His Captive Bride (30 page)

Avril cringed and Hauk ruthlessly subdued the rage that shot through him, the protective urge that made him want to cross the deck and fasten his hands around Thorolf’s throat. “And what makes you think you have succeeded?” he challenged, trying to direct the whoreson’s attention away from Avril.

“I know I have succeeded. I discovered your father’s error—the elixir must not be stored in flasks of leather or wood or any material native to Asgard, for that renders it unstable. It must be kept in glass.” Thorolf withdrew a small, crystalline flask from a pouch at his waist. “Like this.”

Hauk stared at the ruby-colored liquid in the vial. It could be wine. He could be bluffing.

Or it might be true.

“If you are so confident,” he said with a growl, “then drink it.”

“I already have, hours ago. After I tested it on Keldan’s bride. I choked her and she spent hours in
langvarig sovn
,” Thorolf said triumphantly, clearly savoring the memory. “And then she awakened.”

Astonishment stole Hauk’s voice.

“I had more of the elixir, much more,” Thorolf continued, his look of pleasure dissolving. “But it is lost to me now. This is all that remains.”

“Hauk,” Avril said quietly, “what are we going to—”

“Avril, it will be all right,” he assured her in French. “I will think of something. Do not—”

“Cease.” Thorolf snarled. “What are you saying to her?”

“Turn the ship into the wind,” Avril suggested quickly.

He flashed her an anguished look. If the sail came around unexpectedly, it would knock Thorolf off his feet—but she might get her throat cut. “It will not work, little Valkyrie.”

“Cease!” Thorolf demanded, his hold on Avril tightening.

“She is afraid,” Hauk told him angrily. “I am trying to reassure her.”

Thorolf chuckled. “You are a fool, Valbrand.” He pressed the point of the blade against the tender underside of her chin, forcing her head up. “Why does she matter so much to you? I have never understood why so many of our kind care for these fragile, short-lived females.”

Avril shut her eyes with a muted sound of distress, clearly terrified. Hauk did not reply to Thorolf’s jibes, pain wrenching through his chest, sharper than the burning in his arm.

Chuckling, Thorolf lifted the glass vial he held, examining the sparkling red liquid in the moonlight. “Mayhap you would like to have this for yourself,
vokter
?” he taunted, extending the crystalline flask toward Hauk. “Think of it. You would be free to live with her in the outside world. To go wherever you wish.” He withdrew his hand, waving the vial in front of Avril’s face. “Or, if I chose, I could make her one of us. Ah, you would like that, would you not? To keep your wife with you forever?”

Hauk bit back a curse. “Even if your potion worked to make Josette
innfodt
, you cannot be certain it will work on you. The
utlending
are different from us—”

“Indeed they are. And in truth, I was not certain.” Thorolf looked back at the island, now barely visible in the distance, then he glanced over his shoulder and smiled.

He turned just enough to show Hauk. “But it does seem to be working, does it not?”

Hauk felt his heart slam against his ribs. The deep blade-cut in Thorolf’s shoulder had already closed. And the mark where Avril had bitten his arm had vanished. Thorolf’s wounds were healing.

Hauk’s were not.

“
Ja
, Valbrand, it does seem to be working,” Thorolf repeated with a smug expression. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you decided to try and stop me one last time. Now I shall not only be free, and a wealthy man—when I sell this elixir to whichever kings or princes are willing to pay my price—but I shall also have the pleasure of watching you die.”

Hauk cursed him. “Six days is a long time,” he spat. “I will kill you before—”

“
Nei
, you will not. You cannot.” Thorolf returned the vial to the pouch at his waist, chuckling. Fearless. “Mayhap, after you are dead, I will make your lovely bride immortal and keep her with me forever.” He drew the knife slowly down Avril’s throat, down the front of her tunic, between her breasts. “Imagine it,
vokter
—your wife, in my bed. Night after night, for all eternity.”

Hauk snarled an oath.

“
Ja
, it is a most pleasant thought,” Thorolf mused. “Mayhap I will even take her
before
you die.” He caught the front of Avril’s tunic on the tip of the blade, slicing it open. “So that you may watch.”

Avril uttered a strangled sound, eyes wide with terror. A white-hot fury descended on Hauk. He was not about to let Thorolf make good on his threats.

And the knife was at last away from her throat.

“Avril, get ready to break free of him.”

“
Aye
.”

“What are you saying now?” Thorolf asked mockingly. “Telling her farewell already?”

“
Nei
.” Without warning, Hauk pushed the tiller all the way to starboard, turning the ship abruptly, sharply. Thorolf lost his balance and Avril pushed free of his grasp, diving toward the deck as the sail came around and knocked Thorolf off his feet.

Hauk launched himself forward. Thorolf was already getting up, bellowing with rage. Avril scrambled out of the way as Hauk slammed into him. He heard her frightened cry as they fell to the deck, grappling, landing brutal, pounding blows with their fists.

The
knorr
plunged over the waves at the mercy of the wind and current. With no one controlling the rudder, it pitched and rolled dangerously, threatening to tip onto its side.

