Blind Allegiance (13 page)

“Who told you to bring me here?”

“Lauga.”

“Did she offer an explanation?”

“Only that thralls are not permitted to use the main entrances for personal business.”

Noelle wiped her hands on her dress and shook her head. The audacity . . . She lifted her chin and started for Lauga, who was managing the women baking pastries. Then stopped short, realizing it a bad time to confront her.

From the moment she had arrived, she knew things would not go smoothly with the matriarch of Randvior’s family. Noelle’s feelings were important, though, and she deserved all the small courtesies extended to even the humblest of guests.

I am not here of my own choosing!
Blame your son, not me.
Her eyes bored holes in Lauga’s back.

Perhaps she was overanalyzing everything, but she didn’t like the way the woman made her feel. She headed in the opposite direction, toward a doorway where Katherine waited. They walked outside.

Breathing in the fresh air, she enjoyed the warmth that streaked across her face. Sunlight was a valuable commodity in northern England in the wintertime. Noelle knew the farther north, the rarer it became. Randvior had warned it might take some time to acclimate.

Two-dozen outbuildings were arranged in a semi-circle just outside the main house. Katherine identified them all. A barn, shearing sheds, smoke houses, storage rooms, armory, and other infrastructure necessary for every day survival. Beyond the service buildings were dozens of wooden cabins of all shapes and sizes, similar to an English village. This must be where his tenants lived.

The bathhouse stood out amongst the other buildings, constructed of rough-cut logs and sealed with dark mud. Katherine opened the door and Noelle stepped inside first. She immediately noticed the dramatic change in humidity; a foggy heat swirled around them. No one was inside—an arrangement Randvior must have taken care of. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead and in the valley between her breasts. She gathered up the hem of her gown and tried to cool her legs by fanning them.

She walked the perimeter of the narrow room. A natural hot spring bubbled invitingly near the center like a witch’s cauldron. Without a second thought, Noelle stripped, kicked off her boots, and peeled off her stockings. She allowed the healing warmth to overtake her.

She continued to tour the room with her eyes. There were two tiled tubs on one side where she imagined families gathered for their weekly baths. The hot spring was banked by warm, flat rocks. She stepped up and the heat penetrated the soles of her feet. She tested the water with her toes. The effervescent heat reminded her of Randvior’s searing fingertips. Noelle stepped into the water and waded away from the edge until she was submerged to her shoulders. She had to stand on her toes to keep her head above water by the time she reached the middle of the pool.

After a while, she swam back to the edge and stared toward the back of the room. Tables and chairs were neatly arranged alongside a large fire pit. Several smaller pits and wooden shelves stocked with linens were near the tables. She sat on the stones with her legs still soaking in the water. She watched amusedly as her maid removed her clothing and waded into the water. Her gratifying moans were rewarded with a hearty laugh.

Submerged in the healing waters, Noelle felt as if the world were a perfect place. God’s hands alone formed this paradise and she pretended it was an enchanted spring and she a fairy changeling. She raised her arms above her head and breathed in and out, relaxing for the first time in days. Noelle closed her eyes and fantasized about exotic places—beautiful men and women in public bathhouses in Rome. So real were these images, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Katherine tapped her on the shoulder.

“Tender skin—look how red you are.”

Noelle inspected her own body. Bright pink splotches covered her arms and stomach like a fever rash. They were being boiled alive! She groaned with disappointment and grudgingly stood and walked away from the pool. Katherine scooted ahead and returned with a pile of linens.

The soft material felt good against Noelle’s skin.

Draped in towels, they walked to the tiled tubs. As promised, a basket of scented soaps and bottles of oil waited. Noelle smiled as she disrobed and stepped inside. She lowered herself into the cooler water. Katherine opened a bottle of oil and poured a generous amount onto her hands. She lathered and began massaging Noelle’s shoulders. The emotional storm raging inside her eased the deeper her maid’s hands penetrated her sore muscles. In time, she’d know what to do.

