Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set (56 page)

His arm came around her shoulders, and he drew her against him. She clung to him, buried her face against his shoulder.
Only a handful of days
. It was not fair, that this would be all they would ever have—two final days, spent at sea, in the cold.

Nay, she did not want this to be her last memory of him.

Tilting her mouth up to his, she brushed a kiss across his lips.

There were no words between them. Only his mouth suddenly covering hers in a deep, infinite kiss. She could feel the tension within him, the way his muscles tightened beneath her fingertips when she slid her hands over his chest, down his ribs. A groan escaped him, filled with deep pain and deeper need. Fumbling, quickly, he secured the tiller.

And then he was falling with her down to the deck, and there was only the soft fur of the cloak beneath them, and the stars above giving way to the morning. And the yearning. The love in her heart. She wanted to lose herself to him, to be his once more, if only for a brief moment. One last, timeless moment.

His hands slipped beneath her garments, seeking and finding her softness, her body, and she could see his eyes darken with passion—the deep blue she had seen in her dreams.

A tear, unbidden, slipped from her lashes, and he caught it on his fingertip.

“Avril,” he murmured hoarsely, nuzzling her cheek.

Gathering him close, whispering his name, she kissed him, wanting to hold him and be held, to caress and feel cared for, wanting to give to him all she felt, all she was.

He slipped her tunic over her head, baring her to his gaze in light that might have come from moon or sun. Cold air, cold sea spray could not compete with hot kisses, the hot friction of skin against skin. She arched beneath him, felt his hands gliding over her. He aroused her so gently, with such tenderness, that she thought she could actually feel her heart breaking.

His fingers sought and found her feminine heat, brushing over her until need made her cry out softly. It seemed to take forever, a lifetime, before he finally became part of her, gathering her to him and possessing her fully as he already possessed her heart. The feel of him slowly becoming part of her, all heat and hardness and velvety steel, brought a moan from her lips, a soul-deep sound of longing and passion and exquisite, bittersweet pleasure.

Her hips arched to take him deeper and he began moving powerfully inside her, leaving her breathless. The rhythm of the ship and the sea became the rhythm of their bodies, flowing together, rising and falling. The sounds of the surf and the wind and their sighs filled the dawn as he filled her body.

She clung to him as she had once clung to the shattered pieces of her past, and she felt healed and whole and alive. More than alive.
Loved
. This gentle warrior had shown her how much love she still needed, how much love she could still feel. He had changed her life. Changed everything.

And soon she must lose him.

God, nay. Nay, please do not take him from me.

But not even heaven could keep them together. They could only cling to the present, this hour, this sweetest of moments. And try not to think of the morrow.

She surrendered herself to him, again and again, losing herself to the fierce power and passion of his lovemaking.

And when the sun filled the sky with light, she felt agonizingly aware of the cold bite of autumn and a darkness descending inside her that even the ascending sun could not pierce.

The docks of Antwerp bustled with traders and ships from every corner of the earth. All along the wharf, merchants haggled over prices in dozens of languages, inspecting goods and counting out coins, while sailors filled the air with lilting tunes in deep, salty voices as they unloaded their cargo and headed off to the taverns for the night.

There were so many people, Hauk thought. All of them foreign,
utlending
.

Her people.

The winds, curse them, had been favorable, carrying his
knorr
swiftly to Antwerp in just less than two days. He had wanted to slow down as the coast of Avril’s homeland came into view. But he knew it would not help to prolong their parting.

And, though he tried not to let her know it, he was not feeling well. His wounded arm pained him, and fatigue made him light-headed. He knew he needed to return to Asgard at once.

To whatever fate awaited him.

After he had secured his ship to one of the crowded piers, Avril threw herself into his arms. He held her close, one last time, trying to memorize the feel of her as evening fell and stars lit the sky with shades of pearl gray and amethyst.

Then he helped her onto the dock and did not try to follow.

“I still say I should accompany you until you find this
beau-frère
of yours,” he said.

Avril shook her head, blinking hard. “You have to return home. Do not worry about me. Gaston will have men searching for me everywhere, and since I disappeared from Antwerp, they will focus their efforts here. It will not be hard to find them.”

Hauk tried to think of something more to say, and could not.

She stood there, wrapped in her borrowed cloak, so brave. So beautiful. He had never known a lady like her. And never would again.

From somewhere deep inside him, past the sorrow and the ache in his heart, the words came out on a single breath. “I love you, little Valkyrie.”

Her eyes seemed to shimmer with emerald brightness. “I love you, husband.”

Those would be the last words he ever shared with her—those words, not farewell. His eyes burning, Hauk reluctantly took the rope from around the pier, and used one of the oars to push away from the dock, and began to row.

She did not move, watching him, as he watched her until his ship was too far away... until she was naught but a distant silhouette in the fading light.

Until he could no longer see her at all.

M
oonlight poured in through the tall, arched window, bathing Avril in the glistening colors of stained glass. She sat on a tasseled pillow in the window seat, humming softly to Giselle, cherishing the sweet weight of her daughter in her arms. Though her
petite papillon
, her little butterfly, had fallen asleep some time ago, Avril did not move, simply holding her, running her fingertips over Giselle’s raven curls, caressing her round, rosy cheeks, so peaceful in sleep.

