The Pagan's Prize (38 page)

Even when she became ill, which thankfully had been
less frequent upon the larger vessel, she refused to answer Rurik's brusque
queries about her health. That seemed to anger him the most, yet she stubbornly
held her tongue. After the horrible things he had said to her in Smolensk, he didn't
deserve to know and what did he care anyway?

Whenever she asked herself that question, she always
felt a niggling that maybe, just maybe he might care, despite what he had
claimed. But all she had to do was remember how callously he had denounced her,
and the flicker of hope that refused to die would fade back into nothing. Nor
did she trust any longer her memories of what they had shared, resigning
herself that she must have misread everything no matter Nellwyn's assurances.

By the morning of the fifth day they arrived in Liubech
and if Zora had tried not to dwell upon the approaching battle, there was no
way to avoid it now.

As Rurik's ships drew into the bustling dock, she
overheard him telling Arne that the imposing timber palisade that had been newly
erected around the trading town would serve as a line of defense if Grand
Prince Yaroslav's troops were forced to retreat. The ominous specter of war was
brought that much closer when a senior warrior met them to announce that the
grand prince had ordered an immediate march to a point more than halfway
between Liubech and Chernigov where they would make camp.

"Why there?" Her growing anxiety caused her
to break her silence as Rurik lifted her from the ship. If he was surprised
that she had finally spoken to him, he gave no sign of it, his expression
remaining as hard as before.

"You didn't think your father would be fool enough
to allow us to march to his gates, did you?" he replied, signaling for two
strapping warriors to follow as he led her to a place out of the way of the
ships being unloaded. "The location of our encampment will ensure ten
miles between our armies, unless Mstislav decides to attack during the night.
But I doubt he'll stray that far from his precious city for fear he might lose
it."

Zora wasn't given a chance to reply as Rurik left her
with the two guards while he went to oversee his men. Although the wharf at
first appeared a mass of chaos, in less than an hour not only his warriors but
all those whose ships had recently arrived had begun to march, slaves and hired
freemen bringing up the rear with the provisions.

For a moment, Zora wondered why she and her guards hadn't
joined them. Then Rurik rode up on a spirited gray stallion that matched him
for size and power.

She tried not to notice how magnificent he looked atop
the huge animal, his thick blond hair swept back from his forehead and shining
as brightly as the silver mail-shirt he had donned, but she couldn't help it.
No matter what had happened between them, he still remained to her the most
handsome of men.

"Take my hand," he commanded, his eyes
appearing a deep crystal blue in the warm sunlight.

"Perhaps I prefer to walk," she countered,
bristling at his harsh tone that reminded her all too unhappily of how cruel he
had been to her in Smolensk.

"You have no choice, wife. Do not force me to
humiliate you before your uncle's troops."

Thinking that he would probably relish embarrassing her
much as he had the time he threw her over his shoulder, Zora accepted his hand
with reluctance and he hoisted her up behind him.

"Hold on tight," he ordered. "I don't
want to risk your falling off."

You mean you don't
want me to threaten your heir with any of my foolishness,
Zora thought
resentfully, although she couldn't deny that it felt wonderful to wrap her arms
around him again.

They had scarcely touched since he had carried her to
the ship days ago, yet she hadn't allowed herself to admit how much she had
missed it until now. As they galloped to the front of the formation to join
Grand Prince Yaroslav and other senior warriors, she could feel the sinewed
strength of Rurik's body with his every movement, and she wondered if he was
affected in the slightest by having her so close . . .

Rurik cursed to himself. It was all he could do to keep
his mind on the grave matters at hand with Zora hugging him so tightly, her
womanly softness a seductive warmth against his back.

By Odin, despite her treachery she inflamed his senses
like no other! How could one female so sorely tempt him and try him at the same
time?

With great effort, he reminded himself of her deceit,
which helped to put matters in perspective, if not as much as he would have
liked. It seemed the harder he tried to bury his feelings for her, the more
impossible the task became, and he had already given up trying to suppress the
memory of what had happened in Smolensk.

