His Captive Bride (22 page)

Heat rivered through him. “I had intended to spend the day making love to you,” he said with regret.

She blushed furiously and looked down at her boots. “I... what we shared this morn was...” Closing her eyes, she left the sentence unfinished. “Hauk, we have to go.”

Wrenched by conflicting needs, he reached out to tilt her head up. He did not want to take her into the path of danger. And until Thorolf had been captured and brought before the council to answer for breaking the laws, Hauk needed to keep his mind on his duty.

Impulsively he drew her against him and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “You will be safer here. Keldan is sending someone to stay with you.” Turning, he tossed the reins over Ildfast’s head and leaped up onto the destrier’s broad back.

She grabbed a handful of the stallion’s mane. “Hauk, if you leave me behind, I will only go into the woods by myself and try to help her!”

“I could tie you up,” he threatened, exasperated. “Carry you inside and tie you to the bed—”

“And I would fight you and we would waste more valuable time.”

He swore. “Stubborn, reckless, willful—”

“True. All true,” she conceded, reaching up to him with one hand. “So you had best keep a close watch on me personally,
ja?
”

He glowered down at her, provoked and astounded at her audacity. He did not know which he wanted more: to turn her over his knee or pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

With an oath, he grabbed her arm and helped her up behind him. “Someday soon, milady—”

“You will come to your senses and realize I am entirely too much trouble and set me free.” She gingerly wrapped her arms around his ribcage. “But for now we need to reach the cove as quickly as possible.”

~ ~ ~

Midmorning sunlight spiraled down to the forest floor, spattering the fallen leaves and grass and gnarled roots with cascades of brightness that whirled past in a blur. Avril kept her arms locked around Hauk as he guided Ildfast at a swift pace through towering oaks and dark evergreens that looked ancient, their massive trunks four and five feet wide, their bark almost black.

They had left the fields behind more than an hour ago, riding into the shadowy depths of the forest, where the thatch of branches high overhead made the air feel cool and damp. They followed no path that Avril could make out, but Hauk clearly knew exactly where he was going, his attention on the trees as if he followed some secret marks that served as guideposts only he could see.

She became only distantly aware of the direction they took, the pungent scent of pine in the air, the rhythmic drumming of the stallion’s strides. Her heart beating hard, she kept watch for any wolfish shapes that might appear out of the shadows.

Especially after she heard the first howl—an eerie, hollow cry rising and then falling, distant but unmistakable, answered by another wolf somewhere unseen.

A large fox darted past and gave her a scare at one point, but after riding half the morning, they had encountered naught more threatening than a few partridges, some curious rabbits, and a herd of small red deer.

Still, she remained tense, ready to grab the crossbow slung over her shoulder by its leather strap. “I do not understand,” she said nervously. “If the wolves here are such a threat, why do you not kill them?”

Her mouth was so close to his ear, she did not even have to shout to be heard over the wind that tugged at her plaited hair.

“Because if we killed the wolves, then the smaller animals would increase until they ran riot,” Hauk explained without looking back at her. “Then the plants would be destroyed. And there is no way to know what might happen next. We are careful not to tip the scales of nature in one direction or another.”

“Because you might destroy the island’s healing qualities.”

“Aye. We care for the island and the island cares for us.”

She considered that for a time, as they cantered through the maze of trees. “And why is it that your people do not carry weapons? Does no one ever go hunting?”

For a moment he did not answer.

“Peace is important among us,” he said simply, “and it is impossible to have peace if every man is armed, so weapons and violence are outlawed.”

“But I had always thought that the Vikings were by nature a... a...”

“A race of savage marauders, bent on pillaging and destruction?”

“That is certainly the reputation you had earned over the centuries,” she said defensively.

“That is the reputation our raiding ancestors earned for us,” he corrected. “But most of our people lived as peaceful farmers or craftsmen. And for all the Norsemen who went abroad in search of plunder, others went in search of trade and new sea routes and new lands.”

