Come Back to Me (26 page)

"I do not," she protested. "It is absurd to say so given what has passed between us."

"You do," he insisted, "inside. You hold back, trying to steel yourself against me or against the pleasure I would give you or both. I am not certain what it is that you see as weakness, threat, danger of some sort. But it is there all the same. I can feel it and I would that I did not."

"Yet you win anyway." She looked at his hand, cupping her, then into his eyes. "What difference except that you must put forth more effort for your victory? Is that what you object to?"

"Nay, sweetheart. Believe me, savoring you is no hardship. I would simply know you are willing… without reserve."

"You would have me keep nothing of myself."

"Keep all," he corrected, "but share with me."

The temptation was supreme. There in the darkness he wove thoughts of what could be, as though in a dream, so utterly different from anything she had known in the harsh daylit world that she had to wonder if mayhap she had fallen asleep after all, save in the nest of his arms.

But no, her body was unmistakably awake and rousing to his touch, heedless of her reservations. Reckless, careless body with no thought for past or present, living only in the incandescent moment. Lucky body.

He sensed her wavering and pressed home his advantage then, his skilled hands and mouth moving over her. Quickly enough she was lost to pleasure, the restless stirrings of her mind muted by the thrumming of swiftly rising passion. His victory this time was easier and even more complete. As it was when he drew her to him again and again through the night.

Yet before the first gray light of dawn appeared, it was Rycca who rose above him in the shadows around their bed. She smiled at his sleepy-eyed surprise.

"You have forgotten our pact, lord?"

More sated than he had ever been, Dragon looked at her in frank amusement. "My sweet, I hate to disappoint you but—"

"You will not," she promised, and bent to her chosen task. Before very long, the Lord of Landsende knew beyond any hint of doubt that his wife was a woman of her word.

RYCCA WOKE TO SUNLIGHT PRYING BENEATH her closed eyelids. She stirred slowly, uncertain at first where she was. Her first awareness was that the steady rocking of the boat was missing. Perhaps they had docked?

They had… yesterday… Landsende… riding Grani… the feast… Dragon…

Dragon.

She sat up, threw back her hair, and looked around hastily. A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw she was alone, but hard on that came realization of the late hour. Her first full day in her husband's manor and she had slept most of it away. Already she risked losing the approval of his people, who would surely think his Saxon bride a sluggard for failing to rise long beyond the time when decent men and women had already done a full day's work.

Not that she would have been able to contribute much had she awakened earlier, but that was another problem and one she did not feel ready to deal with before she washed the sleep from her eyes and readied herself to face the day, however belatedly.

The water in the pitcher on the table beneath the windows was cool. How not when it must have been there for hours if not since the day before? She bathed with only brief notice of the discomfort, for hot water was a luxury with which she had little acquaintance.

Her stomach rumbled as she pulled clothes from a chest and dressed as swiftly as she dared. All the garments brought from Hawkforte were vastly more elaborate and delicate than the roughly woven shift she was used to. She managed well enough but felt very clumsy in the process. Would she ever become accustomed to wearing clothes that seemed fit for a princess in a bard's tale? Perhaps in a future too distant and precarious for her to waste any time thinking about.

For in truth she had no time to waste, having already squandered more than enough. Yet for all that, her courage wavered as she stepped out into the fair, sea-scented day. A brisk breeze blew off the water carrying with it the tang of salt and, closer in, the smell of fresh-turned earth. Sunlight danced off the western hills where she could just make out the shapes of fat sheep grazing. Closer in, the ripening heads of golden grain waved gently in well tended fields.

Far out over the water, fishing ships were making their way toward the harbor where several plumb merchant vessels rode at anchor. Surrounded by peace and security, Rycca felt the coil of tension within her lessen just enough to make her aware of its presence. She was so used to being wary, to guarding her every step and always looking over her shoulder that she seldom even noticed her own unease. But here, in this place, everything was new and different. The old ways she knew all too well ho longer fit and she felt cast adrift, unsure of where the next turn of the current would take her.

To the kitchens, first, she decided. They were in a separate building set a short distance away from the main hall. Several fires with iron tripods set up over them burned outside. Nearby was a large brick oven for baking. Several women were working there as she approached. One among them, a middle-aged woman with graying hair tucked beneath her head scarf, saw her, said a hasty word to the other women, and came to greet Rycca.

