Chapter 29

29

H akon woke with an aching heart. Peeling an eye open, he squinted against the burgeoning daylight streaming into the bedchamber from the far wall of arched windows.

The bed was the most comfortable he'd ever slept in, the fabrics softer than any he'd ever felt.

He only cared about the sleeping form of his mate beside him, her back tucked to his front. She slept soundly, her face easy. None of her myriad of worries lined her face, and Hakon couldn't help running his finger along her cheek and pushing her hair behind her ear for an unobstructed view.

He'd woken up with his mate in his arms before, but always in the murky darkness of predawn. There was something about lying with her here, in her bedchamber, her bed, sunlight bathing them, that had his foolish heart daydreaming.

It should always be like this.

They shouldn't ever have to sleep apart.

Yet…

I can't, she'd said. I can't.

She couldn't run away with him. Or wouldn't.

The blow still stung, even as he molded his body around hers and breathed deeply from her sweet-smelling hair.

He hadn't truly expected her acquiescence; everything he knew about her told him she would stand and fight. Yet to hear it still set his heart to aching bittersweetly. In the old days, when an orc had made off with their desired mate into the mountains, it hadn't always been consensual—a main reason why the tradition had fallen out of favor.

Hakon feared it might end up being so with his own mate. If Aislinn wouldn't come willingly, would he dare take her anyway?

They would be hunted. Captain Aodhan himself would track them. Aislinn may even resist him and try to get away. Chief Kennum in Kaldebrak may very well refuse to allow him back with a human captive, and a noble one at that. Siggy would surely beat him over the head.

He understood all this and yet—if it came to it, if it was her safety over her position, he would do it. For her.

Hakon let his eyes slide closed and put away such thoughts. The situation hadn't grown so dire yet, and he had no qualms with wringing Bayard's neck before making off with Aislinn. Whichever solution was better for her, Hakon was determined to see it through.

The lazy morning sun lulled him back into a doze, his body lax and spent from a night of lovemaking and his mind content to plan how best to separate Bayard's head from his shoulders. His thumb ran in slow circles over her ribs, and his fingers toyed with the ends of her hair.

Inside that room, it was easy to pretend. Despite her rejection, lying there with her only filled his heart with imaginings of what could be.

Lost in his fantasies, he didn't hear the door to the solar open.

He did, however, hear Fia's shriek of alarm and quick attempt to muffle it behind her hand.

Aislinn lurched upright, and Hakon moved to block her with his body.

They all held perfectly still, staring, waiting—

The door opened again, one of the guards calling, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Fia called back. "Just a spider."

The guard chuckled and closed the door again.

When she turned back to the bed, Fia threw a scowl Hakon's way, and he returned it, even as his ears burned. Marching over to the bed, Fia planted her hands on her hips and stared down her nose at them.

"You just couldn't keep away," she huffed, her accusation for both Aislinn and Hakon.

A growl rumbled beneath Hakon's sternum, not liking being scolded, especially over finding a way to be with Aislinn.

Fia pointed a finger at him. "Don't you growl at me. You both know how risky this is, what with everyone jumping at their shadows and Bayard acting like he's already lord of the castle."

Hakon growled in earnest, muttering an orcish curse under his breath.

Aislinn's head dropped into a pillow to muffle her groan.

"Up with you now," said Fia. "I was going to let you sleep in, but the mayor is here asking for you. It seems that Bayard's men are getting comfortable in town and harassing several taverns."

Aislinn groaned again. "Sorry excuse for knights," she mumbled. Pulling back the sheets, she climbed out of bed.

Hakon watched on with a mix of curiosity and fury.

Anger for the knights behaving poorly toward the people of Dundúran—and even more for their baron who used them as a threat against Aislinn. Yet it was tempered with a sweet wonder as he watched his mate quickly ready for her day.

Neither she nor Fia shooed him from the room as he slowly got up himself and began to dress. He watched them through his lashes as Fia pulled a fresh shift, stockings, and stays from one of three large armoires in the room. Aislinn selected a plain green gown, telling Fia she didn't want to fuss with anything fancy but instead get to the great hall.