“Like this one.” Avril fell silent for a moment. She heard a note of wistfulness in his voice. It reminded her that the people of Asgard were the last of their kind.

Reminded her once more of how important it was to them that they remain hidden here, safe from the world.

“I believe you would find Asgard a pleasant place, if you would give it a chance.” Hauk glanced back at her over his shoulder, a quick, heated locking of their gazes. “A most pleasant place.”

She looked away, reminded vividly what had happened between them this morn—and acutely aware of Hauk’s body against hers now, so hard and powerful, her arms barely able to circle his ribs, his muscles flexing as he guided Ildfast.

Her breasts, pressed against his back, still felt sensitive from his urgent kisses, and the horse’s canter caused a rhythmic friction between them that sent tingles of heat to her middle. Her face scarlet, she ducked her head, thankful he could not see her reaction to him.

The destrier’s hoofbeats made the only sound for a long time, the sunlight splintering through the branches overhead, Avril’s mind splintering into a dozen troubling thoughts.

She offered another desperate prayer for Josette’s life and safety. If Thorolf had hurt her...

But nay, she could not let herself lose hope.

Any more than she could let herself lose hope of escape, of returning home.

That was the only way to explain what had happened in Hauk’s bed at dawn, she thought, her eyes misting. For a flicker of time, hope had abandoned her, and she had abandoned herself to him, given in to the yearning and tenderness and other, stronger emotions she dared not feel for him. Allowed herself to
want
and
need
in ways she had almost forgotten.

A new fear twisted through her: a fear of
herself
. Now that she had set those feelings free this morn, what if she could not conceal them from him, return them to that place deep within her heart where she must keep them hidden?

That same secret place, she thought, raising her head, that felt strangely at home in the forest around her, even with all its dangers. Mayhap
because
of all its dangers. Part of her found a fierce excitement in this place of ancient beauty, saturated with darkness and cool, rich colors of emerald and sky blue and a hint of gold. It was made all of shadows and mystery, risk and refuge, and she found it stirring, moving, somewhere deep in her heart. In her soul.

Much like Hauk himself.

She pulled away from him a bit as they rode on, trying to gain whatever distance from him she could. Last night, she had realized something that had filled her with despair: she knew now that it would be impossible for her to leave Asgard by herself.

So she must try to gain his trust, hope that he would grant her a bit more freedom. And try to find someone to help her reach home.

That would be a difficult enough task if she only had to struggle against the gentle warrior who had made her his captive bride.

But now she had to fight her own heart, as well. For Giselle’s sake, she would.

She
must
.

The sun had passed higher into its arc when they came to a clearing and Hauk reined Ildfast in at the crest of a hill, the horse prancing and blowing out noisy breaths.

“We are halfway there.” Hauk pointed off into the distance.

Through the trees, on the horizon, Avril could just make out the silvery-blue sparkle of the ocean. “Thank God! How much longer until we reach the cove?”

“Two hours, mayhap less.” Hauk swung his leg over the destrier’s neck and leaped to the ground.

“Then why are we stopping?” Avril asked when he reached up to help her down.

“To grant Ildfast a needed rest and a drink.”

As she landed beside him, Hauk held onto her a second longer than was necessary. His expression as he looked down at her sent a tingle of warmth through her. One of his hands lingered at the small of her back, the gesture both steadying and possessive.

After a moment, he released her and tugged on the reins. “This is where I normally stop to rest him. And I have never ridden him through these woods at such a pace before.” He led the horse toward a stream that wound through the clearing—a quiet brook that flowed over the crest of the hill in a bubbling waterfall.

Avril followed, keeping one hand on the strap of her crossbow and a wary eye out for wolves. “Must we stop for long? I will not be able to rest until Josette is safe.”

“We will be but a few minutes.” At the edge of the stream, Hauk dropped the reins to the ground. “And we should reach the ship well ahead of Thorolf. Ildfast is earning his name today.” He patted the animal’s lathered flank as Ildfast stretched out his neck and guzzled greedily. “Faster than fire.”