The ride from Antwerp had taken almost three days, even at a gallop. Since returning to Gaston and Celine’s chateau this afternoon, Avril had offered a hundred prayers of thanksgiving for being reunited with her daughter... and yet her homecoming had not brought the happiness and contentment she had anticipated during her first days on Asgard.

Everything here was exactly the same. Exactly as she had left it.

Only she herself seemed different. Out of place, somehow.

Mayhap because she had left part of her heart and soul on that warm island in the center of a cold sea.

She hoped and prayed that Hauk had reached home safely. That the council of elders would be lenient with him.

She could not bear that she might never know what had become of him.

There was a knock at the door. Avril glanced up. “Come in,” she whispered, careful not to wake her daughter.

Celine entered, wearing a dressing robe, her long red hair trailing down her back. “I thought I would find you in here.” She smiled at finding Avril still cradling her little girl, came to sit beside her.

“I cannot bring myself to put her to bed,” Avril explained softly. “I do not think I will ever let her go again.”

“I don’t blame you.” Celine picked up a fabric doll Giselle had dropped, tucking it back into the little girl’s hold with a mother’s natural ease. “If I were away from Soren for a fortnight, I think I would go mad.”

“I am so grateful to you and Gaston for taking care of her, Celine. And for not telling her that I was missing.”

“We thought it best not to frighten her. Gaston was the one who decided we should simply tell her that you had been delayed in Antwerp for a few days.”

A few days
, Avril thought. It seemed she had been on Asgard much longer than that. How could her whole life have changed, in so short a time?

“But if you hadn’t returned this week,” Celine continued quietly, “I’m not sure how much longer she would’ve believed us.”

Avril swallowed hard, preferring not to think of that. She could only be grateful that the separation had proved to be much harder on herself than on Giselle. “Thank you.”

“Avril,” Celine said after a moment, “Gaston is still rather upset—”

“I know. I know he is angry with me.”

“Not angry. Only concerned. We’re both so relieved to have you back alive and unhurt, but you must understand how he...” Celine turned slightly in the window seat, facing her. “It was rather surprising to have you reappear in Antwerp so suddenly, saying only that you were taken hostage by mistake in a feud between two warring families. Why can’t you tell us who these noblemen were, or where they took you? Gaston would like to—”

“I have tried to explain as best I can, Celine. There is no
need
for Gaston to go charging off to seek justice. They set us free once they realized they had abducted the wrong women. And we were well treated. I was not harmed.”

Celine regarded her with a puzzled look. “And Josette decided to stay with them.”

Avril sighed. It pained her to have to be so secretive with her own family. “Sometimes,
ma soeur
, the heart makes choices that defy reason.”

Celine reached out to touch her shoulder. “Avril,” she said gently, “I know you may have been reluctant to speak freely in front of Gaston and his men, but...” She tilted her head, her eyes searching Avril’s face. “Is there anything you want to tell me? You said that your abductors didn’t hurt you in any way, but you seem... troubled.”

Avril blinked hard, forced a smile. “I am fine, Celine. Truly.”

“You know you can tell me anything. I would keep it between the two of us.”

Avril lowered her gaze. Celine was always so perceptive, especially when it came to matters of the heart. And Avril desperately wanted to pour out all that she was feeling. All the pain and loss and love and worry.

But she must never speak a word about Hauk, to anyone. Not even to Celine.

“I am sorry,
ma soeur
, but I must ask you to understand.”

Celine nodded and dropped the subject. “I know that there are some secrets that simply can’t be told,” she said quietly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you. Thank you for understanding.”

“Good night, Avril.” Her
belle-soeur
stood, her expression soft, her skin aglow in the moonlight—that special glow of a beloved woman who had a child growing within her.

Avril felt a pang of envy so strong it made her hurt inside. “Good night,
ma soeur
.”

Celine headed for the door. “I think I’d better go back to my bedchamber and try to soothe Gaston’s ruffled feathers.”

Avril smiled. If anyone could accomplish that, Celine could.

Her
belle-soeur
paused one last time at the door, looking over her shoulder. “Welcome home.”

Home
, Avril thought, the word bringing a bittersweet ache to her heart as Celine closed the door behind her. Resisting the uncomfortable feeling, Avril stood and carried Giselle to her small bed, tucking the covers around her, dusting a kiss in her dark hair. Then she straightened and went to the window.

Looking out at the chapel in the forest, she closed her eyes.

And slipped the wedding band from her finger.

She held the circle of gold in her hand for a long time, remembering all the cherished moments that it represented, and then she walked to the hearth. Reaching up, she placed it in a lacquered box on the mantel that held Giselle’s most precious belongings.

“For you,
ma petite papillon
,” she whispered. “He will be with us, in our hearts, forever.”

Closing the box’s lid, she felt a sense of peace steal through her... at least about her past. As she slipped out through the door that led to her own bedchamber, she did not want to think about her future.