PART SIX
~ Bringing Me Dreams ~
When Rhonan was finished with his tale, the sentinel was trying very hard not to grin. It was quite a tall tale, an imaginative story, and she was struck by the great pride this man had. Truly, a Northman believed he could do anything, including swimming a hundred miles and towing men by their hair.
“You swam all the way home pulling your father and his men behind you?” she clarified, trying not to laugh.
Rhonan nodded firmly. “I did,” he said. “It took me a day and a night to bring them home.”
The sentinel bit her lip to keep from laughing. “That is quite impressive,” she said. “And you cut the serpent in half from the inside?”
“It was not difficult.”
It was an arrogant statement. The sentinel nodded and dropped her head, mostly because she didn’t want him to see that she was grinning.
“Then I agree that it is very possible that those serpents were the same serpents that serve the Demon King,” she said. “You mentioned that they like to eat men. Surely they are the same ones.”
Rhonan nodded. “Surely, they are,” he said. “Therefore, I am quite certain that Gis would not eat me. I can fight him off, too.”
The sentinel lifted her head, her deep blue eyes glimmering with a hint of mirth. “Men cannot fight Gis,” she said. “Only women can fight him. Mayhap you have a wife you can send to him instead.”
Rhonan shook his head, seeing the humor in her features. He knew her humor was directed at his story and it was difficult for him not to grin in kind.
“I have no wife,” he said. “I have not found a woman worthy of me until now.”
The sentinel appeared interested. “Is that true?” she asked. “Have you found a woman here in Hendocia you plan to steal for your own?”
His grin broke through, then. “I have,” he said. “You are worthy of a Northman prince. Are you sure you will not tell me your name, Bluebell? Or must you go by Queen Bluebell in the future?”
The sentinel was quite shocked by his statement at first but then broke down in giggles, displaying her lovely white teeth and slightly prominent canines. She wasn’t sure if he was jesting or not; either way, her answer would have to be the same.
“I cannot marry you,” she said.
“Why not?”
She pointed at him. “Must I truly tell you?” she said. “It is clearly impossible.”
“Why?’
“Because I must stay here, in Hendocia, and marry a worthy man from this kingdom.”
“Why?”
Her smile faded as she looked at him and he swore, for a moment, that he saw interest and, better still, longing in her expression. Longing as if, perhaps, she were imagining what marriage to such a man would have been like. It was just a brief flash and then it was gone.
“You are asking many questions again,” she said softly.
He nodded, feeling something warm and unexpected spark between him. This lovely maiden with the deep, blue eyes and long, red hair, with skin like cream and sharp of wit, had his full attention. He wondered if he had hers.
“I know,” he said, his voice oddly quiet. “But that is the only way I may learn about you. I want to know about this maiden who has fought off the Demon King in order to guard his lair. Won’t you tell me why you cannot marry a man who has killed sea serpents?”
She flushed, a pretty gesture, and for the first time since meeting this warrior lass, it was clear that her guard was going down somewhat. She seemed awkward, and a little flustered, by his question.
“You… you do not need to tell me your intentions, you know,” she said. “It is not as if you need ask permission. A Northman would simply take me.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “But I do not want to take you. I want it to be an agreement. I have no desire to take a kicking and screaming bride to my home. She would only make me miserable.”
The sentinel smiled faintly. “There is truth in your words,” she said. “And should I have met you in other circumstances, it is possible we might get on. But as men are being killed over my head and women are being ravaged, by your men no less, surely you can see how foolish your question is.”
Rhonan knew it was a foolish question; he didn’t need her telling him that. But still, he could only see his wants at the moment. The battle overhead had faded, leaving an odd stillness that surrounded them. As his men plundered and killed, stealing valuable items, Rhonan knew for a fact he had the most valuable thing in all of Hendocia before him. This warrior woman, in his opinion, was more than likely the only thing worth having in the entire kingdom. He wasn’t sure what told him that, or how he knew, but his intuition told him so.
Looking at her, he just knew.
“Mayhap,” he said after a moment. “But it is not foolish if I wish to make an alliance between Hendocia and my country. If I were to marry you, then we would join our two lands. Is peace not something that appeals to you, Bluebell?”
The sentinel shouldn’t have believed him. It was quite possible he was just saying such things in order to gain her trust but, God help her, she found herself believing his sincerity. There was something in his tone and in his eyes that spoke of a genuine need.
