Love's Captive Heart Read online

  “I awoke on the sand after the storm, but I was too weak to climb the cliff until I had rested. Help me reach the house please, for my step is still unsteady, and I must tell Raktor that Aldred’s son is dead.”

  Seeing a chance to gain favor with the powerful Viking, the man left his post to escort Celiese to her home, and Mylan crossed the deserted terrain swiftly to find a vantage point hidden among the thick stand of trees on the north side of the dwelling. His wait would be a tedious one, but he hoped it would not be futile.

  Raktor leapt to his feet as Celiese entered the drenched hall. “I thought we had lost you both.” He reached out and drew the trembling young woman near. “What of Mylan, do you have news of his fate?”

  Her eyes filled with tears at the memory of their ordeal and what was yet to come. Her downcast expression was most convincing in its sorrow. “We were together for only a short while. When he could no longer cling to the piece of mast we had grabbed I tried to save him but could not. He is dead, drowned.”

  Raktor nodded as she spoke, considering her narrative carefully before he summoned another of his warriors. “Take this woman and tie her up with the other prisoners. They will all leave for Kaupang at nightfall. You have returned just in time to meet your destiny, my beauty. I am selling you, for I can no longer trust you, not even to serve my daughter.”

  “After I have been so loyal to her all these years?” Celiese shouted angrily, arguing heatedly with the hateful man. An overpowering fear clutched her heart. If she were gone Mylan would not know. He would come and find the door locked and think only that she had betrayed him! She screamed and tried to slip past the burly man who had been ordered to remove her, but he only laughed as he swung his fist into the side of her head, sending her sprawling across the stone floor. He scooped her up and tossed her limp body over his shoulder as if she were no more precious than a sack of grain.

  Chapter 5

  Celiese fought the man, biting and kicking fiercely as he bound her wrists and ankles, but he paid scant heed to her heated protests at the injustice of her treatment and tossed her roughly into the room with the other captives. They all were bound as firmly as she was—to her advantage, as they turned hate-filled stares in her direction. Several complained loudly.

  One young man nudged another. “Look what Raktor has thrown away, is that not the woman who posed as Mylan’s bride?”

  “Aye, that is the slut.” Clearing his throat so he could spit on her, the man realized just in time that their quarters were too confined for such a display not to splatter his friends as well, and he had to swallow rather than carry out his insulting gesture.

  Celiese could not see if the guard had remained outside the door but dropped her voice to a whisper in case he might be listening. “I am Mylan’s wife, truly I am. Why else would Raktor have decided to sell me too? He believes Mylan to be dead—but he is alive, waiting now to set us all free.”

  Her words were met with loud jeers and rude insults from the prisoners, for none thought her words worth hearing. She counted quickly, there were twenty-six men but only three other women, pretty young girls who were doubtless slaves as she had been. “Will none of you help me? If we work together we can get free and overpower the guards when next they come!”

  She pleaded with them just as she had argued with her husband, exhorting them to attempt an escape she was certain would succeed if they but worked to help each other. Unlike Mylan, this surly group would not listen to her plan. Every face turned away with a disgusted sneer, and she was left with no hope of ever seeing her dear husband again.

  When the guards next returned they were heavily armed, ruffians who bullied the captives as they led them to the docks, where they divided them into two groups. From what Celiese could discern the other group were all warriors, Mylan’s kin who had come to attend the wedding, while she was pushed toward the captured slaves. In addition to the three women, there were seven men, two barely out of their teens, obviously fieldhands who had somehow been caught during the fighting. She doubted they would be able to raise any sort of resistance that would enable them to escape.

  She looked back toward the house, praying Mylan would see her and understand what had happened, but it was nearly dusk, the visibility poor, and she saw no sign he might be observing their departure. Shoved into one of the Dragon’s sister ships, a smaller but no less sleek vessel named the Elk of the Sea, she was left huddled with the three other girls to endure a miserable journey that seemed to have no end. The prisoners had all been fed before she had joined them, and she was given nothing to eat when she asked the guards for food. They only laughed at her and threatened to beat her senseless unless she were still.

