“Where did you go?” he inquired softly. “You left so suddenly I thought you might be ill.”
“I am quite well, my lord,” she replied. “I’m sorry to have distressed you. I only went to see to my mother’s needs.”
He pushed open the chamber door for her and allowed her to precede him then closed it quietly behind them. Leaning back against it, he watched her move away into a darkened corner of the room and there disrobe with her back to him. His eyes slowly drank their fill, moving along her long, slender legs over her hips to the waist that was still fairly narrow. When she turned, her bosom came into view before she hastily slipped into bed pulling the pelts up high under her chin. Wulfgar crossed to the bed and laying across it, pulled her in his arms and began to kiss her. Pressing his lips against her fragrant hair, he muttered against it.
“Ah, wench, you are the gentlest delight. What would I do to fill my leisure if you were taken from me?”
Aislinn turned her face away and sighed. “My lord, I do not know. Pray tell me.”
He chuckled as he nuzzled her shoulder. “I would find some wench as beautiful and as lusty, and then mayhap I would be content,” he teased.
Aislinn did not take kindly to his humor, but replied in measured tones. “ ’Twould be to your advantage to find one as talented as Haylan also. You never know when there is cause to be entertained.”
Wulfgar laughed at her sarcasm and rolled from the bed to shun his clothes, returning a moment later when he had laid them away. Her back was now presented to him, but Wulfgar was little daunted since many of their most pleasurable evenings began in this manner. Moving close against her, he brushed the curling tresses from the nape of her neck, for his lips were hungry for the taste of her.
Aislinn could not find the will to deny him even with her mind set and the plans for escape formed. Only by leaving would she regain some portion of her self-respect. Still, he would plague her mind and the memory of his bold caresses that could send the full depth of her being reeling in giddy delight, would forever bring a longing to her breast. She sighed again as she surrendered to his arms and gave him kiss for kiss, parting her lips beneath his and clutching him to her as if she could not hold him close enough. Their ardor drove them on and the roaring furnace of their passions consumed them. Aislinn trembled in his arms and as they lay in the aftermath of the storm, she wept softly in her pillow.
Aislinn woke at the bright twinklings of light escaping through the shutters and drowsily searched the bed with her hand. The pillow beside hers was empty and glancing about the room, she found that Wulfgar had gone. She sat up sleepily and in deep dejection dropped her chin wearily in her hands, thinking of the day’s chore. It all seemed like some horrible nightmare, but Maida’s scratching at the door a moment later reminded her it was not. The woman entered and began in haste to pack her daughter’s gowns into a bundle until Aislinn stopped her.
“Nay. I take only the rag Gwyneth left me with. The others are his—” And she added with a choked sob, “For Haylan if he so chooses.”
It did not matter that he had given them to her. She’d have little peace taking them with her, for every time she wore one she’d be reminded of all that had passed between them, and she wanted no more unwelcome memories than she had already.
She called Miderd and swearing her to silence, enlisted her aid in the hurried leavetaking. The woman gave her argument until she saw Aislinn’s determination, then could do nothing other than assist her. Sanhurst was instructed to saddle an ancient nag, little knowing it was for Aislinn he did so. At the sight of the ragged mount, Maida quelled, then ranted furiously at Aislinn’s choice.
“Take the gray. We’ll need her strength to see us through.”
Aislinn shook her head and murmured firmly, “Nay. ’Tis this or naught. No fine steed will mark my passage through these climes.”
“The Norman gave her to you and the clothes you set aside. They are yours and ‘twould do him good to see them gone.”
“I will not go bearing his gifts,” Aislinn said stubbornly.
The choice of food yielded Maida no more assurance of her daughter’s good sense, but gave her cause to wail.
“We shall starve. You beggar us upon this stumbling nag, then expect us to survive on that meager fare.”
“We will find more,” Aislinn assured her and turned away further argument. As they rode from view, Miderd slowly turned and made her way into the hall, wiping a tear that traced down her cheek.