“How can you say such things?” she asked, pointing to the low ceiling of the tunnel. “Can you hear your men as they kill my people? And you want to form an alliance? You should have come in peace if that was truly your intent. You should not have come with murder on your minds.”
He sighed heavily. “I realize that,” he said. “But peace was not in my thoughts when I came here. It only entered my thoughts when I found you. Would a peaceful alliance not be of interest to you?”
The sentinel nodded. “Of course it would,” she said. “But only the king has such power to sanction a marriage like that and I cannot say that he would. He would not want to see me married to a Northman, even for the sake of peace.”
Rhonan regarded her for a moment, studying her features through the smoky haze backed up against the ceiling of the tunnel.
“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked. “What are you to him that such a thing would matter?”
The sentinel seemed to falter. Having been so incredibly careful during the course of the conversation, she had said too much now. The Northman would more than likely be able to figure out her role in Hendocia based simply on what she had said, so she decided to be truthful. There was no use in keeping silent now.
“Because I am to rule when my father is gone,” she said quietly. “I should not tell you this because it might change your mind about killing me, but I am the only child of the king. I cannot marry you because I must remain here. Furthermore, I will not move away from this door because it is my duty to protect it, to keep it safe. It is always the duty of the Daughters of Hendocia to protect this door. That is why you find me here, Rhonan from across the sea. You find me here because it is my sacred bound duty to stand here and protect this chamber with my life.”
Rhonan had suspected something like this from the beginning. The sentinel was far too well trained and educated to be a simple peasant or of the warrior class. She was royalty, from the top of her red head to the bottom of her leather-bound feet. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on and bowed gallantly to her.
“My lady,” he said. “I am Rhonan Gray Sword, son of Nordjul the Fierce. I am the only son of my father and I, too, will inherit the throne. When I do, I will marry you and have you for my queen. I will have you and no other.”
The sentinel could feel a great deal of warmth from the man, a spark as it were. She wondered if he was feeling the same thing. The fire of life she had seen in his eyes flowed forth and into her, around her, and she was consumed by it. She couldn’t even explain the moment if she tried; all she knew was that she believed the man, and his sincerity, completely overlooking the fact that he was the enemy. He and his men had come to ravage her home. She should hate him, or try to kill him at the very least, but there was something in Rhonan’s eyes that spoke of a genuine want for peace.
A genuine want for love.
… love?
“It is impossible, Rhonan,” she said quietly. “You must stop speaking of such things.”
Rhonan moved in her direction, dropping his sword onto the ground to show that he was no threat. He didn’t want her to think he was a threat. He wanted to show her that he was sincere in his desire, a desire that he’d never more strongly felt. Something about this woman drew him to her, like a moth to the flame, and he was becoming increasingly helpless against her.
“Why?” he asked.
She had to chuckle at the man, yet again. “Is that your favorite word?”
He nodded. “When it comes to you, it is,” he said. “Why must we stop speaking of this?”
She noticed he was coming closer, without his weapon, and she took a step back, one step for every two he was taking. She ended up backing into the door she was trying so hard to protect.
“Because it is impossible,” she said again, wary and giddy now that he was coming so close. Would he try to wrap his hands around her neck? Or would he try to run his fingers through her hair? “It is madness to speak of it.”
Rhonan came very close to her, noting she was cowering from him as much as it was possible for the woman to cower. It wasn’t fear as much as it was suspicion, perhaps. Or even anticipation. It was difficult to know. All he knew was that her close proximity drove him mad with desire, wanting very much to kiss those pink lips. He’d had no desire to touch this woman when he’d first entered this tunnel but now he could think of nothing else.
She belonged to him.
“What would it take to convince you that I am sincere?” he asked huskily. “Tell me and I shall do it or I shall say it. I will do or say whatever you want, my sweet Bluebell.”
The sentinel couldn’t catch her breath. He was too close yet not close enough. Everything about her felt giddy, her heart racing as the tall, handsome Northman brushed up against her.
He’s too close! Don’t trust him!
Her heart, and her attraction, wasn’t listening to her common sense.
“If… if you are attempting to get through this door by speaking sweetly to me, it will not work,” she said, her voice quivering. “I will still fight you to the death.”
He smiled with understanding, nodding. “I know,” he said. “I would expect nothing less.”
He was so close that she could see the pores on his skin and the delicious cleft in his chin. “Then move away from me. You must.”
