The Warrior's Runaway Wife. Denise Lynn
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Several of the men present had wagers on who would be the first.
If his hunch was right, this woman could be the one he sought. The search thus far for Brandr’s daughter hadn’t been easy—it wasn’t as if he could put his nose to the ground like a hound. Instead, snippets of conversations overheard in one place and rumours garnered in another helped to lead him in the right direction. The bits gathered had brought him here.
He was glad he’d changed his mind about travelling alone. His men had come in handy more than once during this search, as what pieces of gossip he missed, they had overheard.
Fulke, one of his men, approached and took a seat on the bench behind Elrik. ‘The elderly man who is sitting at the table nearest the fire, where I was, is looking for a black-haired wench for the night. Seems his regular woman isn’t available.’
Elrik lifted his tankard to his lips, but didn’t drink, instead, he asked softly, ‘Are they going to find him another?’
‘The woman in green is heading above to see if one is available.’
Elrik turned his full attention to the man Fulke spoke of. He was old, bony and from the way his hands shook Elrik wondered how he didn’t spill most of his drink on himself.
He rose and pretended to shiver, then approached the old man. ‘The fire looks inviting. Mind if I join you?’
‘Suit yourself. I won’t be here long.’
Elrik took a seat and waved the barmaid over. ‘Bring me ale and one for my friend here.’
The old man squinted at him. ‘Haven’t seen you here afore now.’
‘Just passing through.’
‘Ah. Decided to enjoy a little soft company for the night?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘What type of wench you looking for?’
Elrik shrugged. ‘A lusty red-haired one would be to my liking.’
‘Not me.’ The man shook his head and a few of the sparse white hairs on his head flopped down over his face. ‘I want one like my Agnes. A little thing with black hair and breasts that’ll fit in my hand.’
Elrik swallowed his laugh at the man’s bawdy talk. ‘Is your Agnes at home?’ If so, she probably wouldn’t be happy to know where her husband was this night.
‘No.’ A heavy sadness fell over the man, setting his lips to droop and making Elrik feel guilty for having ruined the man’s former good mood. ‘She’s been gone these last two springs now.’
‘I am sorry. I meant not to trouble you.’
‘No trouble. I come here when missing her gets to be too much to bear.’ He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. ‘At times just having a woman’s arms around me while I sleep helps ease the loss.’
Elrik patted the man’s hand before picking up his tankard. ‘You cared greatly for her.’
‘I loved her, lad. That I did.’
He wasn’t going to debate the misguided notion of marital love with the man. ‘You should find yourself another wife.’
To Elrik’s surprise, the old man stomped a foot and slapped his knee as he howled with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, he said between gasps for breath, ‘Oh, that’s a good one that is. What would I do with a wife at my age?’
‘I suppose the same things you did with Agnes.’
‘You are younger than you appear, aren’t you?’ The man reached across the table to throw a half-hearted punch at Elrik’s shoulder. ‘Trust me, boy, twenty or thirty years from now you’ll see things differently.’
Elrik resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘You misunderstood me. I meant things like sharing a meal, or a conversation around the fire and a soft warm body to lie against in bed. Nothing more.’
‘I’d not bring another woman to Agnes’s bed. No.’
The woman in the green over-gown came back down the stairs and approached the table. ‘Edward, give her but a few moments to get ready and then you can go up. It’s the room on the end. Just knock, she’ll be waiting.’
The man turned to the others gathered and raised his mug. ‘You owe me, boys.’
Elrik knew the man had just won the wager over who would be the first to visit the new woman’s room. Too bad he wasn’t about to let that happen—at least not until he discovered if this woman was Brandr’s daughter or not.
Needing to get upstairs without drawing unwanted attention, he asked the woman in green, ‘Any of the ladies free at the moment?’
She looked him up and down and then smiled. ‘For someone like you, they’ll fight over the honour. Do you have any preferences?’
The old man answered, ‘He likes them red-haired and lusty.’
‘That settles it then. The second door on the right will be the one you want. She’s free right now.’
Elrik rose and shot a glance towards Fulke, giving him the slightest nod in the direction of the stairs. He then took his leave of the old man. ‘I trust you’ll enjoy your evening.’
‘As will you, I’m sure.’
He approached the stairs, pausing by Samuel, his other guard, and gave him the same slight nod towards the stairs. While he was above trying to determine whether this woman was Brandr’s daughter or not, his men would make their way closer to the bottom of the stairs. They would then be near at hand if he ran into any trouble.
Elrik took the steps two at a time and quickly traversed the length of the corridor, stopping in front of the last door. Careful to keep his knock soft as an old man might, he tapped on the door.
‘Enter.’
He pushed open the door and approached the bed in the dimly lit room. As stiff as a board upon the bed, the young woman had the covers pulled up to her chin. She held fast to the edge of the blankets with a grip that turned her knuckles white. Hair the colour of night was spread out atop the pillow beneath her head. She kept her eyes tightly closed.
This was no experienced whore. It was only a guess, but he was fairly certain he’d just found Brandr’s missing daughter. He leaned over the bed and whispered, ‘Lady Avelyn, your little adventure is over, get up.’
Her eyes sprang open at the same time her lips parted. He clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Do not force me to carry you from here naked. I doubt your father would approve.’
She shook her head, then wrapped her fingers around his wrist and tugged.
Elrik lifted his hand slightly, giving her room to talk, but keeping his palm close enough to cover any scream should she decide to do so.
‘I am not going home.’
Had the appearance of her icy-blue eyes not given her identity away, her comment confirmed his suspicion. His guess had been correct—this was indeed Brandr’s daughter. He knelt on the bed and loomed over her. ‘The old man you are waiting for will be up here in mere moments. I am not letting you share a bed with him.’
If he did anything that witless, King David would be offering up a special serving of wolf’s head—his—on a platter at the next banquet.
‘So, either you get up and get dressed or I’ll pull you from the bed and dress you myself.’
To his amazement, she hesitated as if debating some third option he’d not given her.
Elrik leaned closer to disabuse her of the idea. ‘It is simple. Get up and dressed on your own, or I will see to both myself. Either way, you are getting out of that bed and you are getting dressed.’
When she narrowed her eyes at him, he had the feeling