“Or in safe keeping.”
“Aye, or in safe keeping.” Again Olaf was silent for a moment. “I"m not sure you are aware of all that you have acquired.”
“I am aware,” Conar said, “that she is an extremely clever creature, Father.
She has certainly managed well enough here.”
“However she may exasperate you at the moment, Conar, she is a stunning young woman. A greater prize than any plot of earth.” Olaf rose suddenly, situating cups and bowls of fruits to create a map. “Your land, Eire, Alfred"s Wessex. And here, Ghent, Bruge, the Danish bases. Now look to the past and the lawlessness that has taken a firm foothold on the coast. Keep an eye upon history, Conar. Not since Charlemagne has there been a leader to give real strength to your Frankish kingdoms. When Louis the Pious died and all the land was divided between his sons, the way was let open for the Danes. For it must be said, I admit, of Vikings, son, that most are mercenaries and will fight for any army that will pay. Oft enough men of all nationalities hire the very invaders who plague them at other times to battle their own people when there is war within the realm. Now, with Alfred having stemmed the tide in England, great armies of invaders are left with nothing but conquest on their minds. That will leave us all looking to our defenses in the years to come. And you, Conar, will definitely need to see to it that your wife is kept from the hands of those who might too easily see her marriage annulled and find a way to force another upon the church. I warn you, with or without such fine property—and hers is extensive, offering a fine, deep harbor!—your young wife is a prize for others to covet. Look to her well-being.”
“Well, I would do so now, Father, but she has managed to receive your permission to travel about the countryside.”
“I had not imagined that you would object.”
He lifted a hand. “I don"t object.” He didn"t, of course. He had wanted her out of his hands.
Yet he was somehow disturbed. He didn"t want to be bothered by her, but still …
His father didn"t need to give him warnings about her. He wanted her beneath his own watchful eyes, though he thought that she had to be quite safe with Bede.
It was good to be home, yet it made him nervous to know that she traveled away from him, even in his brother"s custody, for peace had been tenuous here since his grandfather"s death. Indeed, he had not been home a fortnight before they were called north to help his Uncle Niall repel invaders who had come to stay in Ulster.
The invaders fell before the show of force sent from all the Irish kings. The campaign seemed a long one, but the losses were not heavy—they were learning how to fight their enemies, and many of the Irish who had once been his father"s enemies were now his strongest supporters, fully aware that Olaf the White knew how to plan strategy against their mutual enemies, the Danes.
Olaf stood with his brother-in-law, Niall of Ulster, acknowledged as the Ard-Ri since Erin"s father"s death, and their loyalty to one another helped hold the ties created among the Irish. It was a good campaign, a successful one, but it seemed to stretch forever, and though his father had returned home at intervals, Conar had felt compelled to stay with Niall until the bitter end. The time he had spent on the Frankish coast seemed to have slipped away from him. He was deeply possessive of his property, but his actual holding of it was going to have to wait. It was all right, he was certain. Messages came from Swen to Dubhlain, and from Dubhlain to Conar in the north. He had nothing to worry about. The fortress on the coast of France was in good hands.
So was Melisande.
He gave her little thought.
By the time he returned to Dubhlain it had been a good two years since he had seen his bride. To say the least, he"d been quite startled by her. She"d been with his mother in the great hall when he"d returned, so quiet and dignified that he hadn"t even seen her at first. But when his eyes fell upon her, he wondered that he could have missed her.
She had changed greatly within the time that had passed. Her slenderness had taken on stunning new twists and turns, her eyes seemed to have deepened in color. Knots seemed to twist in him at the sight of her. She might still be young, but she had taken on the form of a vixen. Everything that he had been told was so true. She was incredibly beautiful. Her coloring was so startling, her bone structure perfect.
And her eyes, of course, were a tempest, no matter how silently she stood, staring at him. She hadn"t forgiven him, not a whit.
He was somewhat amused by her calm and easy demeanor when they met.
She accepted his kiss of greeting on each of her cheeks and asked politely after his welfare. Still, it seemed, she escaped his presence as quickly as she might.
He was surprised, therefore, when he ordered a bath, to find her entering his chamber, keeping her distance, but managing to make her demands.
“I have been here over two years,” she told him.
Weary, he wondered why she was plaguing him at such a time. He set his linen bath cloth over his eyes and leaned back against the rim of the wooden tub he"d had brought to his own room in his father"s manor. “Indeed,” he murmured.
“I came here as you commanded—”
“You came here because you had no choice.”
“But I have been an excellent student and a very good guest, as you"ll discover if you ask your mother or father.”
“My father the Viking?” he mocked.
He heard her coming closer to the tub and was somewhat surprised. She didn"t make him feel terribly secure, and he pulled the cloth from his eyes, watching her carefully.
“Just what is it that you want?”
“I want to go home.”
He closed his eyes, leaning back again. So that was it. He heard the whisper of motion as she came closer. He was startled when he felt her hands upon his back, fingers curled around the bath cloth and soap, and working a surprising magic upon the tenseness in his shoulders. “I"m aware, of course, that you may have loyalties that bind you here, but I think it necessary that I return home soon.”
