult to accomplish so quickly, but for so much gold, he would make it happen.
“Ornolf,” Duncan called out. His servant entered at his call. “It is arranged—see to it.” Ornolf glanced at Sigurd and he nodded his acceptance.
He would have to send his fastest men to his keep in the south and get the girl there quickly. By sea, he thought, as he turned and walked to the door held open by the servant. So many arrangements to be made in so little time. Just as he reached the door, Duncan called out to him.
“Sigurd, one more matter.”
Lost in his calculations and estimations and with plans already spinning in his thoughts, Sigurd faced him, wondering what else there was to discuss.
“You have not mentioned Thora’s dowry.”
He had already determined what he would offer as her dowry when considering negotiations with other rich lords, so he offered the same. Duncan shook his head. “You can keep her inheritance, I want only the whore.”
“Isabel? As Thora’s dowry? That is not possible!” Sigurd claimed. Who ever heard of such a thing?
“Either she is given to me or I will seek an ally elsewhere.”
Sigurd had a sinking feeling in his gut that he had been played. No woman, especially not one used as Isabel had been, was worth the amount of gold, silver, animals, and cloth Duncan was passing up. No matter that she had earned Sigurd much. To him, Isabel was not worth it. Duncan could buy a dozen bed slaves a month for several years with what he was giving up in that dowry.
“Why do you want her?”
“She pleases me.”
Sigurd thought of the other complication. “Thora will not be happy to have her sister as your bed-slave or concubine.” The girl was so naïve and innocent, she did not even know what the marriage bed entailed. But she loved Isabel and Sigurd knew the arrangement would not work. No woman would want to share her husband with her sister, though it mattered little to Sigurd if Duncan slept with them both, separately or at the same time or gave them to his men and servants for their pleasure. He cared not what the man did in his own household.
“And that matters between men of business? You control the whore so well, surely you can make your well-raised and obedient daughter see the good in this arrangement?”
Standing, half in the chamber and half in the hall, Sigurd could feel their deal slipping away. Not willing to lose such wealth and power over a young girl’s sensibilities, he nodded. “I will see to it. The whore is yours.”
He hurried from the chamber motioning to Godrod to follow him. Out of the keep Sigurd shielded his eyes against the light, peering up to estimate the position of the sun in the sky. The day had about six more hours of light and he needed to get Thora to Uig. By nightfall, the contracts had been delivered and his men were well on their way to take the girl to Uig to be handed over to her betrothed husband.
Once the contracts were signed and the bride delivered, he would begin to control something other men only dreamed of. If he laughed aloud later that day, who could blame him?
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