Page 146 of The Outlaw Viking

“What’s that for?” Rain asked.

“Me weddin’ to Ubbi. I want ye to wear it fer me weddin’. Will ye be me witness?”

“Ella! How wonderful! Ubbi never told me. The stinker!”

“We are goin’ to have it outdoors at the farmstead. Will ye come?”

“Of course.”

Rain rode out to the farmstead with Gyda and Tyra the day of the wedding. Tyra looked like a combination of Sharon Stone and Julia Roberts, sitting on her white palfrey in a stunning bluesilk tunic. Rain felt more like a tall Bette Midler.

A festival atmosphere reigned at the farm. Long trestle tables set up with tons of food were being arranged by servants whom Selik must have hired; a harpist was playing in the background, and the farm was crowded with guests whom Rain recognized from Gyda’s neighborhood in the city. Even Father Bernard was there, probably to perform the ceremony.

A trellis-type apparatus had been erected before a makeshift altar decorated with hundreds of spring flowers. Gyda sat on a bench nearby weaving some of the flowers into a circlet for the bride’s head.

“What do you think?”

Rain turned to see Selik standing behind her, very close behind her. She stepped away. “Very nice, Selik. I don’t know how you managed this in such a short time.”

“Gyda and Ella helped.”

She nodded, uncomfortable under his intense gaze. He wore a black tunic over black braies and boots, the stark color set off only by his pale hair and a silver belt and armlets.

She licked her lips, desperately wanting to reach out and touch the jagged scar on his face and the word Rage on his arm. His eyes riveted on her mouth, intense with yearning, and Rain’s knees almost buckled under the onslaught of warmth that washed over her.

“I love you, Rain.”

“No,” she whimpered and forced herself to break eye contact. Her eyes scanned the farmyard, taking in all the improvements—the completed house, new outbuildings and fences. He must have had a great deal more money than she’d thought to do so much so quickly.

“Would you like to see your house?”

She groaned. “It’s not my house, Selik.”

“Athelstan gave you this property, I understand. So truly, the house is yours, even if you do not want me.”

Don’t want you? Don’t want you? Rain felt as if she were sinking fast and sought some anchor, any anchor. Her eyes darted around the farmyard, then stopped dead. Could that be Eirik and Tykir standing there talking to Ubbi? Why hadn’t anyone told her they were coming?

She heard horses approaching the farm and turned. Guards wearing the golden dragon emblem of the House of Wessex accompanied a well-dressed woman. Elgiva! Rain’s head began to ring with confusion.

Something was not right in this picture.

Tykir and Eirik might come for Ubbi’s wedding, but not Elgiva. And the floral head circlet that Gyda was weaving—well, somehow Rain couldn’t picture Ella wearing such a frivolous hair adornment. Her eyes caught a swath of green cloth draped around the altar, and she looked down at her dress. The same fabric.

She turned on Selik angrily.

“Now, Rain, be reasonable,” he cautioned, seeing the dawning understanding on her face.

“You didn’t, Selik. Surely you didn’t plan all this without my consent.”

“Come, I want to show you that building over there,” he said, taking her arm firmly and pulling her along beside him before she had a chance to create a scene.

The rectangular building, much smaller than the house and barn, sat by itself near the edge of the clearing. He shoved her inside and barred the door.

Her eyes quickly scanned the large room. Benches lined one side, several pallets covered the floors, and at the end a high table and built-in shelves lined the walls. The pungent smell of new wood filled the air.

“Selik, you can’t lock me in here forever. Let me go.”

“I will, but first I want to show you this new…building.”