  Silenced, Celiese could barely control her temper, for she knew Mylan would rescue his kinsman somehow, but would any of those hostile men tell him where she had been taken? If she were sold more than once would he ever be able to find her? More frightening still, would he even want to try? By the time she finally fell into an exhausted sleep she no longer cared what dreadful fate awaited her, for if she had lost Mylan the best part of her life was already over.

  *

  Kaupang was a heavily trafficked commercial port, the center of Viking trade, and by the time Raktor’s ship reached the city Celiese had confirmed her worst fears. None of Mylan’s family was on board. The people who had been sent to be sold had all been slaves in Aldred’s home, household servants and farmhands caught up in the net thrown out the night of the wedding. She had no hope anyone would come to rescue them now, for she overheard one of the guards saying all of Aldred’s kin had been taken only a short distance by ship and then marched inland to be held for ransom.

  By the time Mylan had secured their release her trail would be impossible to follow. Her three female companions cried pitifully at the thought of being separated after several years of friendship, but they did no more than spit upon her as they left the ship. The sorry group was marched to the slave market where the slave master examined them thoroughly as if they were prize horses about to be traded for untold wealth rather than a bedraggled group of unfortunate servants who could be expected to bring little in the way of profit. Celiese’s once beautiful silk gown was no more than rags, her superb figure now far too thin, but the sharp-eyed man stopped before her, shocked by her defiant stare.

  “I am the wife of the Dane, Mylan, eldest son of Aldred Vandahl. If you but send him a message that I am here he will come for me and pay you any price for my safe return.” She had no hope that that were true, but any tactic that would stall her sale at a public auction was worth a try. “He will buy all of us at twice what others would pay. You must send for him at once.”

  The wiry old man raked his fingertip down Celiese’s sunburned cheek, and then tore off the remnants of her wedding dress with one swift tug so he could look at her more closely. He walked around her slowly, eyeing her pale skin with disgust before he jabbed his bony fingers into her bruised side. “I have heard of the man, but how could Mylan’s wife have come to such a sorry state?”

  “I was kidnapped and beaten. If you will let my husband know where I might be found, he will reward you well, for he loves me dearly.” She looked the man straight in the eye and made no effort to hide her nakedness, but her hopes for rescue were dashed when the three girls with her began to call her foul names, scoffed at her story, and said such vile things about her that the slave master gave her a rude shove and tossed her back her ragged dress.

  “I will not trouble Mylan about you, for I know him to be a serious man who would not be amused by such a ridiculous tale.” Surveying the lot of them he exclaimed sadly, “You are as poor a group of slaves as I have ever been forced to sell, but perhaps my wife can scrub you up so you will bring a fair price.” He gestured toward a billowy figure in the corner and she came forward to offer her opinions, which were no better than his.

  “Sell them tomorrow with the others we have gathered. They are scrawny enough as it is and I do
not wish to feed them until they grow fat.” The hag sucked what few teeth she had remaining in her head and turned away, leading the group into the rude shelter that served as the quarters for the slaves being held for sale.

  Celiese nearly fell asleep in the steaming tub, the warm water bringing a relaxing comfort she had almost forgotten, but before she could enjoy more than a few seconds’ pleasure the nasty old woman began to scrub her hair with a coarse-bristled brush. She cried out in pain and pleaded with her to stop, but that did not deter the unsympathetic creature from using her most diligent efforts to wash her clean. The tunic she was given was much too short, but Celiese was dreadfully afraid women were displayed nude before buyers and that worry kept her from eating any of the meager meal they were served for supper. Her female companions were varied, all as unhappy as she, but none spoke her native tongue nor appeared friendly, and the three girls from Aldred’s home continued their spiteful insults for half the night, complaining to everyone how she had brought ruin upon their home.

