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She sat down beside him, understanding his concern was well-justified, but not wanting to be the cause of it. “I told you all I know, Mylan. Our home was visible from both the sea and the river Seine. I was a child, however, not an adult skilled in drawing maps, so I can tell you no more than I have.”
“You mentioned the city of Rouen, though; was it close by?” He pressed her to continue, for each piece of information she still remembered would be useful.
She shook her head. “No, I went there so seldom I do not know the exact distance. It was perhaps half a day’s ride on horseback, maybe a little more.”
Mylan took a deep breath, weighing the benefits of explaining his worry, and, decided she had a right to know what to expect when she reached home. He spoke deliberately, “Hrolf is in Rouen. If he was given a sizable amount of land, his holdings may include what was once the estate of the d’Loganvilles.”
Appalled by that possibility, she hastened to argue, “That can’t be true, Mylan, it simply can’t. Perhaps as you and Hagen insist, the man was given some property by King Charles, but I refuse to believe it is so extensive as you say, or that he could possibly be occupying what rightfully belongs to me.”
The fury filling her deep green glance was not one he would care to see directed at him, and he offered the only encouragement he could. “Cease to worry then, for nothing can be known for certain until we arrive, and you must not torture yourself with doubt.”
“Doubt?” she scoffed. “The man has no right to my land, Mylan, and if he should be so stupid as to think he does, he will soon learn I mean to avenge all the wrongs done to the d’Loganvilles, and I will be happy to begin with him!”
He sat back, stunned by the depth of her anger. She had already risked death once in a desperate bid to win her freedom, and he knew without asking she would do it again to restore to her family what was rightfully theirs. “You have answered my question after all, Celiese. It seems revenge is a far more powerful emotion in your heart than love. I cannot expect you to choose to stay with me when clearly that would mean you would have to give up your lust for bloodâ??which seems to be your destiny.”
Furious that he would taunt her so cruelly, she wound her arms around his neck and sought his mouth with a kiss so desperate in its intensity that he was shocked by her passion. Her hands moved over him with so tantalizing a touch that he gave no thought to resisting the force of her affection and enfolded her in a ready embrace, forcing her down upon the blanket he had provided for that exact purpose.
The gentle loving they often shared was replaced by an urgency too great to delay with soft kisses or the sweetness of a tender caress. They were lovers consumed in the fires of desire, all restraint burned away in an instant as they sought the immediate satisfaction of the most glorious of shared pleasures. That the tent provided less than complete privacy did not disturb Mylan in the slightest, for Celiese had told him herself she had no reputation left to maintain, and he knew his own would scarcely suffer for what he was doing. But he would not have cared one bit if it had.
Chapter 19
The autumn weather continued to be fair, the skies blue and cloudless, and the Surf Falcon’s progress swift. While Mylan had taken care to insure there would be no repetition of the erotic scene they had played on deck that one afternoon, Celiese seemed completely unconcerned by it. He realized with chagrin that he was no closer to understanding the complexities of her nature than he had been the morning they had set sail for France. They had established an agreeable routine. She kept to herself during the day, but sat beside him while they ate supper, and when he walked her to a secluded spot for the night she came into his arms with a playful eagerness he found enchanting.
That did not mean their problems had been solved, however; if anything they had been compounded as the journey drew to its end. He wanted to keep Celiese as his wife. That desire had grown within him until he could accept no other possibility, but she seemed so totally absorbed in her dreams of returning home that she had no interest in discussing what future they might share as man and wife.
He had no doubt he could force his parents to accept her, and as they would not reside in his father’s house he would not have to worry about her safety whenever they were apart. But while he could deal with his parents, it was Celiese he had failed to convince. Andrick’s words rang often in his mind, for he knew he had never courted the lovely young woman with the charm and courtesy to which she was entitled.
She had simply become his bride, then his enemy, all in the space of one night. Fate had continually separated and then reunited them, but their lives were now so entwined he had lost all thought of her as a separate being independent from himself. Celiese was simply his; whether he called her wife or mistress did not matter when she was too great a part of his life to ever let her go. That she did not realize that fact for the truth it was caused him far more anxiety than the complexities of the voyage had ever presented.
“We have come a great distance, Mylan. I have not counted the days, have you?” Celiese stretched their blanket upon the soft moss covering the forest floor. They had seen several small settlements along the shores in recent days, but they had skirted them all, searching out the most desolate stretch of coast each night to make their camp. At sunrise they would be gone, leaving no trace they had ever tarried there. If they were being followed, they left no trail of clues by which they could be found.
Tugging his tunic off over his head, Mylan teased her sweetly. “I have counted only the nights.” In truth he knew exactly how far they had come and how many hours it had taken them. A skilled captain, he remembered each nuance of a journey, the force of the wind, the contours of the shore, landmarks that would guide him should he travel that way again. He missed nothing, and thought it unlikely she had either; for she seemed to be observing all with the same intensity she gave to everything she attempted to master.
Turning to cast a seductive glance over her right shoulder, she responded skeptically. “You are too precise in your calculations for me to believe that. Are we not nearly there?”
He placed his hands on his hips, bracing himself for an argument he hoped would not come. “Do you find my company so objectionable you cannot wait for our journey to end?”
Saddened that he still did not appreciat
e the depth of her regard for him, she stepped close. “You are the best of all possible companions, as dear to me as anyone will ever be.”
He racked his brain for a suitably complimentary response but could think of none, so he changed the subject with the first thought that entered his mind. “I wonder if Andrick has gotten over his fascination with Olgrethe.”
Startled that he would think of his brother at such a time, she did not realize how much he had revealed about his own emotions with that question. “I certainly hope he never does,” she replied with a lilting laugh. “He loves her; with all her faults I believe he truly loves her, and I know she adores him.” That Mylan would soon be an uncle was not a secret she would reveal, however.
“What faults does Olgrethe have that my brother seems to find so easy to overlook?” He sat down upon the blanket and patted the place beside him to invite her company.
Not ready to join him, she slowly began to disrobe, hanging the layers of her clothing upon the nearby bushes until only her light shift remained. “I did not mean to be critical of her, but she has always been pampered and it is what she expects.”
“Is a man not supposed to pamper his bride, whether she deserves it or not?” he asked, his confusion plain in his puzzled expression.
Kneeling down to face him, Celiese reached out to touch the curls at his temple. The sun had bleached his golden hair with streaks of silver, while his beard was still a dark golden shade. He was so very tan and handsome, his light eyes shining with an inquisitive gleam, and for a moment she could not recall what it was they were discussing.
“I believe love should be shared equally, Mylan, each spouse wanting only what is best for the other.”
As she waited patiently for his response, he feared if he said he loved her now she would never believe him but think only that he had saved that weapon for the last in hopes of taking her back home with him. A painful knot filled his throat, and he would be unable to speak any words and retain what slight hold he still held upon his sanity where she was concerned.
His emotional turmoil was so plain upon his even features that Celiese did not insult him with questions about his mood. As always, he seemed to find the mere mention of the word love revolting in the extreme, and she had not meant to cause him such sorrow. She placed her hands upon his broad shoulders and leaned forward to kiss the pulse that throbbed steadily in his tan throat, her love unspoken but lavish in its expression.