Randvior slumped forward in his seat. His good fortune had paid off this year. His holdings in Scotland and the Orkney Islands were successfully fortified and manned with dozens of conscripts that would protect his interests in his absence. He considered his mother, seated on his left, and his captains, Harud and Aud, seated on his right. Several kinsmen from nearby steadings had traveled to welcome him home, including his distant cousins, Invar and Hagan, who were seated at opposite ends of the high table.

He watched, rather humored by the spectacle of his cousins consuming as much ale and wine as they could. They always took advantage of his hospitality and depleted his stock of spirits instead of their own. The lower tables were overflowing with platters of roasted mutton and venison, meat pies, boiled cabbage, and vegetables thick with butter, spiced apples, sweet breads, flagons of ale and mead, and his best bottles of German wine. The homecoming feast was an important tradition. But Randvior’s thoughts were elsewhere—preoccupied by the empty seat at the nearest table, which was reserved for Lady Noelle Sinclair.

He straightened his back, remembering the glint of rebellion in her eyes the moment he encountered her in Durham. He grinned, immensely pleased she possessed a strong spirit. His only mistake was thinking she’d bend to his will so easily. In bed though, praise Odin, she laid malleable underneath him—as soft as a piece of sculptor’s clay. He wanted to shape that tiny body after one of Odin’s Valkyries. But there was no time to give her his full attention yet. He closed his eyes and savored the memory of her willowy form and the scent of cinnamon oil on her skin.

Damn it, where was she?

An invitation to the
jarl’s
feast was
not to be taken lightly. And for Noelle, not a simple request, but a direct command. His eyes roamed the lofty corners and lingered on the landing where he expected her to appear at any moment. All night he had anticipated nothing else and attempted to conceal his disappointment from his mother. Nothing escaped her notice, especially if it pertained to him.

He sized up his mother. Lauga was the furthest thing from what he envisioned a woman should be. Handsome, none could deny it. Dozens of suitors competed for her hand before his father won her heart. Yet even now, as beautiful and respected as she was, scorn reflected in those stony eyes and her lips were always wet for the attack.

He longed for peace, and one woman to warm his bed for the rest of his life. Noelle offered everything he desired.

That’s exactly why he was suffering presently. He couldn’t get the wench out of his head. He’d slipped into the bathhouse, through a secret passageway, and had hidden behind a curtain. He shifted in his chair. He’d leered at her like a horny boy, watched as she emerged from the hot spring. Her wet hair cascaded down her back, leaving her breasts fully exposed—shiny and beautiful, pale globes bouncing attractively as she climbed over the rocks. And right now, he paid full measure for his intrusion; his erection throbbed miserably. That memory sent sizzling heat pumping through his veins. He moaned, tempted to go upstairs and relieve himself.

“And where is your fine Saxon woman this evening?” His mother’s voice shattered his dream.

“Late.”

Before Lauga replied, a flash of light green silk appeared on the landing. Noelle stood with Katherine—her gown clung attractively to the hollows and curves of her youthful figure, like a glove on a delicate hand. Her appearance disrupted his guests, too. Aud tactfully crossed the room to usher her to her seat. Dozens of eyes probed the most intimate parts of her body that Randvior had claimed for himself. He moved uncomfortably and watched possessively as she made her way to the table. Nothing had ever aroused him more than watching her glide across the room. Something darkly animalistic in him wanted to spread her across the table like a feast and take her in plain sight. He didn’t care if his men watched, or even his bloody mother—
she belongs to me.
He’d leave his mark on her—a more permanent mark than the tattoos his warriors received after battle.

He had purposely seated her next to Sir Brandon McNally, a Scottish noble whose family had been intimately linked to his own since childhood. And across the table, he placed Starri and Unnr Raske, a married couple who had served him loyally
for more than a dozen years. Recently deeded a small track of land as a reward for faithful service, they were of kind spirit and would treat her as one of their own. He expected the women would bond instantly, Unnr also being of English decent.

He nodded approval as they welcomed her and served her wine and meat from their own plates. Noelle was an absolute pleasure to behold. Every movement she made perfectly exquisite. She possessed a smile as potent as absinthe. He adjusted himself underneath the table and determined Odin may have gifted him this tiny sprite as punishment instead of reward.

