Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) (9 page)

“Lady, you tease me so with your rosy color and soft pants. Dare I believe you recall my tasting of your sweet puss this morn with pleasure?” His hand slid higher on her leg and he cupped her mound.

’Twas wickedness, this desire that held her in thrall. The notion they could be discovered added the razor-sharp allure of danger to a hammering excitement. Puss. What a thrilling name for her womanhood, her
drenched
womanhood. Could he feel the dampness through her gown? Shame rekindled the waning heat in her throat and face. Would there be a wet patch on her cyrtel? She ducked her chin breaking the spell he’d cast o’er her.

“I did not mean to cause you distress, sváss.” He gave her leg one last lingering caress and then offered her a brass goblet. “Drink. ’Tis ale.”

Xára sipped and wished she could press the cool goblet to her roasting skin.

A moment later, he offered her a portion of roasted meat speared at the end of his dagger.

She accepted the food and chewed. Fowl seasoned with wild thyme and bittersweet nettle. Knowing her duty to feed him, she speared a piece of boar with a crisp skin and cupped her palm to catch any errant juices.

Why did he not take the meat? Her breath caught as she watched three fat drops of gravy fall.

He captured her wrist, tugged the food off the blade and into his mouth and chewed rapidly. His jaw worked, he swallowed, and then slowly he sucked the rich gravy from her palm.

She heard naught but the thundering of her heart. Saw none but him, his etched features, and the intent writ in his blue-black eyes.

“I have ne’er tasted any food, any wine as sweet as your woman’s nectar.”

Her puss contracted madly. She averted her gaze from his and took a deep inhale. Counted. Lost count. Recited the Lord’s Prayer over and over in her mind until her blurred vision cleared.

“I will tease you no more this meal, lady wife.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

Uncert whether to believe him or not, Xára shot him a sidelong glance.

His expression had sobered, the dancing mischief no longer twinkled amber halos around the blue of his eyes. “Haakon tells me your mother’s condition has improved. ’Tis astounding. While I hope Konáll will agree to Nyssa healing her, I cannot argue with his concern for his wife and babe.”

Xára touched his shoulder in understanding. She, too, had consulted with the steward, Haakon, before collecting the sand tray from her chamber.

“The poison will not affect the babe.” Nyssa leaned across Xára to address Dráddør. “Mús would ne’er send me to any harm. Xára, is there aught you have to add about your mother’s poisoning?”

All the warmth left Xára’s body. Her fingertips iced. Tension corded her muscles. Had Nyssa guessed her secret? She sifted through memories of their time together at Circe Fearn Abbey? Nay. ’Twas not possible.

Who was this Mús they all spoke of with such fear and reverence?

“Last I knew Mús had been commanded to stay in—in the isles?” Dráddør and Nyssa exchanged frowning glances.

Nyssa worried a linen square. “Mús came to me when Konáll was hunting three nights ago. He told me I must leave at once. That a woman needed my healing skills desperately.”

“You lied to me, wife. Barefaced.” Konáll glowered at Nyssa.

“Husband, I had to. I knew you would ne’er allow me to go.” Nyssa shifted on the seat and spoke to Dráddør, “I told Konáll of Mús’s visit. I may have suggested your new keep was besieged and on the verge of surrender. That your life was in peril.”

Konáll’s thunderous expression heralded an explosion.

Dráddør said, “Brother, Nyssa. I ask you to hold your tempers for later.”

Will you see Jennie?
Xára scribbled; her letters a tad on the jagged side because of her trembling finger.

“Aye.” Nyssa squeezed Konáll’s wrist. “I will do naught without your permission, dearling.”

The meal ended shortly thereafter and the entire group made their way to Lady Jennie’s chamber in a somber, silent procession. The third floor hallway was deserted and the booted footsteps of the three warriors echoed like an ill-omened drumming.

Xára crossed and un-crossed the fingers hanging at her side. She had not had time to check on Jennie and had left both Evie and Ulna wending their way in the passage leading to the kitchen. Would Evie stay there as she had ordered?

Her sister had been frantic to see Jennie, but Xára hadn’t quite figured out how to explain Evie to her new husband. After his pleasuring of her this morning she didn’t expect him to refuse her request to have Evie remain at Lathairn. Xára’s face flamed as the carnal image of Dráddør’s mouth on her breast filled her mind. She bit her tongue and willed the lewd vision away.

