Mylan increased the pressure of his fingertips until he was certain Celiese would beg him to stop, but she did not even squirm to get away. Disgusted with himself for being so brutal, he dropped his hands to his sides. “Do you truly think I lack the stamina of an elderly man or have less than you?”
Shocked he would be so deeply offended, Celiese replied with far more care, “No, of course not, but I know walking a great distance is difficult for you, and your comfort is important to me, even though mine obviously matters little to you.” She did not move to escape him though, but sat quietly holding her breath, unable to predict what his reaction would be to that comment.
Again lifting his hands to her shoulders, he continued with the gentle massage he had meant to give. He let his fingertips skip down her spine, attempting to ease the tension he had just created while he apologized. “I was not always so ill-tempered.” He had no idea if she found his touch soothing, but he could not keep his mind upon his task when her nearness distracted him so. The sweet fragrance of her soft curls was too entrancing to concentrate on anything other than the desire teasing his senses with a maddening intensity. Giving up all pretense of maintaining the detachment with which he had begun, he wrapped his arms around her tightly and drew her near.
“You must keep your sympathy to yourself no matter what we are called upon to do. You must give Hrolf no reason to suspect I am not as good a man as any other Dane.”
Smiling to herself, she put her hands over his. “It will not be difficult, for you are far better than all the others.”
That she would tease him now appalled him, and he was tempted to shake her soundly. “Promise me!”
Still not understanding quite what it was he wanted, she rephrased her reply. “Should the subject of your health ever come up in a conversation between Hrolf and me, I will swear you are as strong as an ox. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes!” Knowing he must have sounded like an idiot, he pulled her across his lap and kissed her sweetly. “The man may recognize my name, but I doubt he will have heard I was injured so badly I narrowly cheated death. That is a secret you must keep, Celiese, for Vikings abhor weakness of any kind, and I need to win Hrolf’s respect, not his pity.”
“You are still far too sensitive if you think anyone could possibly pity you; I never have and no one else does, either.” Snuggled in his embrace, she felt very safe and secure, but was saddened her presence did not provide the same marvelous sense of acceptance to him.
She rested so comfortably in his arms, he wondered if perhaps his backrub had relaxed her enough to sleep, but he was not at all sleepy now and hoped she wasn’t either. Lifting her cascade of bright curls out of his way, he trailed light kisses slowly up her throat, but when his lips reached hers her reaction was so spontaneously loving that he pulled her down upon the soft woolen blanket that served as their bed.
Being wide awake with her was better than any dream, but, curious, there was one question he had to ask, “Do you really think of me as an ox, Celiese? Is there not some other animal that has such strength, but is also blessed with intelligence and grace?”
“Is it compliments you want?” She lifted her fingertips to his nape, slowly combing his soft curls. “I said you were as strong as an ox, not that you possessed that beast’s wits or disposition.”
“I misunderstood then,” he admitted reluctantly, fascinated by the bright shine of her eyes in the pale moonlight filling their small tent.
“You are more of a stallion, smooth and sleek, bright and so very proud. Does that comparison please you more?”
“This is what pleases me, Celiese, only this.” He tightened his embrace as he deepened his kiss. Smooth, sleek, bright, proud, all those same adjectives described her as well, but it was her affection he found too delectable to resist, and that was one thing he would never let Hrolf even suspect. The less that man saw and heard of her, the better it would be for all three of them. Pushing thoughts of Hrolf aside, he let his mind dwell only upon giving pleasure in new and ever more exciting ways. His touch light but knowing, his kisses generous, he was in a playful mood, and when Celiese at last fell asleep, she did not stir until well after dawn.
After he had used such imaginative methods to insure she enjoyed a restful night, Mylan decided he would be foolish to awaken her the next morning. He strode into the village alone; using the time to practice what he hoped would be a near normal walk. The torn muscles of his right thigh no longer caused him excruciating pain with each step he took; he limped simply because favoring that leg had become habit. With concentration, he could manage two even steps, and he did so as he approached André‘s small cottage. Since the hour was so early, he did not disturb the man but left a bag of silver coins tied to his door latch and returned to the Surf Falcon to give the order to sail.
The merchant vessel was so lightly laden, Mylan was certain he could navigate the Seine to Rouen without mishap. He knew the river curved with a slow, rhythmic pattern, like the undulating motions of a serpent. Danes had used the river to reach Paris in warships, and the route was one frequently discussed and well known. He stood with his hands on the rail. There was only a short stretch of coast to clear before they entered the mouth of the river. The territory they would then traverse would be under Hrolf’s rule.
He anticipated no resistance to their passage, but remained alert to danger all the same. The French countryside had been ravaged so often by marauding bands of Vikings, he doubted there was still a man alive who could hurl a spear. It was foolhardy to think such a man might not exist somewhere, and he had no intention of allowing anyone aboard a vessel under his command to be easy prey.
When Celiese awoke from the most pleasant of dreams, she felt the slow rolling motion of the Falcon under sail. Greatly alarmed, she drew on her gown and hastened to find Mylan without so much as bothering to brush her hair. Her bright curls flew about her head, caught by the wind as she grabbed his arm. “Where are we bound?”
Surprised by her agitated mood, he caressed her cheek lightly. “To Rouen, as I promised. Where did you think?”
“But it would be far easier to ride on horseback to Rouen. The path is straight, but the river course is not.”
In a tolerant mood, he replied calmly, “I am confident I can find the city even without your assistance. Why don’t you complete your preparations for the day?” He stood back to survey her disheveled appearance with a sly grin as he enumerated a few of the tasks she had obviously overlooked. “There’s fresh water, should you care to bathe. Borrow my comb if you’ve misplaced your own, a
nd I’m certain your slippers can be found if you search for them a little more diligently.”
Embarrassed now that she had not thought to take more care with her appearance before she had rushed out upon the deck, she turned away and with a light running step returned to her tent to begin anew to greet the day with more decorum.
After he had given her question some thought, Mylan considered it strange she would not have understood their destination. When his curiosity got the better of him, he went to ask her to explain.
Celiese was brushing out her hair, curling the long tresses over her hand to make the waves fall neatly, but when Mylan joined her she handed him her brush without thinking and he continued the task.
“When I say I am on my way to Rouen, that is where I intend to go. Why did you doubt me?”
“I was merely surprised you wished to sail.” She hoped he would believe her explanation, but truly she had been terrified he had begun the return voyage to his homeland. “I did not expect you to leave before I had an opportunity to bid André and the others farewell. I wanted to see them all again and thank them for their hospitality.”
“We will return soon enough and you can talk with everyone until your heart is content.” He thought her shining curls far too lovely to merit further effort at grooming and laid her brush aside. “Now come with me so we can enjoy the beauty of the morning without further strife.”
Taking his hand, Celiese walked with him to the port rail, and with rapt attention gazed at the passing scene. “I did not mean to fill your day with strife, but André had horses, and the ride to Rouen is not much farther than Yvetot was from my home.”