Chapter Twelve #2
After a while, a noise pulled her from her racing thoughts. The door opened suddenly and she jerked. Half expecting to find Randvior leaning against the doorjamb, she gasped at finding the young man she had flirted with instead. A beatific smile lit his mouth.
“Mistress Noelle.” A head of dark hair, tied back in a tail, framed a handsome face. Mischievous blue eyes appraised her leisurely.
“Remember me?”
As if I could forget a face like yours. “Yes,” she answered.
“Dimwitted fool …” she mumbled self-deprecatingly. The object of her teasing had taken her attention more seriously than she had intended. His unnatural good looks were rivaled only by Randvior. She caught her breath as he came closer. He knelt. Maybe if she ignored him he’d go away.
“My father is Jarl Fald Ovesen, our steading only a day’s ride north,” he informed, not offering his name. “He sat at Randvior’s right side during the feast.”
“Yes.” She remembered the stocky warrior very well. “It is an honor to sit at the jarl’s high table. I am sure your family deserves this privilege.”
He smiled and plopped down in the chair across from her. “I am greatly encouraged by your favor this evening.” He leaned forward and took her hand. “Should I consider myself the most fortunate man on earth to capture the eye of the loveliest woman at the feast?”
Warning sounded in Noelle’s head. Extraordinary sensations titillated and punished her body all at once. I’m absolutely devoted to Randvior, her heart spoke—but she didn’t understand.
“Stjernene blek i sammenligning.”
Bloody heathen tongue. She scooted away.
The stranger rubbed his chin and grinned rakishly.
He spread his legs, the outline of his engorged shaft visible through his leather breeches.
She must concentrate on other thoughts. Were all Norsemen concupiscent swine oblivious to rejection?
If she screamed, Lauga would blame her, and she refused to give that woman another reason to find fault in her.
If she ran away, he’d chase her. She didn’t possess the strength to look up and instead rose to her feet, hoping to discourage further advances.
It didn’t have the desired effect. Rather …
encouraged it. He leapt and gathered Noelle in a tight embrace.
“My dreams are answered,” he petted her head. “Could it be that you remain unblemished by any man?” Amusement tinged his voice.
“Let me go.”
Too late.
The door burst open. With her back facing the entrance, she was at a disadvantage, but she recognized the bestial sounds of Randvior. She flinched at each heavy footstep she heard.
“Hva faen gj?r du?”
“Hva enhver mann ville gjort i naervaer av en slik skj?nnhet,” Ovesen shot back.
Roughly shoved aside, Noelle turned just in time to see Randvior’s fist connect with the younger man’s face.
Oh, God. Reminiscent of a Greek epic, she ran for cover and ducked behind a set of shelves.
Noelle peeked around the corner, heart pounding.
Ovesen shook his head and hurled his weight at Randvior.
They crashed to the floor, a tangled mass of fists and curses.
Randvior rolled onto his side and sprang to his feet. He landed a solid kick to the man’s head, reached down, and let out a ferocious growl, lifting him by the front of his shirt. Randvior shook him and hurled him across the room. A pile of firewood broke his fall.
Randvior turned away from the scene and looked at her.
Shaking like a leaf, her life flashed before her eyes. He’s going to kill me.
Perhaps if she confessed, explained why she chose to wear the dress and flirt with another man, it would put an end to this misunderstanding.
Surely, he couldn’t blame her. Self-preservation demanded action, nothing more.
Rage uncoiled inside her, too. Lauga acted the cold-blooded bitch at every turn and Randvior continuously isolated her.
The indomitable Viking never provided her a means to keep her mind or hands occupied.
She felt useless. Bravely, she stepped out and went his way.
Randvior’s eyes swelled from silvery half-moons to spitting flames.
The truth must be revealed, and now.
“Before you punish me,” she said, attempting to take control of the situation. “Answer one question. What do you want from me?”
His body shook convulsively as he laughed. Rage and bitterness distorted his face. He glanced over his shoulder at his rival, who remained unconscious on the floor.
“Answer me!” she demanded.
He fanned his fingers and cracked his knuckles. His usually bright eyes were lackluster and red. Her fascination with him deepened because of his fierce possessiveness of her. But she deserved to hear him express his feelings; at least hear what he wanted.
“Tell me or I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands. The good Lord doesn’t cease his labors above to give a man time to catch his breath to muster the courage to speak plainly with a lady. Much time has been wasted—on both of us.”
Randvior resumed his preoccupation with his hands.
“Tell me!” She jabbed a finger in his chest.
He trapped her arms. “Tell you?” he repeated incredulously.
His voice fell to a whisper. “Perplexing wench.” He looked at his hands, then straight back at her.
“Making demands of me when it is I who should make them. See the damage you’ve reaped by taking matters into your own hands—attracting the attention of a man who risked his life by following you into the shadows.
” He dug his fingernails into her tender flesh.
“I’ll answer, but I warn that you may not like what I have to say. ”
“Tell me.”
He shook his head, burdened by something she didn’t understand.
“First, you’re confined to your rooms after the feast. Your quick departure has sparked a new round of damaging gossip.
Do you know how many throats I’d have to cut to stop wagging tongues from weaving wicked lies about you throughout the Trondelag?
I haven’t the time or resources to do it.
But consider this while you stew in your icy pot.
It has been my intention, since the moment I set eyes on you in Durham, to bring you home as my bride. ”
Her heart liquefied. By Jesus, what have I done?
“You will yield to me.”
Her heart fluttered as his hands locked around her waist like a tight chain.
“I want you, goddamn it,” he lowered his mouth and kissed her violently. “And by Odin, I’ll have you.”
He raked his lips across her tender mouth.
Forgive me, she thought.
They returned to the hall and Randvior escorted her to her seat. “Stay here.”
“No.” He still hadn’t convinced her of anything. “I find my circumstances too awkward to bear.”
The creases around Randvior’s mouth deepened. “What is this about, Noelle? Are you purposely challenging my authority to prove something to my guests?”
“This isn’t about you.” Noelle stood. “It’s about honor—my honor.” In a huff of tears, Noelle ran upstairs.