Avril tried to resist a smile as she watched Hauk scratch the huge animal’s forelock with obvious affection. She moved away from him few paces, knelt on the grassy riverbank upstream, and took off her gloves. Cupping her hands in the cool water, she drank several handfuls to soothe her parched throat, then splashed her face, washing away dust and grit.

“We will have to go more slowly from here,” Hauk said. “The hills and valleys in this part of the woods are steep, and we cannot risk him breaking a leg.”

Avril nodded, picking up her gloves and tucking them into her belt. She stood and paced restlessly, tired from the long ride but too tense to sit down.

“Are you hungry, milady?”

She turned as Hauk tossed her an apple from his pack, which was lashed to Ildfast’s saddle. She caught it easily. “Thank you.”

Her stomach was in knots, but she took a bite anyway as she walked back to the hillside, watching the waterfall cascade over the steep slope.

“You ride well,” Hauk said around a mouthful of apple, coming over to join her, “for a woman.”

Avril almost laughed, despite all her anxiety. “I rather enjoyed the hint of surprise on your face, every time you glanced over your shoulder and saw that I had not fallen off.”

“I was not certain you could endure the rough pace.”

She arched her brows. “Have I caused you any trouble thus far?”

“The day is still young.”

She took another bite of her apple. “And I believe I will continue to surprise you.”

He sighed. “You usually do.”

From the way he said it, she was not sure if that was a complaint or a compliment.

He tossed the core of his apple toward Ildfast, who nickered in pleasure and nibbled it up. “Riding, sailing, hunting. Have you never learned any proper female pursuits, woman?” He cast a dour look over her masculine garb. “Sewing? Gardening?”

“Nay.”

It seemed strange, to be having an ordinary conversation with him in the midst of this awful, desperate day. She realized he was being thoughtful again, trying to distract her from her worry about Josette.

Which only made her uneasy for an entirely different reason.

“Not even weaving on a loom,” he continued, “playing music on the harp or—”

“A sick cat produces more melodious music than I,” she said honestly.

“Dancing?”

“A sick cat is also a better dancer than I.” Unable to eat more than a few bites, she tossed her apple to Ildfast as he had done. The easy closeness growing between her and Hauk made her nervous. She knew she should not allow it to continue.

Did not want him to suspect how much her feelings for him had changed.

She moved away along the crest of the hill. “I have always found such pursuits deadly dull. And since I have no skill at them, I prefer to spend my time elsewhere, at some genuinely useful task.” She turned to face him, crossing her arms. “So now you know the terrible truth about me, Hauk Valbrand. You chose poorly in Antwerp. I cannot sew, I am better at making messes than tidying up—and I am the most hopeless cook you would ever care to meet.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, a slow smile flashing in the late morning sun. “I suppose it is unreasonable for a man to expect his wife to be well skilled in
all
of her wifely duties.”

That wicked smile made her heart miss a beat. “For the last time,” she said unsteadily. “I am not your—”

“Must we still argue that, after this morn?”

She turned her back. “What we shared this morn does
not
make me your wife.”

“Nay, the
althing
ceremony made you my wife.” He moved closer. “What we shared in my bed made you my lover.”

She spun to face him. “I do
not
love you! I do not—”

He reached out to caress her cheek. “Do you hate me, then, Avril? Is that what made you cry out so sweetly when you found release in my arms?”

The huskiness of his words and the heat in his blue eyes sent sparks glittering through her.

She forced herself to rebuff him, pushed his hand away. “I will
never
share your bed again.”

“Do not make threats you do not mean to keep, milady,” he said in that deep, confident voice. “Do you not see—”

An animal screech made them both whirl toward the stream.

It was Ildfast—rearing and whinnying in terror as a dark shape appeared from out of nowhere, slinking through the clearing.
Wolf!
Avril was so startled, it took her a moment to remember the crossbow still slung across her back by its strap.

The horse danced sideways, ears flattened, eyes white—then turned blindly and ran.

Straight toward them.