He still couldn't believe that she had struck him.
Perhaps that had stunned him more than anything she had said. Words were easy
to discount but actions not so easily. He had never seen such hurt in her eyes,
such pain, as if he had broken her heart—

More likely it was despair that her attempt to escape
him had failed, Rurik amended bitterly, thinking back on how she had refused to
talk to him since that day. She had spurned his every attention, his every
query about her welfare, no longer bothering to hide the fact that she wanted
to have nothing to do with him or to pretend that she might care.

Yet the moment they had landed in Liubech, he had
sensed her agitation and had surmised at once that she was plotting all over
again. He would wager a thousand gold grivna upon it! Why else would her first
words to him have been a question about where they were bound?

That had sealed his decision to take her with him
rather than leave her at the trading town. He wanted to keep her from the
battle, but the thought of leaving her somewhere less secure seemed a worse
evil.

If Zora was left well guarded at the camp, she would
still be there waiting for him when the victory was won, although he imagined
that she would try anything she could to return to her father. He would have to
warn the men he entrusted with her care to be especially vigilant, for she
would outwit them if given half a chance.

"And she said she wanted to walk," he
muttered, wondering if Zora really thought him that much of a fool. So she
could have escaped into the woods?

"Did you say something?" Her breath was a
soft, stiffing warmth upon his neck.

"No!"

Rurik heard her sigh but he ignored it, forcing his
mind to what lay ahead.

***

Once a tent had been constructed for her and she had
been ushered unceremoniously inside, Zora didn't see Rurik again for hours.
When it grew dark, she began to believe that he wasn't planning to come back at
all, which wouldn't surprise her.

He had said little else to her during the long ride to
the camp other than his last outburst, and she had sensed in him an irritation
that she could only suppose was directed at her. Although she didn't know what
she had done to deserve this latest display of temper, it really didn't matter.
It seemed that hurt was only piling upon hurt between them and there wasn't any
way to stop it.

Finally she lay down and turned her back to the two
stone-faced Varangians posted just inside the entrance, having grown weary of
looking at them and no doubt they of her. There were also a half dozen or so
warriors pacing outside the tent. She had watched their shadows moving across
the canvas walls all afternoon. She couldn't see them anymore but she could
hear the low drone of their voices, an occasional laugh surprising her
considering the gravity of their presence here.

These men of the north seemed so confident, so
fearless. She already knew they believed that God and right was on their side,
victory assured over a foul usurper. To her, the imminent future was too
uncertain to even contemplate. She closed her eyes, willing herself to try to
get some rest despite the hungry rumbling of her empty stomach.

"You could rouse the dead with that growling."

Rolling over, Zora stared up at Rurik in surprise. In
the oil lamp's flickering light he appeared as much a giant as the first time
she had seen him, his head grazing the ceiling, his formidable size dwarfing
the tent.

Her heart pounding, she noticed then that her guards
were gone and she no longer heard men's voices right outside. She realized
Rurik must have sent them to help themselves to food for he carried a round
loaf of bread under one arm, a wineskin under the other, and in his hands a
steaming bowl of something that smelled wonderfully of lamb stew.

"I thought you might be hungry, Princess, but if I'd
known how much I would have brought more food." He went down on his
haunches and set everything in front of her, then he sat upon the ground and
rested an arm on one raised knee. "Go on. While it's still hot."

"Aren't you going to have any?" Zora's face
grew warm under his scrutiny. She broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into
the stew.

"Not tonight. I never eat before a battle."

Her eyes widening, Zora suddenly didn't feel very
hungry. But if Rurik had noticed her reaction he made no comment, reaching
instead for the wineskin. She thought he was going to drink but he simply
removed the stopper and then handed her the leather bag. She didn't ask if he
wanted any, sensing his answer would be the same.

"Eat, Zora. For strength."

