Free The Viking's Defiant Bride by Joanna Fulford Page A

the hands of the conquerors. In particular the young man called Ceolnoth sought her out as a companion for his bed. All her struggles and protests had availed her nothing. Elgiva knew there was nothing she could say to soothe that hurt and the girl’s strained expression was a cruel reminder of the fate she too might have suffered had their positions been reversed.
    Thus far Wulfrum had not intruded into the nursery. It was women’s work and he was content to leave it so, and since he had become Lord of Ravenswood none of his men had laid ahand on any child, noble or base. However, one morning as he took a short cut through the rear of the hall, he was arrested by the sound of women’s laughter and the playful squealing of a child. Moving towards the source of the noise, he paused in the doorway. Elgiva was kneeling on the floor. In front of her the oldest child was lying on the rug, laughing and giggling as she tickled his ribs. Across the room the girl Hilda watched and smiled from her place beside the baby’s crib. It was a scene of innocent delight so different from anything he had known that Wulfrum was drawn and held in spite of himself. This was an Elgiva he had never seen, laughing and relaxed as though without a care in the world. The children were her nephews, but she tended them as though they were her own, with a gentle and loving hand. Watching, he smiled unawares as a new dimension opened up before him. One day he would have sons. His gaze warmed as it rested on his future wife. It would be good to have children with Elgiva. His smile grew rueful. One day.
    Though he made no movement or sound, some instinct warned the occupants of the room that they were not alone. It was Hilda who saw him first. Her smile faded and a look of fear replaced it. Elgiva looked up and followed the direction of her gaze. Then she too froze. The child stared at him wide-eyed. In a moment the atmosphere in the room changed and became tense. He saw Elgiva rise and draw the child close.
    â€˜My lord?’ The tone was anxious, even wary.
    He surveyed her for a moment in silence, wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say. Then, ‘The children are well?’
    â€˜They are well,’ she replied.
    â€˜Good.’ He paused, then glanced at the toddler. ‘The boy is afraid.’
    â€˜Has he no cause?’
    â€˜None.’ He met and held her gaze for a moment. ‘He shall not be harmed if I have power to prevent it. Please believe that.’
    Elgiva stared at him in surprise, but said nothing for herheart was unaccountably full. His expression and his words had seemed sincere. His former actions too had prevented harm coming to the children. He was their enemy but, perversely, in that moment she wanted to trust him in this.
    Unable to follow her thought and seeing she remained silent, Wulfrum felt suddenly awkward. What did he expect her to say? That she believed him? Trusted the children to his care? Aware of how ridiculous a notion that was, he turned abruptly away. Trust could not be commanded, it had to be earned; thus far, he could see he had done little to earn hers.
    As he left the hall, the memory of the scene stayed with him. It stayed throughout the morning as he supervised the work of the serfs. He could not forget the fear of Hilda and the child when they saw him or Elgiva’s wariness. What did they take him for? Then he remembered Sweyn and what he had been about to do before he was stopped. Wulfrum sighed. True enough, the child had cause to be afraid and the women too. It would not be easy to overcome it, either, but Sweyn would soon be gone and then they might learn there was nothing to fear from him or his men. While he lived no harm should come to them. He was their lord and their protection was his responsibility. For the first time he began to feel its weight.
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    It had taken several days to bury the dead for goodly numbers had fallen on both sides, but eventually it