The Warrior's Runaway Wife Page 3

  Elrik placed his hands on her knees. ‘I like this no more than you. But I am charged with taking you to Carlisle. You can argue this arranged marriage of yours with King David.’

  She shook her head and crossed her arms before her as if the action would grant her some type of protection.

  ‘I warn you, Lady Avelyn, I have little patience for childish behaviour from anyone but children. It will go better for you if you come willingly as an adult ready to calmly debate this marriage arrangement, rather than being dropped at King David’s feet like an unwilling prisoner. I promise you the King will be less likely to entertain the complaints of a prisoner.’

  When she remained seated and did nothing other than look away, he added, ‘I will not ignore my orders, nor will I fail to execute them. You can get up and come with me of your own accord, or I can carry you like a sack of grain.’

  That warning got her attention. She stared at him. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

  In no mood for further delay, Elrik stood up and before she could determine what he was about to do, he hauled her up over his shoulder.

  ‘All right.’ She pounded her fists on his back. ‘You have proved your point. Put me down.’

  He set her on her feet and turned her to face the door. ‘We are leaving. Now.’

  Avelyn refused to budge. ‘I owe them for my keep.’

  Elrik rubbed the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the still-growing tension, then reached inside his mantle for the coins King David had given him. Without counting them, he tossed the sack on the bed. ‘That will more than cover the roof over your head and food.’ He pushed her forward. ‘Now go.’

  ‘No. Wait.’

  ‘Wait?’

  She rushed to a small table in the far corner of the room, picked up a small pouch and slipped the ribbon dangling from it over her head. After tucking the pouch inside the neck of her gown, she came back to him.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No.’

  He waved towards the door. ‘Then go.’

  ‘You are just going to walk out of here with me?’

  ‘That is the plan, yes.’

  ‘And you don’t expect anyone to question or stop you from doing so?’

  He would like to see them try such an act, it might provide him with an opportunity to release some of the tightness burning along the muscles of his neck and shoulders. ‘Why would anyone do so? Do you belong to anyone here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you entered into some sort of dubious agreement with anyone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I do not see what reason they would have to stop me.’

  ‘They don’t know you.’

  Elrik blinked. ‘They obviously don’t know you either.’

  ‘I have been here over a week. They know me.’

  If that were true, she would not now be in this position. It was doubtful that she would still be under this roof. ‘Oh, so you told them you were Lord Brandr’s daughter and that you’d run away from a marriage arranged by your great-grandfather King Óláfr?’

  She hesitated. ‘No.’

  ‘Would you like to tell them? We can go below and once I get everyone’s attention you can then make your announcement. Of course, I won’t be responsible for any who decide to take you captive and hold you for ransom—or think to return you to your father for some sort of reward—or worse, marry you himself with the assumption that there will be something worthwhile to gain.’

  She shot him a look that threatened to skewer him on the spot before opening the door and marching stiffly out into the corridor.

  Chapter Two

  Avelyn fisted her hands at her side. The last few days she’d started to believe that she’d managed to escape her fate and would not be found.

  Instead, once again she learned the uselessness of fanciful hopes, wishes and luck.

  How had this oaf found her? She’d expected her father to send men after her, but she’d thought they would be his men, someone she knew or someone who was at least familiar.

  Apparently, her father had gone to King David for assistance instead of to his grandfather, King Óláfr, or even to his uncle and liege, Lord Somerled.

  Why?

  Perhaps he didn’t want them to learn that she’d run away rather than wed the man they’d chosen as her husband.

  And now this...this stranger thought he was going to take her to King David like an errant child? She frowned as yet another hopeful thought drifted into her mind. Was it possible that her father had dragged the Scots King into this because he’d had a change of heart and had found the ancient warlord chosen as her husband to be unsuitable?

  It was doubtful, but she clung to that thought as it would be the only slender thread of sanity available to her. However, her fanciful wishes did little to explain the identity of this man.

  From what she could tell, he was strongly built—the long, fur-lined mantle covered him from shoulder to ankle, so she couldn’t see the shape of his body—but he’d easily lifted her over his shoulder with one arm. Yet, at the same time, his attempt to dress her hadn’t been overly harsh, fumbling perhaps, as if unused to the task, but not cruel.

  And his touch, when it had rested on her knees as he’d tried to reason with her, had been warm. Had she not been distraught over being found she could have easily fallen into the comfort that warmth had conveyed.

  His eyes were green, flecked with gold. His hair was nearly as black as hers, but his was shot through with silvery strands that made it impossible to know his age.

  But he wasn’t old. Older than she was, but not ancient like the man she’d been betrothed to wed.

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked over her shoulder.

  He did nothing but grunt and poke a finger into her back to prod her along the corridor towards the stairs.

  Just as they reached the top of the stairs they met an old man. She could only assume this was Edward, the old man Hannah had coerced her into sharing a bed with. He was most likely headed to her room. Avelyn wondered how her unwanted rescuer would deal with this event.

