The Pagan's Prize (19 page)

Wondering again why Ingigerd would be discussing all of
this with her, Zora had to admit that she had been surprised to hear Rurik had
bastard children, and that he had recognized them as his own. It was a rare man
who didn't relegate such offspring to slavery. Perhaps she should have admitted
to him that she was a bastard. He might have deemed her not worth the trouble
of escorting to Novgorod and now she wouldn't be facing this forced marriage—

A sharp tug on a snarl caused Zora to wince, her
irritation pricked not at Marta but that she would waste her time in musing
over how things might have been. Her only concern should be how to get herself
out of this unhappy mess!

"Gently, Marta," Ingigerd admonished her
slave. She rose and stood behind Zora for a moment, then moved gracefully to
the carved mantel and faced her.

"Is there anything you want to know about the man
my husband has chosen for you?"

Startled, Zora regarded Ingigerd with suspicion. Her
aunt's tone, although cool, had not been unkind. "Why would you ask me
such a thing?"

"Only because I, too, once faced much the same
situation that you do now, and can imagine how you must feel. My marriage was
arranged by my father, the king of Sweden, and even though I loved another man
I had no say in whom I wished to wed. Yet I am content here with my husband,
and I would wish the same for you. In the end, that is the wisest path."

Zora looked at the other woman, now wholly astonished.
She could not believe that Ingigerd had revealed so much about herself. Up
until now, she had hardly been friendly. But if her aunt was implying that she
must simply accept what fate had brought to her . . .

"You wish an impossible thing, my lady," she
retorted, resentment welling inside her. "I could never be content with a
man who took advantage of me and stole my virginity when I did not have my wits
enough about me to say no. A man who continually lied to me and threatened me
despite his promises of protection. And during the journey—"

"If indeed he did those things, I'm certain they
were for the good of his mission. You seem an intelligent girl. Did you not
think of that? But as for your last charge, Lord Rurik is no despoiler of
women. You must have provoked him."

Ingigerd's blunt statement took her by surprise. Zora
felt her cheeks redden. "I did not!"

"No? You already told me that you dumped the
things he had given you into the river. Why else would you have spurned his
kindness if not to frustrate him?"

Flushed with indignation, Zora blurted, "All I did
was smile at one of his men. Lord Rurik told me I could ask them for their assistance
to draw water from the river but the one time I did, he accused me of
attempting to turn his men against him. He . . . he came into my tent and . . ."
Her skin became gooseflesh as vivid memories of their encounter assailed her.

"And?" Ingigerd prodded.

"He called me a wanton," Zora replied,
remembering all too well how Rurik's blue eyes had blazed into hers and how he
had pulled her into his arms. As a stirring warmth raced through her, her gaze
fell from Ingigerd to the bright orange flames in the hearth. She knew the
disconcerting sensation had nothing to do with the fire. "Then he kissed
me."

A silence filled the room save for the crackling logs
and the soft swish of Marta's comb through her hair until finally Ingigerd
said, "I see no ravagement in a kiss."

Admitting to herself that she might have exaggerated,
Zora nonetheless jutted her chin. "Maybe not, but he swore that I would be
punished if I ever caused trouble between him and his men again."

"And what trouble was this?"

Becoming exasperated by Ingigerd's probing questions
and having no wish to open any discussion on what had happened to Kjell, Zora
demanded, "What does it matter? That was days ago—"

"It matters in that you have accomplished what
many an eligible young woman in Novgorod could only dream," Ingigerd
interrupted, her tone miffed. "It's an amazing thing that Lord Rurik has
finally agreed to wed, given his wont to spurn my every attempt at matchmaking.
I would know how it came about."

Heaving a sigh, Zora decided it was best to humor her.

"Lord Rurik and the young man I asked to help me
got into an argument. I couldn't hear everything through the tent, but I did
hear Kjell say something about Lord Rurik caring that I had smiled at him, then
Kjell accused Lord Rurik of having an eye for me . . . of making some kind of
claim upon me." She shrugged, wanting to close the uncomfortable subject. "That's
all."

Ingigerd again seemed to ponder her words, then she
shook her head. "I would never have believed it. Lord Rurik . . . jealous."

