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“Anyone would be surprised by your appearance, Mylan, don’t fault him for it. It isn’t necessary that we lie, either.” Walking up to greet him, Celiese smiled warmly as she began to explain that Mylan was a fearless hunter who had slain the most ferocious of bears with one mighty toss of his spear. The old man’s eyes widened in awe, his respect for the Viking growing immeasurably as he realized the tale must be true, for the man had the scars to prove it.
André was so taken by Celiese’s charming conversation that he almost forgot his original purpose in having come to look for her. “Lady d’Loganville, we would like to provide a more appropriate welcome than we were able to give you yesterday. If you and your husband would join us for supper, we would all be greatly honored.”
“We are delighted by your invitation, of course, but we do not want to be a burden, to deplete the provisions you’ve saved for the winter.” Celiese took the old gentleman’s arm, confiding in him since she thought he would appreciate her honesty rather than being offended by it.
“Everyone has offered to bring something. A burden shared is a light one.” André‘s eyes sparkled with mischief, seeing he had pleased her.
Turning to include Mylan in their conversation, Celiese explained André had come to extend an invitation. When the handsome Dane winked slyly, she knew he was as grateful as she was that the friendly man had not arrived any sooner.
“I will be happy to attend any celebration he has planned, but only if he will allow me to contribute something too,” Mylan remarked with a pleasant grin.
“What did you have in mind?” she inquired hesitantly, hoping he would not insult the peasants by his request.
“We’ve ale aplenty, and if they have no more wine perhaps they would welcome something to drink.” Mentally, Mylan began to add up what stores they had remaining in sufficient amounts to offer, since these people, while friendly, appeared to be living near starvation.
Once it was explained, André accepted Mylan’s generous offer of liquid refreshment, and he went back to his ship to fetch a couple of kegs of ale while Celiese stayed with André. There was a small grass-covered square at the end of the row of cottages, and a few long tables had already been set up and were soon laden with freshly baked loaves of bread, buckets of wild berries, vegetables steamed with herbs after having been freshly picked from gardens Celiese had still not seen, and from somewhere, a succulent ham. What the feast lacked in elegance it soon made up in enthusiasm.
When a sudden hush fell over the assembled crowd, Celiese turned and saw Mylan approaching with two of his men carrying the casks of ale he had promised to provide. A wave of tension swept through the peasants. Expecting some evil trick, they were ready to bolt and flee into the nearby, woods, but she ran to meet Mylan, smiling happily as she led him back to the party.
Seeing the love that radiated from her eyes, the villagers felt her confidence, and after no more than a moment’s awkwardness welcomed Mylan into their midst. The two crew members hung back, polite young men who had no wish to intrude where they were unwanted, but they were soon escorted to the tables and encouraged to take whatever they wished and handed cups filled to overflowing with ale.
Although the food was delicious, Celiese ate only a small portion, and then moved to the edge of the happy gathering, uncomfortable with being the center of all the attention. She could not help but overhear the excited whispers, and knowing these dear people truly expected her presence to improve their lot considerably, she grew increasingly apprehensive. Soon the memory of another such party on a day long past filled her mind. She had been with her parents, out enjoying the beauty of a summer afternoon, when they had chanced upon a celebration of some sort.
She could no longer even recall the occasion, but there had been wine and someone had played tunes upon a lute, plucking out the lilting melodies while her parents had laughed and sung with the same joy as the peasants. The memories flooded through her, bittersweet images of a striking couple, both tall and slender, their coloring fair and their voices soft, filled with words of love for each other and for her.
Mylan watched Celiese’s pretty smile fade, her expression now impossible to read, and he stepped close to whisper, “Shall we leave them? I think the party will last all night, even without our company. If you are tired we need not stay, unless you wish to remain.”
She looked up at him, thinking as always how handsome a man he was. His expression was so sincere she wanted to share her thoughts. “My parents were first cousins, Mylan, I had forgotten that. My relatives were fair-skinned and blond, but they were all of one family, all d’Loganville.”