“My neck,” he said.
“What?”
“Go a little higher. Rub here.”
He felt her fingers move surely against his neck. Knots seemed to ease out of it. She was very good. He imagined she must have rubbed her father"s shoulders often enough, and since she had loved him so dearly, she had learned to give comfort.
No matter where she had learned it, it was quite a touch!
He was suddenly very aware of the changes that had already taken place in her. Her scent was sweet.
Her touch was damned sensual.
He grit his teeth, staring down at the water, aware that all the tension she had eased had crept back into him. Lots of it. New tension. One particular tension that seemed to be standing near painful alert at this moment.
He almost groaned aloud, yet remained in disbelief. It seemed to pound into his head that many men would think her well over the age to be a true wife.
Not yet, not yet! As long as he did not make the marriage real, he need change nothing in his own life. And not far from his father"s house, just outside the walls of Dubhlain, was a small farmhouse, and within it, a slim golden blond widow named Bridget who had offered him comfort often enough. She demanded nothing of him. He wasn"t ready to change things.
But those delicate fingers working against his flesh still made him feel the birth of fire. And a new thought, one he had not imagined coming so quickly.
Soon …
He could take her now, he’d have every right. She had certainly grown to an impressive level of maturity.
“So?”
“So?”
“May I go home? I"m sure that someone within your father"s household would be willing—”
“No,” he said flatly. He"d just realized what a tempting and tender morsel she might be. The last thing he intended was to send her home without him.
“What?” Her fingers stopped moving. She came around the side of the tub, violet eyes brilliant in her fury.
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“I said no, Melisande.”
“But I have stayed here quite obediently. I—”
“You"ve not stayed here, you were gone when I first arrived. And if you"ve been at all obedient, it"s because my Viking father does have a stern eye, you"ve surely realized that.”
Her lashes flickered, her eyes narrowing upon him.
“I need to go home!”
“No.”
“You don"t seem to understand, you stupid Viking! I have done everything, I have learned your history, I have—”
“No! And if you"re not going to rub my shoulders anymore, you might want to get out of here.”
She remained there, staring at him furiously.
He arched a brow. “Unless you wish to join me in here? I have actually done my very best to practice restraint—against your sweet innocence of course. But if you feel so determined to linger, I might begin to believe that you are anxious to begin marital duties in full.”
Color rushed to her face, washed over it like a tide. For a moment he was certain she had controlled her temper. She turned away from him. There was a kettle of hot water heating over the fire, ready to be added to his bath.
“Ah, marital duties!” she whispered. “Do, please, let me see to your bath!” Too late he realized her intention. She had the kettle up, and the scalding water cascading in upon him.
He let out a cry of rage, leaping up and out of the bath just in time to avoid any real injury.
She stared at him, all of him, her eyes widening in a sudden panic. The kettle clattered to the floor. She turned to run, but his fingers wound into her hair, and she flew back into his arms. Perhaps it was a revelation to them both. He had never imagined the way her breasts would feel, pressed through the linen fabric of her gown against his naked chest.
And he was quite certain that she hadn"t been prepared at all for the raw and aroused feel of his full body flush against her own. He heard her gasp, felt the wild pounding of her heart. Indeed, she was equally aware of him!
“You are no longer newly orphaned!” he warned her tensely. “You know that I will not hesitate to deal with you. But it has been some time since I have seen you, so I will offer you this warning—don"t ever seek vengeance against me! I will tend to you, my love, in turn. I assure you!”
“Please!” she gasped, violet eyes wide, ebony hair curling around them both.
“Let me go.”
He did. Then he cursed in fury because she managed to kick him in the shin before departing. He counted to ten, and then a hundred, to control his temper.
He managed to do so, and let her go.
That had been the first of it.
In the weeks that followed, Melisande kept her distance from him. It was not so difficult, for his mother had given Melisande rooms above the floor of his own chamber, assuming Melisande would find the view of the river close to that which she would have had from her own chambers across the sea.
She appeared dutifully at mealtimes and sat quite politely at the table, even responding to him when she was spoken to. That, of course, might be a part of her great performance for his family, because she continued to seem nothing less than perfection when she was with them. No matter what his anger with her then, he found himself watching her, and once again, granting her a grudging admiration. She did have an incredible mind, and she learned with astonishing speed. She"d had some smattering of the Irish language when he"d sent her here, he"d known that, for she"d used it upon occasion with him, though she had more frequently slipped into the Norse words she had apparently known very well when she was angry with him, which was often.
He and his brothers—and his sisters, for that matter—had always been taught the languages of their neighbors across the seas, since his father had known that with a brood his size, many would leave home and have to make their way upon distant shores. In the same way, he was certain, Melisande had learned the Norse language—in self-defense, perhaps. The more astute households with power were often careful to speak the language of the sea invaders themselves—making it easier to negotiate whenever possible. Besides which, many of the Norse who had already sailed had acquired new homelands, like his father, and now traded liberally throughout many ports.
