Warrior Untamed (26 page)

He would see that sparkle of life back in her eyes, no matter what it took.

A quick glance around and he headed out, dragging her along behind him toward the workshops.

“What do you think yer about?” she demanded, running to keep up with his determined steps.

“Doing what needs to be done,” he answered, more sure than ever about the course he’d chosen. “What should have been done long ago.”

Heat billowed from the forge where the smithy worked his iron, shimmering in the air around them.

He had intended to consult with the Faerie, Syrie, to determine Fenrir’s fate. As Orabilis had warned, the Beast could not be left in the Mortal world. The temptation for someone, at some time in the future, to call upon his evil power would be too great.

Wyddecol, the home world of the Fae, was a possibility, but who could say how the Faeries would respond to such a request?

No, now that he’d thought it through, this truly was the best option.

Hall pulled the bag with the scrolls from his sporran and held it up for Bridget to see. “Do you still believe annihilation is the necessary consequence for the Beast?”

“I believe it is the only acceptable consequence to guarantee the future of our world. If the Beast is imprisoned, we both know he will be found and released upon the world again. It’s only a matter of time. Some other innocent like my father will die.”

She was right. It was what the Elves should have done a millennium ago. What he did now would simply right the wrong they’d perpetrated. To hell with what the gods of Asgard decreed. There would be no escape for Fenrir this time.

With an arm crooked above his eyes to protect against the billowing heat, Hall leaned toward the forge and tossed the bag inside, into the flames.

Never again would Fenrir plague the world.

Overhead, the skies rumbled with a thunder well beyond Hall’s control. The ground under their feet shuddered and rolled as if the planet itself responded to his action.

Hall wrapped his arms around Brie, covering her body with his own when they were thrown to the ground.

Lightning exploded through the heavens like some giant crazed spiderweb crackling across the sky as people in the courtyard ran for cover, their
screams drowned out by a ripping, tearing noise that filled the air and buffeted their ears.

When the noise finally ceased, the silence was almost as deafening as the noise had been. Gradually, a hubbub of excited, frightened voices filled the silence as people picked themselves up off the ground to begin to seek some understanding of what had just happened to them.

Hall helped Bridget to her feet, taking care to avoid her injured arm. “That’s that, then. Do you still feel as though you failed?”

Her mouth opened and closed twice before she managed to form words. “I canna believe you did that for me,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “I canna believe you destroyed the Beast.”

“Though I didn’t do it solely for you, I want you to know that I would gladly move heaven and earth to return the light of possibility to your eyes.” He lifted her hand to place a gentle kiss on her palm. “Seeing it shining there now assures me I did the right thing.”

“What have you done?” Syrie ran toward them from the keep, her skirts gathered in her arms so as not to slow her down. “What have you done?”

The little Faerie halted in front of him, breathless, her eyes wide with distress.

“I did what needed to be done. We’ll none of us ever have to fear Fenrir again. I destroyed the Beast by tossing the scrolls that bound him into the fire of the forge.”

Syrie’s hands flew up to cover her cheeks. “Do you have any conception of the magnitude of your actions? You’ve killed one of Asgard’s own creatures!”

Hall understood quite well what he’d done. It seemed to him it was the Faerie who didn’t understand.

“As one of Asgard’s own myself, it was my right to do so. Free will, I believe it’s called.”

He was Thor’s Rock, tasked with the well-being and security of those Mortals who’d found favor in Thor’s eyes. And he’d just ensured the well-being and security of untold generations of his grandfather’s followers.

Syrie took a deep breath, casting a worried gaze toward the sky before fixing it back on him. “Right or not, by your actions you’ve destroyed the tapestry woven by the Fates. You could well have changed everything—and you’ve certainly drawn the eyes of every god and goddess to this very place, to all of us. Your action has shaken the very foundations of the fabric of life.”

Bridget nudged against his side, slipping her hand into his as if to give him strength in his confrontation with the Faerie.

