Twin Passions by Miriam Minger Page B

would surely be there and back before the morning meal.
Yawning, she threw back the coverlet and swung her legs over the side of the
bed. "Well, we'd best be going if we want to see the sunrise," she
said, stretching her arms above her head. She smiled warmly. She felt such a
great sense of well-being and contentment this morning.
    Gwendolyn squealed delightedly at Anora's announcement, then quickly clapped her hand over her mouth. She
jumped off the bed, grabbed the silken camise lying crumpled on the floor, and
handed it to her sister. Shivering, Anora pulled the garment over her head, then hurried over to the chest at the foot of the bed.
    Suddenly she gasped. On top of the chest, glinting at
her in the glow of the candle held aloft for her by Gwendolyn, lay one of
Wulfgar's gold arm bands. Memories of the previous night came flooding back to
her, and she flushed heatedly. Those memories had seemed only a dream when she
had awakened . . . a breathless, swirling vision of passion and moonlight. Yet
now, holding the arm band in the palm of her hand, the bright gold warming from
her touch, she knew the dream had been real.
    Gwendolyn's eyes widened in surprise. "Was Wulfgar
with you last night?" she questioned softly, although Anora's blushing
cheeks told her all she needed to know.
    "Aye," Anora answered simply, ignoring her
sister's startled look. She lifted the heavy lid of the chest and set the arm
band inside, covering it with clothing. Pulling out a plain linen tunic and a
heavy woolen mantle, she dressed quickly. At last she turned to Gwendolyn, who
was still standing by the chest dumbfounded. "We will speak of this later,
Gwendolyn, but for now, we must hurry." She grabbed her fur cloak from a
wooden hook by the door and wrapped it about her shoulders, fastening it with a
silver brooch. "Ouch!" she exclaimed suddenly.
    "What happened?"
    "The pin on the brooch pierced my finger,"
Anora winced painfully, examining the tiny drop of blood on her fingertip.
    "Perhaps trousers would be a
more suitable attire for a walk in the woods!" Gwendolyn suggested,
chuckling softly. Dressed in a woolen shirt and trousers, a wide leather belt,
sturdy leather boots, and a fur-lined jerkin, she looked every inch a young
huntsman. Her short hair was covered by a fur cap, and her hand rested on the
engraved handle of a large hunting knife strapped to her belt.
    "Aye, maybe if I had more daring like you,"
replied Anora, somewhat wistfully. She quickly wrapped her wound with a small
piece of linen. The thought of herself in men's trousers made her giggle, her
sore finger forgotten.
    "Are you almost ready?" Gwendolyn asked
impatiently. It was at least an hour before dawn, yet soon the servants would
be up and about their morning duties.
    "Aye, just one more moment," Anora said, running
an ivory comb through her tangled hair. She hastily donned a pair of sturdy
leather-soled slippers. "There, I am ready."
    Opening the door, Gwendolyn moved stealthily down the
wooden stairs with Anora close behind her. At the foot of the stairs they stopped
and peered down the darkened corridor. All was silent and still. With Gwendolyn's
candle lighting the way, they hurried along the corridor, their footsteps
making little sound.
    Pausing for a moment at the top of another flight of
stairs that led to the kitchen area, Gwendolyn listened for any noise. Hearing
nothing but the snores of sleeping servants in the room adjacent to the
kitchen, she beckoned to Anora and they ran quietly down the stairs.
    "Do you have the key?" Anora whispered as
they tiptoed through the large kitchen. The room was lit by the smoldering
embers in the stone hearth. Gwendolyn nodded, holding up a heavy iron key.
    When they reached the door of the root cellar, they
found it slightly ajar. "Let me go first," Gwendolyn whispered, holding
her candle in front of her. Squeezing through the narrow opening, she was
assailed by the dank, musty smell of the earthen cellar. "Come on!"
she hissed.