The church at St Fillans had a distinct and forbidding chill to it, reminding Sandulf why he actively tried to avoid such places. He had first gone to one when he arrived in Constantinople and had not enjoyed the experience, but the man he’d been guarding at the time had insisted. Its lingering smell of incense and stale air reminded him of death and the many failings that had dogged him in his life and for which he felt great responsibility.
Going to church never became any easier, but he was willing to endure this for his Skadi and that very fact unnerved him. Lady Ceanna had become important to him in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Somewhere between Dun Ollaigh and here he had begun to think of her as his and he wasn’t prepared to see her suffer.
The marriage would offer her immediate protection from the threat of being forcibly returned, married to her stepmother’s lover and then murdered in her sleep. He refused to allow her to be dragged back to her old life. He knew the fate which waited if she should ever seek to return to Dun Ollaigh. And the future?
He’d given up trying to see the future.
Sandulf forced his words to be calm and measured in answer to the priest. The man raised a brow at discovering Sandulf could speak a rudimentary Latin. Sandulf did not bother to enlighten him about his time in the east. It simply amused him that he could confound expectations.
Married. A state he’d never looked for since the massacre, and to Ceanna, the woman he counted as a friend. He wanted to shout that she deserved better, that she deserved someone who could truly protect her instead of him—the man who had frozen when the need arose.
As he mouthed the words, he knew he had not told her the full truth—he had no right to such a woman as her. But he desired her with every fibre of his being.
‘I will,’ Ceanna said, finishing her vows.
She looked up at him with a luminous expectation and absolute sincerity. Every instinct told him to gather her into his arms. He forced his hands to remain at his sides.
A tiny frown puckered her brows and she started to turn away. Less than a heartbeat and he’d already disappointed her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, capturing her chin with his fingers and lowering his mouth.
The kiss was supposed to be a brush of his lips against hers, but one brief touch proved impossible. The desire to linger and sample the delight of her mouth nearly overwhelmed him. Too soon she’d look at him with eyes of disappointment and loathing. For what he had to do. For what he’d failed to do. And he hated that he wanted to be better than his father as a husband and very much feared that he would end up being worse.
How could he protect her from the assassin he was pretty sure had been hired to kill to her when he didn’t even know where he was? How could he rescue her people when he was committed to finding Lugh and demanding justice for an innocent woman?
For now, he drank in her mouth, welcomed her touch and tried to forget the future he must face.
* * *
‘Sandulf Sigurdsson keeps secrets, you know. I can always tell,’ Ceanna’s aunt said to her when they were alone together after the brief marriage ceremony. She had lent them a bedchamber for the night and had insisted on preparing Ceanna for the marriage bed. ‘He knew every word in the ceremony. An oddity for a heathen warrior, don’t you think?’
‘He did travel to Constantinople and served the emperor. He will have learned it there. I thought you’d be pleased that he was willing to go through a baptism as well.’
Her aunt shook herself like a disgruntled hen. ‘Were you convinced of his sincerity? Only time will tell. He twists the truth about other matters, so why not in this, too?’
‘It’s impressive that you know his secrets within an afternoon of meeting him.’ Ceanna forced her voice to be light.
‘I know his type, Ceanna. Don’t be impudent. And keep still. Your hair is in a terrible tangle. Unless you braid it carefully, you’ll never be presentable.’
‘Maybe I like it wild and free.’
‘Allow me to do this for you, Ceanna. Your mother should have been the one. I can honour her in this way.’
Her aunt combed out Ceanna’s hair until it shone and fell about her in a silken cloud. The tenderness with which her aunt did this surprised Ceanna. It was almost as if she cared.
Ceanna stared at the bed and tried not to think of the night which lay before her. It was entirely possible that Sandulf would treat her as he had always done—as a friend rather than a lover. She remembered the agreement they made about friendship the night they spent in the hayloft. ‘Twists the truth about what? What other secrets has he kept hidden? What have you uncovered?’
‘His reason for coming here. I fear a much darker purpose.’ Her aunt put down the comb with a sigh. ‘You are so like your dear departed mother. You will not listen to reason, but please know that should you ever require it, a place can be found for you here, despite what I said earlier. I’ll look past your indiscretions provided you do proper penance. When Brother Mattios returns from his travels, he’ll be able to advise me.’
Ceanna silently vowed that she’d starve first. Her aunt simply wanted to unnerve her. Ceanna remembered how her mother had often dissolved into tears after one of her aunt’s more pointed barbs. She wondered how she’d forgotten that little fact, in her haste to find a refuge here. No, she hadn’t really forgotten it; she’d just had nowhere else to go.