“Perhaps you are correct, Syrie. I may well have drawn the combined ire of Asgard and Wyddecol. But in doing so, I made the Mortal world a better place, and I’ve saved the woman with whom I would spend the rest of eternity. The woman I would have
as my wife.” He lifted Bridget’s hand to his lips and locked her gaze with his. “If she’ll have me.”

B
RIE
’
S WORLD REELED
out of control, as if she were caught in some amazing dream from which she never wanted to wake.

“If
I’ll
have
you
?” she managed at last. “Why would
you
want
me
? Yer a laird, a landed man of wealth and position. I’m but a painted wildling with nothing of value to my name. I am no one.”

Had he forgotten that he’d refused her for this very reason?

“Never say that. Never think it. You are Bridget MacCulloch, daughter of the House MacUlagh, descended from the Ancient Seven who ruled the land when not even the Roman invaders dared challenge all the way to the Northern Sea. You are the woman who has captured the heart of Hall O’Donar, lowly laird of the Thunder’s People in the Land of Mists.”

She’d captured his heart? Though that had been her dream, it was more than she’d dared to expect.

Syrie said, “Tell her what that really means, O’Donar. Tell her who your people are, who
you
really are, and what her life will be like if she agrees to your offer. She deserves that before she commits herself to you.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes, followed by a complete masking of his emotions. Did he not realize she didn’t care about any of that?

She said softly, “You’ve no need to tell me anything more, if you dinna choose to. I dinna care who yer people are. All that matters to me is who
you
are, and I already ken all that I need to about you.”

“No.” He squeezed her hand as the half smile she loved so much lifted the corners of his mouth. “The Faerie has the right of it. You deserve the whole of the truth. I am Thor’s Rock, a living descendent of Thor himself. I am his champion in the Mortal world. I told you once before that my life is not my own, and that was the truth. I am bound to go when and where he directs me, to answer the needs of his true believers and to see to their safety.”

“So yer the warrior I always thought you to be, am I right?”

“There’s more,” he said, as if once he’d started, he needed to unburden himself. “I am laird to a people and castle plagued by the Fae, as much as by the inhabitants of Asgard.”

“I beg your pardon!” Syrie huffed. “The Fae do not plague a place. We grace it with our presence for a time.”

“In that case,” Hall chuckled, the light of hope returning to his eyes, “my home, the place that will be our home together, has been more than amply
graced.
”

“It sounds to be an interesting place you promise as our home together.”

“Interesting, perhaps,” he agreed. “But I can never promise you a normal life. Many of my days,
great swaths of months on end, will be spent away from our home in service to Thor. I cannot change this.”

“I would never ask you to change it.” Brie pulled her hand from his to cup his cheek in her palm. “But I would ask you to understand that though you may be away from the land and buildings you call our home, our
true
home will always be wherever we are together. And wherever you go, I will go, so you will never truly be away from home again.”

“Then your answer is yes?”

“My answer is yes. With all my heart, yes.”

Hall crushed her in his embrace, lifting her from her feet to twirl her around as he covered her lips with his, submersing her in the heady haze his touch always brought.

Could her life get any better than spending it with the man she loved over any other?

It could, and would. She would share her home with the Viking gods of her father’s people, and with the Fae.

Her brother had been wrong. Not only had she not had her fill of adventure, the adventure of her life was only just beginning.

H
ALL GLANCED TOWARD
the western horizon, judging the position of the sun as it sank in the sky. He’d have to hurry to finish this task and still make it to the garden on time.

He didn’t want to keep his bride-to-be waiting; the woman had a temper on her. A smile broadened his face at the thought of Bridget in a full rage. She should have been born a redhead.

He made his way across the bailey to the blacksmith’s shed, where he peered into the forge. If his luck held, it wouldn’t take overly long to find the treasure he sought. Heat wafted out in waves to greet him as he poked the smithy’s tongs into the coals, digging around until at last he found what he hunted.

