Blind Allegiance (24 page)

At that, Randvior motioned him inside and slammed the door. The servant stared unwittingly at him.

“I’ve been sent to retrieve you. Master Aud appointed me as his personal messenger and humbly begs you to postpone the rest of your holiday and come home.”

Randvior latched on to his shoulder and shook him. “Who died?”

“Three families—burned beyond recognition.”

Randvior let go. “Ride boy, tell my captain I’ll be on my way. Gather the women and children and hide them in the cellars. Prepare the steading for battle, arm every man and boy with whatever weapons you can get your hands on—sticks if that’s all you can find.”

“Aye.” The servant bowed and paused at the doorway.

“Go!” Randvior pushed him outside.

Noelle yawned and stretched, and scanned the room. She smiled once she discovered Randvior standing at the open doorway naked. But her smile quickly faded once she noticed the weapon in his hand.

“Get up.” He slammed the door. “We must return home at once.” Not wanting to alarm her, he offered no further explanation.

He tossed the sword on the bed, grabbed a towel, and washed his face with water from the basin. Disgusted, he threw the linen at the wall and walked to the door. “Lock it after I go out.”

A cold bath would clear his head, and a half frozen stream would serve him well.

Sleepily, Noelle stumbled out of bed and latched the door. Had she done something to displease her husband? Deep concern gripped her heart. She could think of nothing under the sun and moon that would lure him from their bed unless it was serious. Judging from the intensity of their lovemaking last night, she was the sole object of his desire, the only person who existed in his universe.

She bathed. Only last night Randvior had threatened to penetrate the layers of her soul—to pierce her heart with his love. Her body jolted at the memory of it.

She dressed hurriedly, putting on a plain wool gown. Despite its lack of adornments, the material was soft and warm. Eager to get outside, she skipped putting on a pair of leggings and laced her boots over bare feet.

She smiled as she hurried to the door. A little love goes a long way—she’d help him recover. As she reached for the latch, Noelle stopped short at the sound of male voices outside. She listened closely and easily recognized Randvior’s baritone. But there were at least two others—possibly arguing with him?

She strained to hear more—pressed her ear to the window, the faint glow of dawn sneaking its way around the edges of the old curtains.

“How did you know where to find me?” Randvior asked.

“Look to your mother,” a man answered.

She shivered. That woman had her talons buried in every man’s hide within a day’s journey of Randvior’s steading. It was unsettling. Nine days since she had been home, nearly five spent with Sveinn and four with her husband. It was the closest she would ever come to escaping Lauga’s destructive reach.

She imagined the dark witch conjuring spirits. Consulting tarot cards or reading rune stones to predict her son’s whereabouts or relying on dark forces to threaten Noelle’s future prospects of happiness. A flutter of butterfly wings tickled her stomach and she wrapped her arms protectively across her midriff.
Open the door, chase the intruders away.
But a voice inside her head warned she should grab as many weapons as she could carry. Noelle went to the trunk.

Get knives—many of them
.

Her silvery blade only waited her hand, and Randvior’s sword was too heavy for her to carry. His battle-axe was nearly as long as her body. She chose a long knife and turned back to the doorway.
What are you waiting for?
The same hesitation that often over powered her common sense and got her into trouble growing up nearly took over now. She started for the door after she heard Randvior scream.

She nearly yanked it off its hinges as she went outside.

No one was at the front of the cabin and she started for the stream. She stopped to think before she took another step. Emotional responses
always
ended badly.
Get a hold of yourself.
Valuable advice she remembered from her father. Good thing she stopped. Noelle’s stomach felt gravelly and a wave of nausea nearly made her throw up.

Loud noises came from around the corner. “Put him down!” a voice demanded.

Then silence.

Showing herself might distract Randvior and put his life in jeopardy. The unpleasant sensation she felt earlier intensified in the pit of her belly. She decided to listen in a little longer before she made her presence known. Her eyes grew wider, spying Randvior’s unclad form partially submerged in the icy water with a man dangling helplessly in his grip. She’d seen him do this to a man before and knew what to expect. Two others with weapons drawn were standing only a few feet away and verbally threatening him with every sort of violence known to mankind.