‘You don’t trust my judgement of him,’ she said instead.
‘No man by the name he gave resides at this place. Never has done. Why did your new husband want to come here so badly? Why does he lie? The obvious reason is that he seeks some holy treasure. It is what Brother Mattios predicted.’ Her aunt coughed pointedly. ‘There is still time to get the marriage annulled before the bedding. Think about it, child.’
Ceanna stilled. Someone had given Sandulf the wrong information. His coming here had all been a wild goose chase, most likely concocted by his new sister-in-law, this Annis of Glannoventa. She might have reasons why she had wanted to send Sandulf on a fruitless and time-consuming quest. Her heart sank. She’d had a half-formed plan of getting Sandulf to fight for Dun Ollaigh. Now, it would appear, his quest would have to continue in a different direction.
‘No man by that name. Are you certain?’
‘My scribes checked the rolls three times. The only man who could possibly even fit the description your husband gave is Brother Mattios, a man with an impeccable reputation and who is beyond reproach. You should have seen the scrolls he brought from the Jarrow monastery.’
‘Perhaps this Lugh took a different name before he arrived.’
Her aunt frowned. ‘So you prefer to believe your Northman’s pretty words. Some day you will be wiser about men and their ways, my dear. I’ve had Brother Malcolm inform him about the lack of any evidence in the records. Your Northman may very well decide to leave before ever gracing your bed or seeing you. At least, that was what Brother Malcolm predicted.’
A hard knot formed in the base of Ceanna’s stomach. Sandulf wouldn’t abandon her, would he? ‘Brother Malcolm doesn’t know my husband.’
‘It would be a blessing in many ways if it happened. An unconsummated marriage and a deserted bride…an annulment would be merely a formality.’
‘If you are so against him, why did you allow us to marry?’
‘I don’t know, child. You looked at me like your mother used to and I found I couldn’t refuse. But I thought you ought to know my disquiet despite your obvious enthralment with this man.’
Ceanna rolled her eyes. Enthralled. She had to hope that Sandulf hadn’t noticed. And that he paid no attention to Brother Malcolm’s helpful suggestion of abandoning her.
‘Has anyone come here lately asking to join the order? Anyone whose motives were questionable, anyone who was refused?’
Her aunt started to shake her head when her assistant, who had been preparing the bed with fresh linens, gave a squeak. ‘There was a man several weeks ago who was refused.’
‘Out with it, Sister. What man?’
‘Brother Mattios was speaking to him in the yard when you had that bad headache. He swore me to secrecy. He spoke of dire things happening if anyone knew. Could this be the man your new husband is looking for?’
Her aunt sighed. ‘Sister, Brother Mattios would have told me if there was anyone untoward who came here while I was indisposed.’
The nun made a curtsy and mumbled that Mother Abbe must be right.
‘Where is this Brother Mattios, Aunt? You’ve spoken of him several times. I should like to meet him, this man who would tell you if a stranger visited, who arrived about the time my husband was told this Lugh the assassin would have arrived.’
‘He is away on some business for the monastery. Nothing for you to be concerned about.’ She tapped the comb against her teeth. ‘I had thought he was being overly cautious about something, but…he may have been right. Secrets can harm, my dear, and your new husband has far too many.’
Ceanna could scarcely contain her frustration. ‘What was this Brother Mattios right about? You are the one keeping secrets, Aunt, not Sandulf.’
Her aunt cleared her throat. ‘Brother Mattios predicted an assassin, a Northman, would come to harm some people I care about.’
‘Whom do you fear he wishes to kill? You?’
‘The royal children, the ones who have been here since King Aed’s murder,’ the young nun burst out and then clapped her hands over her mouth.
‘There are reasons why I enforce the rule of silence, Sister. You gave your oath on the relics.’
Ceanna examined the rushes. Her aunt was also keeping her share of secrets. She was hiding the late King’s sons here in the monastery! She should have seen it before—the increased guards and her aunt’s reluctance to speak. ‘You’re the one responsible for keeping the missing sons of Aed hidden.’
‘How could I refuse a dying kinsman’s wish?’
‘Where are the sons of Aed now? With this paragon of virtue who fears an assassin from the North?’
‘Under Brother Mattios’s care. In a place of safety. Where they should have gone in the first place, had I not listened to Giric, the Regent. He wanted them to take the tonsure in due course—a noble ambition. And I thought why not here? It would bring honour to this house. Brother Mattios agreed with me, but then…’
Ceanna went cold. Taking the tonsure would ensure neither boy could make a claim for the kingdom. There was more to this than her aunt wanted to say. ‘He has taken them to my stepmother and his brother Feradach, hasn’t he? It is not just Dun Ollaigh they desire. They’re going to use them as counters to gain control of the entire kingdom.’