“Avril, the tiller!” Hauk shouted.

He glimpsed her rushing toward the stern, out of harm’s way, just as Thorolf struck him in his wounded arm. Pain exploded through his shoulder. His hand, his arm, tingled and went numb.

He rolled sideways to avoid a second hit to his injured limb and lurched to his feet, barely avoiding the ship’s boom as it swung around. He looked for one of the blades they had used. Found none on the deck.

Thorolf closed in on him, black eyes glittering. Hauk managed to strike one blow with his good arm before Thorolf knocked him backward into the bulwark.

“You should have told her farewell when you could,” Thorolf said with a look of triumph, his hands closing around Hauk’s throat.

With his right arm weakened, Hauk could not break Thorolf’s stranglehold. He heard Avril scream as Thorolf bent him backward over the railing, ready to throw him over the side. He could feel the icy splash of the sea spray, the dark waters ready to swallow him.

Then all at once, something distracted Thorolf and he glanced to one side. Hauk followed his gaze. Saw that Thorolf’s legs had become tangled in a rope. Noticed what was attached to the other end at the same time Thorolf did.

The anchor stone.

In the next instant, Hauk lunged from Thorolf’s grasp. Choking on his own breath, he seized the rock and heaved it over the side.

Thorolf screamed in terror as the rope whipped over the edge of the boat. He grabbed the railing. But the weight of the anchor stone yanked him over.

Hauk dove toward him, tried to reach him in time, grabbed for his arm.

But his hand closed on empty air.

Thorolf was already gone, pulled beneath the waves.

“H
auk!” Avril lashed the tiller to keep it steady and ran toward him. He sank to the deck, gripping the railing, one hand still outstretched.

She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around him, unable to stop shaking. “God’s mercy, are you all right?”

He gathered her close, breathing hard. The wind and waves made the only sound in the darkness as she held him fiercely, trembling with all the fear she had felt during the brief, violent combat. She had been so terrified for him. Felt such gratitude to God that he was safe.

Had come so close to losing another man she loved.

After a long moment, he set her back from him, his gaze searching her face. “Are you all right, Avril? He did not—”

“I am unharmed.” She could not stop shivering, did not want to think about what Thorolf had meant to do to her, what would have happened if Hauk had not stopped him. “You are the one who is hurt.” The deep gash in his arm was bleeding profusely. She untucked her tunic from her belt and tore strips off the hem, all the while trying not to look at the rip down the front, cut by Thorolf’s blade.

Hauk did not flinch as she gingerly examined his wound. He barely seemed aware of the pain, turning his head to stare out over the black surface of the moonlit ocean.

“I cannot believe I took a life,” he said, his voice stark. “I killed him.”

“Are”—she swallowed hard—”are you certain he is dead?”

“Aye,” he choked out. “There are some things even an
innfodt
cannot survive. I killed him.”

“Hauk,
he
was trying to kill
you
,” she reminded him, gently wrapping the cloth around his arm. “And I did not see any remorse in his face when he had you over the railing and was about to—” She left the sentence unfinished, knotted the bandages in place. “And you saved me,” she said softly. “Again.”

He nodded, still looking stunned by what he had been forced to do.

She touched his cheek, wishing she could ease his distress. Thorolf had shown no conscience, no hesitation in hurting Hauk, and Keldan and Josette, and mayhap others, but that fact could not ease Hauk’s sense of guilt.

Though he was a warrior by training and by duty, in his heart Hauk was a man of peace. Even to save her, to save himself, to protect his people, he would not have taken a life by choice.

“Hauk, why
was
Thorolf so determined to leave Asgard?” she asked quietly. “What was in that small flask that seemed to please him so?”

“Thorolf claimed he had discovered Asgard’s secret. Created a potion of eternal youth, based on my father’s work.” Hauk met her gaze. “He said he tested it on Josette after he kidnapped her.”

“God’s breath, he must have been
mad
.”

“Mayhap, but I am not certain. His wounds were healing, Avril. Out here, beyond Asgard. And Josette...” He shook his head. “Thorolf said he had made her one of us. That she is now
innfodt
.”

Avril stared at him in shock. “But how is that possible?”

“I do not know. If in truth he discovered the secret, it died with him,” Hauk clenched his jaw, looking over the railing. “He carried his accursed flask with him to the bottom of the sea.”

Avril could not begin to make sense of any of it. At the moment, Hauk’s injury was her most important concern. “We have to go back to Asgard,” she urged quietly. “Your arm needs to heal.”

He did not reply, drawing her close with his other arm, resting his cheek against the top of her head. She noticed that his breathing was fast and shallow, could feel tension in his body, and feared that his wound was causing him more pain than he was letting her know.

Then, slowly, he pulled back from her embrace and stood up.

He moved toward the mast to trim the sails, knotting them in place. “We are not going back.”

