A generous offer—but she hated the idea of rewarding one and forcing the others to work in the kitchen with strangers. She’d choose all three if she could, but if she did, would Randvior withdraw his original offer? Common sense overruled her hesitation, having an English woman as her companion would help. She carefully considered each, remembering how they performed their duties at home. Even-tempered Katherine would serve quite well. She accepted.
“Now that theladyhas chosen, we can properly prepare the other women for service. Shave their English heads.” Lauga struck again.
Noelle pinched herself. Any hope of building a lasting rapport with this woman was fading—her inconsiderate nature reminded her of Brian’s selfishness.
Deanna and Johanna cowered nearby, covering their heads. Noelle refused to allow anyone to lay a finger on them.
She rolled her eyes heavenward. “English womendon’tshave their heads, madam,” she said, and shifted into a defensive stance in front of the girls. She would shield them with her own body if necessary.
Randvior intervened. “They serve as freewomen, paid a regular salary.”
She prayed his word was final concerning household arrangements and deliberated whether this was Lauga’s way of retaliating against her only child for frightening her by not sending word of his whereabouts. Thank God, the woman didn’t live at his steading fulltime! Her home was located miles awaywhere she lived with her husband. But she imagined Lauga freely exercised her authority in this house in the absence of a proper mistress.
They said nothing more for a few moments, then Randvior looked at Noelle. “Aud will see you to your room.”
She inclined her head and waited for the captain to signal their departure. She followed him upstairs and down a narrow hallway. They stopped at the last door on the right.
“This is your suite.” He opened the door.
She stepped inside and the door closed. Sunshine brightened the room. She noticed every detail of the comfortable furnishings and feminine tapestries that decorated the walls. Her trunks were on the floor near the bed. Feeling as frolicsome as any child, she couldn’t resist the urge to jump up and down on the new mattress. After nearly smacking her head on the beams above, she allowed herself to fall back into the thick padding.
Liberation at last. No Vikings and no smug-faced mother.
A sweet scent drew her to the far corner. A ceramic bowl filled with dried rose petals and heather made her smile. She further explored. The suite consisted of three rooms: her bedroom, a sitting room, and a second bedchamber probably intended for Katherine’s use. The furniture looked expensive, likely imported from exotic lands. These rooms were intended for a woman thejarlwished to pamper. Her favorite spot was in front of the two large windows, along the west wall, where a carved table and matching chairs gave her a perfect place to sit and view the river.
Noelle opened drawers and cabinets. She found a jewelry box sitting on top of a bureau, and eyed it suspiciously. Perhaps something the last occupant accidentally left behind? She braced herself for anything as she opened the lid, imagined it contained a trinket that Randvior had presented to his last mistress. There was a card inside that simply readmin lille dukke.
Underneath the paper was a beautifully crafted gold bangle. It felt solid and heavy in her hand. The goldsmith had engraved it with the tiniest shapes. She walked to the windows and held it up, closely examined the intricate designs. Her Christian name was inscribed on the underside. She stared at it in amazement. When did he find the time to have this made for her? And exactly what did it mean?
She wanted him, and reveled in the memory of being close to him—his manly scent filled her head, nearly intoxicated her. Even the first day on ship together, before he touched her so intimately, strange warmth settled into her bones whenever he came close.
No. This was part of his plan. Make her vulnerable and weak, so she’d submit to his demands without a fight. One minute her heart ached for home, and the next she agonized over the man who took her away from everything she loved. The old belief that distance makes the heart grow fonder was an outright lie. What stood in front of her nearly consumed her soul. She must keep the memory of Ophelia alive and draw strength from it. Neither her father nor Margaret could still the whirl of emotions in her head and heart now.
Somewhere underneath thejarl’srigid exterior was a man of limitless curiosity and passion. She noticed it on their voyage first—how he immersed himself in everything she told him. He asked questions, sometimes too many. He forced confessions out of her more efficiently than a priest, ones only God should hear. And now she regretted acting too hastily, asking him to find her a suitable husband. She slipped the bracelet on—a perfect fit—like their bodies.
She left England a prisoner and arrived in the north as Randvior’s mistress. He could deny it all he wanted to spare her feelings. But truth is truth. Flaunting her so openly in front of his mother reinforced her point. And now this extravagant gift.
Similarities existed between Ophelia’s lover and Randvior. Her mind twisted. His gentle hands had worked miracles with her body. And he saved her life on more than one occasion, too. Her sister’s lover was no saint; he had threatened to kill her father after he refused to allow them to wed. Both men killed for a living, whether for a king or themselves really made no difference to her.
And the Viking had killed his own conscript so she could escape. He never denied it. That man’s blood stained her hands, too. Noelle knew men killed for only a handful of reasons. To protect their lands, for sovereignty, or for the people they loved. The first two were irrelevant.
Randvior is a man, and they always do as they wish. One thing did separate him from most men, though. He revealed secrets so easily—spoke of his gods as if he walked and talked with them every day. A soulless man would say nothing, feel nothing.
What would Margaret say if she knew Noelle was considering a union with the man that nearly destroyed their home? Did it matter? Hundreds of miles separated them now. If she resisted, what benefit would come of it? And if she opened her heart to him…
Her thoughts bounced wildly back and forth. Should she choose loyalty for her family or allegiance to a man she hardly knew?
And for this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother’s house and cleave unto his wife…To become one flesh.
She was full of reluctance. If the Viking ever offered her his love, she’d wait to choose.
“You are wrong about the girl,” Randvior spat, holding a glass of wine in one hand, banging the other on the table.
Lauga sat next to him, questioning him at every turn. She’d spoken no kind words or said anything useful fromthe moment he’d arrived home. If he mentioned Noelle, she refused to acknowledge her as anything more than a slave, and continuously referred to her as an English whore.
“If you will not send her away,” Lauga said, “relieve her of that English pride before she grows too proud to serve you.”
“Silence!” He threw the goblet across the room. It hit the back wall and shattered. “You’re twisting words. That tongue is as destructive as a battering ram. I’ve been home for only five hours and you’ve managed to set this household onto a path of chaos.The girl stays. It is not open for discussion.”
