Come Back to Me (18 page)

Yet there he was in the flower-scented chapel, giving the appearance of listening as Father Desmond instructed him in what was to happen.

"I will serve mass. I
realize
you are not Christian so perhaps I should explain…"

"I understand the mass. You commemorate the sacrifice of your savior."

"Essentially, yes. Before that occurs, I will ask you and the Lady Rycca to come forward and to tell me what you wish. Your part is to say that you wish the blessing of Cana upon your marriage. To all intents and purposes, the two of you have been wed since the marriage documents were signed, but the Church believes it is important to sanctify the union."

"Fine… What is that you said?"

The priest looked at him shrewdly. "I thought it was the same in the northlands. With or without the blessing of a holy man, a couple is legally wed when the appropriate documents have been signed. Is that not so?"

Dragon nodded curtly but his mind was turning over the notion. So he had lain with his
wife
before the lodge, in that star-lit night of passion beyond his imagining. He suspected the priest meant for him to be mollified by that but it made no difference. No matter that she had not known his name, rank, even his very right to her. She had
known
him in the ancient sense, known the man he was and how it was between them. And she had left him all the same.

He did not doubt for a moment that she would do the same again were she to be given the chance. He who had pleased uncounted women had not been able to please her enough to persuade her to stay. Or so it seemed.

"Let's get this over with," Dragon said and went to his nuptials with that black cloud hanging over him.

How strange that it should be so simple, Rycca thought. For so transforming an act as marriage, it was accomplished very quickly. The priest said a few words, asked if they agreed to be "boon companions" and abide with one another, then made the sign of the cross above them. They were wed.

She turned, her hand gripped hard in Dragon's, and saw her father glaring at her. He looked smaller somehow, as did Ogden beside him, as though they had shrunk. That was impossible, of course. It was only the imaginings of her addled mind.

They were back out in the golden sunlight. Dragon had said nothing to her nor had he looked in her direction. But there was the warmth, nay even the heat of his skin against hers. Krysta came up, smiling, and said something to them both. She hugged Rycca, who could only stare back at her, not having heard a word. Lord Hawk took his wife's arm. He, too, spoke, and Dragon answered him but their voices were only a low rumble in the far distance of Rycca's mind.

With a start, she pulled herself back into the moment. Dragon was leading her to the great hall. Servants swarmed everywhere. Only now did she notice the wide tables that had been set up, draped in white linen and gleaming with precious plate. Hawk and Krysta took their places at the high table with Dragon and Rycca beside them and Father Desmond to her right so that she was between her new husband and the priest. Wolscroft was seated to Hawk's left, close enough to be kept under scrutiny. Ogden looked to be already drunk as he stumbled into the chair next to his father's.

Hawk offered a gracious toast, musicians began to play, and pages hurried about with platters of food as serving girls refilled the drinking horns. A moment's strained silence fell over the high table in sharp contrast to the joviality already evident throughout the hall. Krysta moved swiftly to remedy it. She turned to Dragon and asked a question about his voyage that he could hardly neglect to answer. An instant later, Father Desmond asked Rycca to tell him about the time she had visited Winchester. That left Hawk, who, after a flicker of irritation soothed by a dazzling smile from his wife, sighed deeply and inquired of Wolscroft if he was still fond of boar hunting.

So did the next few hours pass. Rycca ate almost nothing. Dragon spoke not a word to her, nor did he give the slightest hint that he was even aware of her presence. This despite the fact that, as custom dictated, they were sharing a plate. Once, when her hand accidentally brushed his, she felt him stiffen but he did not so much as glance at her.

She sat in misery, grateful for the company of Father Desmond, who proved as interesting as he was kind. He was a scholar, trained in the schools King Alfred was creating across the land, and he took a special delight in the study of nature. After a particularly long but thoroughly engaging discourse on the habits of the titmouse, he broke off suddenly and blushed. "I fear I rattle on far too much, Lady Rycca. You are most patient to listen to me."

"Not at all," she assured him quickly. "There has been little opportunity in my life to observe much of nature beyond the ordinary day-to-day activities common to any manor. But there have been stolen moments when I've watched a bird make her nest or seen a doe caring for her young. I treasure such times."

The priest nodded. "Such are precious to me as well. I am very fortunate in that the lord and lady encourage me still to draw the animals I observe. Lord Hawk has even commissioned another book and wishes to expand the scriptorium here."

Rycca was about to comment on this when a disturbance at the other end of the high table distracted her. Red-faced with drink, Ogden was trying to pull a serving girl into his lap. With one hand he gripped the girl around the waist while with the other he was pulling down her bodice. The girl looked terrified as she struggled to get away from him.

Instantly, Hawk and Dragon were on their feet. Hawk, being closer, got hold of him first but Dragon was not far behind. Hawk freed the girl by the simple expediency of removing Ogden's arm from her and twisting it sharply behind the man's back as he lifted him onto his feet. Wolscroft belatedly realized what was happening and started to rise, only to be pressed down into his chair by Dragon's heavy hand on his shoulder.

"What's this now?" Wolscroft demanded belligerently. "My lad's not doing any harm, just wants a bit of fun."

