Page List


Font:  

“When my predicament is such a wretched one, how dare you find humor in it?”

“I’ll laugh at whatever I please, Celiese, but you needn’t fear me. I will set you down upon your feet very gently if you will let go of my horse.” She waited until he drew the spirited stallion to a halt to release her hold upon the animal’s mane, and as promised Hagen lowered her carefully to the ground before he dismounted with a quick leap and tossed his reins to a groom who had come running to meet them.

Taking Celiese’s arm, he led the way toward the rear of the house and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s none here who’ll welcome your return, save Olgrethe, but she will be with Andrick now, and I’ll not disturb their evening.” He paused a moment, certain she would know why the newly married couple would not wish to be interrupted. “I have no choice but to take you to my room, where you can bathe and dress, as your present attire will impress no one favorably.”

“What is wrong with the way I am dressed?” she protested heatedly. She had made the outfit herself and thought it not only practical but comfortable as well. That most women did not spend their days hunting, nor dress for such an activity, failed to occur to her.

Hagen stopped walking abruptly and pulled her around to face him. The daylight had barely begun to fade, although the hour was late, and he looked her up and down slowly while he commented truthfully. “There is blood in your hair as well as splattered upon your clothing. Were anyone to see you now, they would no doubt accuse you of Mylan’s murder. Do you wish to risk the wrath that mistake would incur? Or the punishment that would be too swift to allow time for you to deny the charge or disprove it?”

She glanced down at the dark stains upon her trousers and suppressed a shudder at the memory of how the bear’s blood had showered all around her as she had struck him. Hagen’s disapproving frown was only natural, she supposed, and she had to agree with him. “You are right, of course. I’m well-aware that I’m despised by all who live in this house, and little excuse would be needed for my execution. I have no choice either, it seems, but to do as you say, but is there no other room where I might stay the night?”

Sighing wearily, for he was certain no woman on earth would be safer sleeping in his room, Hagen hastened to reassure her. “If you think I find you attractive, you are mistaken, but I had planned to sleep elsewhere, not with you. Now, let us hurry, as I am hungry and have no wish to miss whatever was left from supper.”

She remained where she stood as he turned away. His appearance was too much like Mylan’s for her to feel comfortable with him, even had his manner been inviting. He moved with the same confident stride, his muscular build a handsome complement to his even features and unique coloring, but she felt only a deep sense of loss as she watched him walk across the yard.

When he turned and came back for her she realized she had been staring most rudely and took the arm he offered without argument, for she knew it was unfair of her to blame him for his brother’s cruelty. When they reached his room she stopped at the door, for his quarters were so littered with clutter she dared not enter for fear of upsetting one of the carefully balanced heaps. “You have no room for me here, Hagen, there’s not space to turn about, let alone for me to bathe and dress.”

Hagen shoved a bundle of furs aside with a forceful kick, and bent down to push a small trunk from the center of the room to the far wall. “There, does that please you? I have not finished sorting our goods since our last voyage, but I do no more than sleep here and am not bothered by these things, as you so obviously are.” Swearing under his breath, he continued to work, but the stacks were so numerous he cleared little space upon the floor.

Celiese leaned back against the door to rest. She was exhausted and her head ached painfully. “I did not mean to insult you. I am simply so dreadfully tired I want only to sleep if I may.”

Hagen frowned as he straightened up, surprised his inadequate housekeeping had not been the real source of her complaint. “Well, you cannot sleep in such filthy clothes. Remove them and I will see you have others when you awaken in the morning.”

The delicate woman’s eyes widened slightly, but she saw only disgust in Hagen’s expression, without the slightest trace of lust in either his manner or words. Perhaps it was her own fault, she realized, for while Andrick had covered her with his cloak at the slave auction, when she had reached their inn she had tossed it aside in full view of both brothers before climbing into their bed.

“I know you have seen me nude once before, and perhaps you think my modesty misplaced now.”

Waving aside her objection, the tall man came forward as he interrupted her. “I have much in common with my elder brother, but his weakness for beautiful women is not among the traits we share. You may take off your clothes, or I will slit the seams and rip them off. Which would you prefer?” Drawing his knife, he made clear his intention to strip her naked.