Darkness had approached and Miderd could not shake away the sadness that burdened her heart. She watched Haylan as the young woman tested a side of vension roasting for the evening meal. She knew Haylan would accept the news with gladness and wondered at her continued flirtation, for she herself saw Wulfgar as a man of honor and could read the signs of his true concern for Aislinn.
Miderd turned away in disgust as she remembered the night before. “Why do you seek to tempt the Lord Wulfgar?” she asked, more than a trifle piqued with her sister-in-law. “Will you still play the strumpet if Lady Aislinn is the mistress of the hall?”
“There is slim chance of Aislinn becoming mistress here,” Haylan snapped. “Wulfgar admits he hates women.”
Miderd swung round. “Does a man hate a woman who bears his child in her belly?”
Haylan shrugged. “That is not love, but lust.”
“And you would have him lust after you until you’re as round as she?” Miderd questioned increduously. “Last night you danced before him like Salome before that king. Would you ask for Aislinn’s head to satisfy you?”
Haylan smiled. “Were she gone,” she sighed, “Wulfgar would be mine.”
“And she goes,” Miderd said bitterly. “Are you so happy?”
Haylan’s dark eyes widened in surprise and at her stunned silence Miderd nodded.
“Yea, even now she hastens from him. She takes nothing but herself, her mother and his child and the old nag she leads her mother on.”
“Does he know?” Haylan questioned slowly.
“Upon his return from Cregan he will know, for I will tell him. She bade me hold silent but I fear for her safety. The wolves range wide in the forests where she goes. I cannot keep my tongue and let her fall prey to those savage beasts nor the human ones who would take her with no regard for her soft condition.”
“Who is to say whether Wulfgar will go after her or not?” Haylan shrugged. “She grows fat with child and he will tire of her soon anyway.”
“Your heart is sheathed in ice, Haylan. I would not have thought you so pitiless nor so bent upon your own desires.”
Haylan let out an enraged howl. “I am wearied with your fault-finding, and your sympathy for that wench grows tedious. She has done naught for me. I feel no obligation toward her.”
“If you ever have need of her,” Miderd returned softly, “I hope before Heaven that she has more compassion for you.”
“ ’Tis not likely I’ll ever require her help,” Haylan retorted and then she shrugged her shoulders flippantly. “Besides, she is already gone.”
“The townspeople will miss her. They can turn to no other for what milady gave them.”
“Milady! Milady!” Haylan mimicked sourly. “She is not my lady nor will she ever be. I will be more crafty than she. I will make Wulfgar love me and want me as his own.”
“Lord Wulfgar,” Miderd corrected testily.
Haylan smiled and licked her lips as if anticipating some great feast. “Soon he will be only Wulfgar to me.”
The sound of heavy hooves thundered near and passed in the direction of the stables. Miderd rose and faced Haylan.
“He returns and I go to tell him. If he does not go after her, be assured I will blame you for the death of Lady Aislinn, for it is very likely she will die in the wilds.”
“Me?!” Haylan cried. “I did naught but wish her gone. She left of her own free will.”
“Yea,” Miderd agreed. “But it was as if you placed your hands upon her
back and pushed her out.”
Haylan flounced back to the hearth in a fit of temper. “I care naught. Away with you. I’m glad she’s gone.”
Without further reply, Miderd sighed and left the hall and made her way to the stables where Wulfgar and his men unsaddled their horses. Hesitantly she approached the big Hun and glanced at Wulfgar a bit nervously. He was speaking with Sweyn and failed to notice her until she stretched out a hand and pulled at his sleeve. With a hand resting on the Hun’s backside, he turned to her, still smiling at some jest, and raised a questioning brow.
“Milord,” Miderd said softly. “I fear your lady is gone.”
The grin faded from Wulfgar’s face and his eyes grew cold.
“What is this?” he demanded.
Miderd swallowed hard, fear almost washing her resolve away. She held on grimly and repeated her statement.
“The Lady Aislinn has gone, milord,” she said. No longer sure of herself, she wrung her hands. “Shortly after you left this morn, milord.”
