Page 6 of Viking in Love

CHAPTER SIX

A nd then the other shoe dropped…

Breanne was huddled with her sisters in the Larkspur courtyard the next morning discussing Tyra’s imminent departure for her home. Hawkshire was in the southern portion of Northumbria, closer to the market town of Jorvik.

“I still think I should stay with you,” Tyra insisted. She was dressed today for travel, but also for protection against brigands—who abounded here in the northern wilds, not to mention Archbishop Dunstan’s men, who might already be searching for Oswald.

Once a warrior who led their father’s troops, Tyra wore a soldier’s short-sleeved leather tunic over slim braies covering her exceedingly long legs, but there the military similarity ended. Yea, her forearms and thighs were roped with muscle from her warrior training, but etched silver armlets, a gold-buckled belt, and a sable-lined cloak denoted her rank as a Norse princess warrior.

Although wife to Adam of Hawkshire and mother to a precious daughter, Tyra would never forget her role in life. Every person, man or woman, had gods-given skills, and Tyra’s were those of a fighter.

“’Tis best you go home to create an atmosphere of normalcy,” Breanne advised. “Besides, I know you miss your husband and daughter sorely.”

“I do,” Tyra admitted, “but we have always stuck together in time of trouble.”

“You can help us best by going home and having Adam contact his uncle Eirik at Ravenshire. Eirik will know how to help us get back to Stoneheim. Once back in the Norselands, we will be safe.”

“Even if only Vana goes back at first, I will feel better.” Ingrith swiped at the tears welling in her eyes.

“The rest of us can claim ignorance,” Drifa said.

“I agree. Getting Vana back under Father’s shield is our top priority.” Easier said than done. Breanne bit her thumbnail nervously.

“Will you all come back to visit at Hawkshire once Vana is on her way home?” Tyra asked.

“I do not know, Tyra. Mayhap some time in the future,” Drifa said. “All this excitement…well, a peaceful stay at home might be best. Leastways over the winter.”

“Pray gods that we be home for winter,” Vana interjected in a small voice.

They all linked hands, forming a circle, and entreated the Norse gods and the Christian One-God to grant their wishes.

Ivan and Ivar led the saddled horses out of the stable, and the sisters hugged once again, tears rimming all their eyes. They had been through so much of late, especially Vana, who was slowly healing from her battering, though she would wear the scars inside forever, Breanne suspected.

But enough was enough. Best that Vana, the two guards, and Rashid were on their way. Soon the Larkspur lout, and his loutish cohorts, would be home from their ludicrous bout of widow courting. There were no secrets in a keep this size. It was best the sister ranks were reduced before he ordered them to depart as a whole, as he had already done.

Just then, Rashid rushed out of the keep. “The lung fever is spreading amongst the children. I must stay.”

Breanne’s heart raced. “How bad is it?”

“A kitchen maid caught the fever and passed it on to two of the children. They must be isolated before others succumb, as well. The little ones are most susceptible.”

“Piers? The baby?” Breanne clutched her hands to her chest with worry.

“May Allah weep, he is the worst.”

Rashid was a skilled healer, having worked under Adam’s tutelage for years. There could be no better medical provider in time of illness. Already, he was telling one of the housecarls and Drifa which herbs they would need and where to gather them.

Thus it was that a short time later, Tyra and the two guards had left for Hawkshire while Rashid and the four sisters were left to deal with yet another dire circumstance. The first had been a life blow, this a life threat.

Could it be that this was why they had been sent to Larkspur, of all the places in Britain they could have gone into hiding? Perchance the celestial beings, whether Odin or God, had destined them to choose this remote estate because they were going to be needed.

Breanne laughed as she entered the keep behind Rashid and her sisters. What would Caedmon think of her being his destiny?

Where’s the Pony Express when you need it?…

By afternoon of the next day, Breanne knew she had to do something about the still-missing Caedmon and his comrade friends. Three of the children, two of the sentries, one housemaid, and a stable boy were very ill and might not recover.

The widow of Heatherby must be resisting their wooing efforts, if they had to stay an extra day. Smart woman. Or mayhap she was enjoying their favors too much.

