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To Elrik’s surprise, the old man stomped a foot and slapped his knee as he howled with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, he said between gasps for breath, ‘Oh, that’s a good one that is. What would I do with a wife at my age?’
‘I suppose the same things you did with Agnes.’
‘You are younger than you appear, aren’t you?’ The man reached across the table to throw a half-hearted punch at Elrik’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, boy, twenty or thirty years from now you’ll see things differently.’
Elrik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘You misunderstood me. I meant things like sharing a meal, or a conversation around the fire and a soft warm body to lie against in bed. Nothing more.’
‘I’d not bring another woman to Agnes’s bed. No.’
The woman in the green over-gown came back down the stairs and approached the table. ‘Edward, give her but a few moments to get ready and then you can go up. It’s the room on the end. Just knock, she’ll be waiting.’
The man turned to the others gathered and raised his mug. ‘You owe me, boys.’
Elrik knew the man had just won the wager over who would be the first to visit the new woman’s room. Too bad he wasn’t about to let that happen—at least not until he discovered if this woman was Brandr’s daughter or not.
Needing to get upstairs without drawing unwanted attention, he asked the woman in green, ‘Any of the ladies free at the moment?’
She looked him up and down and then smiled. ‘For someone like you, they’ll fight over the honour. Do you have any preferences?’
The old man answered, ‘He likes them red-haired and lusty.’
‘That settles it then. The second door on the right will be the one you want. She’s free right now.’
Elrik rose and shot a glance towards Fulke, giving him the slightest nod in the direction of the stairs. He then took his leave of the old man. ‘I trust you’ll enjoy your evening.’
‘As will you, I’m sure.’
He approached the stairs, pausing by Samuel, his other guard, and gave him the same slight nod towards the stairs. While he was above trying to determine whether this woman was Brandr’s daughter or not, his men would make their way closer to the bottom of the stairs. They would then be near at hand if he ran into any trouble.
Elrik took the steps two at a time and quickly traversed the length of the corridor, stopping in front of the last door. Careful to keep his knock soft as an old man might, he tapped on the door.
‘Enter.’
He pushed open the door and approached the bed in the dimly lit room. As stiff as a board upon the bed, the young woman had the covers pulled up to her chin. She held fast to the edge of the blankets with a grip that turned her knuckles white. Hair the colour of night was spread out atop the pillow beneath her head. She kept her eyes tightly closed.
This was no experienced whore. It was only a guess, but he was fairly certain he’d just found Brandr’s missing daughter. He leaned over the bed and whispered, ‘Lady Avelyn, your little adventure is over, get up.’
Her eyes sprang open at the same time her lips parted. He clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Do not force me to carry you from here naked. I doubt your father would approve.’
She shook her head, then wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged.
Elrik lifted his hand slightly, giving her room to talk, but keeping his palm close enough to cover any scream should she decide to do so.
‘I am not going home.’
Had the appearance of her icy-blue eyes not given her identity away, her comment confirmed his suspicion. His guess had been correct—this was indeed Brandr’s daughter. He knelt on the bed and loomed over her. ‘The old man you are waiting for will be up here in mere moments. I am not letting you share a bed with him.’
If he did anything that witless, King David would be offering up a special serving of wolf’s head—his—on a platter at the next banquet.
‘So, either you get up and get dressed or I’ll pull you from the bed and dress you myself.’
To his amazement, she hesitated as if debating some third option he’d not given her.
Elrik leaned closer to disabuse her of the idea. ‘It is simple. Get up and dressed on your own, or I will see to both myself. Either way, you are getting out of that bed and you are getting dressed.’
When she narrowed her eyes at him, he had the feeling that she was preparing to argue. Which was something they had no time for at the moment. He grabbed the blankets and tore them from her grasp.
She squeaked and crossed her arms against her chest, trying to cover herself.
‘Unless you possess a third breast, you have nothing I’ve not seen before.’ He took hold of her wrists. ‘I have no time for your false show of sudden modesty. Get up.’
‘I am not a whore.’