"Hardly jealous," Zora scoffed. "He
hates me. He couldn't wait to be rid of me."

"Hate? I doubt that. Lord Rurik's a man, isn't he?
You're an exceedingly beautiful young woman. He had to favor you to take you to
his bed. Perhaps his attraction had already grown to such proportions that he
couldn't bear to see you smiling at another man aboard his ship and then today,
the thought of seeing you wed to someone else spurred him into accepting you as
his bride."

Stunned, Zora found herself wondering if this astonishing
theory might be true. Could that be why Rurik had changed his mind about
marrying her? Then just as quickly she dismissed the thought. What did she care
if Rurik had been jealous, or if he was even remotely attracted to her? His
feelings meant nothing to her.

"It's clear you've seen in Lord Rurik only what
you want to see . . . an enemy, your brutal captor," Ingigerd continued,
ignoring the stubborn set of Zora's jaw. "But I've seen qualities in him
over the years that any woman would wish for in a husband . . . bravery,
generosity, and honor. It took me many unhappy months after my own marriage to
admit that my husband possessed these traits as well."

Zora eyed Ingigerd skeptically. "Your husband also
said that he would throw me to his junior
druzhina
if I refused to accept his choice for me. Is that so honorable?"

Ingigerd gave a small laugh. "Yaroslav is not one
to be crossed. Yet I do know that he would not have offered you to Lord Rurik
unless he believed his warrior was worthy of you. I can see now that you are
worthy of him as well . . . an excellent match, I would say. Perhaps you might
be the one to ease his heart of the treachery in his past."

Zora was tempted to reply that she would rather see a
spear through Rurik's heart, but a firm rap upon the door stayed her. A lump
settled in her throat as a female slave entered the room with a garment of
shimmering blue draped over one arm, a matching pair of slippers in her hand.

"My seamstresses work very quickly," said
Ingigerd, clearly pleased. "Isn't the gown a beautiful color? Now come.
Let us see how it fits you."

As Zora rose on wobbly legs, wishing that by some
miracle she could be spirited away from this place, this wedding, and, most of
all, Rurik Sigurdson, Ingigerd's gaze surprisingly held a glimmer of sympathy.

"You might consider what we've discussed today.
Lord Rurik may seem a hard man now, but in time. . ."

At Ingigerd's frown, Zora knew that her aunt had seen
the renewed defiance in her eyes. She hadn't needed to say a thing.

***

The cathedral was empty save for a small group of
people waiting at the steps leading to the altar. As Zora walked with Ingigerd
into the candlelit interior, she spied Rurik immediately among her uncle and
the same four richly clad advisers who had been in the hall earlier that
afternoon. How could she not notice him when he stood so tall and straight
above everyone else? Her heart began to pound despite her firm resolve to
remain aloof, for she had never seen Rurik so magnificently attired.

His jade-green tunic could not have fit his powerful
body more snugly, the hem and cuffs of his sleeves edged in brocade, while his
matching trousers were tucked into boots of fine black leather. At his neck
glinted a heavy gold torque and his belt seemed entirely made of gold, the
scabbard holding his sword encrusted with precious many-colored stones. She
doubted that many princes possessed anything so fine.

But what made her breath catch and her heartbeat race
all the faster was his countenance when he turned to face her, Grand Prince
Yaroslav announcing their arrival in his thunderous voice. As she and Ingigerd
began to walk down the center aisle, Zora decided that it should be a sin for
God to put a man with such looks upon the earth. Freshly shaven, his silvery
blond hair swept back from his broad forehead in such a way that his gold
earring caught the light, Rurik was truly the most handsome man she had ever
seen.

"See how Lord Rurik watches you?" came
Ingigerd's whispered aside as they drew closer to the assembled witnesses. "I
believe if the sanctuary was full of beautiful women, he would have eyes only
for you. Perhaps one day you will thank my husband for this marriage."

Zora did not have to be told that
Rurik was staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. His open
admiration like a blazing heat upon her flesh, she was grateful for the anger
Ingigerd's observation had rekindled in her heart.

