The Wolf and the Dove Read online

  “Some of the townfolk spotted Hilda’s farm burning. Thieves probably. Did you catch them?”

  “Yea.” He peered at her. “Did you doubt it?”

  She returned his stare without wavering. “Nay, lord. I have already found that you are a man who gets what he sets out for.” She turned aside. “What will you do with them?”

  “They slew the woman’s daughter, and I killed four of them,” he said. “My men a like number. The remaining thieves swear they had no part in the murder though most of them had their turn upon the girl, no doubt. On the morrow they will feel the lash for being there and work out the wergeld to repay the old crone for her daughter. After that they will belong to me as my slaves.”

  Aislinn’s heart trembled, not for the men but at the memory of the whip in this Norman’s hand. “Your work will turn tiresome,” she murmured.

  “I will not do it. The men from your town will deal out the punishments in the old woman’s stead.”

  “You have strange ways,” she said, puzzled at him.

  He chewed a mouthful of meat and only held his gray eyes on her. Finding his stare unnerving, Aislinn sought some simple chore for her fingers.

  “Did the thieves turn and fight?” she inquired softly. “Usually they’re a cowardly bunch. They’ve been here before to plague my father.”

  “Nay, but for those Sweyn and I followed.”

  She gave his long frame a quick glance. “And you were not wounded?”

  Wulfgar leaned back and met her gaze. “Nay. Except for these.” He turned his palms upward to show her his hands, and Aislinn gasped, seeing the large blisters across them. “The gauntlets are of use, damoiselle. I was foolish to leave them behind.”

  “You must have used the sword fiercely.”

  “I did. My life depended upon it.”

  When he stood up and began to disrobe for his bath, Aislinn turned delicately away to some other task. Though it had always been the custom for the women of the hall to help visitors wash, her father had refused to let her give assistance, and she knew his distrust of men and their appetites to have been the reason.

  “A pretty lass you are,” Erland once told her. “And you’d whet the passions of a saint. There is no reason to brew trouble when it can be avoided.”

  So, she had remained ignorant of a man’s body until Ragnor.

  Wulfgar stripped to the brief loin cloth and then called her. Aislinn glanced over her shoulder and saw that he gestured toward his leg and the bandage there. Fetching the scissors he had earlier struck from her hands, she came to him and kneeling, snipped the binding and peeled the poltice away. The wound was beginning to heal remarkably well, and she bade him to be careful not to break it open. She picked up the rags and kept her eyes averted until she heard him splash in the tub.

  “Will you join me, damoiseile?”

  Aislinn whirled with a start, eyes wide, and stared at him increduously. “My lord?!”

  Then he laughed and she knew he was only teasing her again, but his eyes swept her from toe to top and glowed with a warm and determined light.

  “Another time, Aislinn—perhaps when we know each other better,” he smiled.

  Aislinn blushed hotly and withdrew to the shadows. From there she could watch him without being observed in return, though several times he glanced in her direction, trying to see into the darkness that shrouded her.

  Finally he rose, finished with his bath, and stepped from the tub. In her corner she sat quite still, not daring to go near lest his passions should rise again and without his clothes between them her fate would be quick and sure. It was wiser to stay out of his grasp.

  When he spoke to her, she started.

  “Come here, Aislinn.”

  Apprehension traced its icy fingers along her spine. She hesitated, wondering what he would do if she fled from him as she had done the night before. She saw that he had forgotten to bolt the door. Perhaps she could reach it in time. But the idea quickly ebbed. She rose on trembling limbs and walked to him delaying each step as if she were going to meet her executioner. Standing before him, she felt small and helpless; her head barely reached to his chin, yet for all of her fear she met his gaze with bravado. She found he was grinning at her in his mocking way.

  “Did you think I had forgotten the chain, my lady? I dare not trust you that much.”

