Lord of Hawkfell Island (Viking Era 2)

“I have never before seen you smile,” he said as he continued to stare at her. “It makes you look different, softer perhaps. I would also hear you laugh.”

“Mayhap you will smile for me soon. Mayhap even laugh for me as well.”

He gave her a wary look.

She said now, the smile gone from her face, “You, Lord Rorik, I have tested mightily. The gods know I have pushed you and tormented you and made you want to strangle me. Despite all this, if you wish it, I will wed you, my lord, and I will be constant as the North Star. I will never allow another to harm you as long as I have breath in my body.”

Rorik smiled and Mirana found it the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen in her life.

Suddenly, Entti laughed, slapping her hands on her knees, laughing until her eyes teared.

Both Rorik and Mirana stared at her. She laughed louder. The gown slid off her lap to the ground. “Ah,” she said, gasping for breath, “it is too much. The two of you are like proud yet noble warriors, uncertain that you aren’t still enemies, circling each other. You call for marriage and you strut out all your warrior attributes, admire each attribute in the other, then prattle on about your honor. There is no talk of affection, of caring, only all these manly virtues each of you seek in the other. By all the gods, it is a wondrous amusement, this courting dance you two have performed.” She began laughing again, now hugging her sides.

Hafter heard her, frowned, and roared to his feet, striding toward them. “Has she insulted you, Rorik? Shall I punish her? Where is the rope? I shall tie her to me again and drag her about. But it’s that woman’s fault—she taught Entti bad things, made her smart and loud, then made her hate us and we don’t deserve it, she—”

Entti looked up at him through her laughter-teared eyes. “Ah, another big warrior, intent on his own prowess, his lordly rights. Go away, Hafter, you annoy me. Your tongue flays itself with its own stupidity. But first, wish your lord Rorik and Mirana happiness. She will be the lady of Hawkfell Island and your mistress.”

Hafter stared at Entti, then looked blankly at Rorik.

“You would wed this girl who would have killed you more times than I can count? She who would slit your throat even when you bed her, Rorik? By the gods, she will bite your tongue when you try to kiss her! sHE WILL SEND HER KNEE INTO YOUR MANHOOD AND BRING you low. Aye, she’ll unman you and laugh and enjoy herself whilst she does it. Entti was simple but now she isn’t. You, Rorik, you were of full wit and thoughtful brain, but now you’re quite mad. It is all her fault?

??this woman with her sin-black hair and her green eyes that hold secrets—she has this mystery about her that makes men and women behave differently, makes them do things they shouldn’t do.

“I must fetch your father from Malverne. He will make you see reason. If you lust for her, tie her down to protect yourself, and plow her belly until you tire of her. But do not wed her, Rorik, she will surely do you in.”

Entti rose swiftly and leapt at Hafter. She sent her fist into his belly, shouting in his face, “You fool! You are less full-witted than the stoats rutting in the garden! Kerzog has more wit than have you! Have you no heart, no feelings? Did you not listen to Lord Rorik?”

Hafter was again distracted by this new Entti. “Shut your mouth, woman! You are the stupid one. Nay, not stupid, you aren’t that, are you? The woman saw to that. You are simply unaware of the woman’s hatred for Rorik, for all of us—except she seems to like you and the other women overmuch—which I still don’t understand.”

“Hafter,” Rorik said quietly. “That is enough. I do not need your defense. Enough.”

“Nay, it is all passing strange, and you, Rorik, you will awaken on the morrow and wonder what demons possessed you and then you will—”

“Hafter, it is done.”

Hafter stared at his friend, a man who was closer to him than his own brothers, a man he’d known all his life. “Rorik, you do not jest?”

Rorik shook his head. He smiled. “Nay, jests are far from my mind. Mirana has accepted me. We will wed on the morrow. We will have a feast and all will be well. You must trust me. If she is willing to, why then, for you, it should be nothing more difficult than breathing. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“But her half-brother slaughtered Inga and your children and many of our people!”

“Aye, but she didn’t. Why should she shoulder any of the blame? She accepts what Einar is now. She gives her loyalty to me.”

But Hafter couldn’t accept it. Loyalty from a woman? It sounded preposterous. The woman had been nothing but a thorn, nay, more a bramble or an entire forest of thorns and brambles. He said, “Kron told all of us about the king and how he wants to have the woman as his wife. She could be a queen, Rorik! Why would she want to wed with a simple man like you when she could be a queen and have everything a woman could ever want?

“It makes no sense. So what if King Sitric is old and repellent and will give her no pleasure in her bed? He is still the king and he has power and wealth. You must think about her motives, Rorik. I do not trust her any more than I trust this new Entti the woman created.

“You are being noble, Rorik. You do this only to protect her, don’t you? It is nonsense. She needs no protection. Send her back, use her as a lure to get Einar, or is that what is really in your mind? Tell me true, for I must know.”

“Hafter, were you to plead my case for me to Mirana, I should have her trying to kill me rather than accepting to wed me. You will be quiet. I have told you the truth. I want this woman. She will be my wife and the mistress of Hawkfell Island. She will be loyal to me, to you, to all of us. I trust her, as you must also. She isn’t deceitful, she is honest. She doesn’t want to be a queen.”

“Ha! You aren’t stupid, Rorik, at least you weren’t before we had the misfortune to voyage to Clontarf. You captured her and everything has changed. It is beyond too much to understand.” He closed his mouth then, only to open it once more, saw Entti frowning at him, and closed it again. He looked at Mirana, who’d said not a word. He really looked at her now, and he saw a young woman who was passing pretty, quite lovely really, small and fine-boned, her flesh as white as newly fallen Vestfold snow, her hair thick and black as a midnight revel. Her eyes were a green color that looked like dark moss, beautiful eyes that were soft and mysterious, aye, there were secrets in those eyes of hers, with the thick black lashes that added to their mystery, and he wondered how he would feel if she looked back at him with warmth and caring in those eyes, and with desire. And she was brave and smart. Ah, but still . . . it wasn’t right. It wasn’t smart. But there was naught he could do about it. He prayed that Rorik knew well what he was doing. He himself didn’t really believe Rorik was doing this to protect her or to somehow use her to capture Einar. Rorik wasn’t that kind of man. On the other hand, Hafter had been wrong about a number of things of late. He’d humiliated himself in his wrongness and his head still hurt from it. Only the gods knew what was in the woman’s mind and in Lord Rorik’s mind.

He looked at Entti, still frowning at him, tense, ready to attack him again, and scratched his head where she’d struck him. Yet another one whose mind was now hidden from him. He didn’t like this new Entti. He turned away, shaking his head. He heard Entti say behind him, “That’s right, you lout, turn away, go hide, don’t face the truth that’s staring you in your goat’s face!”

He said nothing, though the irritation at her words was great. He walked away, silent and thoughtful.

But it was Hafter, only minutes later, who yelled for silence and gave all their people the news. He sounded enthusiastic. He looked over at Entti and she smiled at him, making him feel like a trained pet who had performed just as she’d wished.