Twin Passions (45 page)

He shifted his weight above her, his tongue licking his
cracked lips. "'If
na
' for the old woman who
found me, I would have died for sure. But I did
na
'
die. I have been waitin' these many months, waitin' for the right moment to
have my revenge!" He laid the cold steel of his blade across her throat. "When
you taste the kiss of my knife, when I twist it into your heart, only then will
you know half the torment I've suffered because o' you, Garric."

Gwendolyn felt a cold chill course through her at his
words, but she did not allow herself to panic. God's blood! If she could only
get the knife away from him, she thought, her mind working fast, at least then
she might have a chance. She could see he was mad beyond all reason. Perhaps if
she could confuse him, even for a moment . . .

She found her voice once again. "B-but, Svein, you
are mistaken. My name is not Garric—'tis Anora!"

"Anora?" he repeated, his pale eyes widening.
"Nay, you lie!" he hissed. "She has long, beautiful hair, like
spun silver
— "

"I c-cut it off!" Gwendolyn stammered, trying
to stay calm despite the fierce beating of her heart. "S-see for yourself,
Svein . . .
tear
my tunic if you must . . ."
Sweet Jesu!
she
prayed fiercely.
Protect me!
She
watched breathlessly as Svein's eyes moved from her face to her heaving chest.
He laid his knife on the ground beside her, then took the linen fabric of her
tunic in both his hands and ripped it easily from collar to hem. He gasped in
surprise as her rounded breasts were bared to his stunned gaze.

Gwendolyn waited no longer. With every ounce of her
strength she brought her knee up and drove it into his groin. Svein screamed in
pain and doubled over on top of her, but she shoved him off roughly and
scrambled to her feet. He lunged for her, but only managed to wrench the cloak
from her shoulders before she was off and running along the bank of the fjord
as fast as her legs would carry her. She breathed in great gulps of air that
hurt her lungs, and her sides ached horribly, but she did not stop.

"Anora!" Svein shrieked, as he dragged
himself to his feet. He snatched his knife from the ground and set out after
her. His enraged cries could be heard even above the surging roar of the
waterfall. They echoed off the steep sides of the mountains, over and over
again. "Anora!"

Gwendolyn glanced over her shoulder, cold fear gripping
her as she saw that he was narrowing the distance between them. Suddenly she
slipped on the grass, wet from the mist of the waterfall, and fell heavily to
the ground. For a moment she was stunned. She did not hear the thundering
hooves fast approaching her from the direction of the settlement, nor the
spirited snorting of a horse as it was reined in not far from her. She tried to
get up,
then
felt herself lifted to her feet by strong
arms.

"Nay!" she screamed, struggling wildly,
thinking Svein had caught up with her. But she gasped in surprise, her breath
caught in her throat, as she looked up into a pair of vivid blue eyes.

Chapter 41

"Stand behind me," Hakon muttered tersely,
pushing her away as Svein ran swiftly toward them, brandishing his long knife
in his hand.

Gwendolyn quickly did as she was told. Clutching her
torn garment about her, she took several stumbling steps backward until she was
well out of the way. She watched, wide-eyed, as Hakon drew his broadsword from
the scabbard at his belt, then gripped it in front of him with both hands on
the polished hilt. He stood tall and straight, his keen eyes never wavering
from the grotesque figure approaching him.

Svein slowed his pace,
then
pulled up short a good twenty feet from Hakon. Sweat had stained his tattered
clothes, and his dark hair and beard were matted and damp. His red-rimmed eyes
looked from Hakon to Gwendolyn, then back again. He
smiled,
an evil, lopsided grin that was distorted into a grimace by the red scar that
slashed down the left side of his face.

"So, I see you have your protector here, Anora,"
Svein sneered. He bowed mockingly. "A good day to you, Lord Hakon."
He spat out those last words with obvious loathing. "Well, 'tis fine wi'me.
When I finish with him, the outcome will be the same." His crazed eyes
raked heatedly over Gwendolyn while he slowly walked forward. "I have
waited a long time to savor what is mine. If your fine lord had
na
' seen fit to steal you from me, I would have felt your
body writhe beneath me a long time ago!"