  At dawn Celiese vowed to endure whatever public humiliation she had to suffer with every bit of dignity she could gather. In spite of the slave master’s unkind words he apparently thought her worth a handsome price and kept her back until all the others had been sold. The sun was high overhead when she was brought out, and as she had feared she was quickly stripped naked, but she reminded herself as she always did that her blood was as fine as that of a princess and her appearance should be regal as well.

  She held her head proudly and scanned the crowd with a defiant stare, silently insisting the assembled group respect her. Her fiery emerald gaze had the same effect that day as it had had on the Torgvalds, and more than one man turned away, knowing he lacked both the skill and strength to tame such a vibrant beauty.

  When a man standing just to her left spoke up she turned, startled by something in his voice. He was tall and well built, and his amber eyes could belong to only one family. Celiese whispered quickly while his attention was focused upon her face, “I am your brother Mylan’s wife! Do not let one of the others buy me!”

  The handsome young man gasped in astonishment, then called to the auctioneer, “Who is this woman?”

  The old man smiled broadly, delighted to see the well-dressed and obviously wealthy man display such interest in the striking blonde. “What does her name matter? You may call her whatever you choose. She was a slave in the house of Raktor, that he wants her no more is your good fortune. Now what is your bid?”

  “A former slave of the Torgvalds cannot possibly be my brother’s wife.” Laughing, the man folded his muscular arms across his broad chest and regarded Celiese’s elegant figure with an appreciative glance.

  “It is the truth!” she insisted, incensed he did not believe her.

  “My brother is not married, so how could you be his wife?”

  Exasperated, she attempted to prove she knew the man at least. “I do not know your name, only that you and your brother are here trading. Mylan is the eldest, while Erik, your younger brother, is sixteen. You have your mother’s eyes, her name is Thulyn.” Turning as she heard another man offer a generous bid, she urged him to help her. “If you are so foolish as to let another man buy me, Mylan will be furious with you! You can sell me yourself if what I say is not the truth, but what if it is?”

  Not pleased by her taunts, the amber-eyed man waited a long moment before tossing a bag of gold at the auctioneer’s feet. He then leapt up onto the raised platform where Celiese stood and wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. “There has been some mistake, this woman should never have been offered for sale, but my purse contains more than enough to cover any bid you could have hoped to receive.”

  Not waiting for an argument from the elderly man, he picked up Celiese, carried her across the square and down a narrow street, laughing all the way at her keen embarrassment, for no matter how tightly she clutched his cloak to her breasts it continued to fall open, displaying her nakedness to all who passed by. When he reached his inn he took her to his room, where his brother answered his knock and exclaimed in horror.

  “Andrick! What have you done? You know mother will never permit you to keep such a woman!”

  “Oh, yes, she will.” Andrick placed Celiese upon her feet as he introduced her. “May I present our brother’s wife, who somehow had the great misfortune to be put up for sale at the slave market this morning.”

  Celiese looked quickly from one man to the other. Mylan had not mentioned that these two brothers of his were twins, but clearly they were. Their hair, while blond, was not as fair as his, nor their features so finely carved. While they were a handsome pair they were clearly nothing alike in temperament, for while Andrick appeared to be amused, his twin clearly was not.

  “What lie is that? Mylan does not even leave his farm—he would not go seeking a wife for any reason.” Appalled, the young man snarled his question.

  Not dismayed, Andrick proceeded with his introduction. “This is Hagen, and let me warn you now, dear lady, this is his usual mood. Had he seen you as I did he would have walked off without replying to your pleas. Perhaps this morning was a more fortuitous one for you than you had imagined.”

