“Have you never seen a man—”
“—with a spear through him? No. I never have.”
“You will never forget him, but he meant you harm.”
“Says Fin,” she pointed out in a whisper. “The man held out no weapon. Was he going to kill me with his bare hands?”
“I will question Fin on this and get answers. Does that help give ease to your thoughts?” She nodded. When she looked at his handsome face, his plump, bow-shaped lips, the set of his jaw, his piercing gaze, she could think of nothing but him.
“I want to remain with you today,” she confessed shyly. Goodness, in her world she wouldneveradmit such a thing to anyone.Don’t be vulnerable.It was the first advice she’d ever received. And the best. People were fake. Friends were only there to be seen with her. She would get hurt. But she wanted him to know. “I’m afraid here and I feel better when I’m with you.”
He motioned for her to come and sit with him and Hild. She wasn’t sleepy but the thought of being pushed around by the men, forced to cook for them…no. She wasn’t ready for this reality. She didn’t think she ever would be.
She accepted his offering and climbed into the makeshift bed on the floor with Hild. The pelts beneath her were kind of soft and warm, but as she feared, there was a stale, nauseating smell coming from them.
She pulled his fur cloak over her. It didn’t smell as bad. In fact, it smelled like him.
She pushed it away from her face. She would try to stay close to him—for safety reasons mostly. But not so close that her heart became involved. God forbid. She had never taken the possibility of it happening to her so seriously. She never had to. She found love repulsive. It tricked and fooled. It betrayed and forgot and could not be trusted. If it could accomplish its goal, it would leave people sucked dry of strength and the will to live. No one ever tempted her toward it. But with him…she let her guard down for a moment and let herself feel and hope for something with him. It was instinct really. The fight to survive. She understood what was happening to her. She was bonding to her rescuer. Now that she knew what it was, she knew she had to stop it.
Oh, if she ever got her hands on Mr. Green, who’d given her that accursed brooch, she’d ask Wolf to beat him up good.
“Wolf?”
“Yes?”
“The man Fin killed said he saw me appear from the air. I was appearing from twenty nineteen.”
“It is a lot to ask me to believe, Camelee.”
“I know.” She blushed looking up at him. He smiled and made her nerve-endings burn. “Thank you.”
“What for?” he whispered back.
“For not laughing in my face.”
“I would not do that,” he promised in a sleepy voice.
Would he invite her into his bed? She wouldn’t go. Not because she didn’t want to. She did. He would get tired of her if she gave him all too fast. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. She could debate with herself for the next ten years about if she would need him in the twenty-first century, but what did it matter? She was here now.
“I must go with the men today to scout out the remainder of our route,” he told her quietly. “I will take half the men and leave Fin and Akkar here to guard you. You will have to stay with the other women until I return.”
“What if you’re attacked and you don’t come back?” she asked, concerned.
“I will come back, Camelee,” he assured her with such confidence, she believed him.
She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling a bit of comfort and relaxation for the first time.
She woke the next morning to the sight of Wolf changing his shirt, or léine, or whatever he was wearing. She watched him silently washing up before a small table with a basin of water and a sponge. His bare back was tapered at his waist and flared at his shoulders. Scars covered most of him. Even with such marks, his body was a carved masterpiece. If he wasn’t an eleventh-century Viking, or if she hadn’t gone completely mad, she might have thrown all her fears and ideals out the window—if there was a window in the hide tent, which there wasn’t. Ideals that she felt at times weren’t her own but seemed to have been ingrained upon her from someone, somewhere. They were about as old-fashioned and dated as Wolf. One of which was to seek nothing before honor. She wasn’t about to throw her honor to the wind for some savage Viking who considered her his slave. Her fears were a whole different matter.
She could see light coming in from between the stitching of the different hides.
“I sent Akkar for some food for you and the girl,” he told her while she sat up and rubbed her eyes.
She turned to the child. Hild still slept. “Should I wake her?”
“I do not know. How long does a child sleep?”
She shook her head. “We should send for Genevra. I should speak to her anyway about—”