  Relief flooded her features, and she stood quite docile as he bent down before her and secured the piece around her ankle. Then without another word he bolted the door, blew out the candle and climbed into bed, leaving her standing in thankful confusion. Finally she turned and moved to the end of the bed where the wolf pelts still lay on the floor. Feeling his eyes upon her she slid out of her gunna, leaving on the kirtle for modesty, and began to loosen her hair. It was free and she was combing the bright tresses with thoughtful strokes in the glow of the warm fire, wondering at this man who had her within his reach and yet did nothing, when she glanced his way and found that he had raised up on an elbow and was staring at her intensely. She stood rooted, unable to move.

  “Unless you are prepared to be my companion in this bed tonight, wench,” he said hoarsely. “I suggest you delay your grooming until the morrow. My mind is not so weary that it cannot remember what charms lay beneath that linen, and it would be of little concern to me that you are not willing.”

  Aislinn nodded mutely and quickly sought her furry bed, pulling the pelt high under her chin.

  Several days passed with no more disastrous events, still Aislinn did not forget Wulfgar’s warning, though she found herself being treated more as a serf than any mistress. She mended his clothes and brought his meals and helped him dress. During the days he seemed oblivious to her. He was occupied with his men and with setting up defenses in the event they were attacked by raiding thieves or loyal Saxons. Word came from William that the army was detained because of illness and that Wulfgar was to hold there until they were able to march again. Wulfgar accepted the message without verbal utterance, yet eyeing him Aislinn thought he seemed almost to welcome the respite. Sometimes she watched him from afar. He seemed completely in command of every situation that arose. A brave but foolish serf, barring the doorway of his simple dwelling against their search for weapons, received a choice of whether he wanted his home burned down around him or if he’d rather let them enter. The poor fellow was quick to understand the ultimatum when Wulfgar ordered a torch lighted. He was even more prompt to submit his cottage to the search, which turned up a few various and crude weapons. At their insistent questioning he finally got across the fact that the weapons were there before the Normans came and he knew of no conspiracy among the serfs to overthrow the new lord.

  When the chamber door was bolted against intruders and they were alone together, Wulfgar’s gaze would settle upon her, and Aislinn again would realize that she treaded upon thin ice. His gray, brooding eyes followed her about, watching her with an intensity that set her fingers to trembling. In her separate bed, she was conscious of the fact that he lay awake for long periods of time.

  One night she woke cold and shivering upon the floor and rising, tried to reach the hearth to stoke up the fire, but the chain around her ankle was forbidding and would not allow her to move the distance toward it. She stood in indecision, trembling with the cold, her arms clutched around her, wondering how she would get warm. A movement behind her made her turn as Wulfgar swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Just a shadow of his naked body was visible in the darkness.

  “You are cold?” he questioned.

  A chattering of teeth answered him as she nodded. Drawing another pelt from the bed, he came to her and pulled it around her slender shoulders, wrapping it closely about her, then he went to the hearth to throw splinters and logs upon the glowing embers. He squatted before it until flames curled around the wood then came to her. He bent and freed her ankle, flinging the chain away, then rose to stare down into her eyes. The firelight etched his profile.

 
; “I will take your word that you will not leave. Will you give it?”

  Aislinn nodded. “Where else would I go?”

  “Then you are free.”

  She smiled her gratitude. “I did not like being chained.”

  “Neither would I,” he replied brusquely and returned to his bed.

  After that, Aislinn was allowed more freedom to roam where she would. She could walk through the town without having someone following close behind. It seemed in the past no one was guarded as well as she. However, the day Ragnor returned and approached her in the courtyard, Aislinn found she did not go unobserved even now. Two of Wulfgar’s men made themselves plainly seen.

  “He guards you well and gives me duties elsewhere,” Ragnor muttered, glancing around. “He must fear losing you.”

  Her mouth curved upward. “Or else, Sir Ragnor, your ways are well known to him.”

  He scowled at her. “You seem pleased with yourself. Is your master such a grand lover then? I would not think it. It seems he would prefer pretty fellows to beautiful women.”

  Aislinn’s eyes widened innocently as a sparkle of devilment brightened them. “But, sir, you do jest of course! Such a great and strong man I’ve never before met.” She saw his mouth tighten and grew fond of her game. Her voice softened. “Dare I admit he makes me swoon?”

  Ragnor’s face was stony. “He is not handsome.”