She marveled at her husband’s extraordinary strength. As vulnerable as he appeared—weaponless and naked—he was an incredibly imposing figure in the morning light. From head to toe, he swelled with fury and a rare vengeance shined in his eyes.

Noelle considered their positions.

She estimated twenty-five feet between her and the closest man. If she charged from behind, aided by the element of surprise, she might be able to stab one in the back. This standoff was accomplishing nothing. God help her. Unwilling to watch her Viking sacrifice himself to these nameless brigands, she charged. The man on the left was her intended target.

The sturdy blade cut deep. Randvior screamed as the man she stabbed swung and cuffed her across the side of her face with something as heavy as a mace. She tumbled, and the light faded in and out as she lay on the ground, trying to maintain consciousness. In the confusion of the skirmish that broke out after, Noelle searched for Randvior. She managed to keep one eye focused if she kept the other squeezed shut. Randvior crushed the man’s skull he was holding with his bare hands and tossed him aside.

The man she had stabbed lay only feet away, curled in the fetal position—his weakening groans evidence she had aimed well. There was blood everywhere. Lightheaded, her vision blurred again.
Not now, please God, not now . . .

“Stay with me!” Randvior was close; she knew it without seeing him.

“Get back!” a voice warned.

Noelle raised her head, arms flapping uselessly at her sides. The third attacker circled her, blocking Randvior’s path. With great effort, she managed to rise up on one elbow and meet her husband’s worried eyes. She looked toward the woods and spotted another figure. It moved closer—Brian? She wanted to scream his name out, warn Randvior, but it was impossible. Her brother was in Durham, not Norway!

The world started to spin. She collapsed and vomited, didn’t have the strength to sit back up. Noelle heard the unmistakable sound of bodies moving and weapons scraping. The world went black.

Randvior’s eyes snapped open. His head felt like it had been impaled on a Rus pike. He wiped fresh blood off his right brow. He could hardly move his left arm, where he found a gaping wound. How much blood had he actually lost? And then, it hit him,
Noelle . . .

He staggered to his feet. Found her withered body some twenty yards away from where he had fallen. He raced to her side.
By Odin, what have I done?

Noelle had saved his life, defended him with what little strength she possessed. He groveled helplessly at her feet, regretted everything he had ever put her through. The list of violations were endless. He bowed his head.
Forgive me, my love.

He swept her into his arms. As he made for shelter, more blood seeped from his wound.

He rushed to the warmth of the cabin and slammed the door. Laid her across the bed, undressed her, and examined her from head to toe. A nasty bruise and a small cut along the hairline of her left temple were the only injuries he could see. Dry blood was crusted on her cheek. He suspected a concussion, which sparked fear inside him. He immediately tried to wake her. Called her name a hundred times, but nothing helped. Her pulse was erratic.

“Wake up,” he croaked. He’d seen this type of wound before. Watched men in the prime of life succumb to serious head injuries.

There was water in the pitcher on the bed stand and he wet a cloth and sponged her off. “Wake up,
pokker det
.”

His hope deteriorated as he started to massage her feet. Pinched her arms and legs, caressed her cheeks. She needed stimulation and he’d utilize any tactic necessary to rouse her, even pain. Randvior grabbed a knife from the table and quickly made the decision to use it. Gently at first, he pressed the tip into the soles of her feet. No response. He scraped the blade across her toes, nearly drawing blood. Nothing.

“Wake up, god damn it,” he begged.
Odin, heal her and this wound in my heart
.

His jaw clenched as he further appraised her condition. They were too far away from home to ride for help. Nothing seemed to work.
The stream!

He scooped her off the bed and carried her outside. The frosty air made him shiver, reminding him that he had no clothes on. He waded into the frigid water, knelt, and submerged her—letting her head dip under for only a second. As he lifted her, she sputtered and coughed. Those beautiful brown eyes opened in horror and confusion. His heart nearly burst and tears of infinite joy filled his eyes.

