Sandulf lay in the darkness and listened to the soft sound of Ceanna sleeping. Friends, not lovers. The dull aching in his groin at her nearness showed what a lie that was. Luckily, she was far too innocent to understand—he wanted to be much more than her friend. What sort of rogue would he be if he took her innocence when she was about to enter a holy life?
If he’d been anything like Danr, Rurik’s twin, he would have seduced her by now and got her out of his system. Danr was the one brother who could charm women out of trees and who never lacked for female companionship. He had a quick quip for any situation and had diffused more arguments with their father with a joke than Sandulf liked to count.
Sandulf had sought to emulate him in the past, particularly where women were concerned, but with Ceanna, heartless seduction was impossible. He respected her far too much. He did want her friendship. It had been far too long since he had laughed with anyone, yet Skadi and her dog kept finding ways.
‘I will protect you,’ he said softly into the night.
When she met her aunt, he wanted her to be able to say that she was as chaste as a nun should be. He wanted to give her a chance at the life she desired without regrets.
It did not make it any easier, though, particularly as she snuggled closer. He put his arm about her and knew he would not sleep for the rest of night. He’d lied to her. He’d had his usual dream about Lugh and the killing spree, but this time, the woman he held as her lifeblood had streamed from her had been Ceanna, not Ingrid.
He forced himself to think of killing Lugh rather than the warm body lying next to him. The thoughts were not as comforting as they normally were. If he failed, Ceanna would be in danger and protecting her had suddenly become more important than avenging Ingrid’s death.
Sandulf forced himself to concentrate. He had not come this far on his quest, suffered that much, only to give up. Ceanna was important because she could take him to Nrurim.
Lugh had to be at Nrurim—or he had been there recently—like Rurik’s new wife had said. Once he had dealt with the man, then he’d confront Brandt, give him Ingrid’s last words and regain his rightful place as one of the sons of Sigurd. Whatever that place was.
He wrapped a tendril of Ceanna’s hair about his finger. The prospect did not excite him as it once had.
Chapter Eight
When Ceanna woke the next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the thatched roof and the space beside her was empty. The only indication that Sandulf had been there was the faint indentation in the straw. She ran her hand over it, but it was cold, as if he’d been up for hours.
Ceanna rapidly dressed and discovered Sandulf sitting at the table. Vanora lay at his feet and Mildreth plied them both with food while the owl slumbered on a rafter. The cat was nowhere to be seen.
‘I overslept,’ she said and immediately the heat rose on her cheeks. ‘I thought... I thought you didn’t allow dogs in the house.’
Mildreth gave her a large wink. ‘Thanks to your man’s promise of doing extra chores last night, your dog slept beside the hearth and has been perfectly well behaved.’
Sandulf choked on his food. ‘I was up early chopping wood. Our hostess will not need to worry about that particular chore for a while.’
Up early? Had he even gone back to sleep after his nightmare?
‘I must have been more tired than I imagined. I can’t remember the last time I slept for so long. Normally I’m up before sunrise as there are always jobs to be done.’
‘Sometimes it is good to sleep,’ Sandulf said.
‘Particularly after exercise.’ Mildreth gave a high-pitched laugh.
Ceanna knew her cheeks burned worse than ever, much to Mildreth’s cackling delight. She quickly concentrated on the table rather than meeting Sandulf’s eyes. It made it all the worse as a large part of her had wanted to do exactly what Mildreth thought she had last night.
In the cold light of day, she was pleased that his sensible head had prevailed and that she’d done nothing to jeopardise her chances of becoming a holy maid. And she’d continue to do that. She wished the thought filled her with more pleasure. Deep in her heart, she knew she had been able to resist temptation because no temptation had been offered. Sandulf had believed her when she’d explained it was the best thing for her future. She wished she knew that for certain.
‘We should get going,’ she said. ‘I’d like to get to Nrurim as quickly as possible. My legs are fresh, Sandulf.’
‘You should go by the high road,’ Mildreth said, wrinkling her nose. ‘This track will eventually take you to it, but I know a short cut, one which ensures you miss the pass. It’ll take several days off your journey.’
‘We’d be grateful for any assistance,’ Sandulf said. ‘We both wish to get to Nrurim as speedily as possible.’
Ceanna’s heart clunked. She had wanted that yesterday, but getting there would mean the end of her time with Sandulf.
Mildreth stood up. ‘Once your woman finishes her meal, then we will go. She’ll need to keep her strength up for the night-time. I have a few things I need to get.’
She bustled out of the room before Ceanna could object.
‘She believes we...’ Ceanna whispered. ‘About us. Our relationship.’
‘It makes her happy to think about a little romance,’ Sandulf said in a low voice.
Ceanna concentrated on her pottage. ‘But we know the truth. Friends, not lovers.’
He squeezed her hand and the gleam in his eyes deepened. ‘We do indeed.’
She withdrew her hand, hating how the warm pulse travelled up her arm. ‘Friends. We are both entirely too sensible to be