Fia laced her stays and gown as Aislinn plaited her hair. It all happened in concert, a perfectly timed domestic harmony. Witnessing it softened something in Hakon.

This was what mornings should be like for them always.

He wanted to see this part of his mate, the private, domestic side when there were no duties to do or people to please. She and Fia chattered easily, and he felt honored to be privy to their inner world. It felt like something of an acceptance, that he now too got to inhabit this most private realm, and it took the sting out of her denial last night.

When she finished, Aislinn walked over to where he sat in a chair, lacing his boots. Taking his face in her hands, she bent to bestow a kiss on his lips.

Heaviness hung between them—he worried what he should say and what she would say to him. She wouldn't have allowed him to stay, to watch her dress, if she meant to be rid of him.

"I'll go now. You stay in here with Fia until the corridor is clear."

"All right." He reached to press her hand more firmly against his cheek. "Be safe, vinya. "

She gave him a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. With another kiss, she left her rooms, the guards closing the door behind her.

Hakon and Fia waited in silence for a long moment. When all was quiet, she waved him toward the bed.

"At least be helpful while you're here, if you would."

He stood and rounded the bed, helping her strip it of the coverlet, blankets, and sheets. It only seemed fair to help after the mess he'd made of it pleasuring Aislinn last night—about which he had no regrets.

He eyed Fia under his lashes and thought, no, she wouldn't let him take one of the sheets to have Aislinn's scent.

The bed bare, Fia fetched a fresh set of sheets and blankets from a deep trunk.

"Did she sleep well?" the maid asked as she handed him one end of a sheet.

"Yes."

"Good. She hasn't been sleeping much."

"I worry for her."

"I do, too." Fia frowned at the blanket she unfolded. "This business with Bayard is the last thing she needed."

"Is she…" He didn't know how to ask without sounding pathetic.

Fia looked up, taking his measure, before answering his unspoken question, "She's no intention of accepting him. They wouldn't suit at all, not that Bayard cares. She's playing for time." She peered at him from under her lashes. "She needs someone very different from the baron. Someone who can put her and the Darrowlands first."

His beast snarled at the insinuation that he didn't know how to care for his mate, but Hakon bit it back. That wasn't what Fia said, even if what she had was almost as hard to swallow.

"Does he pose a real danger to her? Should he not be imprisoned for treason?" Hakon couldn't imagine Chief Kennum or even Lord Merrick standing for such insolence, but then, Bayard wouldn't have moved against them. He saw an opportunity with Aislinn vulnerable and meant to exploit it.

Hakon would ensure the baron lived to regret it.

"I can't imagine him doing her any harm," said Fia. "He needs her. Doesn't mean he can't sit around and be as insufferable as possible, of course."

Hakon appreciated her growl of disapproval.

"And his men?"

"A threat to what my lady holds most dear." Fia stopped fluffing the pillow to regard him seriously. "She's always put her people first, and they love her for it. They will defend her and her claim to the end."

Ears heating, Hakon dared to admit to her, "She is first in my heart."

Fia nodded slowly. "Good. She deserves nothing less."

"Y ou have my promise, Mayor Doherty, that all knights will behave with utmost decorum," Aislinn said to the aggrieved mayor of Dundúran. As an elected magistrate of the people, it was his duty to bring issues concerning the townsfolk to the Darrows, particularly for sudden or urgent problems.

Doherty, a kindly man with a bald head and portly gut and far too many grandchildren, as he put it, scowled at Bayard. The baron stood off to the side, aloof and imperious. For the entire meeting with Doherty, he'd looked as though he bit into something sour.

Aislinn was beyond annoyance—hearing of how dozens of Bayard's knights were carousing nightly, harassing women, scaring livestock, and even drunkenly rolling barrels into the river had her gall rising. Fates, how did Endelín function if Bayard allowed his company to behave like spoiled youths?

Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps they'd been told to be as unpleasant as possible while in Dundúran.

The thought soured Aislinn impossibly further toward the baron—and didn't fill her with confidence that Captain Aodhan would find a way to turn enough of them against Bayard.