Gwendolyn shuddered visibly and backed up a few more
steps. Even his voice made her flesh crawl. Try as she might, she could not
still her trembling.

"Save your wild ravings, man," Hakon growled,
his blue eyes glittering dangerously. "Come, your death awaits you."
Hakon's words infuriated Svein. Suddenly he rushed forward, bellowing madly,
his long knife poised in front of him. He lunged fiercely at Hakon, but he
found only empty air as Hakon stepped swiftly out of his way. He charged once
again, deadly intent in his pale eyes, only to be met by a swipe of Hakon's
broadsword across his middle. He screamed in pain and fell to his knees, his
eyes rolling as he clutched his stomach. Blood spurted from beneath his gnarled
fingers.

"Mercy, Lord Hakon, mercy!" Svein shrieked in
terrible fear. But there was to be no mercy. Hakon raised his broadsword above
his head, his expression cold, implacable.

Svein's pale eyes widened in horror. Then he
laughed,
a bone-chilling, maniacal sound. "May the gods
curse the rest of your day—"

The flashing blade of Hakon's broadsword sang through
the air as it came down, severing Svein's head from his body in a spray of
blood.

Gwendolyn gasped, closing her eyes to the gruesome sight.
Nay, she could take no more of this brutal land! Repulsed and sickened by the
awful carnage, her only thought was to flee from the savagery she had just
witnessed, from Hakon and his blood-red sword . . . from everything!

She turned on her heel and took off running along the
bank of the fjord, ignoring Hakon's repeated shouts for her to stop. Raging
tears blinded her eyes and streaked her ashen cheeks. She stumbled and fell,
crawling on her hands and knees until she could summon the strength to pick
herself
up and continue her mad dash along the grassy slope.
Her chest heaved
painfully,
her labored breathing tore
at her throat.

Hakon's face was grim as he quickly wiped the bloodied
blade of his sword on the ragged shirt of Svein's beheaded corpse,
then
slipped it into his scabbard. He ran to his mighty
black stallion and hoisted himself up into the saddle. Pulling tightly on the
reins, he wheeled the horse about and dug his booted heels into its glistening
flanks. The stallion neighed loudly, tossing its proud head,
then
set off across the bank at a gallop.

Gwendolyn heard the pounding of hooves hitting the
earth behind her, but she did not slow her pace. She raced on desperately, her
heart beating fiercely against her chest. Suddenly Hakon reined in his stallion
in front of her, startling her. She turned and ran back the other way. He
caught up with her again, this time throwing his leg over the saddle and
sliding to the ground. She turned abruptly, but not quickly enough. As she
tried to run in the opposite direction, he took a flying leap and caught her
about the waist

"Nay, leave me be!" Gwendolyn screamed,
pommeling him with her clenched fists as she tried to break free of his hold.
But it was too late. They tumbled on the ground together in a wild frenzy of
flailing arms and legs, rolling over and over down a steep incline to the very
edge of the grassy bank. Hakon caught her just before she went over the side
into the icy waters of the fjord and pinned her arms above her head with one
strong hand. She struggled mightily against him, kicking her slender
legs
and tossing her head from side to side. But he caught
her chin with his other hand so that she faced him,
then
brought his lips down upon hers with crushing fury.

Gwendolyn gasped in breathless surprise. She ceased her
struggles and suddenly lay still in his arms, overwhelmed by the fiery passion
of his kiss. All thought of resisting him fled from her mind, and she met him
measure for measure with bittersweet abandon. It seemed as if there was nothing
else in the world but Hakon, herself, and the raging kiss they shared.

Hakon tore his mouth away and looked down at her, his
blue eyes searching her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. "Gwendolyn,"
he murmured huskily, savoring the sound of her name upon his tongue. "Gwendolyn."
He traced a finger gently down her cheek and across the soft curve of her lips.
"You seem determined to try me, little one. I had gone to the hall to tell
you all was in readiness for the voyage, and I learned from your sister that
you had not yet returned from your walk. When I found that you had eluded your
guards, and had gone out alone. . ." He shuddered, a tortured sigh
escaping his throat. "To think I might have been too late!"