  Edward looked from her to the man behind her, a frown of puzzlement creasing his already lined face. ‘This is not the red-haired wench.’

  ‘No. It isn’t.’

  ‘This is my woman. I paid for her.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘What does the amount matter to you?’ Edward reached for her, adding, ‘I paid. She is mine.’

  ‘It matters greatly to me because she is my wife.’ The man looped an arm about her waist and pulled her close. ‘And because we have three hungry children at home who would be grateful for the coin their mother could deliver.’

  Wife? Home? Three hungry children?

  Struck mute by his outrageous lies, Avelyn could only stare blindly ahead. She wasn’t completely lacking in wits. He had spouted the lies in an attempt to leave the inn without incident. She wished he’d have devised something less demeaning to her.

  ‘If the amount is right, I might be willing to allow her to go with you. Provided, of course, that I stand guard over the two of you to ensure no harm comes to the mother of my children.’

  Avelyn narrowed her eyes, then turned her head to glare up at him. She didn’t know him well enough to decipher the quick look he gave her, but she was fairly certain it had been a silent warning to keep quiet—a warning she planned to ignore.

  She jutted an elbow into his gut and turned her attention to Edward. ‘That is not the reason he wishes to watch.’

  Her rescuer’s fingers tightened against her waist, but she forged ahead, determined to make him feel as foolish and embarrassed as he’d made her feel. ‘Oh, no, his rutting leaves behind nothing memorable except children and he wishes to see if he can learn anything.’

  The man’s soft hiss gave her enoug
h satisfaction to stop her own outrageous claims.

  Edward stepped aside, shaking his head vigorously as he waved them towards the stairs. ‘No. No. Please, go. I will find another.’

  Without wasting any time, the man moved his hand from her waist to wrap his fingers around her wrist before rushing her to the steps. Halfway down he muttered, ‘Woman, you need have care with your words.’

  ‘My words?’ She kept her voice just as low as he had. ‘You made me look and feel like a whore.’

  He once again tightened his hold. ‘You did that to yourself.’

  Avelyn tried to tug free. ‘I did no such thing.’

  ‘My mistake. I could have sworn I found you in bed, naked, waiting for a man to join you for the night.’

  She couldn’t very well deny what he’d found upon entering her room. However, it wasn’t quite what he’d assumed. ‘Nothing was going to happen.’

  Their discussion stopped as they reached the bottom of the stairs where two men waited, but she wasn’t about to let this end her explanation for long. Avelyn hung back, uncertain what these men wanted. But her rescuer walked past them, saying, ‘Let’s be on our way.’

  She was relieved to discover they were his men since both looked as dark and dangerous as he. The two fell into step behind her and they all exited the establishment.

  The cold rain pelting against her face did nothing to cool her ire. He’d called her a whore—accused her of things that would enrage her father should even a hint of such a rumour reach his ears.

  Not willing to spend another heartbeat in this man’s hold, Avelyn jerked her arm free and marched quickly ahead.

  Heavy footsteps stomping in the mud behind her warned that he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. She knew she’d be unable to escape, especially right now, while they were on foot. But she didn’t have to endure his company.

  She glared at him over her shoulder. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘I will gladly do so once I deliver you to King David.’ He again captured her wrist with strong fingers, then pulled her about to face him.

  The two men stopped alongside, only to be ordered, ‘Retrieve the horses and meet us near the well.’

  The crestfallen looks on their faces might have been laughable at another time. But right now she didn’t care that their desire for listening had been thwarted. The things she wanted to say to this man did not need an audience that would make her the object of gossip.

  Once they were on their way, she looked up at the man who’d quickly made himself an irritant in her life. ‘Release me.’

  To her surprise, he did. She stepped back, putting a little space between them. ‘I am not a whore.’

  His lazy, bored glance from the sky back down to her did not endear him to her in the slightest. In fact, his silent display of derision only made her want to fly into a rage. Instead, she fisted her hands at her side and repeated, ‘I am not a whore.’

  ‘I wouldn’t expect Lord Brandr’s daughter to be one. Although, finding you as I did would have made it easy for another to have come to that conclusion.’

  The arrogant half-smile on his face was her undoing. Everything she had suffered these last weeks—the hunger and thirst, the fear, the cold dampness—all roiled to the fore serving to ignite her rage. Avelyn raised her arm to strike the smug expression from his face.

  His arm shot out as fast as a loosened arrow and he grasped her forearm, warning, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ He pulled her against his chest. ‘I am not beholden to your father, nor to you. I will not meekly endure your abuse no matter how angry you become.’

  Avelyn lowered her head, wishing she could simply disappear as quickly as her rage had at the deep tone of his voice. What was wrong with her to make her act like such a simpleton, such a fool?

  At her lingering silence, he said, ‘Your anger is misplaced. I have done you no harm, nor have I wronged you.’

  ‘I know. I am sorry and apologise. It’s just that...’