He knew she wasn’t. She might be Brandr’s bastard daughter, but he knew that until this unfortunate event, she was far too valuable for him not to have kept a tight control over her upbringing. As the man’s only daughter, there would have been little opportunity for her to have become a whore. But the fact was that he’d found her in bed, naked, in a known brothel and she was going to debate her position? Elrik pulled her up from the bed. ‘We can argue that later. Where are your clothes?’
She nodded towards the window. He released her, pausing to say, ‘Do not run and do not scream.’
He then retrieved a chemise and tunic from a bench beneath the window. Pushing the clothing against her chest, he ordered, ‘Get dressed.’
Instead of doing as he bid, she stood there, holding the clothing, and stared at him. ‘I am not going with you.’
A twinge of tension started behind his eyes. He hadn’t wanted this mission to begin with. However, he was certain that if he didn’t deliver her to King David, his lands and life would be in grave danger.
His temples throbbed. David should have sent one of his younger brothers on this task. Either one—Rory or Edan—would have been a better choice than him. At least they had the patience and temperament to deal with women in a much kinder and gentler manner than he.
His deceased wife had taught him well that women were untrustworthy liars and good for only one thing—the getting of children—and, as in Muriel’s case, sometimes not even that.
Elrik jerked the clothes out of her hands. After gathering the skirt of the chemise in his hands, he dropped it over her head. Keeping his attention directed at the fabric beneath his fingers instead of the pale smoothness of her skin, or the dips and swells of her comely body, he tugged the chemise down to cover her.
He then did the same with her tunic, leaving the laces hanging, before pushing her down on to the bed to squat before her and drag the stockings over her feet and legs, then slipped on a pair of soft boots.
Elrik placed his hands on her knees. ‘I like this no more than you. But I am charged with taking you to Carlisle. You can argue this arranged marriage of yours with King David.’
She shook her head and crossed her arms before her as if the action would grant her some type of protection.
‘I warn you, Lady Avelyn, I have little patience for childish behaviour from anyone but children. It will go better for you if you come willingly as an adult ready to calmly debate this marriage arrangement, rather than being dropped at King David’s feet like an unwilling prisoner. I promise you the King will be less likely to entertain the complaints of a prisoner.’
When she remained seated and did nothing other than look away, he added, ‘I will not ignore my orders, nor will I fail to execute them. You can get up and come with me of your own accord, or I can carry you like a sack of grain.’
That warning got her attention. She stared at him. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
In no mood for further delay, Elrik stood up and before she could determine what he was about to do, he hauled her up over his shoulder.
‘All right.’ She pounded her fists on his back. ‘You have proved your point. Put me down.’
He set her on her feet and turned her to face the door. ‘We are leaving. Now.’
Avelyn refused to budge. ‘I owe them for my keep.’
Elrik rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the still-growing tension, then reached inside his mantle for the coins King David had given him. Without counting them, he tossed the sack on the bed. ‘That will more than cover the roof over your head and food.’ He pushed her forward. ‘Now go.’
‘No. Wait.’
‘Wait?’
She rushed to a small table in the far corner of the room, picked up a small pouch and slipped the ribbon dangling from it over her head. After tucking the pouch inside the neck of her gown, she came back to him.
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
He waved towards the door. ‘Then go.’
‘You are just going to walk out of here with me?’
‘That is the plan, yes.’
‘And you don’t expect anyone to question or stop you from doing so?’
He would like to see them try such an act, it might provide him with an opportunity to release some of the tightness burning along the muscles of his neck and shoulders. ‘Why would anyone do so? Do you belong to anyone here?’
‘No.’
‘Have you entered into some sort of dubious agreement with anyone?’
‘No.’
‘Then I do not see what reason they would have to stop me.’
‘They don’t know you.’
Elrik blinked. ‘They obviously don’t know you either.’
‘I have been here over a week. They know me.’
If that were true, she would not now be in this position. It was doubtful that she would still be under this roof. ‘Oh, so you told them you were Lord Brandr’s daughter and that you’d run away from a marriage arranged by your great-grandfather King Óláfr?’