She did, understanding his unspoken reference to their
child, which for the past days had been the only thing to sustain her spirits.

Whether Rurik loved her or not, she knew in her heart
that she wouldn't want to live if anything happened to him, but she must for
she no longer had just herself to consider. Yet right now, that didn't make it
any easier to swallow the food and she had to wash it down with wine for fear
she might choke.

"The guards told me you never strayed from this
corner," he said, glancing at the straw pallet on which she was sitting.

"Where else could I have gone?" she asked,
wondering at his sudden frown. Then it dawned upon her that he must still think
she was going to try to escape and she gave a sad laugh. "I'm no match for
your Varangian warriors, Rurik, even if they lacked an ounce of sense. Those
two stared at me all afternoon as if they were afraid I might disappear right
from under them."

"You have a history of doing just that, wife."
Rurik's jaw tightened visibly.

"So I do," she admitted softly. This seemed
to startle him. He had obviously expected her to hurl some retort.

Silence reigned for long moments as Zora ate her meal,
but she drank little wine. She wanted to have her wits about her for whatever
the next hours might bring. At last when she could eat no more, she pushed the
remainder aside and met his eyes.

"Thank you for thinking of me. I feel much better
now."

"Good. I suggest you eat the rest when you're able
for I cannot say when hot food will be prepared again."

Feeling a chill at the import behind his words, Zora
sighed heavily. She was so worried about him. If only he could give her some
reassurance. "Are you and your men so confident that you will win?"

"If a man hopes to live, he doesn't go into battle
expecting defeat," Rurik replied, wondering why she had asked him such a
question. Irritation gripped him as he imagined it was because she feared for
her father and his men. By Thor, even with his child growing in her belly, her
loyalty to her countrymen had not wavered! "Your father's forces and ours
are well matched, Zora, if that gives you any comfort. They have enough men
that they will not fall like spring lambs to the slaughter."

"That's not what I meant!" she said heatedly.
Then she shook her head, her shoulders slumping. "Never mind, it doesn't
matter. You would twist whatever I have to say anyway. I learned that well
enough the other day." She rose as if she didn't want to be near him and
went to stand at an opposite wall, her back to him. "I'm tired, Rurik. If
you don't mind, I wish you would leave—"

"So you dismiss me, Princess?"

Hearing the restrained anger in his voice, Zora glanced
nervously over her shoulder to see that Rurik had risen to his feet, his eyes
black as coals in the hazy light.

"I—I didn't mean it as it sounded . . ." she
began lamely, then her own indignation was pricked as much at herself as at
him. Why shouldn't she ask him to leave since he thought the worst of
everything she had to say? She had had enough of his callous treatment!

"Yes, I did mean it," she continued, lifting
her chin as she turned to face him. "You brought my meal and I have
thanked you for it, but I'm sure you have other things to do."

"Nothing that cannot wait, wife." Rurik
glared at her as he came closer. "Or have you forgotten that you still
bear that title? Perhaps you're already thinking ahead to your father's
victory, for surely that is the outcome you hope for in your heart—"

"That's right!" Zora shouted, losing all
control in light of his preposterous statement. "That's exactly what I
want! Why hide it any longer? You've read me so well, Rurik Sigurdson, I see no
reason to keep my true feelings from you. Yes, I hope my father wins and I hope
you soon find yourself without a wife!"

He grabbed her so suddenly that she gasped, his fingers
tunneling in her hair to yank her head back.

"So this is how I will remember you as I go into
battle," he breathed, his gaze ablaze with fury. "Treason like venom
upon your lips."

Tears springing to her eyes, Zora could barely answer
for the emotion threatening to choke her. "You have made it so, Rurik. You
can only blame your—"

She didn't finish, Rurik's mouth coming down so
brutally upon hers that it hurt . . . and she knew he wanted to hurt her. His
embrace was so crushing that she could hardly breathe and her neck felt ready
to snap, her scalp stinging.