it open, she stepped out through the narrow space and Elspeth followed, head bowed as she’d told her to do.
“Lady Margriet?” he asked.
Stepping closer, he lifted the girl’s chin to get a better look at her face. Damn the man! Margriet feared that Elspeth would bolt, but the girl remained at her side and allowed him his scrutiny. It was when he glanced at her and then stared that Margriet felt faint.
His eyes seemed to pierce into her very soul, so strong and intense a gaze that she tried to turn away from him and failed. He searched her face as though looking for something and then let his eyes drop over her body, in spite of the bulky robes and veil. It was as though he was touching her, running his hands over her flesh, and every inch of her felt scorched by his examination. Their eyes met and the moment stretched on and on until the men behind him coughed loudly. Finally she pulled her wits about herself and cleared her throat.
“This is the Lady Margriet Gunnarsdottir, from Kirkvaw. She has prepared this letter to explain her situation to her father. If you would be good enough to deliver it to him on your return…”
Her pride in getting the whole message out was crushed when he tore open the seal she’d placed and began to read the words there. Then he laughed out loud, the sound of it echoing through the trees surrounding them and out into the forests. Finally, he passed the parchment onto the one nearest him, who read it and handed it back. This second man said nothing, but only shook his head as though in disbelief.
“Sirs, you scoff at something godly and spiritual that the lady wishes to do. Will you deliver it to Lord Gunnar?”
“Nay, Sister. To deliver that instead of his daughter will be a death sentence for all of us.”
He dropped the letter to the ground and smashed it under his booted foot. Margriet gasped at such wastefulness and tried to recover it. The warrior grabbed her arm and lifted her back to standing. She looked at the rough hand holding her prisoner and then at his face. No one had touched her so, no one would dare touch her in this manner, but for these few moments she was only a sister standing in the way of his mission. He seemed to realize his inappropriate hold and let her go.
“Pardon, good sister,” he said softly. “I will replace that which I have destroyed and make a generous donation to atone for my actions here. Once the lady leaves with us, of course.” The smile at the end of his words in no way allayed her fears or detracted from his seriousness.
Margriet, who should have learned the hard lesson of male guile long ago, found herself fascinated by the way his firm lips curved as he smiled. The expression softened his features, but did not take away from the masculine angles and lines of his face. When he smiled more, it revealed a more attractive man than she would have thought possible from their meetings so far.
He towered over her in height and, as he stepped toward her now, she moved back. Realizing the true danger in such closeness, she reached out, took Elspeth’s hand and tugged the girl inside the gates quickly before he could grab her himself. Leaning on the gates with all their weight, they lowered the bar and locked it. She only just dared to take a breath when his words, spoken quietly but far more dangerously then anything he’d said so far, reached her.
“Lady Margriet, I know not who that girl is, but if you do not present yourself to me, outside these gates, at sunrise, I will burn the convent to the ground.”
“Sir…” she began, but she faltered as he interrupted.
“Do not think to play me for some fool again, lady. Be outside the gates at sunrise or there will be only ashes and wailing women left here when I tie you to my horse and drag you home to your father.”
She shivered at his threat and looked at Elspeth, whose face had lost all color. Her gambit had failed. Although a stranger to her, she did not doubt his resolve in this. Without another word, she pulled Elspeth along with her as she ran to the chapel. Maybe Mother Ingrid’s desire for seclusion and to pray all the time was a better plan than hers after all?
It took some time to calm down the sisters and the others there and more time to accept her fate. Part of her simply could not believe that he would take such drastic measures to force her out, but when Sister Sigridis reported that his men were collecting wood from the forest and making a huge pile, the truth seemed plain to see. After the years of comfort the good sisters had provided to her, she would not allow them to be hurt in her stead.
As she lay on her pallet that night and considered what few choices she had, Margriet knew that they would never ask her to leave or force her to, but her conscience would not let the matter get to that. Gliding her hands over her now-rounding belly, she thought that mayhap this was God’s work after all. Finn had promised her marriage, but something had happened that forced him to leave before he could honor that promise. Surely if she accompanied these men to Kirkvaw, found him and revealed the truth of her condition to him, he would honor his words and their love.
Surely?
Margriet was certain that she’d just closed her eyes when she woke to someone shaking her roughly. Rubbing her eyes and praying that the sickness that plagued her mornings was gone, she sat up and met the very worried gazes of four of the sisters.
“What is wrong?” she asked, rising from the pallet and tugging on her low boots. Smoothing her sleep-snarled hair away from her face as she ran toward the doorway, she waited for one of them to explain.
The smell of burning wood told her more than words could. Margriet raced from the small chamber and ran to the gates. Knowing she could avoid fate no longer, she lifted the bar and tossed it to the ground. Although they stood watching, no one stopped her or tried to convince her to stay. The thickening smoke burned her eyes as she stepped outside and faced her adversary.
Five men stood with lit torches in their hands waiting on his order. A faint expression of success crossed his face and then he covered the space between them in a few long strides, reaching her before she could react. In his hands, he held not a torch but a length of rope and his threat echoed through her mind.
“Will you come willingly or do I tie you?”
Not a sound was made by any of those watching and no one moved as this Rurik waited for her answer. In that moment the blood of her ancestors pulsed through her veins, giving her a confidence she’d not known before.
“I am Margriet Gunnarsdottir and will come willingly if you guarantee the safety of those inside.”
They both knew she had no choice, but he did the most unexpected thing then. Instead of gloating as most would in such a situation, he smiled at her and she could feel his pride in her decision. Respect filled his gaze, warming her from the inside out, and then he motioned to the men to put away the torches. As one, they bowed to her.
Margriet stood stunned for a moment, trying to sort out her feelings over their actions and, in a sudden burst, the uncomfortable feeling overwhelmed her. There was no time to warn any of them and she discovered that vomiting on a man’s boots did not convey the emotion she was trying to show.
Or mayhap it did?
Chapter Three
Rurik felt a certain measure of satisfaction as he watched Margriet surrender to his demands, but that feeling dulled when faced with her next action. Aye, his quarry was run to ground and the task his father set for him—a test no doubt—would