"Please send me a report of everyone whose property was damaged. Baron Bayard will happily compensate them."

Bayard choked, glaring at her before smoothing his expression. "Yes, compensated in full," he said.

Doherty sighed. "Very well. I'd rather this not be necessary at all. The people are worried enough with so many unfamiliar swordsmen about."

"I mean only to ensure the safety of our heiress," said Bayard. Aislinn had to wonder if he knew his smile was so oily or if he was attempting something else.

Doherty made an unconvinced sound, turning back to Aislinn. He took her hand in his dry, wrinkled one and patted it. "Is there any news from your father?"

Aislinn felt the prickle of Bayard's interest along her neck.

"No, nothing yet," she lied. "But then, the roads are muddy."

Doherty nodded. "Let us hope his mission is successful and for his swift return." Casting another moody look at Bayard, the mayor bowed his head. "Thank you for seeing me this morning, my lady."

"You are always welcome, Mayor Doherty. My warmest wishes to your wife and all two-hundred grandchildren."

"Ha!" the old man laughed. "Try at least five hundred!"

Aislinn smiled, waving farewell as the mayor took his walking stick and marched from the great hall. Her heart rested a little more content knowing her people were resilient; they could weather whatever was to come. She hated lying to Mayor Doherty and the people of Dundúran, but there didn't seem to be a compelling enough reason to cause them worry.

When she knew more, she'd tell them herself.

For now, she had to handle the problems she could.

Turning on Bayard, she leveled him with a frown. It was a wonder what a good night's sleep after being thoroughly made love to by her blacksmith could do for her. Aislinn felt downright feisty, sizing up the baron as she decided how best to scold him.

"Keep your company in line, Bayard. They aren't on leave, and they have no right to terrorize the people."

"Have you really heard nothing from our dear Liege Darrow?"

He caught Aislinn off-guard with the sudden question.

Pursing her lips, she said, "If I had, I'd tell the staff."

"Would you, though?" Bayard smiled that slick smile and began to stroll in a loose circle around her. "Maybe you would, if his return was imminent. But then, what if he wasn't returning? What if he'd been delayed? Would you tell them then?"

"Are you concerned you may soon have to face my father and explain what you've done?" she asked instead of answering, one of her mother's favorite tactics. "You should be."

"I'm not, in fact."

Coming to a halt, that frivolous smile played at his lips, but his eyes had gone dark enough to put a tremble of fear in Aislinn's belly. She reminded herself they weren't alone; her guards were near.

"What I am is impatient. You're stalling, hoping for word of your father that may or may not have come."

"You're welcome to leave at any time, my lord. I'm certainly not keeping you here."

"I'm not going anywhere. Not without an answer."

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to find more patience. I have more important things to see to."

Bayard caught her by the arm before she could leave. "My patience won't last forever, my lady. I suggest you make up your mind."

"And I order you to let me go," she said loudly.

The guards moved closer, and Bayard released her.

"Go ahead and play your hand," she warned him. "The people of Dundúran will never forget. You won't take the city, they won't submit to you."

"Perhaps. But then who would repel your brother when he comes?"

"I don't need you and your company to deal with Jerrod."

"Then why not have me thrown in the dungeon? If you're so sure of your victory."

"Because life isn't cheap to me," she spat. "Your company are still my people. I am heiress of the Darrowlands. One day to be Liege Darrow. Everyone, including vassals, are my people. I won't have them fighting each other and spilling their blood for something as foolish as your ambitions."

His smile was ugly. "This is why you will never succeed as Liege Darrow. Politics and ambition are what make demesnes strong. The Darrowlands will wither under your soft hand."

"What makes a land strong is her people. I pity the people of Endelín if their baron truly doesn't know that."

Bayard chuckled mirthlessly. "Worry about your own people, my lady. And remember, my patience wears thin."

With a sweeping bow, he left her, determined to have the last word. Aislinn watched him go, anger boiling in her belly and fear banding around her heart.

As much as she abhorred violence and sought to handle the situation without it, perhaps she really should just let Hakon rip Bayard's head off. It was certainly an efficient solution to the problem.