She waited for his h
and, but he did not offer it, and when she tried to stand alone she could not. Her side was too sore, and she slipped back upon the damp sand, shaking with the sharpness of the pain her exertions had brought.
He swore in a long string of bitter oaths, damning Raktor to the bitterest of fates. “Why did you let him kick you? That was lunacy, and now you’re too badly hurt to be of any help to me. What possessed you to be so foolish?”
“He meant to kick you!” Her pretty green eyes filled with disbelief. Her action to protect him had been instinctive. Why did he not understand her devotion was real?
“So what? I am a grown man, and I do not need the protection of some lying female slave. It won’t make up for your treachery. Had you wanted to help me you would have warned me of Raktor’s true plans instead of deceiving me as you did.” His expression was bitter. She was a rare beauty, but he was thoroughly disgusted with himself for falling so swiftly under her spell. It was a mistake he would not make again, not ever.
“But I knew nothing of Raktor’s scheme!” she insisted once again, imploring him to believe her.
“You knew you were not Olgrethe. If nothing else, you knew that. Now cease your lying or I will kick you myself.” He stepped forward clearly ready to make good on his threat if she did not obey him.
Celiese stared coldly at the hostile young man. How could he not believe her after the night they had shared? Did he truly think she could have returned his affection so joyously if she had wished him dead? The truth was so plain she did not understand why he did not see it. Hiding her anger, since displaying it was futile when he was in so obnoxious a mood, she asked calmly, “If you will please help me up, I can walk.”
“I should leave you here to fend for yourself after what you’ve done to me.” He took a few steps away, then turned back. “Come, dear wife, I will help you stand, but if you cannot keep up with me I will leave you behind.” He reached down to lift her, but drew back when she cried out in pain.
“Just give me your hand, do not touch me again.” She bit her lip to stifle a sob.
“Here then!” He extended his right hand and waited as she took a deep breath and grasping his outstretched arm rose unsteadily to her feet. But she took no more than two halting steps before she fainted, collapsing in the wet sand at his feet.
Mylan lifted his gaze to the heavens to implore the aid of the gods, but he knew they would be uninterested in the fate of a slave, no matter how lovely she might be. He cursed his own luck that continued to run so swiftly to tragedy, and, scooping up the slender girl in his arms, he walked slowly down the beach in search of some shelter before the gathering clouds could again drench them to the skin with freezing rain.
*
The cave was small, no more than an indentation in the rocks, but they were protected from the chill of the cold wind as they huddled inside. Celiese was grateful Mylan had not left her, but thought it wise not to inquire into the reason for his kindness.
“You are the most worthless of slaves, more trouble than help!” He scowled angrily, his mood not improved by the good fortune of finding shelter.
“Am I no longer your wife?” He seemed to use the words slave and wife interchangeably, but she could not believe he regarded her as a servant when she lay so lovingly cradled in his warm embrace. His hands were light upon her arms, his touch gentle still.
“It was Olgrethe I thought I’d married, to seal a treaty Raktor had no intention of honoring. How could you have expected to be my wife when you knew it was unlikely I’d survive our wedding night?” he snarled impatiently, caring little for her reply.
She sighed softly, “There is no way for me to prove my innocence if you will not accept my word. Raktor himself will never tell you the truth, but I did not know what treacherous scheme was behind his desire to switch me for Olgrethe.”
He continued, his voice no less bitter, “Even had he meant to honor his promise to my father, would he have sent her?”
Celiese licked her lips slowly, considering how best to answer his question, and chose the truth. “He would have sent her, but I would have been the one who arrived. Olgrethe and I had already planned to trade places, for I wanted to come to you and she did not.”
He was astonished by her candor. “So you admit you are a liar, as capable of tricking me as Raktor was?”
Again she chose her words with care. “It was Olgrethe herself who first suggested we change places. She has found no man to be to her liking and was certain one who had not been seen in two years must have something truly horrible to hide. I thought only that I would be free if I married you. I have no hope of ever returning to my home, for all I loved are dead, and it would be pointless for me to return to live alone amid so many painful memories. I knew you would not be displeased with my appearance, and I hoped you would be kind, no matter how severely you’d been injured by the bear’s attack.”
“You are a slave, how could you have believed I would accept such a woman as my wife?” he scoffed at the ridiculousness of that notion.
She straightened her shoulders proudly as she argued. “It is not uncommon for a Viking to marry a former slave, but I am the one who has married beneath my station, Mylan, not you. Had Raktor not murdered my family and stolen me I would now be the bride of a prince, for my father would have accepted no less for me. He most certainly would never have given me to a pirate such as you.”
He laughed out loud, despite the severity of their situation. “Then we are both equally unhappy, for I want no slave for a bride and you want no pirate for a husband.” He shook his head and chuckled, “I am many things, but no pirate.”
“And I am no slave!” Celiese insisted defiantly, her clear, sweet voice ringing with the unmistakable knell of truth.
After a moment’s pause, he grew stern. “You would be wise to tell me the truth from now on, if you are even capable of it.”
She looked away, hurt again by his lack of sympathy, but she had lied to him when she had posed as Olgrethe, and she would not beg to be believed now.
Surprisingly, he tightened his embrace, shielding her body with his own as a fresh gust of wind swept into the small cave. “We will have to find better shelter tomorrow, and something to eat. We are already too weak to survive much longer without food and fresh water.”
Amazed his protective gesture and plans for survival seemed to include her, she smiled as she looked up at him. “Have you any idea where we might be? Are we on your side of the fjord, or Raktor’s?”