  She stopped speaking and closed her eyes, unable to find the words she sought and not wanting to say anything more to a man not known to her.

  He released her and with a finger beneath her chin lifted her head. ‘What? It’s just that what?’

  She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He didn’t appear angry or out of sorts. Just curious, as if what she’d been about to say mattered. ‘It’s just that I don’t wish to wed Sir Bolk.’

  He laughed softly and lowered his hand. ‘I can understand that. I wouldn’t want to marry him either.’

  How could she not laugh at his ridiculous comment? However, knowing he was taking her back to do just that—marry Sir Bolk—tempered her humour.

  Avelyn sighed and stepped away from the comfort she’d found pressed against his chest. ‘Yes, well, while neither of us wishes to marry my great-grandfather’s warlord, I will soon be forced to do so.’ She shivered at the thought of sharing a life and a bed with the man.

  ‘Then you have two or three days to find a reason that will convince King David to intervene on your behalf.’

  ‘I am nothing more than a piece of property. Anything I say will fall on deaf ears.’

  ‘Ah, perhaps you have forgotten, property has value.’

  That was true. Property did have value. But that value was determined by men who had little, if any, concern for her or for anything she might want for her future. A future she hadn’t thought about in what seemed ages.

  Her wants were no different than any other woman’s. She wanted a husband, home and children. But she had little faith in the love that troubadours sang about—it seemed a rather fleeting and useless emotion. Something more solid seemed a better choice—caring, friendship, sharing, a partnership of sorts were all things she would prefer over some elusive feeling that served only to leave one suffering the relentless pain of loss.

  Her mother had pined for her love every day until the last. Even on her death bed, she’d wanted nothing more than the touch of his lips against hers one more time. At fourteen years old Avelyn had come to the harsh realisation that this love her mother craved was never going to come to her bedside—at least not while she lived. After her mother had died, she’d vowed never to allow herself to be trapped so neatly by a man’s pretty words.

  No matter how sweetly spoken, they were false and meaningless.

  But that didn’t mean she did not want a husband. She simply wanted one who would honestly care for her and her alone. One who was nearer her own age, so they could grow old together. One strong enough to protect her if need be and lustful enough to give her children.

  One not unlike the man before her.

  Avelyn gasped softly. What devil had put that notion in her head?

  She took another step backwards, wanting to put more than an arm’s length of distance between them.

  ‘Avelyn? Lady Avelyn?’

  From the sharper tone of his voice and the quizzical way his brows were drawn closer together, he had asked her a question. One she’d missed while her unruly mind was off wandering places it shouldn’t go.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I asked why Sir Bolk had been chosen.’

  She shook her head. ‘I have no idea. It isn’t as if they included me in making their decision.’

  ‘You have a brain, otherwise you would not have got this far on your own. So, think about it. Why would they have chosen such an elderly man and why would he have agreed?’

  ‘Well, of course he agreed. What man in their right mind would naysay their King?’

  ‘You obviously don’t know Sir Bolk. Not even the King could sway him if he wasn’t agreeable to the arrangement.’

  ‘No, I don’t know him. Nor do I wish to.’

  ‘He must have seen some advantage to the wedding.’

  ‘Other than trying to outlive a third wife?’

 
; ‘I doubt if that would happen. However, he would go to his death bed as son-in-law to Brandr and great-grandson-in-law to King Óláfr. Everything of value he possessed at that moment would go to—’

  ‘My father!’ she interjected, cutting off his words. ‘Including me.’ She staggered a couple of steps back, shocked by the realisation that her father and great-grandfather were even more underhanded than she could have imagined.

  ‘Then they would have the opportunity to marry you off once again.’

  Even though Bolk’s possessions were meagre, they would all pass to her father. Avelyn wanted to scream. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and asked, ‘Do you think King David would go against my family?’

  ‘If given a good enough reason to do so.’

  ‘You said I have two or three days to devise one?’

  ‘That is about how long it will take to reach Carlisle.’

  She stepped forward and reached out to place a hand on his arm. ‘Then, my good sir...’ she pulled her hand back ‘...what is your name?’

  ‘Roul. Lord Elrik of Roul.’

  Avelyn burst out laughing. When she was able to gain control of herself, she wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head. ‘Of course you are. It only makes perfect sense that King David sent his Wolf to sniff out and retrieve King Óláfr’s lowly prey.’

  He frowned down at her. ‘I fail to see the humour.’

  ‘That is because you are not in my place. I am nothing but a defenceless dove. You are a wolf. It seems out of place that they would send such a skilled hunter to track down so meek a prey.’

  He offered her his arm and then turned to escort her to the men and horses waiting near the well. ‘It is impossible to know ahead of time how dangerous a prey might prove to be.’

  ‘Yes, that is true. You had no way of knowing if this dove hid fangs inside her beak.’

  He nodded in agreement. ‘Or perhaps talons worthy of any eagle.’

  Once they reached the others, Elrik paused to ask, ‘Can you ride?’