Chapter 17 #2
He pointed at the bruise on her cheekbone and smiled.
As she was now naked, Merewen covered her breasts with her hands and turned to her side to try and preserve her modesty as best as she could.
In doing so she exposed part of her back.
Alaric’s eyes widened when he saw how scratched and bruised it was.
“My! The man really is a savage.” There was a chilling note of respect in his voice, as if he admired the sort of man who treated women thus and got away with it.
“He was not the one to hurt me so!” she protested, unable to let him believe the worst of Wolf when he was the monster.
“It matters not who did, as long as it looks as if you were mistreated. This is even better than I could have hoped for.” The fiend actually rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.
“Wolf will kill you for this!” she cried out, wishing with all her heart it were true, that Wolf was this moment running to her rescue. Unfortunately, she knew he was not.
“Oh, I doubt it. He doesn’t want you, didn’t you hear?”
“Well, even if he doesn’t, you can’t have me!”
Pain caused Merewen to lash out at Alaric.
What did she have to lose? He had just said he didn’t want people to see her sporting fresh injuries.
He would not hurt her now. As stars exploded in her skull she realized that she had been foolishly complacent.
He was not above mistreating anyone who crossed him, especially if they were women without protection.
“I will do just what I please,” he hissed. “And if the heathen really comes for you then he will be killed like the rabid dog, pardon me, wolf that he is. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have important matters to attend.”
After he was gone, Merewen spent a long time staring at the door.
How could it have all gone so spectacularly wrong? This morning she had woken up in Wolf’s bed, she had been looking forward to making love to him, certain that their future as a couple was assured.
And now she was at the mercy of a monster who wanted to marry her and the husband she had realized she loved had forsaken her.
Or… Was he truly her husband?
She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Alaric’s poisonous words kept playing at the back of her mind.
Try as she may she could not dismiss them because she had wondered the same thing herself.
How could she be sure she was married in a manner that would be accepted in this country?
And even if she was, what difference did it make if her husband didn’t want anything to have to do with her?
Was that why Wolf had so readily abandoned her?
Because he knew deep down they were not married anyway and he didn’t owe her anything?
Had he even meant the ceremony to be legally binding?
For all she knew it had been only a betrothal or even simply a masquerade meant to get her where he wanted her to be—in his bed and grateful for the attention he was lavishing onto her?
Had he meant from the start to send her away once he had slaked his lust with her? Had she fallen in love with a man who didn’t care about her?
Her mind full of painful questions, her body shivering from cold, Merewen fell to the floor. There was no use torturing herself thus; it was all over, anyway.
Tomorrow she would die.
The flagon was empty and there was a mighty pounding in Wolf’s head.
Through the window he could see the sun starting to rise.
As he stared at the bottom of his cup, the door opened, letting in a ray of light that hurt his eyes.
He winced and covered his face. A moment later, a voice pierced the fog in his brain, as jarring as a blow to the temple would have been.
“Where is Merewen? I need to see her.”
“No, you don’t!” he snarled, before walking out of the hut.
Would that accursed, pig-headed Sigurd never leave him alone!
Why did he have to ask about Merewen now, when he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he would never see her again?
Was his friend to be the instrument with which the gods had chosen to torture him?
The mere idea that his marriage was over made his stomach churn, an unfortunate thing for a man already sick with drink.
Last night he should have been making love to her. Instead, he’d drank himself numb, and yet it hadn’t been enough to make him forget what he had done.
He had sent his wife, the person he had fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with, away with no hope of reconciliation. That it was for her benefit did little to ease the pain he was feeling.
Despite his best judgment, every fiber of his body was aching to go to her, to beg her to give him a chance to prove he could protect her, after all.
He could not, he would not place her in danger.
Hard as it was, he needed to place her needs above his own, because she deserved to be safe, to be happy with a family who wanted her and would protect her more efficiently than he ever could.
He destroyed everything he touched. He would not let Merewen be destroyed.
But the internal struggle was pulling him apart, sapping all his energy. And now Sigurd had come to add to his torment. It was not to be borne.
“Where is she?” his friend’s voice called from behind him. Predictably, he had not taken the hint and was following him.
“She’s not here.”
“How come? It’s only early.”
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Well, even if I have to pummel you to the ground, you must listen to me. This is important.”
“If anyone is going to pummel the other to the ground, it will be me,” Wolf warned, turning slowly on his friend, who merely shrugged.
“So be it. I will gladly take a punch or two in aid of the woman.”
“Oh, and why is that?” he sneered, trying his best to hide his fury.
Was his friend attracted to his wife? It would not be extraordinary if he was…
After all, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen but the mere thought made him want to tear him limb from limb. “Are you sweet on her, perhaps?”
Sigurd only ignored the provocation, which reassured him somewhat. “Listen, we are wasting time. I need to speak to Merewen, warn her. She is in danger,”
“Is that all you have to say? I already know she’s in danger,” Wolf said through gritted teeth. “That’s precisely why I sent her away.”
“You… what? You sent her away when you knew someone was after her?” Sigurd snarled, sounding mightily unimpressed. “Are you mad?”
“She’s safer away from me. It’s only because she’s married to me that she’s in danger.”
