The Heart's Warrior (33 page)

Thick lashes fringed her eyes, her breath teasing the furs. Her impudent nose that crinkled whenever she laughed or grew angry was thrust against his pillow, inhaling deeply. She stretched, her mouth curving in a sated smile. As she opened her eyes, she gazed up at his face and stifled a yawn. His naked chest was open to her view and she brushed her fingers against him. Tingles of pleasure covered his skin. He stared at her eyes, so intensely green, their beauty almost stole his breath. He marveled that his scarred body seemed to hold no

repugnance for her. Truly, it was a miracle, yet he still could not help feeling self-conscious about the ugly scars.

Reaching up, she twined her fingers in the damp hair framing his face. She brushed her hand across his cheek, a lover’s caress. As if no harsh words had ever passed between them.

Shivers of delight swept him and he pressed a kiss to her open palm. All anger and recriminations seemed gone.

Yet, his heart felt heavy with regret. First Bjorn, now Sigurd. He’d give anything if Kerstin’s magic spells could bring them back.

Did she practice black magic? He didn’t know what to believe. He only knew what he felt. Loss. Deep and wrenching.

“You shaved.” She breathed the words.

He chuckled. “Not all of us laze about when there’s work to be done.”

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She gazed about the dark room. “It’s not even dawn yet.” Though he longed to remain beneath the warm covers with her, there was a matter of business they must attend to before he left with his men. “Get up, lazy girl.

We have a chore to do ere I depart.”

“Chore? What do you have in mind?” she asked, her voice a silky purr.

He gritted his teeth and groaned. Moving away from her clinging hands, he stood and pulled her out of bed.

Her lips opened in surprise and he almost kissed her.

Knowing if he did so, it would steal what little time they had left together, he moved away and left the room while she dressed.

When he returned for her, Kerstin had combed her

hair and sat on the bed, waiting.

“Come with me.” He held out his hand.

An uncertain frown furrowed her brow when she saw the thick bathing cloths he had folded beneath his arm.

“What are those for? Where are you taking me?” She grasped his hand and stepped with him outside the hall.

“You will see.”

In the crisp darkness, he led her across the shadowed fields and over the hill to a secluded spot along the river where the water was deep enough to swim but not so deep she couldn’t stand in it. By the time they arrived, the sun peeked over the low hills surrounding them, splaying enough light to see what they were doing.

There, he taught her to swim. At first, she acted skittish. Gradually, she came to trust him and, within a most pleasurable hour, she learned to float and paddle like a dog. Satisfied with these results, he promised to teach her more after his return from battle. Then, he guided her from the water. He wrapped her chilly body in the bathing cloths and carried her to a tall oak tree.

There, he lay with her in the sweet grass. She threw her head back, her long hair spilling over them. Her hands cradled his head and her fingers threaded through his damp hair.

His infinite gentleness appeared to amaze her. She quivered against him and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her. Deep, soul-wrenching kisses that tasted of 225

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their passion.

He rested beside her and she spread the bathing

cloth over them. Her moist lips felt swollen from his kisses, her limbs weak from their exertions.

Jonas squeezed her hand. She moved nearer, into the crook of his arm, pliant and welcoming. He took

advantage of the invitation to kiss her again. The temptation to delay his journey one more day caused him to tighten his hold around her. He longed to remain here with her in the shade where they could forget about war.

For now, he could almost pretend no troubles existed between them.

He drew back with a reluctant sigh and returned her contented smile. She looked away, her eyes filling with a wistful sadness. She also knew the time had come for them to part.

A morose silence settled over them.

“Did you love her?” Kerstin asked.

Caught off-guard, he rose up on his elbow. He rested his chin in one hand while he stretched the other across her stomach. “Who?”

“Your first wife.”

His stomach tightened. “You know about Olga?”

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes as she chewed her bottom lip. “Yes, when you were ill, Sigurd told me how she died.”