"My lady, I am Magda Kirstendotter. If you have come to see the kitchens, may I show them to you? I have had the keeping of them for several years and if I can continue to help you in any way, I will be happy to do so." As she spoke, she removed from her sturdy leather belt a chain weighted down with keys, which she handed to Rycca. "I believe you will find everything in order, my lady. Landsende is a rich holding and we are very well supplied."

Rycca stared at the keys uncertainly. She understood their significance well enough. As wife of the lord, it was her prerogative to control all domestic goods, food, drink, cloth, all of it. Thus, she would hold the keys and dole out what was needed as she saw fit. It was a responsibility for which she felt singularly unprepared, yet she had no choice but to accept the keys from the smiling woman who proffered them. When they were safely attached to Rycca's own belt, Magda looked well pleased.

"Long have we waited for Lord Dragon to take a wife, my lady. Your coming brings us great joy."

"I hope so." Magda's open and cheerful face prompted honesty. "I got the impression yesterday on the dock that people were not so sure of how they felt."

The older woman looked a little surprised at such frankness but she recovered quickly and laughed. "Oh, they got over that right quick when they saw you on
Grani. Imagine, a woman able to ride that wild one! You may know the men talked of little else last night. They finally convinced themselves that Lord Dragon must have told the horse to behave himself, that being the only explanation that could sit well with them."

Rycca laughed and Magda joined her. Soon the other women did the same. Magda introduced them all. Quickly enough, Rycca found herself at the center of a circle of chatting women being led toward the kitchens. The women's confidence and good humor struck her just as the evidence of their touches in the town had done. Never before, save for her brief stay at Hawkforte, had she been among women who were not fearful. Even as she tried to appear as though this were all most ordinary to her, she marveled at them.

And at the kitchens, which were unlike anything she had ever seen. In Wolscroft, they were dank pits from which emerged meat that was either raw or charred, sometimes both, which she thought a rather odd accomplishment, and other things too rank to be remembered. Rarely had she ventured within them. Never would it have occurred to her father to give her responsibility for them, much less the actual authority to effect anything good.

But here all was different. The kitchens gleamed, every surface scrubbed clean with sand, the floor swept clear of any hint of debris, and only good, fresh smells to be had.

"Here we have water," Magda said as she showed off a well cleverly dug right in the center of the kitchen, convenient to the several large wooden basins used for washing. She spoke in Saxon but repeated the words in Norse and nodded approvingly when Rycca tried them out for herself.

"And here, you see, many pots and spits of good iron.
The smithy here makes them for us but there are platters and bowls brought from far away by the traders."

Too distracted the night before to notice much of anything, Rycca was startled to see the stacks of beautifully ornamented serving dishes of glazed pottery, precious metals, and glass. So, too, was she drawn to the large chest that stood upright against one wall behind an iron screen of intricate design. The chest was almost as tall as Rycca herself and held within it a multitude of drawers of different sizes.

"Most of our spices are kept here," Magda explained, "except, of course, for the salt. Only a small quantity of that is on hand, the rest being in barrels in the storerooms." She gestured to the collection of keys she had given to Rycca. "That long, slender key opens this lock. I usually take out each morning whatever spices are likely to be needed during the day, but of course whatever you arrange will be fine."

"I see no reason to change how you have done things," Rycca murmured. She was trying to absorb the extraordinary notion that the entire large chest was filled with spices and that there was even more elsewhere. Yet that paled before the astounding realization that she was now in charge of all this, expected to know what to do with it and how to care for it properly.

She swayed slightly.

"Oh, my lady," Magda exclaimed. "I am so sorry! What am I thinking? Lilla, quickly, a stool for her ladyship and she must have something to eat. Some of the soup, perhaps? And the rolls just baked."

A stool appeared beneath her and Rycca was urged down onto it. Food materialized before her. The women clucked about, looking at her with concern and interest.

"You are all right?" Magda asked as Rycca first nibbled, then devoured the best roll she had ever tasted.

"Fine, thank you, I just hadn't eaten in a while and—" Virtually nothing the evening before and it was already late afternoon so she had been almost a full day without food. No wonder then the sudden dizziness that had— She broke off her thoughts, struck by Magda's sudden look of disappointment.