‘You do like to spin your fantasies, Ceanna,’ her aunt said, but Ceanna did not miss the troubled look crossing her brow.
Her aunt then deftly turned the subject towards what Ceanna might expect during the wedding night, which was a marked change from her earlier attempts to persuade Ceanna to put aside her husband of only a few hours. What was going on?
‘Lie back and allow the man to have his way. It is the most practical advice I have heard on the subject,’ she said, reaching the end of her recital. ‘It worked with my late husband, not that he lasted long. He caught a chill and died a month after our marriage.’
Ceanna forced a smile. There was little point in explaining that she had already had this lecture from her stepmother. Her aunt had made the process sound even less appealing than her stepmother had. Ceanna put her hand on her stomach and thought about the way Sandulf made her feel. His touch was very different from Feradach’s.
The noise grew from the corridor. ‘Your bridegroom arrives. Brother Malcom’s news obviously has not sent him on his way. I can’t say I don’t wish he had left in pursuit of this phantom assassin. But if you change your mind, cry out. I shall check the sheet in the morning.’ Her aunt and the young nun swept from the room.
Sandulf entered with Vanora at his side. The dog quickly settled in a corner and closed her eyes.
‘I felt it best if she remained with us.’
Ceanna kept her back straight and tried not to look at the bed or think about what needed to pass between them. The rush lamps her aunt had left gave off a weak flickering light, causing strange shadows to dance on the rough plastered walls. ‘You did right. Vanora frets if she is outside at night. She won’t move a muscle now until morning.’
A warmth started in her loins, driving all thoughts about politics and the mysterious Brother Mattios from her mind. Ceanna pressed her hands against her eyes and tried to look anywhere but at him, except inevitably her gaze went back to his broad shoulders and how his chest tapered down to a trim waist.
She had little idea of his expectations about this sudden marriage. She had to hope that he had not done this out of pity. She had to do something to make her marriage more than simply one of convenience.
She wasn’t a prospective holy maid any longer, nor the prospective heiress to a large fortress to be married off at her stepmother’s whim, she had become someone else. She had become a wife, Sandulf’s possession, someone she hoped Sandulf would see as indispensable to his quest. She tightened her jaw. She could do it—she could become that woman. He had saved her from being murdered at Feradach’s hands after their wedding, so she could find the assassin Sandulf sought and then surely he would have to see that they could have the sort of marriage she’d dreamed of. She could twist herself into becoming that person far easier than being a holy maid.
‘You seem concerned about something,’ he said, breaking the silence before she had worked out her scheme of how she was going to accomplish this. ‘I take it you know about the failure to discover Lugh. Brother Malcolm took delight in informing me about it. The fool seemed to think I would want to leave and annul the marriage. I refrained from hitting him, but I came close.’
Ceanna stifled a relieved laugh. ‘I can well imagine.’
‘Tomorrow I will decide on my next course. Tonight—’ he laced his fingers through hers ‘—tonight is for other things. Has your aunt said something, anything, which alters things between you and me?’
‘It is probably nothing.’ Ceanna told him what she’d learnt about the sons of King Aed. She was aware that her voice was picking up speed, but she couldn’t slow down. Her words came to an abrupt shuddering halt at his incredulous expression. ‘You know what this means. What I must do.’
‘Are you asking to go back to Dun Ollaigh? We married to keep you from that place. You return there and you will die. We both will. Shall we annul this marriage so that you can return? It would give your aunt no end of pleasure.’
Ceanna wrapped her arms about her middle. She had done it wrong already. He was disappointed with her and the marriage had not yet truly begun. She had to try harder or her aunt would inspect the sheet in the morning and discover that Ceanna remained a maid. But confessing this might mean he made love to her out of pity and she most definitely did not want that. She slowly shook her head. ‘I want to be married to you. I choose that.’
He lifted her chin so that she looked into the shifting colours of his eyes. A woman could drown in those eyes. ‘Good. Then let us stop seeking reasons why you should go back to Dun Ollaigh. We have other things to do that are more important right now.’
She licked her parched lips. ‘Enlighten me.’
‘I came in here with seduction on my mind.’ He ran his hands down her arms. ‘I told you once that we go at your pace, not mine. I want you to enjoy yourself. It increases my pleasure.’