  “Fortuitous indeed!” Celiese exclaimed, suddenly wondering if she were any better off than she had been. Taking a deep breath, she hastened to explain how she had come to be in Kaupang and why it was imperative they return to Danish shores at once. She wanted to leave nothing to their imaginations, so she described the horrors she and Mylan had suffered in vivid detail, but she feared she was rambling in her narrative, telling her tale in too disorganized a fashion to be understood. But she was nearly faint from hunger and sick with despair. She was certain she was making no sense at all when Hagen interrupted her.

  “Describe my brother’s room to me, if you can. If you were married at our home as you claim, that should be a simple matter for you.” His sneer made it plain he thought her incapable of producing such a description.

  “His room is large, at the top of a narrow flight of stairs. The fireplace is opposite his bed, there is a row of windows, and although it was late at night when I was there he told me they faced the sea.” She had had far too much on her mind to notice the view at dawn, but hoped Mylan had not been teasing her, since Hagen seemed to regard his question as an important test.

  Andrick laughed at her comment. “Did he now?” He glanced at his sullen twin and nodded. “We will take you back with us, because your tale is amusing, but if it is no more than a cleverly woven lie I’ll warn you now that you will be very sorry.”

  “Did you not recognize any of the others from your household? There were others, both men and women, who were sold before I was.” She was surprised he had not seen them, for their very presence in Kaupang would prove her point.

  Andrick shook his head. “No, I had just happened by, we have finished our business here and are preparing to sail. I wanted to purchase no slaves, but something made me stop when they brought you out. The sparkle of the sunlight upon your hair perhaps, or…”

  “You needn’t say it!” Celiese cautioned him sternly. “Mylan will be angry enough without your telling him you have seen me naked.”

  “Yes, that is true. If by some strange happenstance you are actually Mylan’s bride, his anger should be considerable.” When Hagen offered no objection Andrick continued, “We had planned to leave in a day or two, but now we will sail on the morning tide, as this will be worth rushing home to confront. I cannot believe a word you have said is true, not that Mylan would consent to any marriage, nor that even a villain so foul as Raktor would stoop to such treachery as you have described.”

  Exhausted and having no hope of explaining anything more coherently than she already had, Celiese yawned sleepily. “May I please go to bed?” Tossing Andrick’s long cloak aside, she climbed into the nearest bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and fell sound asleep before either of the astonished brothers could reply.

  It was late afterno
on when Hagen shook her shoulder to awaken her. “I’ve found all the others, and it was well worth the expense to hear what they had to say about you.” His menacing expression left little doubt that the people from his home had continued to blame her for their misfortune.

  She rubbed her eyes, trying unsuccessfully to make them stop hurting, but she ached all over, and the few hours she had rested had not been nearly enough to heal her many bruises. “I know exactly what they said. None believes in my innocence, but Mylan knows the truth, and he is the only one you must ask.”

  “I must?” the amber-eyed man snarled angrily.

  “Hagen, there will be time enough to question this young woman aboard our ship, let’s not waste another moment in so futile an argument.” Andrick stepped forward to end the bitter confrontation he knew was coming, for Hagen’s fierce temper was not one he wished to see needlessly provoked. “We cannot delay now we know what has happened at home in our absence. We are sailing on the evening tide, and you must be ready to come with us.”

  Celiese looked up at the well-built brothers, uncertain as to what they expected her to do to prepare for such a journey. “As you know, I have no clothing, nothing at all. How am I to make my way to the docks?”

  Andrick turned away briefly, then returned with a pale yellow gown, which he laid in her hands. “This is all I could find. Even if it does not fit well, it will still far surpass my cloak as a garment.”

  “Why, this is lovely!” Celiese smiled widely as she thanked him. “You have been as good to me as if you were my own brother rather than Mylan’s. I did not know such good men even lived in your land until I met your family.”

  Hagen frowned impatiently, certain he had done nothing to deserve such a compliment, but when Andrick took his arm he turned around too in order to give Celiese the privacy in which to dress. “Did you think of shoes for the woman, or a cloak? It will be cold aboard our vessel. She will become too easily chilled and if she falls ill she will be an even greater burden.”