“I am fully capable of undressing myself without your assistance,” she replied coldly. If he wanted to humiliate her she would call his bluff by disrobing in front of him as if he were not even there. After what she had suffered that day, she considered this small insult insignificant.

Hagen felt little regard for the disheveled young woman, but, as she began to untie the drawstring at her throat with the slow, liquid grace of the most exquisite dancer, he felt ashamed of himself for showing her such a lack of courtesy. Perhaps it was the sorrow in her gaze that touched him, or the pride in her posture as she made no move to turn away, but suddenly he found himself wanting to help her in any way he could. Kneeling quickly at her feet, he unlaced her shoes and found the leather nearly worn through as he slipped them from her feet.

Rising, he shook his head sadly. “It is plain my brother has taken very poor care of you. You are dressed in his cast-off clothing, when the soft folds of a woman’s gown suit you far better. As soon as Olgrethe wakes in the morning I will tell her you are here and borrow something pretty for you to wear.”

Surprised by his sudden change of mood, Celiese smiled shyly. She had not yet removed her clothing, only loosened the ties, but thought if she waited a moment he might leave her to undress in privacy, and she dropped her hands to her sides. “Why thank you, Hagen, that is most kind of you, but please do not think I was mistreated in Mylan’s home. I was very happy there and had no wish ever to leave him,” she explained softly, her heartache no less painful for having been voiced.

After pausing a moment to make certain his words would carry the meaning he desired, Hagen spoke calmly. “Do not make the mistake of believing you can return to him. He has suffered far too much at your hands to forgive you this last insult. He is finished with you for all time, and you would be wise to believe when he made the decision to send you away he meant it to be forever.”

She had no interest in debating the sorry issue, and it certainly did not concern Hagen. “Your brother made his point most effectively, since I am here rather than with him as I wished to be. It’s useless to discuss my situation now when you are anxious to have your supper, and I want only to go to sleep.” Turning away, she stepped around his numerous possessions to reach the bed, where she sat down wearily and lifted her hands to cover a wide yawn.

The only hunger Hagen now felt was one that shocked him with a deep, aching need he dared not satisfy, and he started for the door, eager for an excuse to leave the troublesome young woman. “Do not wander the house in the morning, stay here until I bring you something to wear that won’t cause more comment than your very presence most surely will.”

He slammed the door so loudly on his way out that she sat stiffly, waiting for someone to come to investigate the cause of the noise. But when no one appeared after several moments she removed her soiled clothing with a careless toss, stretched out upon Hagen’s bed and covered herself with a light blanket. He was a puzzling man, with his mood that was so perpetually foul, but she had too much on her mind to worry over him when it was his elder brother who held

her thoughts captive tonight.

She had swiftly grown accustomed to having the warmth of Mylan’s muscular body by her side when she slept, and she found the large bed uncomfortable without him. She knew her whole life would be empty without him to brighten her days and nights. She wondered if he too was lying awake. She hoped he was as lonely as she, lying alone upon his bed, staring up into the darkness and regretting his haste in sending her away when she had been such a devoted companion. Encouraged by that thought she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Mylan and hoping someday soon he would realize the great wrong he had done her and at last ask her to be his wife.

*

The next morning Hagen went to Olgrethe to borrow one of her gowns, but as soon as he explained why he needed one she streaked past him, bursting through the door of his room to awaken the still sleeping Celiese with excited squeals of welcome.

“I despaired of ever seeing you again, and here you have been in the house for one whole night and I did not even know it! Wake up! There is so much for us to discuss, how can you lie there sleeping?” She sat down by her friend and shook her shoulders until Celiese finally sat up and pushed her away.

“May I please have a moment or two to open my eyes?” Celiese ran her fingers through her curls to push them away from her face, clearly marriage had not made Olgrethe any more considerate. She appeared to be as spoiled as ever, expecting to have her own way instantly in all things. As always, Celiese forgave her that fault, but as she tried to respond to her enthusiastic greeting with a warm smile, Olgrethe began to frown.

“You are as tan as a fieldhand, just look at you!” Olgrethe peered at her face closely, clearly disapproving, “You even have freckles!”


Tags: Phoebe Conn Historical