‘I thought we had agreed to be friends rather than lovers.’ She retreated a step away from the enticing touch of his hand. The bed dug into the back of her legs. Her aunt’s warnings about men and their ravenous appetites came back to her. While the older woman had been speaking, Ceanna had decided she wanted to be someone who enjoyed such things, rather than someone who lay there and endured.
‘We’re married now.’ He crossed the room to her. He shed his tunic and stood in the flickering light from the rush lamps. ‘I don’t have to worry about ruining your chances of becoming a holy maid. Destroying your future. I want you to have a future, Ceanna. I want you to live. It is why I married you.’
‘That’s what stopped you before? At Mildreth’s—’
He gathered a strand of hair. ‘Your hair falls like a cloud about your face.’
‘My aunt gave me a list of instructions about how to be a bride in our marriage bed. We are supposed to pray first, but I am not certain how effective that will be.’ Her voice had become less than a reed singing in the wind. She swallowed hard and tried again. ‘I don’t know what to do so you will have to show me.’
He cupped her face with his long fingers and lowered his mouth. ‘Trust your instincts, Skadi, not your aunt.’
The use of her nickname calmed her. His lips met hers and she gave herself up to his kiss. Their tongues met, touched and tangled. The warmth in her belly ignited, infusing her.
He gently eased her back against the soft bedcoverings.
He ran a finger down the side of her face, sending tingles through her. ‘Shall I blow the lamps out?’ he asked.
Slowly she shook her head. ‘I like looking at you.’
He gave a very husky laugh. ‘I bear scars.’
She traced several of the silver scars on his chest. There was one particularly vicious one near his heart. Her hand ran over its almost unnatural silky smoothness. ‘How?’
‘Someone wanted me dead in Constantinople. I objected.’
‘I am glad you did.’ She ran her hands further down his chest, encountering his nipples which hardened to points under the pads of her fingers.
He caught her questing hands and held them above her head. His tongue nuzzled circles on her neck, making her writhe under him. A hard bulge pressed between her thighs. Her thin gown had become plastered against her body, leaving little to the imagination.
‘Tell me you crave this.’ He gently bit her earlobe and the heat surged between her thighs, making her slick. Her body arched upwards towards the bulge. ‘Tell me that your dreams have been full of me, like mine have been full of you.’
‘I… I…thought you were not interested,’ she admitted.
The admission earned her a quick kiss and a laugh. ‘You have much to learn about men, Skadi, particularly me. I’ve been hot for you since the day we met.’ He tugged at her shift. ‘May I? I’ve imagined you like this.’
She nodded, scarcely able to speak. His hands gently removed the garment so that her naked body was open to his gaze in the faltering light. She instinctively tried to hide her breasts with her hands, but he shook his head.
‘There is no need to hide from me, Skadi. I have long wanted to feast on your beauty.’
‘My beauty?’
He ran gentle fingers down her side. ‘You are more desirable than I ever imagined.’
He bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth. His tongue went round and round its point until a sharp stab of heat radiated out through her. Her body arched upwards, seeking his touch. She made a mewling noise in the back of her throat as she fought to remain still.
He lifted his head and gave a very masculine laugh. ‘Do you like this? You must say something if you don’t. Your pleasure is mine.’
‘I’ve never—’ she said. ‘That is to say—everyone said I must lie completely still, never moving.’
‘They are wrong. Do what your body tells you to.’
She touched her tongue to her bottom lip. ‘I’ve never done this before.’
He pushed the hair back from her forehead. ‘I know. It means I have a great responsibly to ensure you enjoy this.’
‘You are staying dressed?’
‘For now. I don’t want this to be over before it truly begins.’ He put a finger against her lips. ‘Let me feast. Please.’
Despite his words, she resolved to lie still until she worked out what to do. His probing mouth made the flames fan higher. She gripped his shoulders before tangling her hands in his hair and holding him against her breast. A deep shuddering went through her.
He raised his head and looked at her.
‘Is that everything?’ she whispered.
‘No, there is more. Much more.’ He placed kisses down her skin. His mouth moved inexorably lower to the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. He slipped a finger in between her thighs, stroked, round and round, sometimes slipping into that place within her. Each time he did that the warm heat within her grew. Her thighs parted. He placed his palm against her while his fingers danced against her secret place.
Her body arched upwards again. The heat which had been growing again within her exploded. And she knew she craved more than his fingers there.
‘Please.’
He took off his trousers, allowing his rampant manhood to spring free. He was far larger than she’d considered.
‘See how I want you,’ he growled in her ear. ‘Touch me. Hold me.’
She closed her hand around his hot silken hardness. He groaned deep in his throat. ‘Put me where you want me. Hurry.’