Taking a candle into the small, dark room under the staircase where Caedmon kept his castle records, she searched for parchment and encaustum. There were several used pieces of vellum on which a strong male hand had written various tallies regarding livestock and household provender. She turned one of them over, then dipped her pen into the treacly liquid. How should she address her missive? Dear Loathsome Lout. Dear Rude Oaf. She opted for graciousness and wrote:

Greetings M’lord Caedmon:

My regrets on interrupting your most important courting. Alas, you are needed at Larkspur.

Return at once. You may resume your wooing at a later date.

Sincerely,

Breanne Fionadottir

It was only after sending one of the grumbling guards with the missive that she realized that she had not told him why he was needed. Well, he would find out soon enough.

His first reaction would no doubt be, “Why is she still there?”

When clueless men go a-courting…

Caedmon held the letter in his hands, and still, after five readings, could not believe the nerve of the Viking wench.

How dare she order him to do anything!

How dare she mock his efforts at courting! And there was no question in his mind that she was getting joy out of his predicament.

How dare she still be at Larkspur when he had ordered her to leave!

Geoff grabbed the missive out of his hands. After reading it, he passed it to Wulf. The two of them just smirked at him.

“Are you sure that you must leave today?” Lady Moreton asked, coming up to them as they stood at the entrance to the Heatherby great hall. “You have been so helpful.”

It was true. They had aided her in establishing authority with the restless knights who were unsure of what to do now that their leader was gone. They had also straightened out some misunderstanding with her castellan over the disposition of livestock that had been intended for market.

As she spoke, Sybil’s eyes kept going to Geoff, which was a relief to Caedmon. “I wish you joy of her,” he whispered, to which Geoff just rolled his eyes.

Having a friend at Heatherby was almost as good…in fact, better…than being here himself. Although he had to admit that Sybil was an attractive package. Young…no more than twenty-four…she had been married to the much older earl by her impoverished family in need of the significant bride price. In fact, this had been her second marriage and widowhood to an older man. Not an unusual happenstance. And she was comely, with raven-black hair and gray eyes. Her front teeth were a mite crooked, giving her a lisp, and her hips were a bit wide, but those were mere trifles in the scheme of things. He and Wulf had teased Geoff about the beautiful children they would have, whereas Geoff had teased them back about all the fun he would have in the making.

Caedmon knew what it was like to be a landless knight, and he was happy for his friend if he was able to succeed with Sybil. They had been right in coming so soon. Already three other men had come sniffing after her, and more would arrive in the days ahead. Geoff surely had an advantage, being young and handsome.

“I must needs return to Larkspur. Some emergency has arisen,” he told her.

“Mayhap Geoff could stay behind,” she suggested, batting her long eyelashes. “Just for an extra day or two.”

The three of them could scarce keep from whooping their joy.

“Are you sure you could spare me?” Geoff inquired of Caedmon, playing the innocent.

“Well, it will be difficult.” He tapped his closed lips with a forefinger.

Geoff kicked him in the shin when Sybil’s attention was diverted elsewhere.

“Ow!”

Sybil glanced up at him in question.

“A kink in my knee,” he explained.

“Would you be able to stay?” Sybil did her eyelash batting at Geoff again, as if he needed any convincing. The two of them…Geoff and Sybil…made a great pair in the mock innocence arena.

Caedmon wagered she would be in Geoff’s bed furs by nightfall.

“The housecarls have not exercised since afore Edward’s death, and reivers have been stealing cattle right and left, as they have at Larkspur in your absence.”

A tricky business it would be if Geoff managed to wed the lady afore the king was able to put his finger in the marriage pot, although Edgar was more like to stick his whole damn hand in, and his cock as well. Hopefully, Geoff could wed and bed her quickly, then afterward approach the king about the earlship, or at least the land rights. Edgar was not going to be pleased.

Thus, it was that only he and Wulf returned to Larkspur two days and more since they had left. He had planned to patrol the north boundary of his lands for clues to the reivers, but decided that it was more important he return home.

“What do you suppose has happened that would prompt the princess’s letter?”

“She must miss me,” Caedmon said. And for some odd reason, he liked that idea. Idiot! She would as soon kick me as kiss me .