  “Oh?” she seemed to question. “Methinks him so. But then, that has little to do with it, don’t you agree?”

  “You are toying with me,” Ragnor surmised.

  She affected a mien of sympathy. “Oh, sir! I pledge thee true, this is not so. Do you say I falsify my yearnings? Do you speak that I cannot love one who is naught but kind and gentle to my heart and sets my every limb afire with his most tender words?”

  “Then what is it that you see in him?” Ragnor demanded. “I would know.”

  Aislinn shrugged her shoulders. “Good, sir, I know your time is precious and I would not bend your ear for the many hours it would take to explain why a woman finds one man her own true lord and the many deep and most private matters shared by both that would seal the bonds between them. Why, I cannot begin to explain—”

  A thunder of hooves rent the peace of the town, and they turned to see Wulfgar and his men approaching on horseback. Wulfgar scowled, drawing his mount to a halt beside them. He dismounted and handed the reins to his knight, Gowain, and turned as his men rode on to the stables.

  “You return early.”

  “Yea,” Ragnor replied sourly. “I scouted north as you bade me, but ‘twas no use. The English have taken to their homes and closed their doors against spying. ’Tis beyond me what they do beyond their walls. Mayhaps they sport and ease themselves upon their wenches as freely as you seem to do on this maid.”

  Wulfgar glanced at Aislinn to see her heightened coloring and watched as she squirmed uncomfortably.

  “The maid says you play the game well,” Ragnor said, raising a brow as he regarded the bastard.

  A slow smile spread across Wulfgar’s lips. “Does she now?” He dropped his hand casually upon Aislinn’s shoulder and caressed the nape of her neck though he felt her stiffen under his touch. His grin deepened. “She pleasures me well also.”

  “I say she lies,” Ragnor flung.

  Wulfgar chuckled. “Because she fought you? As any damoiselle, she responds more readily to a gentler touch.”

  Ragnor sneered his contempt. “She doesn’t look much like a lad, Wulfgar. I’m wondering how you have mistaken her for one.”

  Aislinn sensed Wulfgar’s rising anger in the tightening of his fingers upon her shoulder, but he spoke easily, his temper carefully masked.

  “You speak heedlessly, my friend. I did not know you desired the damsel at the cost of your life. But I forgive you, seeing that the maid is one to make any man reckless. I might be also, if placed in your position.” His hand slid to Aislinn’s waist and he squeezed it lightly as he pulled her against his side. “You would do well to seek Hlynn out. On the morrow you will leave to join the Duke by his command. You will have precious little time for wenching then.”

  He turned from Ragnor, sweeping Aislinn along with him, and mounted the steps to the hall. As they entered Kerwick glared at them from where he sat chained with the dogs, and his face darkened with rage and jealousy as he watched the Norman pass a light caress across Aislinn’s buttocks before releasing her. So intent was he upon following Wulfgar’s hand that Kerwick missed the angry glare Aislinn threw at the Norman and in return, his taunting smile. Aislinn whirled and fled up the stairs, calling for Hlynn to fetch her water. Wulfgar leisurely watched her flight until she banged the chamber door behind her then slowly turned to Kerwick.

  “Little Saxon, if you could speak my tongue I would congratulate you on your fine taste. But you and de Marte are unwise, wanting the maid as you do. She has sliced your hearts upon her platter and tossed them carelessly away. You will soon learn as I have not to trust women.” He drew a horn of ale and lifted it as if in toast to the chained man. “Women. Use them. Caress them. Leave them. But never love them, my friend. I have been taught this lesson well from childhood.”

  Wulfgar went to stand by the hearth and stared pensively into the fire as he finished his ale. Finally he turned and mounted the stairs. He entered the bedchamber but to his surprise found the room empty. With anger pressing down upon his mood he whirled, wondering what game the vixen was now playing upon him. He could allow that she might have need to seek revenge on Ragnor, but he’d be damned if he would let himself be the object of her vindictiveness. Irately he strode to the door of the chamber he had given her mother and without pausing threw open the door. Aislinn started as the portal banged open, clasping her arms across her naked breasts, and Hlynn jumped, almost dropping the pail of water she was pouring into her lady’s bath. The girl backed away fearfully as Wulfgar approached and came to stand beside the tub to gaze down on Aislinn who glared at him and choked red with her anger.

