Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set (45 page)

Much like Hauk himself.

She pulled away from him a bit as they rode on, trying to gain whatever distance from him she could. Last night, she had realized something that had filled her with despair: she knew now that it would be impossible for her to leave Asgard by herself.

So she must try to gain his trust, hope that he would grant her a bit more freedom. And try to find someone to help her reach home.

That would be a difficult enough task if she only had to struggle against the gentle warrior who had made her his captive bride.

But now she had to fight her own heart, as well. For Giselle’s sake, she would.

She
must
.

The sun had passed higher into its arc when they came to a clearing and Hauk reined Ildfast in at the crest of a hill, the horse prancing and blowing out noisy breaths.

“We are halfway there.” Hauk pointed off into the distance.

Through the trees, on the horizon, Avril could just make out the silvery-blue sparkle of the ocean. “Thank God! How much longer until we reach the cove?”

“Two hours, mayhap less.” Hauk swung his leg over the destrier’s neck and leaped to the ground.

“Then why are we stopping?” Avril asked when he reached up to help her down.

“To grant Ildfast a needed rest and a drink.”

As she landed beside him, Hauk held onto her a second longer than was necessary. His expression as he looked down at her sent a tingle of warmth through her. One of his hands lingered at the small of her back, the gesture both steadying and possessive.

After a moment, he released her and tugged on the reins. “This is where I normally stop to rest him. And I have never ridden him through these woods at such a pace before.” He led the horse toward a stream that wound through the clearing—a quiet brook that flowed over the crest of the hill in a bubbling waterfall.

Avril followed, keeping one hand on the strap of her crossbow and a wary eye out for wolves. “Must we stop for long? I will not be able to rest until Josette is safe.”

“We will be but a few minutes.” At the edge of the stream, Hauk dropped the reins to the ground. “And we should reach the ship well ahead of Thorolf. Ildfast is earning his name today.” He patted the animal’s lathered flank as Ildfast stretched out his neck and guzzled greedily. “Faster than fire.”

Avril tried to resist a smile as she watched Hauk scratch the huge animal’s forelock with obvious affection. She moved away from him few paces, knelt on the grassy riverbank upstream, and took off her gloves. Cupping her hands in the cool water, she drank several handfuls to soothe her parched throat, then splashed her face, washing away dust and grit.

“We will have to go more slowly from here,” Hauk said. “The hills and valleys in this part of the woods are steep, and we cannot risk him breaking a leg.”

Avril nodded, picking up her gloves and tucking them into her belt. She stood and paced restlessly, tired from the long ride but too tense to sit down.

“Are you hungry, milady?”

She turned as Hauk tossed her an apple from his pack, which was lashed to Ildfast’s saddle. She caught it easily. “Thank you.”

Her stomach was in knots, but she took a bite anyway as she walked back to the hillside, watching the waterfall cascade over the steep slope.

“You ride well,” Hauk said around a mouthful of apple, coming over to join her, “for a woman.”

Avril almost laughed, despite all her anxiety. “I rather enjoyed the hint of surprise on your face, every time you glanced over your shoulder and saw that I had not fallen off.”

“I was not certain you could endure the rough pace.”

She arched her brows. “Have I caused you any trouble thus far?”

“The day is still young.”

She took another bite of her apple. “And I believe I will continue to surprise you.”

He sighed. “You usually do.”

From the way he said it, she was not sure if that was a complaint or a compliment.

He tossed the core of his apple toward Ildfast, who nickered in pleasure and nibbled it up. “Riding, sailing, hunting. Have you never learned any proper female pursuits, woman?” He cast a dour look over her masculine garb. “Sewing? Gardening?”

“Nay.”

It seemed strange, to be having an ordinary conversation with him in the midst of this awful, desperate day. She realized he was being thoughtful again, trying to distract her from her worry about Josette.

Which only made her uneasy for an entirely different reason.

“Not even weaving on a loom,” he continued, “playing music on the harp or—”

“A sick cat produces more melodious music than I,” she said honestly.

“Dancing?”

“A sick cat is also a better dancer than I.” Unable to eat more than a few bites, she tossed her apple to Ildfast as he had done. The easy closeness growing between her and Hauk made her nervous. She knew she should not allow it to continue.

Did not want him to suspect how much her feelings for him had changed.

She moved away along the crest of the hill. “I have always found such pursuits deadly dull. And since I have no skill at them, I prefer to spend my time elsewhere, at some genuinely useful task.” She turned to face him, crossing her arms. “So now you know the terrible truth about me, Hauk Valbrand. You chose poorly in Antwerp. I cannot sew, I am better at making messes than tidying up—and I am the most hopeless cook you would ever care to meet.”

“Ah, well.” He shrugged, a slow smile flashing in the late morning sun. “I suppose it is unreasonable for a man to expect his wife to be well skilled in
all
of her wifely duties.”

That wicked smile made her heart miss a beat. “For the last time,” she said unsteadily. “I am not your—”

“Must we still argue that, after this morn?”

She turned her back. “What we shared this morn does
not
make me your wife.”

“Nay, the
althing
ceremony made you my wife.” He moved closer. “What we shared in my bed made you my lover.”

She spun to face him. “I do
not
love you! I do not—”

He reached out to caress her cheek. “Do you hate me, then, Avril? Is that what made you cry out so sweetly when you found release in my arms?”

The huskiness of his words and the heat in his blue eyes sent sparks glittering through her.

She forced herself to rebuff him, pushed his hand away. “I will
never
share your bed again.”

“Do not make threats you do not mean to keep, milady,” he said in that deep, confident voice. “Do you not see—”

An animal screech made them both whirl toward the stream.