“That’s not true, and you know it. She was in danger before, or have you forgotten that she was sold to a slave trader?”
Oh, he remembered, but that man was not the most pressing danger she was facing right now. And hopefully her uncle would take her away, somewhere where she would be safe from her elusive enemy and all the dangers threatening her.
“With people after me, she was risking her life just by being here in the village. So I sent her away for her safety. It was for the best,” he repeated. Perhaps if he said it enough he might start to believe it.
Sigurd made an impatient gesture. “I know how mulish you can be when you want to be. Once you have convinced yourself of something you will close your eyes and ears to all arguments. It is not usually a bad thing, as you have an uncanny ability to see to the truth of things but in this instance…”
“What is different in this instance?”
“This time your heart is involved, not just your head, and—”
“Not my heart,” Wolf cut in, refusing to admit he had fallen in love with Merewen to anyone. It had been hard enough to admit it to himself and what purpose would it serve to remind himself of the fact now that she was gone? “My lust, perhaps, but nothing more.”
“Oh please!” Sigurd actually rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen the way you are with her! You love the woman, ’tis plain as the nose on your ugly face!”
“Enough! And who are you to talk to me about love when you’ve been saying you would never get married and allow a woman to lead you by the bollocks!” Wolf roared, goaded beyond endurance. This conversation was plain torture.
“I hadn’t met Frigyth back then. Shows what a fool I was for thinking that wanting to be with someone was a sign of weakness.”
Wolf arched a brow at his friend’s unusual seriousness.
“Frigyth? The Saxon woman I helped?” he asked, momentarily distracted.
He knew that his friend had met her the day she had come to assure him that she had not fallen with Olaf’s child but he had not noticed they had formed a special bond.
“You’ve known her for less than a week!”
“It matters not. When you know, you know.”
The scathing comment he intended to throw back got stuck in Wolf’s throat for he knew exactly what his infuriating friend meant. He had known the moment he had seen Merewen tied to the post that she was not like the others, and might well be the answer to all his prayers.
He growled. Why was he persisting in thinking of her in those terms? She would not be an answer to anything because she was gone! And it was better that way.
“Frigyth is the most precious thing I have ever seen and she’s taught me a thing or two about women.
First and foremost, that you must listen to them!
You might as well believe she is the only reason I haven’t flattened that bastard Olaf to the ground yet.
” Sigurd punched a balled fist into his palm, evidently dreaming of doing just that.
Wolf laughed. “Well, I hope you never regret doing the woman’s bidding and wake up one day feeling like a prize fool because all you wanted to do was get between her—”
Sigurd grabbed him by the front of his tunic before he could finish the sentence.
“Careful what you say! I have not promised not to beat you to the ground,” he hissed, his face only an inch from his.
“I’m aching to kill him for what he did to her, but she begged me not to, arguing that you already punished him and that she wanted to leave the past behind.
So now, fool that I am, I am putting her wishes before my own. ”
And what to you think I’m doing! Wolf almost shouted. I’m putting Merewen’s safety before my wishes, when I want nothing more than be with her! I know exactly what you mean!
“My… Such a model for us all you truly are,” he sneered, although, in truth, he was impressed by his friend’s restraint. The tall Dane was not renowned for his patience.
“Enough of this nonsense. You will listen to me!” Sigurd added, shaking him. Then he sniffed the air between them and made a grimace. “Are you drunk?”
“What if I am? What is it to you?”
“I never thought I would ever be ashamed of you, that’s what!”
“You can think what you want,” Wolf replied, pushing Sigurd away before he snapped and sent him to the ground. He did not truly want to fight his friend but his control was hanging by a thread.
“That’s good because if what you told me is true then I will have to think you a despicable coward. Did you really sent your wife away when you know someone wants her dead?”
“Yes, well, Magnus told me about the Saxons coming after her to get revenge on me. What else was I supposed to do? Wait until the mob hurts her before taking a decision? Didn’t you rush here to warn me as well? Didn’t you want her safe from them?”
“What mob, what are you talking about? I came to tell Merewen I had found out who had sold her to the slave trader.”
Wolf’s whole body jerked. Sigurd had not come to warn them about the Saxons?
“Who is that?” he asked in a low growl. The bastard would have to be punished. If he could at least remove one of the threats hanging over her, he might feel better.
“A man called Alaric, who apparently supplied the trader with various women over the last few months. I don’t know where he lives but he—”
The rest of the sentence was lost as Wolf tried to clear the fog in his mind. Alaric. Where had he heard that name before? And why had the hairs at the back of his head started to tingle? Oblivious to his sudden stillness, Sigurd carried on talking.
“He got the impression that the women had been sent to him once this Alaric had his way with them. Merewen should be able to identify him easily if it’s someone she knows, because he has a purple stain on his left cheek.”
And just like that the fog parted.
Alaric. Her neighbor. The man who had tried to take her on his horse.
In other words, the man he had entrusted her to only yesterday, thinking he was protecting her. Oh, what had he done? Heart in his throat, he ran to Demon.
“Wait!” Sigurd called out.
But Wolf could not wait. He was going to get his wife back—if she was still alive.