In a single motion Wulfgar snatched his saddle from the ground and flung it to the back of the Hun, startling a snort from the steed with his unexpected action and drawing the immediate attention of his men. He braced his knee against the horse, pulling the girth tight as he spoke aside to Miderd.
“She went north, of course. To London?” He turned a questioning to her.
“North, yea, but not to London. I think more westerly to ride around the city and seek some haven with the northern clans,” she replied and then added softly, bowing her head, “where no Normans abide, my lord.”
Wulfgar swore a hearty oath and swung into the saddle. He saw Sweyn readying a mount to accompany him and halted him.
“Nay, Sweyn. I go alone. Again I bid you stay and see the lands secure until I return.”
He turned and his eyes swept the stables seeing everything in its place and her mare in its stall.
“She took no horse nor wagon? How does she fly? Afoot?” Again his glowering gaze turned toward Miderd.
She shook her head. “Milady took no mount save the old nag and for some provender a few blankets and other meager trappings. They will seem like homeless Saxons fleeing the wars.” She remembered sadly her own long journey then continued in worried haste. “I fear for her, milord. The times are bad and scavengers range wide. Wolves—” She stopped, unable to go on, and raised her eyes half in fear.
“Allay your thoughts, Miderd,” Wulfgar said, leaning forward in his saddle. “Be assured you have earned a place this night for ten score years to come.”
Wulfgar’s hand moved the reins and the Hun whirled away and was soon on the north road, swinging easily into a mile-eating gait that took them rapidly on their hunt.
Miderd stood long and listened to the sounds of hooves dying in the night. She shook her head and smiled to herself. In spite of this man’s fierce manner and his liking for battle, he had a heart which she knew had borne much pain. So he spoke gruffly and blasphemed his own feelings for others and bragged that he needed no one else. So he lent himself to war, perhaps half hoping that his gnawing ache might end on another’s blade. Yet here he rode the night to halt a fleeing love as if it were a hunting bird once tamed and brought to hand, but having thrown the jess, now refused to come to glove.
Wulfgar rode easily in the saddle, still fully garbed in mail with his mantle billowing out behind him. He snatched the helmet off and let the cold March wind drive sleep from his head. He felt the thrust of the Hun beneath him and knew the pace would cover in a matter of hours what had taken Aislinn most of the day.
A bright three-quarter moon rose high in a cold, black sky and seemed to draw low mists from the fens and bogs. He measured its passing for the time he would slow and search for the starved glow of a waning fire. He frowned and looked northward, his mind trying to sort out the reasons that had brought her to this action. He couldn’t remember anything different that had happened in the past few days to cause her to be dissatisfied with their life. But what did he know of women, except that they were not to be trusted.
Aislinn rechecked the reins tied about a small tree and ran a comforting hand along the trembling sides of the ancient mare.
“Sorry lot, we,” she thought. “Feast for wolves and naught else.”
Aislinn put her hand to the small of her back where a dull ache was beginning to bloom and crossed to the fire near where her mother slept peacefully upon the damp earth, wrapped in a shoddy blanket against the chill. Aislinn shivered as a cold breeze rattled the winter-cleaned branches above them and trembled even more as a far-off howl warned of wolves roaming the countryside. Sitting beside the small fire, she poked at it aimlessly, thinking of the warm bed she could be sharing with Wulfgar now. She had not wanted to stop here in the woods, hoping instead to reach the town some two hours away before fatigue grew too apparent in her mother. But it was the mare who had held them back, going lame in one of her forelegs.
Aislinn wrapped her arms about her knees, gazing thoughtfully into the flickering flames. At her continued stillness, the child within her belly stirred and moved with faint featherlike motions. The baby was content, lulled to sleep in the warm, safe haven of his mother’s womb. Aislinn smiled softly as tears came to her eyes, blinking them away when they threatened to overflow.
A babe, she thought in wonder. A treasure, a miracle, a sweet joy when two beings came together in love and made a child.