How dare he appraise her so in a holy place! Tearing
her gaze from his, she walked the rest of the way with her eyes downcast. By
the time she and Ingigerd came to a halt at the end of the aisle, she had
composed herself sufficiently to face what lay ahead.

At least she thought that she had. When the bishop came
forward and placed her hand in Rurik's warm upturned palm, she started as if
burned and began to tremble in earnest. She did not dare to glance up at him,
but she knew he was watching her. Rurik was standing so close to her now that
his clean, masculine scent overwhelmed her. Not wanting to admit how compelling
she found it, out of the corner of her eye she was as easily disconcerted by
the movement of his taut abdomen as he slowly breathed in and out.

To her relief, the bishop climbing the steps to the
altar in a swirl of white cloth and embroidered vestments offered her a
distraction, albeit an unhappy one. Once she had looked forward to the
beautiful wedding ceremony as might any young woman soon to be married. Now it
had become her humiliation, her husband not Lord Ivan of Tmutorokan, her father's
choice, but a man whom she swore to escape as soon as the opportune moment
arose.

"Come, Zora, we must move forward."

Rurik had all he could do to force his gaze from her.
Gone was the grimy-faced urchin in soiled tunic and trousers, his mutinous
captive transformed into an ethereal earthbound angel.

She smelled intoxicatingly sweet, like summer roses,
and even his wildest imaginings couldn't have prepared him for the sight of her
in a well-cut tunic that clung to her lushly curved form, her breasts high and
proud beneath a bodice shot through with gold thread. Upon her lowered head
glittered a jeweled gold circlet. A gossamer blue veil provided the barest wisp
of covering for the cascade of tawny hair framing her face and tumbling down
her back.

Repressing his urge to touch a glossy tendril, Rurik
began to move forward toward the steps only to feel her resist him, her
slippered feet remaining in the same place as if rooted to the floor. Wondering
with sudden irritation if she might be considering a final scene of defiance,
he closed his hand around her small one and pulled her with him.

"The bishop is waiting, Princess, and our uncle
grows impatient. Come."

This time she came willingly but Rurik could see from
her trembling chin that the decision had cost her. It was almost unfathomable
that such a proud, stubborn young woman might be on the verge of tears, but he
feared it was so.

As they reached the foot of the steps, two witnesses
coming forward to hold the jeweled marriage crowns above their heads, Rurik
loosened his hold and stroked her delicate fingers with his thumb, hoping his
gesture might calm her. Instead, she seemed to tremble all the more. Two fat
tears slid slowly down her cheeks as the bishop began reciting the service in
somber, stentorian tones.

Moved more deeply than he thought possible, Rurik's
regret was acute that he was the cause of such unhappiness. Wondering with
uncharacteristic emotion if his touch might ever bring a smile to her lips, he
whispered, "Is it truly that bad, little one?"

Clearly startled, she met his gaze, her outrage shining
through her tears. "So you mock me . . . even now when you have won,"
she said in a small, hoarse voice. "What kind of heartless barbarian are
you?"

Cut to the quick by her words, Rurik riveted his
attention upon the bishop, not looking at Zora again until after their vows
were said—his spoken with restrained anger and hers barely discernible—and the
gold rings upon their fingers. Pronounced man and wife, Rurik could not sign
the marriage contract held by the bishop's young assistant fast enough. His jaw
clenched all the tighter when after inscribing her name, Zora quickly scrawled
three words . . . "against my will."

"Wrong, Princess," he muttered, taking the
pen from the wide-eyed assistant and crossing a bold line through what she had
just written. "You had a choice."

Ignoring her glare, Rurik took her arm as they turned
to face their witnesses. Grand Prince Yaroslav's pleased smile was a sharp
contrast to Rurik's ire. He couldn't wait to get his rebellious bride home and
teach her his first lesson!

"A feast has been prepared in honor of your
marriage, Rurik. Allow my wife and I to escort you to the hall."

"Our thanks, my lord prince"—he turned to
Ingigerd, her expression appraising as she regarded first him and then Zora— "Lady
Ingigerd, but my new bride is exhausted from our lengthy journey and the hour
is growing late. It will be dark when we reach my estate—"