Blind Allegiance by Violetta Rand Page A

no malice in his heart.”
    “And who are you to judge the jarl’s heart?” a stern, but feminine voice sounded from somewhere behind.
    Noelle turned and locked eyes with a middle-aged woman with slightly graying-red hair. She was statuesque and Noelle instinctively recognized her. Randvior favored his mother.
    “Well, girl?” she demanded.
    Noelle took a deep breath, reluctant to say anything. Unfamiliar with the customs of these people, she didn’t wish to risk offending anyone—at least not until they had been properly introduced. His mother’s liquid-steel eyes reminded her so much of her lover’s that it made her shiver.
    Aud Magnusson walked toward them. He strolled casually up the pathway and stopped next to Noelle.
    “You were away longer than we expected,” the older woman said coldly.
    Aud shrugged. “The jarl received a vision before we departed the Orkneys, instructing him to sail to Durham.”
    “Durham?”
    “The English—”
    “Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. “I know the blasted place, Aud. What riches could possibly lure my son there ? ”
    Noelle crinkled her nose, displeased with the already less than favorable opinion of her homeland. She bit her tongue, remembering what was at stake. This was no longer about her own welfare, the maids clinging to her skirts required protection. If she set herself at odds with Randvior’s mother, nothing would go well for them.
    Aud looked around uncomfortably while the older woman kept a sharp eye on him. Finally, he faced Noelle again. “The girl . . .”
    These men spoke truth as easily as her brother told lies. At this moment, Noelle wondered which caused more harm. Finesse, even if used sparingly, would have aided her cause much more.
    Randvior’s mother opened her eyes wide with surprise. She exuded authority and conceitedness, grace, and power all at once. A formidable woman and she looked Noelle over like a head of livestock under consideration for purchase.
    “She’s malnourished,” she commented unfavorably. “The color of her hair is simply unnatural, dyed I should think. So unlike the women my son typically favors. But who can keep up with a man’s passing obsessions? Once we take the shears to her head she’ll know her place in his household.”
    Noelle turned abruptly and stared directly into her eyes. “You’ll have no easy time laying a finger upon my head,” she warned. “I’m quite aware of my position. My father is no commoner.”
    To think she dared suggest cropping her hair. A woman’s hair is her crown of glory—cut it and I shall become as insignificant as a bondswoman. This was a cruel practice, utilized even in England, to distinguish between the classes.
    Aud’s eyes darted between them. Noelle knew he was very familiar with feminine quarrels, he had three daughters.
    As Lauga’s mouth dropped open, Noelle prayed a swarm of locusts would descend from heaven and fly inside, shutting her up for eternity.
    “Do you know whom you address, girl?” she asked.
    “There was never a question in my mind about your identity—Randvior is your son. I shall extend a courtesy you failed to show me by introducing myself. My name is, Lady Noelle Sinclair, and I am your son’s guest, not his slave.”
    Her eyes became narrow slits, as gray and frigid as the North Sea. Color drained from her cheeks and she harrumphed, obviously unaccustomed to having her authority challenged. The similarities between mother and son were astounding.
    “Yes,” she confirmed. “I am Jarl Randvior’s mother, Lauga.”
    Noelle nodded. If they could just start over, she would admit his mother deserved reverence. But if she threatened her again, Noelle was prepared to defend herself.
    “I’m surprised my son bothered bringing home an English harridan. There are at least twenty women in the Trondelagmore worthy of his affection.”
    Aud raised an arm above his head, signaling for reinforcements. No need. Randvior started up the footpath and