She quit struggling and he let go of her arms, but still straddled her.
“If not rape, what do you call it when a man barges into a room where a girl is praying for her life and you claim her maidenhead without the courtesy of a kind word or promise of love?”
“Seduction,” he said, panting. “Not rape. A man conquers and takes what he wants—it’s an inherent right.”
“Inherent?” she cried. “Decency and honesty, kindness and moderation are inherent. Stealing what belongs to another is simply criminal!”
“Ah.” He tipped his head up and gazed at the stars.
Noelle swallowed hard and swatted his arms. “Get off me.”
“Not until you understand the difference between men and women.”
“It’s cold and I’m soaked to the bone,” she complained.
“You should have thought about that before you abandoned me.”
She made a low noise of contempt. “How can I abandon you if I never claimed any allegiance to you in the first place? As you confessed, it’s only natural for a man to take. Well, for a woman in my position, it’s only natural to escape.”
He was quiet for a long time, suspended between two philosophies: of right and of wrong. She had spoken wisely. Not all men pillaged. In fact, most didn’t. Generations of Sigurdsson’s had, and he’d be damned if a Saxon wench was going to stop him.
“What aremyrights?” she asked.
If she were a man, he’d beat some sense into her thick skull. “As far as the law is concerned, you have none.” Her undisciplined tongue always caused trouble. He looked at her as she flailed. “Do you want help getting up?”
She hesitated, refusing to look at him, then reluctantly, nodded. Randvior staggered to his feet and extended his hand. She batted it away and stood on her own. A twinge of guilt pinched him. They were both frozen and miserable; he wanted to touch her, offer what little warmth his body had left to give. But would she receive it?
“Leave me alone,” she said, as if knowing his question.
“Never,” he said with a defensive note in his voice.
“I wish …”
“What?”
“…that I had killed you the first night you fell asleep in the same bed with me.”
He reached inside his boot and pulled out a knife. “Take it and strike quickly, every wicked thing that comes out of that mouth feels as deadly as a blade piercing my heart.”
She was silent again and cast her eyes downward. Tears streamed down her face. “I want to go home,” she said.
He framed her face between his hands, his passion unfurled like a flag. “Youarehome.”
She did not respond. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of the pain in her face. “Anything that hurts you, hurts me. I killed for you,” he confessed. “I murdered my own man to protect you. And the gods may punish me for it, but I’d kill a thousand more if I knew it proved to you how much I want you. Please,” he croaked.
Randvior picked her up.
“I want nothing more than to keep you here with me forever,” he said.
Chapter Eleven
Promises
Once Randvior placedher on the saddle in front of him, the heavens opened and a bitter wind blew across the field. Noelle snuggled into her fur collar, still suffering from the effects of poison. Something still didn’t feel right inside; her ears were ringing and she felt heavy-legged, almost clumsy. But the Viking offered no explanation and she really didn’t want to talk, unless it was absolutely necessary. He commented on how impressed he was that she had covered so much distance and how he had underestimated her tenacity and strength. She was tougher than most women; she was glad of the acknowledgement, but frowned. She didn’t want his compliments.
“Why did you run away?” he asked.
“You threatened that defenseless boy.” She huddled deeper into his warmth. “My brother displayed the same rage throughout my lifetime, and all I could see were the faces of the countless victims of his violence. I cannot live that way, ever again. I never wish to be the reason a man loses his life.”
