Chapter 3
“Wolf, you’ve returned! You need to speak to Hannah. She won’t listen to me!”
“Do you remember the name of the man who makes ropes in the next village?”
“Magnus is still missing, we need to—”
“Wait. I will attend to you all, I promise,” Wolf said, raising a hand to interrupt the flow of words threatening to overwhelm him.
Demon had scarce placed a hoof in the village and already he was assaulted by questions and demands.
For the first time, it irritated him. Usually he didn’t mind his own needs coming second to those of the community but it was not just about him anymore. “Let me get the woman settled first.”
The woman.
Wolf cringed inwardly. He had not found a more satisfactory way of referring to her but the two words sounded like an insult. Mercifully she didn’t speak Norse for he guessed she would have flared up.
The villagers all turned their attention to her at the same time, the expression on their faces ranging from disbelief and irritation to curiosity and admiration.
He cursed himself for having drawn unnecessary attention to her, for she would no doubt be uncomfortable being the focus of attention when she did not understand a word of what had been said.
What had he been thinking, bringing her here, when everyone in the village knew just how adverse to taking another wife he was?
In view of this they would not know what to make of the fact that she was to live with him.
Not once in two years had they seen him share more than a night of passion with anyone.
They would not fail to read more than he was comfortable with in the arrangement but what was he to do?
He could not prevent speculation by introducing her as his slave, or worse the woman he had just bought! It would be even worse.
Oh, well, it was too late now, but a solution would have to be found, and fast.
When a dozen curious faces turned toward her Merewen had to grab hold of the horse’s mane to steady herself.
Who were these men and why had they jumped on Wolf as soon as he had stepped down from his mount?
What had they been told to make them look at her thus?
It seemed the answer to these questions would have to wait, for Wolf was holding out his hand to her in unmistakable command.
She was to dismount without further ado.
Not trusting herself not to tumble to the ground if she did so unaided, she allowed him to lift her down from Demon, which he did with disconcerting ease.
Merewen gritted her teeth. That she should relish the heat of his hands around her waist was perhaps understandable.
After all, it was devilishly cold outside and she wore no cloak, but the urge to nestle herself into his arms was less easily explained—or forgiven.
Hadn’t she had enough of him after a day of riding in his arms? What was wrong with her? This man was not her lover, and would never be!
Without a word, she followed him to a small but clean and well-appointed hut.
A pang of guilt assaulted her when she remembered the pig sty in town.
How had she thought he lived in such a hovel?
No wonder he had seemed put out. She felt herself flush but, mercifully, Wolf was too busy unpacking the contents of a large bag to pay any attention to her.
“Wait here,” he instructed tersely once he had finished. “I will be back soon.”
A moment later he was gone.
Merewen looked around her, trying to get a better understanding of the man who had bought her.
What she saw reassured her. This was no barbarian who paid no heed to cleanliness and material comfort.
The hut appeared tidy and, as far as she could see, everything a person needed to cook, eat, sleep and dress was here.
It even smelled good, thanks to the bunches of dried herbs suspended from the roof.
She shook her head. As clean and welcoming as the hut was, it was not her home, would never be. Then it hit her.
Did she still have a home?
Even if she managed to escape from the village, where would she go?
No one was waiting for her. With her parents both gone and her brother dead, the prospect of returning to the house where she would only find memories of a happy time and no one to talk to was not a cheerful prospect to say the least.
One by one the people she had loved had been taken away from her, until there was no one left who wanted her.
Swallowing back a sob she sat on the stool and started to shell some nuts she had spotted in a bowl by the window. No doubt Wolf would come back to give her some task or other soon but she preferred to look occupied rather than as a slave awaiting her master’s orders when he did.
“Who were these people and what did they want?”
At first Merewen didn’t understand why Wolf smiled when she asked the question but then she winced when she realized that she sounded as jealous and possessive as a wife—and that instead of annoying him, it amused him, precisely because she was not his wife and had no reason to worry about what he did.
“You wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you?” he drawled, confirming her suspicions.
“Yes,” she snapped, annoyed at her foolishness. “I simply could not have lasted another moment without you!”
The sarcasm fell on deaf ears and the smile widened further. “As I thought. Worry not, I am back now, and I won’t be leaving until tomorrow.”
Ignoring this infuriating response she carried on shelling nuts.
To her surprise, Wolf sat down next to her to help.
It was odd seeing a man with the physique of a warrior do such a mundane task, as odd as it would have been seeing a child wield an axe in battle.
Of course the way he was doing it was more warrior-like than childish…
He simply crushed two walnuts together in his fist.
Something in her shivered at the demonstration of strength.
“These people are Danes or Icelanders, like me, and they were asking for my help,” he offered when she thought the discussion closed.
“All of them?” She was astounded. There had been a dozen men at the very least. They could not all have been asking for his help!
“All of them. I was absent for three days, you see, and I have become a sort of pillar of the community, someone to turn to in times of need.”
“Well, if it isn’t ironic. To me you’re a tormentor and yet to these people you’re a savior…”
“A tormentor? Is that really how you see me?” This was said in a low voice, as if he hated the idea.
Unexpectedly, it tugged at her heart to think she had hurt his feelings.
Even worse was the realization that she had lied.
She had simply spoken out of spite, for she did not see him as a tormentor anymore.
At first, when she had seen him towering over her with a knife in his hand she had been afraid, undeniably, but since then he had bought her clothes, fed her, treated her decently and, of course, there had been the dream…
It was hard to be afraid of a man who had touched you so intimately, even if deep down you knew it was not real.
The pleasure had been real enough, though…
“What else could I think?” she mumbled, determined to hide her change of heart. Besides, it was better if he thought she resented him. It might help her to keep her unwelcome feelings at bay. “You bought me at a slave market and brought me home on your horse like a possession.”
“I do not consider you a possession,” he said slowly. “And I did not buy you to be my slave. I told you so already. You need to believe me.”
She did. But that still did not explain his actions. “Why then? Why did you buy me?”
He shrugged as if he did not quite understand himself why he might have done such a thing.
“If I hadn’t you would have been sold off to one of the lecherous swines drooling after you.
Isn’t that reason enough? How did a woman like you end up being sold at a slave market anyway?
” he asked, popping one of the shelled nuts into his mouth.
“You do not look as if you belonged there.”
“Does anyone look as if they belong to a place where they are sold as cattle?”
“A fair question, I will admit.” He let out a small, appreciative laugh. “You’re right. I don’t think anyone belongs there. Now. Would you mind answering my question?”
“I do not know how I ended up with the slave trader,” Merewen sighed. The same question had plagued her all day, and no wonder.
People did not find themselves put to sleep and tied up to a pole with a bag over their heads, ready to be sold to leering strangers by accident.
It was simply not a hazard of life. She needed to understand how such a thing could have happened to her and, like it or not, Wolf was the only person who could help her.
He might have some answers for her. Instead of aggravating him, she had better glean as much information as possible from him.
The last thing she remembered was attending her brother’s funeral.
Leofric had died aged only fifteen. A sickly youth, he had suffered from ill health all his life before a bloody flux had finally carried him off in a few days.
Their mother had died in childbirth twelve years ago, along with her baby sister and their father, a wealthy landowner, had died two summers ago.
Merewen was now alone, with no family left, no one who would care about her disappearance, come to her rescue or even offer her shelter if she managed to escape the man who—