“Why?”
“Stop asking that question!”
He laughed softly. “I will stop asking if you will give me an answer,” he said, his gaze drifting over her silken red hair. “Tell me what it would take to convince you of my sincerity. I want to know.”
The sentinel had to take a deep breath for her mind was as giddy as her body. Overhead, she could hear distant screams, and the sounds distracted her.
“Do you truly wish to know?” she asked. “Take your men and leave. That is the only way I will know you are sincere.”
Rhonan was very much focused on her lips as she spoke. It was most distracting. “If I take my men and leave, I will certainly return,” he said. “I will return for you. And you will marry me. I will not leave unless I have your solemn vow that you will marry me.”
The sentinel looked up at him, swept up in that beautiful face, the warmth glittering in his eyes. As much as she knew she shouldn’t make the man any promises, something in her heart told her that she should. There was something sweet there; a sweet dream with a dangerous stranger, but it was something that gave her pleasure to think on more than anything ever had.
“If you will leave and take your men, then I will vow to marry you if you return,” she said quietly. “But you will not return.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I will indeed return,” he said. “You had better be prepared when I do, for I will hold you to your vow. Swear to me that you will wait for me.”
Something told her that he meant every word. It was in his expression as well as his tone of voice, and it was that sincerity that compelled her to believe him implicitly. More than that, she wanted to believe him.
Live the sweet dream just a little longer!
“I swear,” she said. “Now you must take your men and leave.”
He nodded. Then, he suddenly grasped her by the arms and slanted his mouth over hers, a kiss that had all of the subtlety of a thunder clap. The sentinel stiffened in his arms at first, fighting him, but very quickly she gave in to the power of the kiss as he suckled her lips, her tongue, and her chin, and anything else he could put his mouth on. The kiss was heated and bawdy, full of lustful promises.
It was a kiss that all maidens hope for but few experience. The sentinel caved against him as he wrapped his arms around her and they savored one another, their kiss a gesture of silent promises of what was yet to come.
A shout sounded overhead, a man with a deep and harsh tone. Rhonan’s head shot up because he recognized the voice. Odintide! He released the sentinel and quickly went to reclaim his sword. He took a few more steps towards the stairs and then collected her sword, taking it back to her and putting it in her hand.
“Remain here,” he said quietly. “Do not come out no matter what. Is that clear?”
Still dazed from the kiss, the sentinel cocked her head curiously. “Why?”
He grinned. “Only I may ask that question,” he told her, touching her cheek gently. “Now, do as I say. Remain here and do not come out until morning. Promise me.”
“But…!”
“Promise me.”
She nodded swiftly. “I promise,” she pledged. “Are you leaving now?”
He nodded. “I told you I would,” he said. “I am a man of my word. But also remember what I told you… I will return for you. Swear again that you will be waiting for me.”
A tremulous smile came to her lips. “I swear,” she whispered.
Rhonan winked at her and, keeping a hand up to her in a gesture that was meant to secure her silence, he made his way over to the steps that led up to the ground floor of the longhouse. He was nearly to the first step when he heard her soft voice behind him.
“Annynlea.”
He paused and turned to her. “What did you say?”
She stepped away from the door, in his direction, her deep, blue eyes glittering at him just as they had the first time he’d met her, but now, that glimmer was different. Warm.
“My name is Annynlea, daughter of Eathesfed,” she said quietly. “I am the krigarprinsessan.”
Rhonan smiled at her. “The warrior princess,” he murmured in translation. “I will return for you, Annynlea, daughter of Eathesfed of Hendocia. This I vow.”
He heard Odintide’s voice again before she could reply and he bolted up the steps to find the man, to prevent him from going into the tunnels below. Rhonan knew if the old warrior went down there, and Annynlea refused to let him pass into the chamber she guarded, that it would be a fight between Rhonan and Odintide to the death.
He wouldn’t let the man harm her.
Annynlea’s last vision of Rhonan was as he fled up the stairs, into the common room beyond. She could hear his voice overhead as he spoke with others and she heard his command to vacate the longhouse. She went back to her door, the door she had won the privilege to guard, and she did as Rhonan had told her. She waited there until she began to see the light of morning filtering in through the open ceiling. Then, and only then, did she dare to come out.
When she found her father later that day, he had miraculously survived the siege. She had quite a tale to tell him.
Of a benevolent Northman from across the sea.