Evie’s tempestuous nature worried Xára. She feared her sister’s ragged control of her volatile temper. What if she cast a spell in a fit of anger?

Xára stopped dead when she entered Jennie’s room for Evie sat cross-legged next to her mother on the bed.

Heart pounding its way up her throat, Xára rushed to her sister, ignoring the furious burst of conversation behind her as the rest of the group trooped into the chamber.

A sudden quiet fell.

Evie winked at Xára, and announced, “’Tis a miracle, sister. See, Mama’s awake and she drank a whole goblet of marrow-broth. Not so, Lara?”

The healer stood on the other side of the room. She stirred a porcelain bowl resting on a rickety wooden table. “Aye. Lady Jennie is much improved. I vow I have ne’er seen the likes of it.”

Xára hadn’t noticed Ulna half-hidden in the corner, but the nurse scooted closer to Lara’s side, and declared, “Lady Jennie canna talk much. It brings on a coughing fit. ”

The Lord had mercy on them. Xára met Ulna’s stare and sent her silent thanks for the brief reprieve. For she had no notion of what tale Jennie had devised to explain what had happened while keeping the one secret that would destroy them all.

Chapter Five

Mama? Lady Jennie was this child’s mother?

Dráddør exchanged a glance with Tighe. Before they’d embarked on the journey to Lathairn, both men had sought out others who knew Arnfinn and they had pried every morsel of information from them. According to all, Xára was Arnfinn’s only child.

But, why would the girl tell a falsehood? If the girl spoke the truth, then she was Xára ‘s sister. His earlier suspicions returned in full vengeance. His new wife had lied by omission. Why?

Dráddør examined the little sprite he’d met in the hall the day before. She looked nothing like Xára or Lady Jennie. He studied the three women.

None of the females had a single feature in common. He could not be cert of Lady Jennie’s original hair color, but her eyes had the hue of rich mud.

The girl’s silvery tresses hung straight to her shoulders and the eyes boldly inspecting him were the strangest blue he’d ever seen. Blue? Nay. Gray. Nay. Some odd shade ’tween the two.

The little one glanced away, scrambled off the mattress, and dipped a low curtsey to him. “I beg your pardon, my lord.”

Xára signaled the girl and she rose with the same grace he’d witnessed in his wife. Mayhap there were similarities after all.

“In my excitement to see that Mama was better, I forgot my manners. I am Evelyn, Xára’s sister.” She kept her head bowed and her silky locks slipped and slid over a drab brown gown, the silvery tint of her hair made more brilliant in contrast. “Xára is most displeased with me.”

He fought to stifle a grin at the petulant tone of her tinkling voice. “And how know you that?”

“She gave me the
‘look’
.”

Dráddør recalled his mother quelling him and his brothers with such a look. His lips twitched.

Xára touched the girl’s shoulder and inclined her head to the others.

“May I present myself to them?” The girl met his gaze directly and her confidence reminded Dráddør of his sister, Hjørdis.

“Nay. Allow me to perform the introductions.” Dráddør grasped the girl’s hand by the fingertips and turned her to face the three people standing behind him. “Lady Evelyn, this is Lord Konáll, King of Rurari. Next to him is Lady Nyssa, his Queen, and beside her is Earl Tighe of Dalriada.”

“I am honored my lords and my lady.” She sank into another graceful bow, one arm curved upward, and the tattered hem of her dress grazed the stone floor. With a quick jerk, she straightened, frowned, and asked Xára, “Or am I to call them King and Queen and Earl? Or is that only the court address?”

Nyssa declared, “You are now a sister in marriage and will call me Nyssa. Both Konáll and Tighe are my lord to you.”

Evelyn’s ruby lips curved revealing a gap-toothed smile. “You are having a bairn. When? May I hold the babe? I do hope you have a wee girl. Will she be a sister too? How many days journey from here do you live? Is it safe to ride there? I have three wooden dolls Liam made for me. I will give her one of them—”

Xára rushed to her sister’s side, linked their fingers, and quelled the girl’s litany of questions with one raised eyebrow.

Evelyn ducked her chin. “Beg pardon my lords and ladies. I am wont to carry on when I should hold my tongue.”

Dráddør was hard-pressed not to laugh aloud at Evelyn’s woebegone and sullen apology. He had a hunch she had been scolded with those exact sand-written words by Xára on a regular basis.

“Let us see to your Mama, Evelyn.” Nyssa took the girl’s other hand and the three women approached the bed.

Konáll and Tighe flanked Dráddør.