  “Do you mind, my lord?” she gritted indignantly.

  He smiled and her skin burned as her cheeks grew darker under his slow, deliberate stare. “Nay, damoiselle, I do not mind.”

  Aislinn sat back in a huff, splashing water over the side of the tub and onto him. She eyed him distastefully, loathing his casual manner that, she was sure, marked them in the girl’s eyes as lovers.

  Wulfgar gestured toward Hlynn. “I believe Ragnor is looking for her.”

  “I have need of her,” Aislinn answered. shortly. She swept her hand indicating her bath. “As you can plainly see.”

  “Strange,” Wulfgar mocked as he feasted his eyes upon her swelling breasts. “I thought you bathed at morningtide, when I am gone.”

  “Usually I do,” Aislinn retorted. “But with so much mauling, I felt in need of extra cleansing.”

  Wulfgar chuckled and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Tell me, damoiselle, is it because you cannot stand the thought of De Marte riding another wench that you keep the girl with you?”

  Aislinn threw him a murderous glare. “De Marte may enjoy any Norman slut of his choosing, but Hlynn is unused to the crude ways in which you foreigners take a wench. He hurts the girl, and if you had any compassion in your soul, you would not give her so freely to him.”

  “I have no part in the arguments of women,” Wulfgar shrugged, reaching out to tease a stray lock of coppery hair which tumbled from the heavy mass of curls tied upon her head.

  “I know,” Aislinn snapped. “You seek to discredit me in the sight of my betrothed with your fondling of me. If he were free, you would not handle me so casually.”

  He laughed lightly as he perched upon the rim of the wooden tub. “Shall I free him, damoiselle? But I think the little Saxon is far more fond of you than you of him.”

  He glanced toward Hlynn who all but cowered in a corner away from him. His tone was impatient as he questioned Aislinn.

  “Does she have to look so frighten
ed? Tell her it’s her mistress I fancy in my bed, not her.”

  Aislinn considered the trembling girl. “My lord wouldst do you no harm, Hlynn,” she said in English. “Mayhap if he can be persuaded, he’ll even give you his protection. Calm your fears.”

  The pale-haired girl settled herself to sit upon the floor, still wary of the tall Norman, yet filled now with a certain confidence that her lady could save her if anyone could.

  “What did you tell her?” Wulfgar questioned.

  Aislinn rose from the tub, reaching for a linen to wrap about her and felt Wulfgar’s devouring gaze upon her. She quickly covered herself and stepped out to stand beside him.

  “I said you wouldn’t hurt her,” Aislinn answered. “ ’Tis what you told me to say.”

  “If I knew your tongue, I could be sure you do not play me for a fool.”

  “A man makes himself a fool. ’Tis hard for another to do so unless the first allows it.”

  “You are wise as well as beautiful,” Wulfgar murmured. He ran a finger down her arm in a slow, unhurried caress, and Aislinn turned to look pleadingly at him. She stood so close that the side of her leg brushed against the inside of the thigh he had perched upon the tub. It was as if a charge of a storm’s bright fire arched between them with the contact jolting each with an abrupt shock of passion. Aislinn felt weak and unsure with his nearness. Wulfgar’s reaction was more physical and his breath drew harshly between his teeth as if he had been struck a blow. He clenched his fists in the effort to endure her nearness without snatching her into his embrace and stilling the throbbing in his loins then and there. He knew Hylnn watched them and he was amazed that he could respond so quickly to a wench when others looked on. He was grateful for his mail hauberk, but his self-control was sorely shaken by the dampened cloth Aislinn had wrapped around her. Though it had proven a most strenuous feat, he had steeled his body against his raging desires as he watched her bathe. But with the proximity of her supple form with only the wet linen draping her, he found it more of a task to think logically than he had before. His passions rode him hard and goaded him almost beyond the limits of his own iron will.