Instinctively she guided him to between her thighs, to her secret place which ached for his most intimate touch.
He sighed in the back of his throat as his tip nudged her, making the heat ripple through her again.
‘I’m sorry, Ceanna, but this will hurt,’ he said against her ear.
She nodded, unable to speak. Her stepmother and aunt had both emphasised the pain, but neither of them had spoken about the pleasure infusing her body. The brief intense pain caused her to sharply gasp. But her body opened and the pain subsided, as if it had never been.
‘Hush.’ He kissed the side of her temple. He lay completely still, embedded within her. Her hips began to move with a primitive rhythm. He answered her tentative movement and the wondrous heat filled her again, engulfing her.
At her joyous cry, he gave a great shudder and drove deeper.
When she came back to earth, she found he was looking at her as the rush lamp gave out its final glimmer of light.
He smoothed the damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. ‘I’m sorry. It is never very good the first time.’
‘You mean it gets better than this?’
He rolled off her and laughed, making the bed shake. ‘You always surprise me, Skadi.’
He quickly left and the air cooled. In a heartbeat he was back beside her.
‘This will help.’
He placed a cool cloth between her thighs and gently cleaned her. The coolness contrasted with the earlier heat and soothed the faint stinging sensation.
‘It will make it easier to sleep,’ he said.
He retrieved her shift and helped her to pull it over her head.
‘Is that all?’ she asked unable to keep the plaintive note out of her voice.
‘We have had a long day,’ he said, settling down next to her and pulling her into the circle of his arms. She laid her head on his chest and heard the steady thump of his heart. ‘I want do this again, but you need time to recover. You have used new muscles.’
Do it again. Ceanna hugged the words to her and wriggled her toes. Her body had a lovely floating feeling as if she were on a cloud and her mind started to spin dreams. ‘That would be very pleasant indeed.’
* * *
Sandulf lay in the dark and listened to the sound of Ceanna sleeping softly and the gentle snores of her wolfhound. The depth of feeling that ran through him both surprised and worried him.
Every other time he had joined with a woman, he had been looking to find a way to end the encounter, but with Ceanna, he knew he would never tire of her. Perhaps that was a good thing, given she was his wife. Despite knowing that her body needed time to recover, the ache had already grown within him.
He started to understand Brandt’s howling grief at Ingrid’s death. Had his older brother felt this way about his wife? Wanting her in all ways? And what morning gift could he offer his new wife? He had nothing but what he carried in his pack. It needed to be something which would mean, if anything happened to him, she wouldn’t starve.
It wouldn’t be anything like the golden gift his father had arranged for Ingrid, a token of the family’s affection he proclaimed in his booming voice when the couple had finally emerged from their seclusion. His mother had rolled her eyes and mentioned it should be the groom who gives the gift, not the father-in-law and that once again Sigurd had to be at the centre of things. Sandulf remembered Brandt glowering at the golden Valkyrie pendant, but Ingrid had accepted it graciously. One of the last things he remembered about his father was him bellowing at Ingrid to wear her golden Valkyrie and be sharp about it, not to disgrace the family.
Sandulf frowned and tightened his hold on Ceanna’s slumbering form. From what he could recall it had not been found on Ingrid’s body. But that was a mystery for another day.
All he knew was that he wanted to protect Ceanna in a way that he never had for any woman before and it frightened him. He had begun to depend on her. He knew the danger they faced—and how quickly a beloved wife could be ripped away—and Ceanna had only begun to guess at it. If he could do one thing, it would be to keep her in ignorance of the evil he faced and to keep her well away from any danger. But his quest was leading him towards danger. He had no idea how to keep her safe and keep her with him at the same time. And he had no one he could trust to help him.
Ceanna gave a small whimper in her sleep as if something distressed her. Sandulf instantly drew her tighter into his arms. ‘What is wrong?’
Her sleep-filled eyes opened. ‘Stay with me. Always.’
‘I’m here.’
She snuggled closer. ‘Good. I like you being here with me.’
She could have little idea what she was asking. He knew what was coming, who he’d have to meet. She needed to stay elsewhere. Safe.
Rurik and his new wife might take her in, or he could go cap in hand to his middle brother, Alarr, in Éireann. Rurik said that he’d done well and was now a king or on the verge of becoming a king. Surely Alarr would not refuse his request to look after his wife while he pursued Lugh. His gut twisted. He wanted to be with Ceanna and see her smile. He wanted to wake up with her in his arms.
‘I will keep you safe, Ceanna,’ he whispered. ‘That is the most important thing.’