He bent his head and kissed her, tenderly at first, but
then growing more possessive. "Nay, I cannot let you go," he
whispered vehemently. "I love you, Gwendolyn . . .
love
you . . ." Gently he kissed away the tears that streaked her face, then
released her arms and crushed her to him in an impassioned embrace.

Stunned, Gwendolyn exulted in her heart at his fervent
words of love. Yet she could not help wondering why he had so cruelly denied
her own admission those two weeks past. She sighed, wrapping her arms tightly
about him. Whatever the reason, at least there was no longer any deception or
pretense between them. All thoughts were soon chased from her mind, replaced by
delicious sensation as Hakon's mouth blazed a trail of molten kisses down her
creamy throat. His strong hands pulled aside the torn edges of her tunic,
baring her perfectly rounded breasts to his scorching touch.

"It has been so long," he murmured thickly,
breathing in the heavenly fragrance of her silver-blond hair, savoring the
silky feel of her skin. "Too long . . ." His fingers found a nipple,
taut and hardened by the cool breeze. He plied the pink-crested nub with deft,
featherlight strokes, while his teeth nibbled at a delicate earlobe.

Gwendolyn moaned softly, writhing under his touch. It
seemed her breasts were so much more sensitive now than before. She gasped in
surprise as his hot mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue flicking a moist
circle of flame around her raised nipple. "M-my lord!" she exclaimed
softly, pulling away. "Surely someone will see us here! We are so close to
the settlement!"

Hakon lifted his head, a smile fighting his handsome
features, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He chuckled lustily. "So what if
they do? No one will question the Jarl of Sogn!" At the shocked expression
on her beautiful face, he laughed and rose to his feet, holding out his hands
to her. "Come with me, Gwendolyn. I will find us a soft, secluded bed for
our pleasure."

Her emerald eyes locked with his as she took his
outstretched hands, a curved smile upon her lips. He lifted her gently to her
feet, then easily swung her up in his strong arms and hugged her to his broad
chest. A bright blush fired her cheeks as her tunic fell away, revealing once
again her swollen breasts to his heated gaze. She saw his eyes cloud for a
moment, and realized he was looking at the scar just below her left shoulder.
She gasped in embarrassment and tried to cover it with the torn edge of her
tunic.

"Nay, my love, 'tis a badge of honor," Hakon
said, his deep voice catching from emotion. "Through it, you gave me life."
His eyes burned into hers with unequaled intensity. "We are bound together
for eternity, our lives entwined forever, as ordained by the gods."

Gwendolyn breathed a silent prayer to her own God,
willing it to be so. She wrapped her slim arms about his neck as he walked up
the steep slope toward a copse of trees not far from the glistening fjord. The
low branches made a shaded shelter, while underneath the thick green grass
looked soft and inviting.

"Our bed, my lady," Hakon murmured, kneeling
down. He reached behind him with one hand and tore his scarlet cloak from his
shoulders, then quickly spread it out upon the grass. He held her close within
his arms and kissed her for a long, breathless moment, then laid her gently
upon the silken cloak. Rising to his feet, he loosened his belt and dropped it
to the ground. Then he pulled his dark blue tunic over his head, baring the
great, muscled expanse of his bronzed chest to her admiring gaze. It took him
but a few more seconds to kick off his leather boots and strip off his
tight-fitting trousers.

"I take it my body pleases you," Hakon
stated, a rakish smile of pleasure on his face.

"Aye, my lord, it pleases me very much,"
Gwendolyn admitted. Truly, Hakon was such a beautiful man! She longed to run
her fingers through the thick mat of golden curls on his chest, and follow the
golden line of hair down his taut, sculpted belly to his . . . God's blood! She
could not believe how bold she had become!

Hakon threw back his head and laughed delightedly at
her wanton perusal, seeming to read her mind. Before she knew it, he was lying
beside her once again, drawing her slender body against his well-muscled
length. "You are a temptress," he whispered huskily, his breath warm
upon the skin of her throat as he traced a tender line of kisses upon her scar.

Gwendolyn trembled in his arms, overwhelmed with love
for this man. She put her hands alongside his face and gently lifted his head
from her shoulder. "I love you, Hakon. You are my life," she said
softly. She touched his lips with her own in a sweet kiss.