It was Ildfast—rearing and whinnying in terror as a dark shape appeared from out of nowhere, slinking through the clearing.
Wolf!
Avril was so startled, it took her a moment to remember the crossbow still slung across her back by its strap.

The horse danced sideways, ears flattened, eyes white—then turned blindly and ran.

Straight toward them.

Hauk pushed her out of the charging destrier’s path, shouting at the animal in Norse. He grabbed for the reins as the panicked stallion raced past. Caught them and yanked hard—only to be pulled off his feet when Ildfast plunged onward.

Straight over the edge of the steep hillside.

Avril screamed as Hauk lost his footing and went down. Not sure which way to turn, she somehow found the crossbow in her hands and spun to fend off the wolf—but it had turned tail and run. She could see it loping away into the trees.

The weapon still clutched in her hands, she ran to the edge of the hill. “Hauk!”

He lay at the bottom of the valley, cursing viciously. Ildfast, still moving at lightning speed, loose reins flying behind, galloped up the opposite slope and vanished into the trees.

With a frightened oath, Avril scrambled down the hill, slipping on layers of fallen leaves, grabbing saplings to slow her headlong progress. “Hauk, are you all right?”

“Nay, I am not all right!” He pushed himself up to a seated position, jaw clenched. “We have just lost our horse.”

“But are you hurt?” she cried as she slid to a halt next to him.

“I am fine. We have to catch him.” He started to get to his feet.

Then hissed an oath and remained on the ground.

“What is it?” She bent to help him.

“I do not need help,” he insisted. He stood, carefully, favoring his left leg.

“What is wrong? It is not... Saints’ breath, your leg is not—”

“Not broken, nay,” he said through gritted teeth, taking one cautious step. “I twisted my ankle when I landed.” He took another step. Cursed again. “Mayhap you had better help me,” he grumbled.

With a cautious look at the top of the hill, she slung the crossbow over her back, then slipped an arm around him, supporting his weight as he leaned on her, one arm across her shoulders.

But they managed to take only a few hobbling steps before he had to sit down again.

She dropped to her knees beside him. “Hauk, we will not get very far at this pace.”

“I know that,” he bit out in a frustrated voice.

She looked at the broken branches and churned leaves Ildfast had left in his terrified wake. “He will come back, will he not?”

“Mayhap. Eventually. If he can find his way back. If he does not find something interesting to eat. Or break a leg on a hill. Or forget us entirely.” Hauk looked up at her, his expression pained. “I value Ildfast for his speed, Avril, not for his intelligence.”

She swallowed hard. “But we have to get to the ship. Will your ankle not heal by itself?” she asked hopefully.

“Aye. In a few hours.”

Her heart thudded. “But we do not have that much—”

A howl rose through the trees, closer than the ones they had heard earlier.

It skipped up her spine like an icy finger, lifting the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

And Avril suddenly realized they had a more pressing worry than reaching the ship. “Mercy of God, the wolves...”

She looked down at Hauk. Their gazes met and held for a long moment.

“Avril, you will have to go on without me.”

“What?”

“Do not argue with me—”

“Nay, I cannot leave you here.”
She could not leave him to die
.

A movement at the top of the hill made her glance up. It was the wolf they had seen before—a huge, black, shaggy animal. She slid the crossbow from her shoulder, slowly, never taking her eyes from the predator. It might merely be curious.

With a teeth-baring snarl, it sprang down the hill, so fast it was only a black blur.

She heard Hauk shout at her to run. But she was already on one knee, bringing up the crossbow in a smooth arc. She fired.

The steel-tipped bolt struck the wolf in the chest. It yelped in pain, tripped and tumbled, howling, sliding through the leaves.

And fell dead at her feet.

She was shaking, staring down at it, barely even aware of what had happened.

“Avril!” Hauk said sharply, bringing her attention around to him. “I want you to get out of here.
Now
,” he ordered. “They travel in packs. He will have companions.”

“I will not leave you.”

He muttered what sounded like a string of curses in Norse. “All this time you have wanted naught
but
to escape me, and now that I
want
you to leave, you will not go. Contrary, stubborn—”

“I believe we have already established that.” Still shaking, she snapped another bolt into place on her crossbow, lifting her eyes to his. “Now what do you suggest we do?”

“O
f all the trees in the forest, you had to choose a pine,” Hauk grumbled, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ankle, wincing at dozens of tiny stings as he plucked evergreen needles from his bare chest and arms.

“This was your idea.”

“You could have taken the time to select a more comfortable refuge,” he called down to her.

“Aye, and left you alone at the bottom of the hill even longer.”

The branches swayed as Avril pulled herself up the last few inches, breathing hard. She claimed a perch on a thick tree limb just above and to the right of the one he occupied.

Brushing needles from her tunic, she looked at him with an annoyed expression. “This was the tallest tree I could find that had branches low enough to climb and strong enough to hold us. And at the time, I was concerned with avoiding fangs—not with providing us luxurious accommodations.” Grabbing a bough to steady herself, she glanced at the ground more than twenty feet below them. “If you are unhappy here, mayhap you would prefer to go and play with our new friends down there.”

Hauk subdued any further complaint, wiping sweat from his brow, the tree bark rubbing his back raw. It was almost impossible to find a comfortable position on the branch, though it was as wide as the span of two hands. He settled for straddling it as if he were on horseback, resting one foot on another nearby bough.

They were likely to be here awhile, he thought with a grimace, following Avril’s gaze to the dark shapes milling around the trunk. He counted nine, their shaggy coats dappled by the sunlight.

Drawn by the dying howls of the first wolf, the rest of the pack had quickly found its way to the clearing—and followed his and Avril’s scent straight to their chosen place of refuge: at the top of the next hill in one of the rugged, ancient black pines common on Asgard.