“She is like Hjørdis,” Konáll muttered.

“Aye. She has the spirit of your bright star. Methinks she has the same pool of mischief bubbling in her blood.” Tighe agreed.

“I thought the same when I first saw her yester morn. But, she was much subdued then, no doubt due to her mother’s condition.”

Dráddør studied the four females.

Lady Jennie had sagged back into the bed pillows and was fast asleep.

Gaze half-hooded, Nyssa grazed Jennie’s temples, rested a thumb on the pulse in the hollow at her throat, and pressed a palm to the right side of her chest.

Konáll’s rasped breathing captured Dráddør’s attention. His brother watched his wife with a hawk’s intensity, his flared nostrils and clenched fists evidence of a warrior’s preparation to battle.

Dráddør inhaled the tangled aromas of pine and of rosemary and realized the pungent stench of death no longer emanated from Lady Jennie.

The coming storm chose that moment to break with all the pandemonium of Thor’s fury. Lightning crackled, thunder roared, and rain drummed the roof and walls. Strong gusts rattled the closed shutters.

Nyssa’s eyelids flew open and she cocked her head to one side, placed a hand on the slumbering woman’s forehead and frowned. She drew back to face the men leaving Xára and Evelyn standing at their mother’s side.

“I felt no poison in her blood. Her innards are injured. She is weak, but will recover although at a snail’s crawl.” Nyssa tapped a finger to her mouth. “I have ne’er dealt with poison. Mayhap ’tis the way of it.”

“You have done what you set out to, wife. We will spend the night at Lathairn, but leave on the morn’s tide. Have you a chamber to spare?” Konáll swung Nyssa off her feet and lifted her high against his chest.

“’Tis my pleasure to offer you mine.” Tighe swept a courtier’s bow, captured Nyssa’s fingertips, and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

“Desist,” Konáll snapped and snatched his wife’s hand from Tighe’s loose grip. “Take us there, anon.”

Nyssa flashed Tighe a wide grin and looped her arms around her husband’s neck.

Tighe, followed by Konáll and Nyssa, left the chamber.

Evelyn tugged on Xára’s sleeve and tiptoed to whisper into her ear. Whatever the sprite had to say made Xára’s jaw clench, and she gave her sister a fierce scowl and shook her finger.

The nurse, who moved swiftly for such a rotund female, quickly scooted to the child’s side and bent down to deliver a whispered scowl in such a thick brogue Dráddør had trouble translating the rough Gaelic. He caught a few words, forbidden, danger, mama, but ’twas all.

Pleased with the turn of events, for he would have his reckoning from Lady Jennie sooner or later now that Nyssa believed she would recover, he could now focus on the coming battle. Dráddør said, “Xára, I would have a word with you in our chamber.”

Her head jerked up and he was struck anew at his bride’s loveliness. She blushed and her gaze focused on his throat, but nodded. To his utter shock, his wife and the nurse exchanged a flurry of hand signals at the end of which the nurse spoke softly to Evelyn. The sprite rose on her toes and kissed Xára on the cheek.

Before he could blink, Xára’s sister dipped him a quick curtsey, ducked her chin, and said, “May I take your leave, my lord?”

Studying the silvery tresses swinging around the girl’s too-thin shoulders and biting back a grin, he replied, “Aye. Be good. Mind your nurse, Evelyn. We have no time to stop for mischief this day.”

Two huge eyes stared up from beneath dark, curly lashes. The wee sprite crooked her mouth to one side. “I promise to try, my lord.”

Her expression clearly stated she did not expect to succeed. ’Twas the exact crisscrossed mien Hjørdis wore when given a similar admonishment. How he missed his little sister, his bright star. Dráddør didn’t bother to stopper his grin as he watched the girl pull her nurse into the hallway. He felt sorry for the nurse; she had a handful and more to deal with.

When Xára halted at his side, he snagged her close. “Evelyn is well-mannered and has a lively disposition. You have done well by her.”

Craning her neck, she shook her head slightly, and pointed to Lady Jennie who remained deep in slumber.

“A’course. Your mother deserves praise for both of her daughters’ good conduct. Let us make haste. Tighe has learned of a sizeable force heading to Lathairn and we must gauge their strength to decide on our preparations. We depart anon.”

Her brows rose and worry lines puckered her forehead.
Néill
?

’Twas incredible how she managed to convey both terror and vehemence in the silent mouthing of her step-uncle’s name.