“Nok! Du er min mor, men jeg har tenkt å bli viet til denne jenta, og vil ikke tolerere noen fornærmelser,”Randvior countered, stepping closer.
They exchanged more heated words before Lauga finally relented and looked away spitefully.
Randvior grabbed Noelle’s hand. “I never intended for this to happen. My mother is overly protective of me, even though I’m a grown man.”
She managed to veil her truest feelings with a thin smile. The biting chill in the air made her teeth chatter, her fabric cloak poor protection against the rising wind. She searched the ground, frost crowned the wilted vegetation poking through patches of ice and snow. The wide path before them meandered up a hill, and people were walking to and from what she assumed was the direction of Randvior’s house.
More than anything, she wanted a hot bath, food, and sleep. Perhaps a night away from her lover’s amorous sexual appetite,too. It meant a chance to recover and figure out how she could deal with his antagonistic mother.
“Come,” Randvior said. He led her away, through a crowd of cheering admirers.
As they climbed to the top of the hill, she spotted the wood and stone longhouse that Randvior had so carefully described to her. It was situated in a valley, surrounded by forest and pastures. They walked down the incline and slowly approached the facade.
Ornamental stone and woodcarvings of mythical creatures graced the double-arched doorway at the entrance. A gray stone fence demarcated the main courtyard at the front, and dozens of men were seated at tables around a huge fire pit, eating and drinking. Once they realized theirjarlhad arrived, they dropped whatever they were holding and saluted him. Randvior released Noelle’s hand and walked ahead to greet them.
One of them handed him an ale horn. He raised it ceremoniously and swallowed. Amber liquid dripped down his beard as he smiled exuberantly, very much the barbarian she’d pictured him as in these familiar surroundings. She had to admit, she enjoyed seeing him this way. He offered high praise in both Norse and English. He thanked them for guarding his lands so loyally. The guards stood and saluted him again. Randvior reached inside his cloak and pulled out a leather coin bag. He tossed it on top of the nearest table.
“Silver,” he said.
Randvior pulled Noelle in front of him. “See what else I have brought home.”
Catcalls and whistling erupted.
Noelle frowned. How easily he reverted back to that uncivilized nature once he was surrounded by his kinsmen.
Once the laughter and noise stopped, Randvior spoke again. “I present to you Lady Noelle Sinclair. She will be staying here as my personal guest.”
Several men expressed their approval and offered their own titles and names. One name caught her attention,Rafael Long-foot. She looked at his feet. Completely normal. And Rafael seemed much too Spanish for a Norseman. Noelle couldn’t help but smile at their adolescent behavior.Buffoons.
Randvior continued, this time in Norse. She didn’t understand a word. Judging by the serious looks on his men’s faces, it must have been along the lines ofShe’s mine. Keep your bloody hands off her.But he had only referred to her as a guest.
Formalities complete, he escorted Noelle inside. The great hall was more spacious and well-appointed than she had expected. Rectangular in shape, it boasted the largest hearth and finest mantelpiece she’d ever seen. Along the north wall was a raised stage and throne. A less imposing chair stood next to Randvior’s seat and she wondered if one day she would occupy it. Her eyes slipped back to the over-sized throne.Only kings sit on thrones. Just who is this man?
The chair was shaped as an ancient oak tree in full bloom. Silver and gold medallions, similar to the ornaments on Randvior’ boots, graced the tips of the branches. Golden-threaded tapestries depicting famous scenes from history, including what she believed were the infamous brothers, Romulus and Remus, suckling at the she-wolf’s teats in what one day would be the gateway to the city of Rome, decorated the walls. The flagstones were covered with luxuriously thick animal skins and soft carpets.
The high table sat on a wide dais steps lower than the throne. She counted eight rows of tables and benches below, where guests would feast alongside him. A room fit for a king.
The kitchens were located off the south end, from which permeated the irresistible scents of roasting meat and bread. Her stomach groaned miserably. Her diet had consisted mainly of salt fish and stale bread over the last ten days. She craved fresh meat. Randvior must have heard her hunger pangs and threw her a sympathetic look.
“There will be a grand feast this evening,min lille dukke, perhaps the kind you’ve attended at court. My storehouses will be depleted, but my stomach will not be disappointed for it. Do you want to take a bath?”
She cheered instantly, willing to forget hunger in trade for fresh water. She felt disgusting, sticky with salt, sweat, and who knew what else from head to toe. Two men came inside carrying her trunks.
Lauga interfered before her son could direct them. “Shall we settle your mistress in the thrall’s quarters where she’ll be most comfortable, or will she take one of the small chambers off the kitchen?”
Unaffected by his mother’s meddling, he waved his hand. “Enough folly, Lady Sinclair is an honoredguestin this house. She will occupy the suite on the north end of the second floor.”
“Adjacent toyourpersonal chambers?” She seemed truly scandalized by his choice, her intolerance growing by the second.
“Yes,” he answered. “Need I your permission to bed a girl under my own roof?”
Lauga puckered her lips in complete revilement. It was becoming painfully apparent to Noelle why he had revealed very little about his family. He spoke so fondly of his sire, sadly an invalid, crippled in a war nearly a decade ago. But his mother, he told her, was an accomplishedspaewife. Not a white witch, but one who dabbled in the dark arts. And for this reason, she was both revered and deeply feared by his people.
The men carried her luggage upstairs.
His gaze drifted to the English maids standing nearby—Deanna, Katherine, and Johanna. They were young, the eldest being no more than twenty.
“You may choose one of these women as your personal attendant. The other two will work in the kitchens.”