Randvior balanced her on his knees and brushed strands of hair from her face. Her lips were dark blue and her teeth chattered, but he was more than just a little bit tempted to steal a kiss. He needed to get her inside by the fire. And to tell the truth, if he didn’t warm up soon, he’d freeze to death, too.

Chapter 19

Burning Cross

Fear and loathing burned Randvior’s throat as he deposited Noelle on the bed and wrapped her in blankets. He rushed to the hearth and dropped an armful of kindling, built up the fire until it roared. He returned bedside and looked deeply into her eyes. They were wide open, pupils dilated, and she complained of a throbbing skull—considering the force of the blow she’d . . . Oh god, she was lucky to be alive.

Hours later, she slowly became more aware of the things around her. She’d stopped calling him by her father’s name and had noticed the nasty gash down the side of his shoulder.

She demanded he let her stitch him up before he bled to death in front of her. Her resiliency astounded him and he pacified her by sitting down on a chair next to the fireplace so she could see. If she needed to use him as a pincushion to stay alert and awake, his body was at her service. She poured half a bottle of wine over the wound and stepped away as Randvior cursed the day. Once the pain subsided, he eyed her speculatively. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea letting her handle a needle and thread right now. Unaware of any formal training she had for surgery, he accepted the fact that he was about to find out.

Medical supplies were always kept in his saddlebags. He watched as she dug around and pulled out sheep gut thread and a needle. She sterilized the needle over the open flame and doused it with alcohol, repeating the process twice. He arched a brow worriedly as she threaded the needle and held it up for inspection.

“Are you ready?” She put her hand on his shoulder.

Practiced fingers sunk the needle under his skin and completed the first stitch. He flexed his fingers on the other hand to keep his mind off the stinging, nagging pain. After careful stitching, she counted forty stitches out loud, cut the thread, and knotted the ends together. Randvior regarded her handiwork and nodded appreciatively.

“It will do,” she said.

“Aye,” he agreed. Forty tiny stitches—small ones left less of a scar. He smiled. If Aud or one of his other men had gotten their hands on him in the field, they might have sewn him together with twenty. What other skills had she hidden from him? “Your talents are endless.”

She mopped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

“Do you feel queasy?”

She looked surprised and nodded. “Aye, how did you know?”

“Serious head injuries can do that, although I cannot explain why you’re on your feet now.”

He had many questions. Like, who taught her how to stab a man in the kidney? Maybe she had witnessed a fair share of violence in her young life. But these kinds of questions would only elicit a feeling of indignity in a woman who risked everything to save him. Instead, he simply gave voice to one. “Why did you intervene? Those men weren’t after you,
min lille dukke
, they wanted
me
.”

“I overheard one say your mother told them where we were. It made me more furious than anything I’ve ever heard. She betrayed you, and I’ll be damned if she’ll make me a widow before I have a chance to live my life with you.”

Her words put to rest any lingering doubts. Before, he had wondered if she had only agreed to marry him to protect her family or to gain forgiveness from her god. He looked her over critically, wanted to make sure she was fit to travel. Injuries left them both weak.

Randvior was determined to make it home before nightfall. If she had been hurt worse, to Hel with his tenants, but he knew she was strong and they were determined to face whatever horrors awaited them at home.

Darkness set in as they met a group of riders halfway home. Noelle lowered her thick collar and stared across the field at the horses tethered to trees. She recognized Brandon immediately. He was alive and well. It gave her hope that whatever had happened might not be as bad as originally feared.

Randvior kissed the back of her neck before he slipped from the saddle. Several riders dismounted and met him near the trees. Noelle could see Brandon and Randvior’s hands gesturing angrily. Bad news. The men broke apart and Brandon followed Randvior back to his horse.

“My Lady . . .” Brandon bowed formally.

She nodded. “What news?”

He looked up and pursed his lips. Rarely did Sir McNally frown. “I’ll let your husband do the telling. But I’m very happy to see you alive. Randvior told us of your bravery. Once again, you have humbled men of war by showing us purity in spirit.”