She hesitated. ‘No.’
‘Would you like to tell them? We can go below and once I get everyone’s attention you can then make your announcement. Of course, I won’t be responsible for any who decide to take you captive and hold you for ransom—or think to return you to your father for some sort of reward—or worse, marry you himself with the assumption that there will be something worthwhile to gain.’
She shot him a look that threatened to skewer him on the spot before opening the door and marching stiffly out into the corridor.
Chapter Two (#uc936ff74-d9ab-5e9f-81da-b8ae495dc9e5)
Avelyn fisted her hands at her side. The last few days she’d started to believe that she’d managed to escape her fate and would not be found.
Instead, once again she learned the uselessness of fanciful hopes, wishes and luck.
How had this oaf found her? She’d expected her father to send men after her, but she’d thought they would be his men, someone she knew or someone who was at least familiar.
Apparently, her father had gone to King David for assistance instead of to his grandfather, King Óláfr, or even to his uncle and liege, Lord Somerled.
Why?
Perhaps he didn’t want them to learn that she’d run away rather than wed the man they’d chosen as her husband.
And now this...this stranger thought he was going to take her to King David like an errant child? She frowned as yet another hopeful thought drifted into her mind. Was it possible that her father had dragged the Scots King into this because he’d had a change of heart and had found the ancient warlord chosen as her husband to be unsuitable?
It was doubtful, but she clung to that thought as it would be the only slender thread of sanity available to her. However, her fanciful wishes did little to explain the identity of this man.
From what she could tell, he was strongly built—the long, fur-lined mantle covered him from shoulder to ankle, so she couldn’t see the shape of his body—but he’d easily lifted her over his shoulder with one arm. Yet, at the same time, his attempt to dress her hadn’t been overly harsh, fumbling perhaps, as if unused to the task, but not cruel.
And his touch, when it had rested on her knees as he’d tried to reason with her, had been warm. Had she not been distraught over being found she could have easily fallen into the comfort that warmth had conveyed.
His eyes were green, flecked with gold. His hair was nearly as black as hers, but his was shot through with silvery strands that made it impossible to know his age.
But he wasn’t old. Older than she was, but not ancient like the man she’d been betrothed to wed.
‘Who are you?’ she asked over her shoulder.
He did nothing but grunt and poke a finger into her back to prod her along the corridor towards the stairs.
Just as they reached the top of the stairs they met an old man. She could only assume this was Edward, the old man Hannah had coerced her into sharing a bed with. He was most likely headed to her room. Avelyn wondered how her unwanted rescuer would deal with this event.
Edward looked from her to the man behind her, a frown of puzzlement creasing his already lined face. ‘This is not the red-haired wench.’
‘No. It isn’t.’
‘This is my woman. I paid for her.’
‘How much?’
‘What does the amount matter to you?’ Edward reached for her, adding, ‘I paid. She is mine.’
‘It matters greatly to me because she is my wife.’ The man looped an arm about her waist and pulled her close. ‘And because we have three hungry children at home who would be grateful for the coin their mother could deliver.’
Wife? Home? Three hungry children?
Struck mute by his outrageous lies, Avelyn could only stare blindly ahead. She wasn’t completely lacking in wits. He had spouted the lies in an attempt to leave the inn without incident. She wished he’d have devised something less demeaning to her.
‘If the amount is right, I might be willing to allow her to go with you. Provided, of course, that I stand guard over the two of you to ensure no harm comes to the mother of my children.’
Avelyn narrowed her eyes, then turned her head to glare up at him. She didn’t know him well enough to decipher the quick look he gave her, but she was fairly certain it had been a silent warning to keep quiet—a warning she planned to ignore.
She jutted an elbow into his gut and turned her attention to Edward. ‘That is not the reason he wishes to watch.’
Her rescuer’s fingers tightened against her waist, but she forged ahead, determined to make him feel as foolish and embarrassed as he’d made her feel. ‘Oh, no, his rutting leaves behind nothing memorable except children and he wishes to see if he can learn anything.’