Eyes never straying from his lady, Randvior ignored his captains as they staggered to their feet half-drunk and mumbled indiscernible oaths in his honor. In his periphery, he observed his mother as she hung on everything the girl did. Every word she spoke or move she made embittered her. Lauga even flinched when Noelle’s tinkering laughter filled the room as sweetly as an instrument.

His mother had lived vicariously through him for too many years. Anything that threatened to take his attention away from her became the target of her contempt. To preserve his relationship and to keep peace in his household, Randvior had always avoided developing attachments to women.

Noelle changed everything.

He stared deliberately, his eyes moving slowly down her neck and shoulders. Her hands were folded on top of the table, and he glimpsed a flash of gold. She wore his gift, a priceless heirloom from his maternal grandmother that he always carried with him as a good luck charm. He’d had her name engraved on it on the ship, after they made love the first time. He rubbed his chin. That bracelet was a token of his sincerest feelings, but also intended as a pretty shackle to bind her to him forever.

Once the tables were cleared, thralls prepared the room for entertainment. Randvior stepped down from the dais and started to mingle with his guests. He eyed Brandon as he escorted Noelle across the hall. A dozen young bucks followed and swarmed like bees around a pot of honey, vying for her attention. Randvior drifted around the room, intent on meeting up with them inconspicuously. Raging heat infused every inch of his jealous body.

Musicians started to tune their instruments as the tables and benches were arranged against the walls to make plenty of room for dancing.

Music always tamed the beast inside him and he stopped to listen. The lyres and flutes eased his tension, but a snarl still lingered on his lips as the crowd parted to make way for Brandon and his lovely partner. The Scot raised a hand and the musicians began playing a popular ballad. Brandon pulled Noelle to his chest.

Randvior frowned so hard it hurt his face. The couple moved in graceful synchronicity. Spun and clapped hands, exchanged admiring smiles, and pleased the crowd so well a round of applause and demands for a second dance followed. The next was even more infuriating to watch than the first. Brandon dared to lift her by her waist and twirled her in the air, grazing her backside with his hands as he set her on her feet. Their skill inspired other couples to join in. Slowly, the room came alive with swaying bodies.

Randvior’s face tightened as his mother joined him. “Sir McNally seems to have warmed considerably to your lady. This would be a strategic match. Surely such a marriage would encourage more trade with his family.”

He scowled. “I am quite aware of his quick affection for Noelle. It’s only natural to be drawn to your own kind. A wasp is
always
attracted to another wasp.” He eyed his mother to see if his illustration had hit home the way he intended.

She placed her hand over her bosom, appearing mortally wounded by his insult.

“A Scot would be naturally tempted by an English lassie,” he said sarcastically in his best highland brogue.

This affirmation aside, he would put an immediate end to it. He headed straight for Brandon, maneuvering around dancing couples. He bowed sternly at Brandon’s side and offered his hand to Noelle.

“If you would consider giving me the pleasure of this dance.” Not a request.

Brandon smiled charmingly and swept a hand toward the lady. “She’s all yours, my friend.”

Randvior curled her into his arms and kept moving until her cheeks glowed as red as berries. He knew Noelle worked doubly hard to keep step with him on a couple of dances she had never performed before. Breathless after four songs, he led her away from the dance floor.

“You are a vision in that gown,” he commented gruffly, meaning to compliment, but wanting her to realize how irritated he was. He took her by the arm and pulled her further away from the crowd.

“And you, lord,” she said cheerfully. “I never imagined how well you could dance.”

“If I find the need, I am a most willing partner.”

“And you found a need tonight?” Her eyebrows arched inquisitively.

In one move, he could pin her against the wall and have her at his complete mercy. “Aye.” He nodded.
Not because I’m overly fond of dancing, but near lopping heads off for the way these men stare at you.

He searched her face while stroking the base of her neck. Randvior ran a finger between her breasts that were so temptingly pressed together and spilling over the lace bodice like two ripe melons begging to be plucked from the earth. She gasped, positively radiant. Noelle was completely unaware of the bitterness choking him at seeing another man with his hands all over her, even if that man was his best friend. He breathed deeply and tried to focus on something more pleasant.