He tilted his head back and gazed at the river. The sting of that day would be imprinted on his mind forever.

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“But did you love her?”

He threw off the cloth and came to his feet. The

memory of the fire, the haze of smoke and flames, flashed through his brain. And the shrieking pain.

For months after it happened, he wished Bjorn

hadn’t pulled him from the burning hall. He’d prayed for death. Olga was gone and he would be crippled for life.

But Bjorn wouldn’t let him die. Once his wounds were healed well enough, Bjorn carried him to the river and forced him to swim, to strengthen his arms and legs so he wouldn’t lose their use. Jonas screamed to be left alone, but Bjorn refused. Even when Jonas swung a fist at his brother’s jaw, Bjorn taunted him and stepped away, 226

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forcing Jonas to follow so he could hit him again. Bjorn egged him on, anything to get Jonas to move. By the time Jonas realized Bjorn’s ploy, he was walking without support. With Bjorn by his side, Jonas worked his body until he grew strong again. He owed everything to Bjorn.

His respect, his love, his life.

And Kerstin may have caused his death.

Now jealousy and hurt pounded his heart. Kerstin

craved Elezer, yet she wanted to know if he had loved Olga. What right did she have to question him about his dead wife when she longed for another man?

He watched as she plucked a blade of grass,

shredding it with her slender fingers. She seemed caught up in her thoughts. “I’m sorry you’ve lost so much, Jonas.

I never meant to distress you.”

He wanted to believe her. He really did. But too

much stood between them. Hate and distrust. He couldn’t seem to find a way to breach the distance.

“And what about Elezer?” she asked.

He cringed, feeling as though she had doused him

with a bucket of icy water. To throw Elezer at him now was almost more than he could stand. His throat

tightened. “What about him?”

“I don’t love him, Jonas. I haven’t loved him for some time. Will you believe me?”

No, he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when she had made it clear how much she cared for the man. Not when she had run to Elezer to avoid marriage and cried out his name in a moment of passion.

Why would she dredge all of this up right now? It stole the tranquil moment, grinding his heart to a pulp.

Raking a hand through his hair, Jonas reached for his clothes and pulled them on with stiff jerks. He longed to erase Elezer’s memory from her mind. Would killing the man do the trick? He’d love to find out. Nothing would bring him greater pleasure.

“Jonas?” she called and he heard the hesitation in her voice.

She wanted answers he was unable to give. At first, he thought she had murdered his brother. Now, he didn’t know what to believe. If she didn’t kill Bjorn, who did?

Regardless, Jonas could not make her forget Elezer.

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Anger pulsed over Jonas and he tried to calm

himself. He shook his head, not daring to speak. He feared what he might say, what he might do.

Finally, he took a deep breath. “Leave it alone,

Kerstin. Just leave it alone.”

She bit her bottom lip and dressed slowly. A

deafening silence settled between them. How he longed to take her in his arms again, to kiss her until she breathed
his
name in ecstasy. How he wished he could win her love.

It would never be, and his heart felt like a hollow shell. Empty and forlorn.

He led her back across the hill, taking her arm when she stumbled over a clump of grass. He gazed at the golden fields, realizing it all belonged to him now, and he ached to have his father beside him again.

As they reached the pasture where his sheep grazed, he heard the low thrum of a bullhorn heralding an approaching ship. He quickened his pace, eager to hear news of the battle, wondering who could be here this early in the morning. Another hour and he would be gone, racing toward York with his own ships.

When they reached the steading, it hummed with

activity. Boys gathered firewood and fetched water from the well. Warriors milled about the yard having just returned from battle, their hair matted with sweat, blood and dirt.

Turning his head, Jonas caught sight of Elezer

standing by the stable. Fury tightened his gut. Elezer was more than daring to come here of all places. Jonas would kill him now, and free the world of a vile curse.

Leaving Kerstin’s side, Jonas strode toward the

crowd of men and women gathered around the man.