"Not here," Hawk said firmly. He gestured to two of his men-at-arms, who came forward immediately. "Lord Ogden is indisposed. See him to his quarters."

"What th'hell?" That was too much for Wolscroft, who struggled to rise, found he still could not, and turned on Dragon. "Get your hand off me, boy. You may think you call the tune now but I'm not about to be insulted by the likes of you."

Rycca gasped. She too had risen and was staring at the scene in horror. Ogden's being drunk and pawing at serving girls was nothing new, nor was her father's overbearing manner. Both men considered such behavior their right and would not take kindly to any suggestion otherwise. Neither would their attendants, ranked at tables nearby and watching what was happening with bleary-eyed interest. Several were already on their feet.

Dragon and Hawk exchanged a quick glance. Ogden was being removed, there was still a chance the matter could end peacefully. Dragon let go of Wolscroft and stepped back but he did not take his eyes from the older man, who was now rising from his chair. "I have no quar-rel with you," Dragon said, "but your son is too deeply in his cups to sit at table with ladies. It is well he withdraw."

"Well?" Wolscroft repeated angrily. He swayed a little as he rose but regained his balance. He fumbled for the sword usually at his waist but it was missing, Hawk having insisted that all such be removed. There was only a small dagger on the table, the same one he had used for his meat. This Wolscroft seized and, before Rycca's horrified gaze, pointed it at Dragon.

"Only went along with this 'cause high-and-mighty Alfred said I had to an' then this one"—he waved the dagger toward Hawk—"this king's lackey tol' me there weren't no choice. But if I'd wanted a Viking son-in-law, I'd have given her to a Dane." He spared a sneering glance at Rycca. "The Danes are always sniffin' around, lookin' to keep Alfred lyin' awake at night. I could've had my pick."

"That would have been a very poor choice on your part," Hawk said quietly. He was moving to his right, slowly so as not to alert Wolscroft, but obviously determined to put himself between the armed man and Krysta, who was now closest to the Mercian. Dragon saw the same danger even as Rycca did, and with a mere flick of his eyes he signaled to his men to hold. They had been moving closer, ready to intervene at his signal, but now they froze in place. Hawk's retainers did the same, although they were positioned close behind the other Mercians, ready to take hold of them in an instant. The great hall fell silent, poised on the verge of a battle that might well prove one-sided but could be bloody all the same.

Sickness rose in her throat. She had ever been at odds with her family, save for her twin, and ever been horrified by them. But now she was well and thoroughly humiliated. Dragon was controlling himself admirably but he had the look of a man who has found something unpleasant on his boot. Ogden, slumped between the men-at-arms, was oblivious to the havoc he had sparked, but Wolscroft had his face set in bulldog belligerence. Little flecks of spittle shone at the corners of his mouth. Again he waved the dagger.

"Danes would be better 'an this," he said. "Led about like a damn eunuch. Alfred's after cuttin' the balls off all of us."

"Put the dagger down," Hawk said.

Wolscroft seemed not to hear him. He was too far gone in drink and his own resentments. "What's the point havin' a daughter if you can't marry her for profit?" He waved the blade at Dragon again. "He gets the dowry and I get… what? Norse scum for a son-in-law."

When still Dragon did not react, Wolscroft's sneer deepened. "I just called you scum, boy. Don't you think you ought to do somethin' about that?"

"Do what, old man?" Dragon asked quietly. "Fight you? At your daughter's wedding feast?" He shook his head in disgust. "Just put the dagger down and go to your bed. You're finished here."

"Finished?" Wolscroft sputtered in rage. "I'm not
finished
, boy! I say you're not man enough. Speakin' of eunuchs…"

"That's enough!" The sound of her own voice surprised Rycca but she was beyond fear, driven to desperation by the shame clawing at her. All day she had dwelt in misery, caught in the web of her own deficiencies, recalling over and over how poorly Dragon must think of her. This was the last straw. One way or another, the man who had made her life a hell of cruelty and fear was going to stop.

Wolscroft turned on her in surprise. The instant he did so, she struck out with her heavy drinking cup, smashing it against the protruding bone of his wrist. He squawked as his hand flew open. She caught the dagger by its hilt as it fell. Gripping it firmly, she pointed it at him even as she began to tremble, not with fear of him, for he suddenly did look like the old man Dragon had called him, but rather with fear of herself. What was she that she could behave like this? Certainly not the gentle, caring lady she was supposed to be.

"Go away," she said to her father and heard the thickness of tears in her voice.

Dragon was suddenly at her side. He took the dagger from her. She yielded it willingly, wishing never to see the repulsive thing again. There were other men beside Wolscroft, leading him away. He was still protesting but the fight had gone out of him. Maybe the consequences of creating such a scene in the home of the feared Hawk were finally dawning on him. Or perhaps being disarmed by his own daughter, she whom he had always treated with such contempt, deflated him more effectively than anything else might have done.

It made no difference to Rycca. Her shame was complete.

As was Dragon's bewilderment. He had just seen his cowardly, selfish, untrustworthy bride behave with rare courage and strength. She had disarmed an enraged warrior, her own father, and done it in the blink of an eye. Moreover, Dragon could not shake the unsettling impression that she had acted to protect him.

It made no sense. Who was this woman?

Besides, of course, his wife.