Chapter Eleven
Promises
Once Randvior placed her on the saddle in front of him, the heavens opened and a bitter wind blew across the field.
Noelle snuggled into her fur collar, still suffering from the effects of poison.
Something still didn’t feel right inside; her ears were ringing and she felt heavy-legged, almost clumsy.
But the Viking offered no explanation and she really didn’t want to talk, unless it was absolutely necessary.
He commented on how impressed he was that she had covered so much distance and how he had underestimated her tenacity and strength.
She was tougher than most women; she was glad of the acknowledgement, but frowned. She didn’t want his compliments.
“Why did you run away?” he asked.
“You threatened that defenseless boy.” She huddled deeper into his warmth.
“My brother displayed the same rage throughout my lifetime, and all I could see were the faces of the countless victims of his violence. I cannot live that way, ever again. I never wish to be the reason a man loses his life.”
He swore and slapped his thigh. “If that’s the way you feel, why risk running straight back into Brian’s reach?”
“I have a sister who needs me.”
“And a worthless father who did nothing to protect you.”
“Aye,” Noelle conceded. “But Margaret deserves a chance to be happy.”
The elements of this relationship were impossible to understand. One minute she couldn’t stand being near him, the next, she wanted to curl up in his arms.
“There are rules we must respect, and if broken, consequences must follow, punishment I must deliver. I cannot change just because you find it unpalatable. If I bend the rules for one man, another will expect the same leniency when his turn comes. Our women are cherished above all things. No man need point out her beauty in public—the scald deserved to die.”
The air around them had thickened with disagreement. Randvior tried to diffuse the situation.
“No matter how devoted my men are, or how many oaths of allegiance they keep, they are only flesh and blood. Do you know how many men gazed at you covetously the night of the feast? Even Brandon acted differently when you were around. By Odin, woman, you could force a priest to question his abstinence.” His mouth tightened.
“I admit I’m not an easy man to live with.
And I own a black heart where you’re concerned, my sweet.
” He sighed, slid forward, and tightened his hold on her. “I’ll kill to keep what’s mine.”
“I didn’t ask you to bring me here. And you do not own me.”
It never failed. Noelle insisted on reminding him how miserable she was at every opportunity.
“I know.” He bit back the anger that itched to come out.
Time passed quickly in the saddle and they reached the stables without attaining reconciliation. Goddamn it, he needed more time to convince her to stay. To make her want to stay of her own free will. Anything less and he’d consider it a failure.
A groom took the reins and Randvior jumped down. He lifted Noelle from the saddle and steered her toward the bathhouse. This conversation was far from over.
Ignoring her protests, Randvior opened the door and shoved her inside.
Enough was enough—how could he administer justice and manage his lands if he was constantly preoccupied with the fear of her running away?
All the unnecessary arguments were starting to chip away at his willpower, making him consider things he’d sooner forget.
He felt foolish sometimes. Maybe even a bit undeserving and awkward.
No woman had ever infuriated him this much.
Randvior knew what she wanted: words, promises he intended to keep, and lovemaking she’d never forget.
The warmth seemed to have a positive effect on her.
She relaxed and color quickly returned to her cheeks.
He walked across the room, gathered an armful of wood, and built a roaring fire in the largest pit.
He peeked over his shoulder and caught her staring at his backside.
He chuckled, more than pleased he still possessed the physical charms to catch her eye.
And only an hour ago she had declared how much she hated him.
If she loathed him as much as she claimed, why did those liquid eyes penetrate his skin? Noelle could no more live without him than he could survive breathing fire and brimstone.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He touched her cheek and she stiffened. He ignored her reaction and rested his hands on her shoulders.
Pride comes before the fall … Words taken directly from her holy book—worthy ones, he thought.
He slowly unclasped the silver turtledove brooches and removed her cloak.
He didn’t understand why she fought the urge.
Randvior slipped behind her and massaged her shoulders.
He drew his hands together near the base of her spine and blew softly into her ear.
His fingers floated over the curves of her bottom, gently plying and kneading. What she needed was a distraction.
He gathered the hem of her gown and pulled it over her head. Next, he untied the shoulder ribbons on her chemise and watched as the thin veil of material pooled at her feet. “Kick off your boots.”
She did.
His hands left her body only long enough to remove his own clothing and then he was on her again.
Her hair hung down her back like a honey-streaked robe and he buried his face in those fragrant tresses, breathing in the intoxicating scent of spring.
Her body drove him crazy. Her breasts shimmered with sweat.
Odin, give me strength to offer comfort and nothing more …
He wrapped his arms around her. Crushed against him, she still tried to squirm free.
His laugh vibrated through their bodies.
The thrill of the chase exhilarated him more than anything. His cock stood at attention, but they would not make love this night. “Look at me.”
Slowly, she turned her eyes toward him.
“What will it take to convince you my intentions are honorable?”
She withered in his hands. What had he done now? “Elsk meg pokker heller.” He kissed her and carried her to the spring. Her head drooped against his chest as he waded into the water and he was suddenly reminded. The poison … He banished his temper and hugged her closer.
“Stay with me, little one. Baptize me with your sweet love.”
A week later, after Noelle had fully recovered, Katherine prepared her for a very important feast.
“Many distinguished guests will be in attendance tonight, including lords from nearby steadings, who have gathered to hear and offer oaths of allegiance to the jarl,” the maid reported, while combing out her hair.