Lord, if she were only able to reassure herself and Wulfgar that it was truly his, but always that doubt hung above them, setting Ragnor’s face between them as if he were more than their imagination. But even if the babe were Ragnor’s, she could not abandon it and send it away from her sight nor could she bear the thought of being isolated from her home. Now at least with her leaving, Wulfgar would not have to look at her anymore and wonder.
The tears began again and flowed unchecked down her cheeks.
“Oh, Wulfgar,” she sighed miserably. “Had I been properly betrothed to you and unspoiled by Ragnor’s hand, perhaps I could have won your heart, but I see that your eyes wander already from this melon shape of mine to the trimmer one of the widow Haylan. I could not bear the way you looked at her—or was it my imagination that placed the lust within your eyes?”
Aislinn dropped her cheek against her knees in despair and gazed thoughtfully into the darkness of the woods, her vision blurred by the tears that came much more freely now. Everything was still about her. It was as if time had ceased and she was forever caught in the limbo of the present. Even the stars appeared to have strayed from the blackened sky overhead, for two bright lights glistened from the darkness beyond.
Something prickled along Aislinn’s spine and set her nerves on edge. Slowly she raised her head, blinking away the moisture in her eyes, and fixed her gaze on those shining points. Fear etched deep in the shadows of her mind, for she knew now it was not stars at all but two eyes that stared back at her. They were joined by others and more until the dark across the fire seemed scattered with glowing coals. One by one the wolves crept nearer, jaws opened, tongues lolling as if they laughed at her helplessness. The poor old mare snorted and trembled but could muster strength for nothing more. Aislinn added another log to the fire then seized a small stick in one hand and drew the slim dagger in her other. She could count some dozen furry bodies now as the wolves drew closer, snapping and snarling, seeming to bargain among themselves for the best position. Suddenly a stronger voice rent the night with a snarl and the wolves tucked their tails and drew aside as a beast easily twice as large as any of the others trotted forward into the light. As he came he glanced casually about, appraising the scene, then placing himself in front of the pack, turned his back on Aislinn and raised again a threatening snarl unto they withdrew to the edge of the glade. He turned to face her and the slanting yellow eyes met hers with an intelligence that was amazing. Her lips moved and formed the word before she knew their intent.
“Wulfgar!” The hoarse whisper e
scaped her.
The black beast lay down, seeming so perfectly at ease that he could have been some trained hound to do her bidding.
Aislinn lowered the stick and returned her knife to its sheath. The wolf’s jaws opened as if he smiled and confirmed the truce. He dropped his head to his outstretched paws but the eyes remained alert and never left her. Aislinn leaned back against the tree and the feeling came over her that she was secure in this wild wood, as much as she had ever been in Darkenwald.
A wolf snarled from the dark and Aislinn came fully awake, realizing she had dozed for some time. The great wolf raised his head and fastened his eyes on the darkness behind her but made no other move. Aislinn waited, her hackles rising as the tension grew. Then a stone rolled and she slowly turned.
“Wulfgar!” she gasped.
His eyes went to her as he came forward leading the Hun and then went to the huge beast beyond the fire. It was both surprise and relief that she felt as he came to stand fully in the light, for she had almost convinced herself that he was were-beast as the rumors held and had somehow become that great, black wolf who had guarded her so well.
The animal now rose and shook himself, his golden eyes gleaming as he and Wulfgar stared at each other across the dying flames. The black wolf finally turned and with a yelp to his pack led them away into the night. The forest was silent for a long moment and Aislinn waited as Wulfgar stared at her. Finally he sighed and spoke with some humor in his voice.
“You, madam, are a fool.”
Aislinn raised her chin a notch and returned quite tartly: “And you, sir, are a knave.”
“Agreed.” He gave her a brief smile. “But let us share the comfort of this glade until the morning breaks.”
He tied the Hun beside the tired mare and from a pouch behind his saddle gave them both several handfuls of grain. Aislinn resigned herself and in spite of her failure to escape, felt great comfort at his presence and thus made no resistance when after doffing his mail and laying it across his grounded saddle, he stretched out beside her, drew her near and wrapped them both in his heavy cloak.