The soot-covered ruby glowed with heat as he pulled it out of the furnace and set it on the ground at his feet. Once it was cool enough to handle, he held it up to catch the day’s last bright rays.

His inspection revealed exactly what he’d expected. The jewel hadn’t escaped the effects of its
time in the fire. A jagged white crack ran the length of the ruby, deep inside the interior. The heat had burst it from the inside out. Still, the jewel held together, strong to the last, even after its beauty and monetary value had faded.

This little bauble had protected Bridget in her battle with the Beast, as his rowan-wood goat had once protected him. It deserved a better fate than being discarded with the fire’s ashes simply because its magic and value were gone.

Besides, it would make a perfect wedding gift for his perfect bride.

As he had done once before, he tied a long, thin strip of rawhide around the gem and finished by knotting the ends to form a crude necklace.

That would have to do for now, though he’d promise her better for later on.

Satisfied with his efforts, Hall dropped the gift into his sporran and headed for the garden to meet Bridget. His heart raced in anticipation of the rendezvous as if he hadn’t seen her in days.

Since they’d made public their intention to wed, they’d been allowed no time alone together at all. Considering all the obstacles her brother and uncle had placed between them in the past two days, Hall suspected the two men still chafed over being denied the right to choose who would marry Bridget.

But his Bridget was an inventive woman, outwitting even her ever-present relatives. At the midday meal, she’d managed to whisper to him as they’d
passed in the great hall, her message short but welcome.

The garden at sunset.

The remainder of the day had dragged for him as if the hours were weeks.

He rounded the corner of the garden wall, hardly daring to believe his wait was over, half fearing he’d imagined her words in his desire to be with her.

But Bridget herself sat on the garden bench. The sun shone around her like a halo, and just like that, nothing else mattered. Not her family, not the delay in seeing her, nothing other than this moment in time.

She spotted him immediately. Her face broke into the most beautiful smile he’d seen in days as she hopped up to run to his open arms.

Mindful of her bandaged arm, he pulled her close and breathed in the clean, sweet scent of her. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” she murmured in return, her lips tracing a path over his cheek as her hand slid up his neck and into his hair. “I thought I’d never get away from those women. Syrie has hardly left my side, and the good Lady Danielle has her heart set upon something she calls a hen party for this evening. She claims it’s a necessity before a wedding, though I’ve never heard of the like before. Only by asserting a great need for rest before we tackle the chickens was I able to sneak away.”

Sneaking away had never sounded so good. As
it did every time Hall touched Bridget, his body responded immediately to the feel of her in his arms, and his mind raced, trying to imagine where they might find a moment of seclusion.

“Is there no place in the whole of this damned castle where we can be alone?” Bridget asked, proving once again how perfect she was for him, her mind and his in perfect sync.

“You’ve all the time in the world to be alone.” Jamesy had somehow managed to arrive unnoticed. “
After
tomorrow.
After
yer safely wed.”

“You do realize that we spent days alone together as we traveled?” The glare Bridget directed at her brother would have skewered a lesser man.

“I do,” he answered. “And you will again, little sister. After tomorrow, and no before.”

Hall’s body ached at the prospect of letting this woman go so soon. “I suppose it would be bad form to murder the man who is to be my new brother?” he whispered in Bridget’s ear.

“Mayhap,” she answered on a sigh, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “But as he’s already my brother, I could gladly do it for you.”

“Come on with you,” Jamesy encouraged with a broad grin. “I’ve no desire to stand out here shivering in the cold while the two of you anguish over one another.”

With another heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes, Bridget turned to head toward her brother.

“Wait.” Hall stopped Brie before she could leave,
remembering the gift he’d brought. “I have something for you. A wedding gift.”

He pulled the necklace from his sporran and dropped it over Bridget’s head, envying the jewel as it fell into place between her lovely breasts.