Timeless (12 page)

He gestured to the far side of the chamber, where pretty Josette stood in a corner, her face damp with furious tears, what looked like wreckage strewn about her feet—upturned jewel chests, ripped garments, shredded velvet pillows with their goose-feather stuffing spilled everywhere, and the remains of what had been a gracefully carved chair.

“The gifts did not work,” Keldan explained, dodging a flagon of perfume she flung at him. It sailed past him to shatter against the wall.

Hauk realized that Josette must have been hurling bits and pieces of debris at her new husband’s head for some time, for the wall behind Keldan had been newly decorated in disgusting shades of dripping wine and precious oils, with a few goose feathers stuck to the goo here and there.

“By Tyr’s blade, Kel.” He waved a hand in front of his nose. “It smells like a bawd’s bedchamber in here.”

“Do you have any
helpful
comments to make?”

“I was the one who warned you that language differences could be a problem.”

“That is not the kind of help I was hoping for.”

With a shrug, Hauk bowed in the lady’s direction and tried addressing her in French. “Good eventide, milady. How fare you?”

She only shouted curses and threats in reply. And reached for a piece of the chair.

Hauk stepped out of the way as it came flying at Keldan, grateful that he was not her target. “I fear I cannot help you, Kel. I would say this wooing may take months. Mayhap years. Thor’s hammer, I did not realize before that your bride had a sailor’s vocabulary.” A silk slipper smacked Keldan right between the eyes. “Or such excellent aim.”

“I do not understand,” Keldan said miserably, rubbing his forehead and frowning at her. “I have followed all the advice given in the
Havamal
.”

“Which shows how useful that ancient text is,” Hauk replied scornfully. Every young man of Asgard studied the
Havamal
before taking a bride, to learn how to be a good husband, how to please a wife. “The so-called wisdom of past generations is mostly poetic nonsense.”

“So you have said before.”

“Mayhap we had better speak outside, where the air is not so full of”—Hauk dodged the silk slipper’s mate—”projectiles.”

Keldan hastily led the retreat, closing the door firmly behind them once they had escaped to the relative safety of the outdoors. “You are enjoying this,” he accused with a scowl.

“Not at all,” Hauk lied, feeling one corner of his mouth curve. “I am afflicted with sorrow that your wife is not fawning at your feet as the women of Asgard have always done.”

“
Ja, ja
, I can tell,” Keldan drawled. Folding his arms, he nodded toward Hauk’s pack. “And how have you fared? It would appear you have declared defeat and deserted your new bride already. Have you come seeking a place to sleep for the night?”

“
Nei
. Nor am I deserting her.” Hauk looked to the south, where he could just make out his
vaningshus
in the distance.

How strange it felt, to see lights burning in his home at the cliffs’ edge when he was not there. To have someone else living in that place, waiting for him.

Waiting to bury a blade in his heart, he corrected himself.

“I thought it best to allow time for our blood to cool,” he explained. “I am going out on sentry duty.”

“But, Hauk, you took a vow—”

“
Ja
, and I will keep it. At the moment, we are like fire and tinder. If I stay with her, there is going to be an explosion and one of us might get damaged by the blast. I vowed to protect her, and for now the best way to protect her is to stay
away
from her.”

“But who will care for her and see to her needs?”

“Believe me, Keldan, there has never been a woman
less
in need of a man to take care of her.” An unwanted memory struck him: those two tears gliding down her face, how she had looked so vulnerable, so...

He shook it off. “Avril is more than capable of looking after herself. I only came here to ask you to check on her now and then while I am away. See that she stays out of trouble.”

“You want me to watch over the
two
of them?” Keldan looked like he might choke. “When I do not even speak their language?”

“You were the one who insisted that these women and no others would do, if you recall. You insisted that we have them. Well, now we have them.” Hauk arched one brow. “Or more accurately,” he said lightly, “now
you
have them.”

He turned to leave.

Keldan caught him by the shoulder. “But, Hauk, you go on sentry only once a month. Surely it could wait. It will take you a week to travel all the way around the island. You cannot mean to leave her—”

“
Nei
, trust me, it is better that I go now. And I am not setting out on a full patrol. I will be gone only two or three days.” Hauk returned the younger man’s disapproving regard with a hard stare. “Cease looking at me that way. I am not breaking my vows. I
am
seeing to her needs. She is safe and well. She is intelligent enough to stay away from the cliffs and out of the western part of the forest, as I have warned her. She has shelter, food, clothing—”

“But that is not all a woman needs,” Keldan said with the all-knowing confidence of a groom on his wedding night. “According to the
Havamal
—”

“Do not quote that accursed book to me,” Hauk snapped, shaking off his friend’s restraining hand. “It tells you only how a marriage is to begin. It does not reveal how it ends. But I
know
how it ends—in a black pit of misery and torment. And I may not believe in the
Havamal
or tradition or the justness of the gods anymore, but I do believe in one thing. I believe in sparing myself misery and torment.” He nodded toward Keldan’s home. “Your little cottage in a meadow by the sea is idyllic now, but it will change, Kel.
She
will change. Everything and everyone around us changes—”

“Mayhap someday when I am as old as you,” Keldan interrupted, “I will feel the same. But I hope not. And I think you are making a mistake, leaving your bride on your wedding night.”

“Well, it is my mistake to make.” Hauk turned again to leave.

Only to find Josette peeking out the door with wide eyes, watching the two of them argue.