“W-what? What do you mean? We
must
go back. Unless you can experience your healing sleep here—”

“Nay, outside of Asgard, I am as mortal as you. For six days. After that, I—”

“Then we have to return to Asgard at once!” Avril looked over her shoulder. They had left the island so far behind, she could no longer even see it in the moonlit darkness.

“Avril, I am not taking you back with me,” he said in that quiet, unyielding tone. He moved to the stern, taking the tiller and turning the ship. Southeast. Away from the island. “It is two days to Antwerp from here and two days back. I will return in ample time to heal.”

Stunned, she could scarcely find breath to speak. “What are you saying?”

“I am taking you home.” He met her gaze as she moved toward him, his jaw set. “I am setting you free, Avril. I cannot keep you with me on Asgard any longer. You were meant to be free, and so is your daughter. Your little one needs you and I will not keep you from her any longer.”

Avril felt a dizzying explosion of emotions all at once. Surprise and disbelief and sorrow collided inside her.
He was setting her free.
Was doing what she had wanted, pleaded, prayed for from the beginning.

Then why did she feel such misery and pain?

“But why now? Hauk, you said you would never—you would be breaking the laws!”

“You matter more to me than the laws, little Valkyrie,” he said hoarsely. “One day I will lose you—if not now, then fifty years from now. You will be gone, and I will go on. The only difference will be whether I made a child an orphan. The laws be damned, I cannot do that to you, or to her. What
I
want does not matter. What she needs is more important.”

A sob escaped her as she went to him, wrapping her arms around him, feeling her heart torn in two.

He was acting like a father.

The most honorable, strong, loving father she could ever want for her child.

She rested her cheek against the hard muscles of his chest. “But Hauk, what... what will the elders do to you for breaking the law?”

He shrugged, as if it were of little concern. “There is no way to know.”

“But you said...” She lifted her head, trying to remember what he had told her about how the council punished those who broke Asgard’s laws. “Will they banish you to some remote part of the island? Place you in solitary imprisonment?”

He did not answer her. Did not even look at her.

“Solitary imprisonment?” she guessed from his stoic expression, all the breath leaving her lungs. “Hauk, for how long? Ten years? Fifty?” She felt a chill steal through her heart. “A hundred? I cannot let you—”

“The decision is mine,” he said firmly. “And I have made it.”

“But I cannot
bear
the thought of you enduring that. Not that.”

“I am accustomed to being alone,” he said hollowly, his voice almost lost in the wind. “And I have already broken another law. When I return home, I will have to inform the elders that I killed Thorolf.”

“But they cannot punish you for that! You were doing your duty. You risked your life to stop him from stealing your ship, from leaving, because of your
duty
. And you were fighting for your life. You had no choice—”

“I was not thinking of my duty when I attacked him, Avril. And what Thorolf did does not change what
I
did. When I killed him, I broke the most sacred of our laws.”

She buried her face against his chest, unable to endure thinking of what he might suffer. He drew her in close with his injured arm, keeping his other hand on the tiller.

“You are cold,” he said gently. “I have a cloak and other garments, there beneath that plank amidships. And food and drinking water, as well.”

Silent, numb, Avril went to where he indicated and found a hinged panel that opened to reveal a storage compartment beneath the deck. Hauk apparently kept his ship well stocked for his reconnaissance voyages. She took out a warm, fur-lined cloak, a flask of water, and some salve for his wounded arm.

She returned to stand next to him in the stern, caring for his wound, still shivering in the wind’s cold bite. It was hard to remember that it was autumn, here in the rest of the world, beyond the warm paradise that was Asgard Island.

She started to wrap the cloak around his broad shoulders when she finished, but he insisted she take it, tenderly enfolding her in its warmth. Trembling, she sank down beside him, sitting at his feet as he guided the ship southeast, not sure she would ever feel warm again.

The first hint of dawn slipped over the eastern edge of the world and turned the dark horizon to gray.

She should feel happy. She was going home to Giselle, at last.

Instead, she felt all shivery and brittle inside, as if she were about to splinter into pieces. She reached up and touched Hauk’s hand. “I do not want to leave you.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his fingers closing around hers. “I do not want you to go. But this is how it must be.”

They fell silent for a long moment.

“You must remember never to tell anyone where you were, Avril, never whisper a word about Asgard.”

She started to cry.

“And I would...” His voice choked out for a moment, sounded thick when he spoke again. “I would ask one more promise of you.” He drew her up to stand beside him.

She averted her gaze, trying to be brave and strong and failing utterly. “I will grant whatever you ask.”

“Then find a husband who will love you, and take care of you and Giselle, and give you more children to love.”

Tears blurred her vision as she looked up. “But you are my husband,” she whispered. “You are my husband, Hauk Valbrand.”

His jaw tightened until deep lines bracketed his mouth. She reached up to touch his face.

“It was not meant to be, little Valkyrie,” he said softly. “The gods are not so kind.”

She shook her head, unwilling to believe that. “God does not want us to live without love. It is what makes life meaningful and precious, whether it lasts a lifetime or”— she caressed his cheek—”or only a handful of days.”

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.