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“No, that was the truth, but I tried to explain it was only because…”
“Get out! I have no further need of you, be gone!”
Celiese sped through the door as Mylan picked up a heavy brass box, clearly meaning to hurl it at her should she not obey him. She could not blame him for his anger, but neither would she remain and risk needless injury. She had taken no more than two running steps down the hall when Olgrethe opened a door and saw her.
“There you are at last! Come quickly, Celiese, for I cannot make my hair curl as it should, and I want to look my very best.” The animated girl grabbed her longtime servant’s wrist and led her into the room where she had dressed. “Where have you been? I had to bathe and dress myself, but you must comb my hair before you dress.”
Olgrethe sat down and handed Celiese her hairbrush and golden pins. “Hurry, I am late already! This wedding will be nothing like yours, there will be no feasting, but I do want to look pretty even if I am not to be entertained as lavishly as you were. This is the only wedding I am likely to have, and I’ll make a celebration of it even if the Vandahls refuse to.”
Celiese fashioned the elaborate coiffure Olgrethe preferred without hearing any of the young woman’s excited chatter. She was too hurt to contemplate anything more than the painful fact that her only friend was about to marry the man she had thought would be her own husband. It was all so unfairâ??none of the torment was her fault, and yet Mylan blamed her for deceiving him to aid Raktor, when she had done nothing of the kind. Her work finished, she stepped back, hoping to be excused even if she had nowhere to go in the expansive home.
Olgrethe held her gown daintily above her feet as she left her chair, “The bathwater is fresh; I had it brought for you. Now hurry and get ready. They will come for me shortly, and I do not wish to be married without you being there to see it, as I have no other friend in this household.”
“Olgrethe, please…”
The high-spirited girl grabbed for the brooches that held Celiese’s yellow gown and removed them with a swift tug. “Hurry, or I shall take you with me nude!” She shoved and pushed, argued and cajoled until at last she had her friend seated in the steaming tub. “There, now doesn’t that feel good? Why don’t you wear my blue dressâ??I brought along all my jewelry and I’ll get everything out for you so we won’t keep them waiting.”
Celiese sank down into the warm softness of the large tub to wet her hair before lathering her thick curls with the perfumed soap Olgrethe thrust into her hands. There was no way to escape the enthusiastic girl’s plans, but once the ceremony had begun, Olgrethe would have eyes only for Mylan and then she could slip away, hide somewhere away from the Vandahls and their accusing stares. She turned as the door swung open, shocked as Mylan strode into the room and came straight toward her, but she had no way to hide her lissome figure from his hostile glance.
“Why are you blushing so deeply, girl, you’ve nothing I have not already seenâ??more than onceâ??to say nothing of half of Kaupang, which had a full view of your charms. You have kept us all waiting too long, Olgrethe, you must come with me now.” With no more than a brief backward glance, Mylan swept the startled young woman out of the room, leaving Celiese flushed with shame as she sat in the rapidly cooling water: His disgust with her could not have been more painful, and she had little reason even to leave the tub, let alone dress for an evening that promised to hold no joy.
But as the water grew chilled her anger mounted, until she finally forced herself to rise, dried off carefully, and donned the silken gown Olgrethe had laid out for her. She fastened the gold brooches at her shoulders with shaking fingers and attempted to dry her hair sufficiently to join the gathering for a few minutes, at least. She twisted her gleaming tresses upon her head and secured them with the golden pins Olgrethe had not needed. Furious at her own weakness that had allowed her to care so deeply for a man who thought so little of her, she vowed to show Mylan she still had her pride. His insults might hurt her terribly, but she would not let him suspect she felt the slightest discomfort at his scorn. If he wished to reject her love then she would reject his hatred with the same cool disdain.
Lifting her chin proudly she made her way to the hall where the marriage ceremony was already taking place. Many of those who had attended her wedding were there again, so while the atmosphere of the large room was not nearly as festive, it was no less crowded. Those who turned to note her arrival frowned angrily, but she stepped swiftly to move along the side of the room, hoping to find a place to stand where she would attract no notice. She would greet Olgrethe warmly at the close of the ceremony and then return to the room where she had dressed and hope her presence in the house would be swiftly forgotten. As she edged along the back of the crowd, an arm suddenly closed firmly around her waist, and she gasped in surprise as she struggled to get free.
“Hush, I mean you no harm,” Mylan whispered sternly as he pulled her close to his side. “Do you always dress as finely as your mistress, or is this yet another of your tricks?” Truly he thought her as splendidly garbed as Olgrethe, and in his opinion she was far prettier. That so lovely a young woman could have such an evil heart confused him, and his question sounded more like a rebuke than a query.
Celiese was so astonished to find Mylan at the back of the room that she stood on her tiptoes to see what had happened to Olgrethe. Had the ceremony not yet begun, after all? Her eyes widened further, her long lashes sweeping her delicately arched brows, when she saw the young woman standing in the center of the room with Andrick by her side. Turning so she might speak discreetly, she whispered. “Olgrethe is not marrying you?”
Mylan brought his fingertip to her lips to silence her. “No! I have no need for another bride. Now be still, you are disturbing everyone with your chatter.”
Celiese relaxed against him, forgetting his injured side in her amazement. Her body melted into the sleek line of his and she felt him draw away quickly, but not before she had felt his body’s involuntary response to hers, and when she looked up at him his blush was as bright as hers. His hand had not relaxed upon her wrist, but she was too relieved to find he had not wed Olgrethe to complain over that slight pain.
What had he said? He wanted no other bride? What had he meant by that remarkâ??that he was finished with marriage, or was he only finished with her? She peeked up at him through her thick fringe of dark lashes. He looked far from happy, and she risked le
aning close again to whisper, “Why is Andrick marrying Olgrethe?”
“Because I wouldn’t!” Mylan snarled angrily, then pulled her around in front of him, keeping his arms clasped tightly around her narrow waist so she could not escape his grasp. His embrace was confining, not tender, and the moment the ceremony concluded he dragged her along beside him to congratulate his brother. He mumbled a brief greeting, then left the large gathering with Celiese still firmly in tow as he climbed the stairs to his room. He pushed her inside, and turned to go. “Wait here, I will return in a moment with a more suitable garment for you to wear.”
Celiese looked down at Olgrethe’s lovely blue gown with a puzzled glance. “But why? This dress is so pretty, don’t you like it?”
“No, it will not do for the journey to my home, nor for what you will do when get there.” He stood in the doorway, impatient to attend to his errand.
“You do not live here with your family?” She found each of his announcements perplexing.
“No. Now remove that dress quickly so I am not kept waiting.” He slammed the door as he went out, but Celiese sat down on his bed, unwilling to disrobe when she understood so little of his purpose. Where were they going, and what unnamed task must she change her clothes to perform?
When Mylan returned he swore heatedly as he tossed her a coarsely woven gray wool gown. “Your modesty is misplaced with me, Celiese, now don this and let us go.”
She held up the drab dress and shook her head. “This is at least clean, but hideous. Mylan, why must I wear it?”
He moved about the room rapidly collecting his belongings. “You must cease to concern yourself with beauty, Celiese. Practicality is the issue here; now dress or I shall leave without you.”
She ran her fingertips over the rough threads of the gray fabric and complained again as she slipped it over her head. “I cannot wear this next to my skin, Mylan, it is so poorly woven it would be unbearably uncomfortable.”
“Your comfort is unimportant. I’m ready, let’s go.” He frowned with disappointment as he looked at her, for the ill-fitting wool gown did little to hide her beauty. Forcing himself to continue, he asked gruffly, “Can you ride?”
“Yes, of course.”
