The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,48
the magnitude of the truth. He did not often allow himself to feel it, but he did so now. Somehow, Gwendolyn had guessed at his pain after knowing him such a short time when those who had known him his whole life had never suspected he might grieve for her as much as anyone. The Danes were not a people to express their feelings aloud, but while he was not sure how comfortable he felt sharing this with Gwendolyn, he noted a certain relief in having told the tale.
“In my land, we honor our warriors by sending them out to sea.” Wulf would have never considered Hedra “adrift,” but then, perhaps he’d never understood her as well as he’d thought. “I took heart that her final act was one of defiance—to give herself a warrior’s honor in death.”
Gwendolyn stroked a hand over his shoulder, deftly relaxing muscles he had not realized he’d tensed.
“If she was found far from your homeland, why does her brother hold you responsible?” She tucked her cold toes close to his calves, as if to absorb his warmth.
That gesture, so everyday and universal, connected him to the present instead of the past. He appreciated her quiet support—her trust, even. Not once had she suggested by word or glance that he’d been responsible for Hedra’s death.
“Why would he not? Our families were very close and our friendship was common knowledge since I moved into my brother’s house after his death to help her. Everyone knew we argued that night.”
Gwendolyn wrinkled her nose in confusion, the expression endearing.
“She killed herself.” Gwendolyn let the bald facts speak for themselves. “You did not push her boat out to sea.”
“My words pushed her out to sea, Gwen.” He knew it. Harold knew it. Anyone who had been close to their families understood what had happened. “Hedra took her life because I could not forgive her for marrying my brother.”
“For this, her brother would kill you?” The rising note of surprise in her voice told him she did not understand.
“You are Saxon. Perhaps our ways seem foreign to you. But there are many who believe he should seek vengeance.” Wulf had traveled to many other lands, before Hedra died and since. He knew that the way of the Danes was considered strange to some. Barbaric, even. But his people lived by a code, and he could not break it.
Gwendolyn mulled over this as she finished her mead. Her dark hair gleamed glossy in the torchlight with the curls that had sprang up from her swim in the sea.
He had not told her how much it knocked him in the gut to think of her washing up on shore, dead because of words he’d spoken. Not directly, perhaps. But she would not have dived into the sea if he’d not declared her his in front of all his men. He could not bear another woman’s blood on his hands.
“Would he win if he challenged you?” Gwendolyn’s question was not what he expected. She glanced sidelong at him, considering. “Would you have to let him win since he is a king?”
“He is a good ruler and a just one. I have hurt the kingdom enough to rob them of his full attention these past years. How could I take the life of their leader, as well?” He shook his head, seeing no answer to a problem he’d thought over many times. “But in a fair fight, Harold Haaraldson could never hope to best me.”
“Who becomes king if you were to beat Harold in battle? I mean, what if he caught you unaware and you were forced to fight? Does he have a son who would try to avenge him?”
“Nay. And the kingdom would belong to me. Our family was to have taken it with Hedra and Olaf’s child since Harold’s wife has no children.”
She handed him back the cup and he set it aside, having lost his taste for mead. He did not enjoy seeing his future spread before him this way. Like a bay with no outlet, he could not see a path that promised fine sailing.
“You would make a fine king,” she said finally, turning to fluff the pillow behind her head and settle back down to sleep. “But I admire you for refusing to cut down a nobleman.”
Was that what he was doing? There were some among his followers who found his unwillingness to engage Harold cowardly. They did not challenge him on it, as Wulf was not only a strong