Wulf arched his thick black eyebrows at him.

“I am still going to send her and her sisters on their merry way. But first I am going to make her pay for her brassy letter.” Kicks and kisses…hmmmm, that gives me an idea.

“I would like to see that.”

“Really, I have only so much time to get so many things done at Larkspur afore Edgar goes on the rampage again, and I have no need of distractions. If Geoff gains Heatherby, he and I will be able to resist together with two important holdings combined, small as they are, but that is just a delaying tactic.”

“In the meantime…?”

“Among other things, I want to find those Welshmen who served with us in the Franklands a few years past.”

“The three brothers?”

“Yea. Madoc, Merrick, and Morgan. Sons of some Welsh border king, or so they claimed. I swear, at least three of the bratlings running about Larkspur belong to them. Mayhap they are acquainted with your betrothed.”

Wulf snorted his opinion, as if all Welshmen were related or knew each other. “We will ne’er know since I have no intention of meeting the wench.”

“Methinks you doth protest too much betimes, Wulf. Why not go and meet her? She may be a great beauty, for all you know.”

“It matters not to me.”

Wulf’s father, and not the woman in question, prompted Wulf’s stubbornness, though what he had done to cause such a rift Wulf would never disclose.

“Stay and help me then. You are always welcome. But you must know that the roof leaks. The shire taxes are due, and I would not be surprised to see the reeve show up soon with his hand out. I have already been asked to oversee the next shire court, and God knows I am the least qualified to levy punishment for bad deeds. The cotters want seed for the fall plantings. And I am lustsome as a goat, not having had a woman in nigh on three months.”

“Caedmon, your life is a bloody mess.”

He could not argue with that.

Steam heat and then some…

Breanne was in the downstairs solar, which had been converted to a hospitium of sorts for the five adults and four children who lay wheezing in the warm steam.

At Rashid’s direction, hot rocks were constantly being dropped into buckets of water to create the steam, which would clear the lung passages. That heat, along with the warmth from the hearth fire, made the small chamber unbearably hot.

Although most Saxon estates, and Norse as well, had central hearths in their great halls with smoke holes in the ceiling, few had actual fireplaces with chimneys. Larkspur, a hodgepodge of building styles, had adopted the Frankish style of heating and cooking. Not only were there three central hearths in the great hall, there were also two huge fireplaces at either end, an enormous one in the kitchen for cooking, and smaller ones in some of the bedchambers for heat. It was a style that Breanne, with her building talents, liked very much. If nothing else, it reduced the amount of interior smoke.

Rashid had long since removed his Arab attire, wearing only an ankle-length linen under-tunic with the sleeves rolled up as he ministered to those ailing with herbal potions and cool, wet cloths. Putting aside modesty, Breanne wore a thin white summer gunna , which clung to her body in the humidity. But she could not be concerned by that as she held the whimpering Piers.

The first day… Was that yesterday or the day before? I am losing track…. they had lost one elderly goatherdsman. After that all the fevers had risen, then gradually lowered until today, when the wheezing was no longer a death rattle. Piers was the one they had worried about most, being so young.

“Rest, little one,” she crooned, rocking his little body in her arms, “soon you will be running about like a puppy again. Shhh. Do not cry. Shhh.”

He had fallen into a restless sleep. When she was placing him in his pallet on the floor, she felt a draft of air. Caedmon stood in the open doorway. The look of utter shock on his face as he took in the scene was soon replaced by one of thunderous rage.

Then his gaze hit on her. He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You! Come with me! Now!”

She would have liked to refuse the brutish order but did not want to disturb the others.

Grabbing her by the upper arm, he nigh dragged her down the passage and into a small guest bedchamber. When he released his hand, she staggered with weariness and with the effect of the cool air after all that heat. With a groan, she dropped down to sit on the edge of the bedstead.

“What is going on here?”

She told him what had happened and the status of the sickness at this point.

He nodded. “Why did you not contact me immediately?”

We were too busy saving lives. “I did not want to interrupt your wooing.”

A foul word was hurled at her.

She shrugged. “We did not know at first how bad it was. Rashid is a more than competent healer. We thought he could handle it. And he did.”