“Celiese?” He signaled to his men to start back for the ship before he took her hand to follow them into the shadows. “I know I did not believe you once, but it no longer matters to me why your parents were as blond as Danes. This is clearly your home.” That he had once thought such an enchanting creature could have been one of Raktor’s undoubtedly many bastards embarrassed him greatly.
He had said so many really stupid things to her, and he was sorry she remembered he had not believed her story of her lineage when she had first told him. She was clearly Lady Celiese d’Loganville, without the slightest doubt he knew it now, but unfortunately, so did she. He had been able to understand none of the peasants’ excited conversation that evening, but their hopes had been in their adoring glances, and he wanted Celiese to belong only to him, not to them, as they so clearly thought she did. The gentle rocking motion of the Surf Falcon would lull them to sleep, but he was not ready for the world of dreams, and, lifting Celiese into his arms with a playful toss, he carried her aboard the ship and into her tent for what he hoped would not be the last night they would ever share the magical splendor of love.
Chapter 21
Despite Mylan’s loving attentions, Celiese slept poorly. Her mind was far too preoccupied with what they might find in Rouen for her to relax as she usually did in his arms. She worried over what sort of man Hrolf would prove to be. Mylan had described him as being worse in all respects than Raktor, but surely such an appraisal was an impossibility. There could be no more despicable villain abroad in the world than the head of the Torgvald family. The mere thought of that hateful man turned her stomach, and, thoroughly miserable, she tossed and turned, unable to find any comfortable position in which to rest.
After Mylan had slept a few hours, he was sufficiently refreshed to feel the constant motions of the restless young woman by his side. Knowing she would not be so active simply to annoy him, he sat up to ask what the matter might be. “Are you ill? If you will tell me what the problem is, I’ll do my best to solve it so we both may get the sleep we deserve.”
“Forgive me, I am simply too anxious to rest, but I did not mean to disturb you. Were we sleeping on land as we usually do I would get up and go for a walk, but that is impossible tonight.”
As the deck of the Surf Falcon was littered with sleeping men stretched out upon their soft suede bags, Mylan could think of no way for Celiese even to pace successfully. Wide-awake now, he presented an alternative. “Here, sit up, and move in front of me.”
Not knowing what to expect, she sat up slowly. “Just what is it you have in mind?”
Exasperated by her curiosity, he issued a firm order this time. “Come here!” When she put her fingertips upon his lips to silence him before he woke the entire crew, he pushed her hand away and whispered gruffly, “You should have worried about whether or not I’d be discreet before you woke me.”
“I have already apologized for it, and it was unintentional,” she resp
onded demurely. The men of his crew knew they were lovers, but she did not want to flaunt it. The fact that he had insisted of late that she refer to him as her husband was not a matter they had ever really discussed. She was simply confused by his demand, but this was a poor time to mention her apprehensions. She crawled over his leg and sat down with her back toward him. “Is this what you want?”
“Precisely.” Placing his hands lightly upon her shoulders, he massaged the smooth skin of her back with slow, easy circles. “You know how to do this, at least you swore it would help my leg once. Do you remember that day?”
She relaxed against him. His hands were warm, his touch very pleasant, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the delightful sensation more fully. “You failed to appreciated my efforts then; are you saying now that you did?”
He leaned forward to kiss the elegant curve of her shoulder before he replied tersely, “I’ll admit it was relaxing, no more.” He knew were he to begin revealing the depth of his weakness for her he would never stop, so he chose to remain silent to let her wonder.
He had brought up the subject of his health, and Celiese felt safe in commenting, “At least we did not have to walk all the way to Yvetot today, that would have been difficult for André and me, as well, as you.” While his limp was a slight one, she doubted he would ever admit the walk caused him pain, but she was relieved they had all avoided such a tiring ordeal.