Elezer’s voice sounded loud and clear as he told them how he had nearly been killed in battle, but his greater skill saved him at the last moment. Always eager to hear a good tale, the people “ooed” and “awed” as they listened.

The fools. Several warriors standing close by snorted and rolled their eyes with disgust, then moved away so they wouldn’t have to listen to Elezer’s nonsense. They knew firsthand of his cowardice in battle.

Jonas locked his jaw, his gaze raking Elezer. No

blood stains, bruises, scrapes or cuts covered him like the 228

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other warriors who had been at war. Not a single dent or scratch marred Elezer’s shield and helm. Except for his wrinkled clothing, the man looked unharmed and

unflustered.

The liar. Rage blazed inside Jonas, until his ears roared with it. Clenching his hands, he plowed through the gathering to get at the other man.

Elezer turned and saw Kerstin. Jonas saw Elezer’s gaze take in her damp clothing and hair, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. She looked like she had just come from a lover’s tryst, which she had.

Elezer smiled suggestively, his eyes all over her.

Jonas saw a red haze of fury.

His wife!

When she saw Elezer, Kerstin came up short, her

mouth dropping open in surprise. Jonas paused in stride, waiting for her shriek of delight at finding Elezer here. He waited for tears of joy to trickle down her cheeks.

Jonas’s gut tightened again. He couldn’t stand it.

With a low growl, he drew his dagger. Where was his sword when he needed it?

The moment Elezer spotted him, the lewd smile

dropped from his face, replaced by a look of terror. He backed away, holding out his hands, his eyes wide with fear. “Wa—wait, Jonas! I’m here on the king’s business.

Wait!”

Jonas paused, breathing hard, his feet crunching

kernels of corn spread upon the ground for the chickens.

“Why have you come here?” he snarled.

Swallowing convulsively, Elezer could barely get the words out. “The king—he sent me to bring you his

location and bids you come to him with haste. I—I’ve also come to fetch more supplies.” His eyes almost bulged from his head as he stared at the dagger gripped in Jonas’s hand.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonas saw Kerstin’s face go pale and a cruel laugh sprang from his chest. Did she fear he might kill her precious Elezer? Oh, how badly he wanted to.

Elezer’s uncertain gaze swiveled back to Jonas and he inclined his head toward Kerstin. “It seems marriage agrees with her.”

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The people around them grew silent at the jest.

Kerstin’s cheeks flushed with color and her spine stiffened. She glanced at Jonas, her face contorted in a glare of disgust. His heart wrenched as she turned and walked toward the hall.

Jonas didn’t know what she wanted from him. Kill

Elezer for insulting her, or pat him on the back? Either way, she still didn’t want her true husband. Even after the passion they had shared, she turned away from him in the presence of her lover. As he watched her go, Jonas squeezed his fingers around the hilt of his dagger, longing to plunge it deep in the other man’s chest. But that would be murder and the king would have him put to death for the deed. And if his life was spared, the act would win him Kerstin’s undying hatred.

It was almost worth it, to be rid of Elezer, but he had his mother to consider, and his honor. Jonas also couldn’t stand the thought of Kerstin shedding tears of grief over Elezer.

Facing the other man, Jonas sheathed his dagger, his hands trembling with reluctance. He soothed his nerves by promising there would come a day when he would
not
put the blade aside. Someday soon—

****

As she stepped through the open doorway, she looked up and froze at what she saw.

Screaming with delight, she raced toward the large fire pit. “Einar! Oh, Einar.”

Her brother sat in a chair beside the fire. Tovi knelt upon the floor at his feet, bending over his left leg while Letta offered him a cup of ale. Kerstin embraced him, cognizant that he didn’t rise to meet her.

“Sister.” He spoke in a fond whisper as he caressed her cheek.

She drew back to look at him—and saw the gash in

his pant leg and a fair amount of blood covering his lower thigh. “You’re injured.”

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