“That was not a decision for you to make.”

“I did…rather, we did what we thought was best at the time.” Ungrateful wretch!

“The little mite…Piers…” he seemed to choke up, then cleared his throat “…How is he?”

Well, mayhap not such a wretch, if he cares about the boy. “Close to death he was at one point, I believe, but he is getting better. They are all getting better. Except for the goatherder Ufric.”

Now would be the time for him to thank her. But did he do that? Nay! Instead, he studied her and said, “You look like bloody hell.”

She put a hand to her head where her hair was damp and sticky. Her face was no doubt dirty. And she probably smelled. “You would, too, if you had been sitting in a steam bubble for two days. Besides, dost think I care if you find my appearance repulsive?”

“Did I say that?” A smile twitched at his lips. “Truth to tell, I find your appearance…delectable. Even resembling a drowned rat, you make me tingle.”

What did he mean by tingling? She was the one who tingled when he was about. But then she glanced down and saw that her gunna was almost transparent with wetness. Her breasts and nipples were visible, as well as her nether hair.

She tried to cover herself but had not the strength. Instead, she started to laugh because, damn the man, she was tingling in those forbidden places he perused so arrogantly. But her laughter soon turned to tears of utter exhaustion.

Quickly, he walked over and picked her up in his arms.

“What?” she squawked. “Put me down.”

“I am taking you to the bathhouse. And then to a bed with clean linens for a long rest.”

“I must help Rashid.”

“I will help Rashid. You have done enough.”

“You?” she asked, skeptical.

“Dost think I am incompetent?”

Yea. “Nay. I just cannot see you wiping a sweaty brow, or cleaning a dirty bottom.”

A smile turned his enticing lips upward, and, amazingly, considering her sorry state, she felt a decided tingle in her tummy. Hunger, no doubt.

While her mind had been wandering, Caedmon had still been talking. She caught the tail end. “That is the best thing about being the leader, I can delegate. Methinks Wulf would make a good bottom wiper.”

So, the lout had a sense of humor. So what? she tried to tell herself. But then, against all good sense, she nuzzled up against his neck, inhaling his salty manscent, which was not unpleasant, mixed as it was with that of fresh air, leather, and horse. As hot as she had been in the steam heat, she was hotter now, but it was a different kind of heat, a heat generated by this man and this man only. Sex heat. “Just so it is not your bed where you deposit me,” she murmured.

He murmured something back that sounded like, “We shall see.”

“I am sorry to be such a bother.”

He laughed. “M’lady, you have been a bother from the moment you first arrived.”

“I made a wager with my sisters that the first thing out of your mouth on your return would be a demand to know why I am still here.”

“I am saving that for later.”

“Did you win the fair maiden?”

“Nay. She preferred Geoff.”

I doubt that.

“Wulf and I were not even in competition with the blond god present.”

Will he ever let me forget that I referred to his friend in that way? “Are you very unhappy about losing the fair maiden?”

“Not at all. And Sybil is far from a maiden. She is closer to your age.”

“In other words, long in the tooth?”

“Precisely.”

She slapped him weakly on the chest for his teasing. “To my eyes, you are far more attractive than Geoff.” Oooh, did I say that out loud?

He chuckled and squeezed her closer in his arms.

“One can take only so much of a blond god afore one’s stomach starts to roil. They love themselves too much.” Mayhap I am getting the lung fever, too, if my tongue cannot control itself. Be still, tongue. Be still.

“Black-haired gods are so much better.”

“Yea, they are.” Tongue, you must needs stop. Oh, gods! I am talking to my tongue.

“You are going to hate yourself on the morrow for these revelations.”

“No doubt. I could give you lessons in wooing so you might better compete in future.” I surrender, tongue. Do your worst.

“What makes you think I am interested in wooing anyone?”

“Pfff! All men are interested in wooing, as long as it gains them what they want.”

“Bedsport?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of marriage.”

“Methinks you think too much, wench.”

And talk too much.

And then he kissed her lips ever so gently, causing her to nigh swoon, even more than she already had. The man was beguiling her, pure and simple.

Once she was rested, she was going to berate him for taking such liberty, but for now she was enjoying the tingling too much.