“Milord?” she asked tentatively, opening the door a bit wider. “Please, what... what have you done with Avril? Is she all right? You have not—”

“Nay, milady, she is unharmed.” Hauk shook his head. Keldan’s little brunette seemed to fear they had been discussing some dire fate that had befallen her friend. “You may see her in the morn if you wish.”

She stepped outside when he started to walk away. “Please, milord, you cannot keep us here.” She gave Keldan a glare, as if she had been trying to explain that idea to him as well. “You must set Avril free.”

Hauk sighed, feeling the full weight of this endless day pressing down on him. “That I cannot do, milady. You ask for what is impossible.”

“But I am not sure you understand. She has a little daughter, at home in France—”

“I know. She told me. But there is naught that can be done.” As he looked down into a woman’s tear-filled eyes for the second time that night, regret tore at him with fresh, sharp claws. “I am sorry.”

Black lashes shaded her blue eyes as she glanced down at the ground. “But I...” Josette chewed at her lower lip, seemed to fight some inner battle. “I am not sure she has told you the full truth.”

“About what?”

“About her husband.” Still biting her lip, Josette lifted her gaze.

Hauk almost told her he did not care. It did not matter. He did not want to know aught more about this man in France who had claimed Avril heart and body and soul. Why should he?

“What of him?”

“I tell you only because it will make you understand why Avril must be set free.” Josette took a breath and spoke quickly. “Avril’s husband Gerard was killed three years ago. She is a widow.”

Hauk felt as if he had just been struck by a shower of hail. He could not speak.

She was a widow. She belonged to no other man.

Belonged to no man but
...

He sliced off the last word of that thought. Resisted the quick, hot surge of male possessiveness that shot through him. “It matters not.”

“But do you not see?” Josette asked plaintively. “Little Giselle lost her father before she was even born. You cannot take her mother from her as well. You must let Avril return to her daughter. You
must
. If you do not, the poor child will be an orphan.”

Hauk turned away from her, feeling the thorns return to his belly. He thought for a moment he was going to be sick.

Had he truly believed this day could get no worse?

“It matters not.” He heard himself repeat the words. Numbly. Like a chant that he might believe if he only said it enough times.

“How can you say that?” Josette gasped. “How can you be so heartless?”

“Keldan, take her inside,” Hauk ground out. He had had enough of everyone pointing out his flaws for one day.

Without another word to either of them, he strode away into the darkness, barely even aware of the direction he took.

He had made a child an orphan
.

T
he warm touch of the sun against her cheek made Josette stir. She yawned sleepily, listening to birds chirping somewhere outside her window. Oh, but this would not do at all. Her brothers were forever calling her a lazy little feather-wit, and here she was proving them right. Opening her eyes, she blinked in confusion at the scent of warm bread and cinnamon. Who had brought food to her bedchamber?

With a gasp of alarm, she remembered abruptly that she was not in Brittany. She sat up, wondering how she had come to be in the bed.

Bright sunlight poured through the open shutters, along with the summery-green smell of the meadow and the birds’ noisy songs. Brushing her tangled hair out of her eyes, she saw
him
there: her dark-haired captor, Keldan. Seated at a trestle table on the opposite side of his long, strange dwelling, he was peacefully eating his morning meal.

“Good morn,” he said in broken French, regarding her with a tentative smile. “Sleep well?”

Josette scrambled backward until she came up against the headboard, clutching the blankets to her chin. But he did not move, did not look as if he intended to pounce on her. Yet. She quickly glanced around. He had cleaned away the mess she had created last night, even washed the paneled walls that had been dripping with perfume and wine.

She frowned, trying to remember what had happened after his burly blond friend left them. She had planted herself in the corner, clutching a broken arm of the chair as a weapon, determined to protect her virginity. But she must have eventually fallen asleep.

Blushing, she realized
he
must have carried her to bed and covered her with the blanket. She gave him an accusing, suspicious stare.

But she was still fully clothed, except for her boots, which sat on the floor beside the bed. And judging by the rumpled bedding on the floor near the table, it appeared he had spent the night over on that side of the room.

He held out a basket filled with bread toward her, as if it were a peace offering. “Hungry?”

“Nay.” Her stomach growled at the tantalizing scent of cinnamon, declaring her a liar. “Nay, I do not want food, I do not want gifts, I do not want to be married to you, and I will not stay here with you for the rest of my life.”

He only shook his head and shrugged, clearly unable to follow her.

“On my oath, this is maddening!” Josette dropped the blankets. “Can you not understand even a word of what I am saying?”

He cocked his head to one side, still smiling at her.

She folded her arms. “I wager I could say anything I want to you. I could even call you a...” She returned his smile and spoke softly, sweetly. “An ugly, swaggering, bug-eyed beef-wit who has the manners of a toad and smells like old socks.”

His grin widened and those dark eyes warmed with what looked like hope.

His reaction to her insults almost made her laugh.

Instead, she sighed. “But none of that would be true,” she admitted reluctantly. “The truth is that you have behaved most chivalrously so far.”

She studied him for a moment, perplexed by this gentle warrior who had abducted her. The lean, muscled width of his shoulders and chest left her no doubt he was strong enough to impose his will by force if he chose. Yet he had not tried to so much as kiss her.

And his angular features, ready smile, and thick, glossy black hair made it impossible to call him ugly.

On the contrary, he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. It brought an unfamiliar, fluttery feeling to her stomach to think of him lifting her in his arms last night, carrying her to bed.

“I want to go
home
,” she said plaintively. “Do you not understand that much? I want to go home.”

“Josette.” He pointed to the floor, his voice gentle. “Home now,”

She understood his meaning—this was her home now. “That is
your
opinion, beef-wit.”