Noelle noticed a slight tremor in her own body at the mention of Randvior. She missed his company in a carnal sort of way. How did men perfect their lovemaking skills? She frowned as the only logical answer dawned.
Hundreds of women, maybe thousands—her toes curled with envy.
She eyed the gold bracelet around her wrist apathetically, and swallowed the thought down like a bitter draught.
If jealousy consumed her, she might go to him full of reckless accusations.
If she wanted to win his heart and protect her family’s honor, she must set herself apart from other women.
Fornication had its price and her need for a husband gave her purpose.
Randvior hadn’t discussed his womanizing past. But she knew in his masculine world, a man would never be considered complete if he didn’t bed as many women as possible.
Dozens of attractive females lived and worked under the Viking’s roof.
She smiled warily. But it was only she he pursued right now … was it not?
This problem required a precise solution.
Noelle formulated a plan and walked to the table.
She splashed water on her face and scrubbed her hands.
If she wasn’t going to escape in the foreseeable future, she certainly couldn’t risk losing her position.
Randvior had mistakenly told her she possessed the necessary charms to tempt a priest, which meant she could easily gain rule over him.
She dressed with only one goal in mind—capturing Randvior’s undivided attention.
If he wouldn’t publicly claim her, she’d force his hand.
She selected a richly embroidered gown with a plunging neckline.
It was her most provocative dress, accentuating the delicate curve of her breasts perfectly.
Katherine swept the sides of her hair off her face and braided it, letting the bulk of her tresses fall loosely down her back.
Noelle removed the bracelet Randvior had given her and put it away.
I’ll give him something to think about. She chose a gold choker as her only adornment. Katherine stepped back and admired her.
“If this is how a woman begs for a man’s favor,” Katherine crooned, “I’d ask for the moon and the stars, too.”
Noelle blushed and opened the door.
Aud awaited and heaved a dismal sigh the moment he saw her. He offered his arm and she accepted it.
The burly captain halted at the top stair.
“I know you’ve suffered these past weeks,” he said.
“Try to understand the predicament my master was in. The gods tortured him with visions of you—on more than one occasion. What can you possibly accomplish wearing that dress?” He drove home his point by eyeing her from head to toe.
“Please, change your gown. Judging by that look on your face, which I’ve seen on my own daughters, you’ll regret it.
Your point is sufficiently made. This is not an English court; and this is no way to test our jarl.
I swear to report your displeasure to him. ”
Surprised by his insightfulness and elegance, she smiled. Leave it to providence to place a voice of reason in the bulky body of a bloodthirsty warrior before she dared to tempt her lover.
She squeezed his hand appreciatively. “How else am I to secure my place in this house? His mother hates me, and I am neither a slave nor his betrothed. I am caught between two worlds and left to my own devices and shall use what the good Lord has seen fit to give me.” The matter was closed.
Randvior nearly choked in mid-conversation when Noelle appeared.
Many rumors had circulated over the last days concerning the stranger he’d brought home from England.
His intention had been to share her in small doses, this night being the first opportunity to introduce her to his extended family and neighbors.
As his eyes struggled to focus on her, they blurred and cleared again.
An animalistic growl escaped him as his guests followed the direction of his unblinking stare.
Noelle’s pearly flesh glowed tantalizingly in the candlelight.
The gown left little to a man’s imagination.
His jaw locked. Jarl Fald Ovesen, his closest ally, patted him sympathetically on the back.
“You’ve been bitten by the most dangerous creature in the world,” the old man mused.
“Aye,” Randvior agreed. “By a heartless viper.”
The vixen had the audacity to greet him with a casual smile, then simply continue on her trajectory to the table where Brandon waited.
The Scotsman stood and bowed. He kissed Noelle’s hand.
Damn protocol! It demanded Randvior remain indifferent in certain situations.
And since he had never formally announced his betrothal to her, although they were lovers, the law offered him no protection.
She possessed all the freedoms of an unmarried woman in his court.
Perhaps he should have listened to his mother and put an iron collar around her neck, instead of a gold trinket on her wrist!
He focused on the men standing with him near the high table. Black emotions paralyzed him, keeping his attention dangerously split between politics and Noelle. He couldn’t avoid the inevitable, but he could prepare for it. Whatever game the wench played would be revealed as the night progressed.
Lauga drifted into the room behind the servants, directing them where to place platters of food and drink.
Randvior’s gaze followed hers, swept the room as sharply as a hawk’s, and stopped on the girl.
The gown had a negative effect on her, too.
She gasped in astonishment and headed for the table where Noelle sat.
He smirked as indistinguishable words passed between the women.
Noelle deserved a bit of harassment for wearing that bedgown.
Men rarely intervened in disputes between women, but he knew Brandon couldn’t resist an opportunity to ruffle Lauga’s peacock feathers. The Scot chased her away in a huff.
Randvior gulped down a glass of wine. Noelle looked like an angel with her hair cascading down her back and her slender neck adorned with a thick circlet of gold.
His mother stalked her, openly hated her.
His stomach roiled. She had every reason to poison Noelle.
By Odin, he needn’t look any further to find the culprit—she was under his nose the whole time.
If proven guilty, he’d punish her, severely.
Guests settled at the tables. Randvior’s cousin handed him an ale horn overflowing with beer. He raised it in salutation. “Let the celebration begin!”