But in this household Melisande had quickly learned to speak with the others as if she were a native. Upon occasion he even saw her smile, but that was not so strange, for his father"s was a lively household. Leith, Elizabeth, Conan, and Megan had married, and were sometimes in the king"s residence with a supply of toddling babes to keep them all careful of their movements. Eric was most often across the sea on Alfred"s coast, and their youngest sister, Daria, most often remained there. Bryan and Bryce were two and four years, respectively, behind Conar, and usually kept up a lively discourse through any meal when they were home. All of them donned battle gear and fought when they were called to service by their uncle. It was the way of things. It still made his mother grow pale after all these years, but she had watched her brothers fight for peace, and now she had to watch her sons do so, too.
Bede still dined with them sometimes, though she seemed to think she had carried out whatever Conar had wished of her when he had sent Melisande.
Perhaps she had done so, for Melisande gave all appearances of being perfect.
She spoke beautifully, and he was certain, had gained an honest affection for his mother and perhaps even his father.
She had also formed easy enough friendships with Bryce and Bryan. Conar noticed that upon occasion she even laughed with the two, and then her eyes would light up. Once he watched her and then found his father"s gaze upon him, and he was forced to admit that there was a magic about her, that she definitely had his brothers entwined within her web of charm, and that she was, quite simply, every bit as beautiful as he had been warned.
A prize.
Yet he had not been back so very long when one of the ships that now moved constantly between his home in Dubhlain and his new acquisition across the channel brought a message from Swen urging him to return immediately. They had been watching Conar"s neighbors, and there had been a great deal of activity on the ridge to the west.
Gerald"s son was growing bolder, watching them constantly.
Conar had thought it best not to tell Melisande, but he hadn"t realized that she received constantly long letters from Ragwald and that she returned them, keeping her people well abreast of all that happened within Dubhlain. She was determined that she was coming with him, and he was equally determined that she was not.
She ceased to argue, and he realized that he was in all the greater trouble. If it hadn"t been for Bridget, he might well have been tricked by her once again, for on the night before he was due to leave, he visited his mistress and stayed with her very late. It was easy enough to move about in Dubhlain, for though there were nominal guards around the house itself, Dubhlain was a fortified city. He slipped into his father"s house very silently, determined that he would not disturb anyone sleeping within.
And that was when he saw her.
She was moving down the stairway with an equally careful and silent tread, a great hooded cloak over her shoulders, a leather satchel in her hands. He stared at her, frowning for a moment, then realized that she meant to reach his ships and hide away within one.
He allowed her to come down to the great hall. He watched her in the firelight and felt his temper rise, and still he found himself staring at her. The beauty and perfection of her features caught him, the wild violet of her eyes seemed to steal upon the senses.
And yet with all the facilities of her able mind, she could not seem to grasp the danger to herself—or the fact that he did not intend to lose anything that he had taken as his own. Had Swen not warned him of danger, he might well have brought her. He had tried to tell her that, but she had refused to listen.
She had pretended to accept his bidding.
He watched her spin around, the cloak billowing out around her in a shimmering beauty. She saw no one, fo
r he was in the shadows against the door. She walked toward it, reached for it, and came in contact with his chest. A gasp left her lips, nearly a scream. He clasped his hand around her mouth, determined to silence her tonight in his own way.
“Where do you think you"re going, Countess?” he asked softly, his whisper against her fragrant hair, her body caught tight to his. He eased his hand from her mouth.
“For a walk in the moonlight!” she returned. “If you"ll just let me go—” She started to scream again as he swept her up. His hand locked determinedly over her mouth, and no matter how she struggled, he managed to carry her up the stairs. He brought her not to her chamber but to his own, throwing her down upon the bed then quietly closing the door and sliding the bolt. By the time he turned around, she was up, staring at him. But her defiance seemed tempered by fear, and she was watching him very carefully.
He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “I repeat, where were you going?”
“For a walk,” she said stubbornly.
“To the ships perhaps?”
Her eyes narrowed hard upon him. “Perhaps I missed you, milord, and was anxious to see if you had returned from your visit with your whore!” He arched a brow. Silence fell. She stepped back, as if horrified herself by the words she had spoken.
Conar walked into the room, angry, intrigued. “I rather doubt that,” he said softly, and stood across the bed from her. “But then, of course, I hadn"t realized that you were quite so concerned with my movements. Indeed, it seems to me that you are always happiest when I am absent.”
Her gaze lowered, the richness of her lashes sweeping over her downcast eyes.
“I am!” she whispered.
“Yet you are suddenly so anxious for my presence that you are willing to stow away on one of my ships. And I hadn"t the least idea that my activities distressed you. If I"d realized just how much you longed for me yourself, I"d have taken great care not to sleep elsewhere.”
“You may sleep with the whole of your father"s flocks of sheep for all I care!” she hissed back. Once again she seemed to become aware that though his tone was light, he was both weary and angry. She took another step away from him. “Truly, I just want to go home!”