“Get up.” He slammed the door. “We must return home at once.” Not wanting to alarm her, he offered no further explanation.
He tossed the sword on the bed, grabbed a towel, and washed his face with water from the basin. Disgusted, he threw the linen at the wall and walked to the door. “Lock it after I go out.”
A cold bath would clear his head, and a half frozen stream would serve him well.
Sleepily, Noelle stumbled out of bed and latched the door. Had she done something to displease her husband? Deep concern gripped her heart. She could think of nothing under the sun and moon that would lure him from their bed unless it was serious. Judging from the intensity of their lovemaking last night, she was the sole object of his desire, the only person who existed in his universe.
She bathed. Only last night Randvior had threatened to penetrate the layers of her soul—to pierce her heart with his love. Her body jolted at the memory of it.
She dressed hurriedly, putting on a plain wool gown. Despite its lack of adornments, the material was soft and warm. Eager to get outside, she skipped putting on a pair of leggings and laced her boots over bare feet.
She smiled as she hurried to the door. A little love goes a long way—she’d help him recover. As she reached for the latch, Noelle stopped short at the sound of male voices outside. She listened closely and easily recognized Randvior’s baritone. But there were at least two others—possibly arguing with him?
She strained to hear more—pressed her ear to the window, the faint glow of dawn sneaking its way around the edges of the old curtains.
“How did you know where to find me?” Randvior asked.
“Look to your mother,” a man answered.
She shivered. That woman had her talons buried in every man’s hide within a day’s journey of Randvior’s steading. It was unsettling. Nine days since she had been home, nearly five spent with Sveinn and four with her husband. It was the closest she would ever come to escaping Lauga’s destructive reach.
She imagined the dark witch conjuring spirits. Consulting tarot cards or reading rune stones to predict her son’s whereabouts or relying on dark forces to threaten Noelle’s future prospects of happiness. A flutter of butterfly wings tickled herstomach and she wrapped her arms protectively across her midriff.Open the door, chase the intruders away.But a voice inside her head warned she should grab as many weapons as she could carry. Noelle went to the trunk.
Get knives—many of them.
Her silvery blade only waited her hand, and Randvior’s sword was too heavy for her to carry. His battle-axe was nearly as long as her body. She chose a long knife and turned back to the doorway.What are you waiting for?The same hesitation that often over powered her common sense and got her into trouble growing up nearly took over now. She started for the door after she heard Randvior scream.
She nearly yanked it off its hinges as she went outside.
No one was at the front of the cabin and she started for the stream. She stopped to think before she took another step. Emotional responsesalwaysended badly.Get a hold of yourself.Valuable advice she remembered from her father. Good thing she stopped. Noelle’s stomach felt gravelly and a wave of nausea nearly made her throw up.
Loud noises came from around the corner. “Put him down!” a voice demanded.
Then silence.
Showing herself might distract Randvior and put his life in jeopardy. The unpleasant sensation she felt earlier intensified in the pit of her belly. She decided to listen in a little longer before she made her presence known. Her eyes grew wider, spying Randvior’s unclad form partially submerged in the icy water with a man dangling helplessly in his grip. She’d seen him do this to a man before and knew what to expect. Two others with weapons drawn were standing only a few feet away and verbally threatening him with every sort of violence known to mankind.
She marveled at her husband’s extraordinary strength. As vulnerable as he appeared—weaponless and naked—he was anincredibly imposing figure in the morning light. From head to toe, he swelled with fury and a rare vengeance shined in his eyes.
Noelle considered their positions.
She estimated twenty-five feet between her and the closest man. If she charged from behind, aided by the element of surprise, she might be able to stab one in the back. This standoff was accomplishing nothing. God help her. Unwilling to watch her Viking sacrifice himself to these nameless brigands, she charged. The man on the left was her intended target.
The sturdy blade cut deep. Randvior screamed as the man she stabbed swung and cuffed her across the side of her face with something as heavy as a mace. She tumbled, and the light faded in and out as she lay on the ground, trying to maintain consciousness. In the confusion of the skirmish that broke out after, Noelle searched for Randvior. She managed to keep one eye focused if she kept the other squeezed shut. Randvior crushed the man’s skull he was holding with his bare hands and tossed him aside.
The man she had stabbed lay only feet away, curled in the fetal position—his weakening groans evidence she had aimed well. There was blood everywhere. Lightheaded, her vision blurred again.Not now, please God, not now…
“Stay with me!” Randvior was close; she knew it without seeing him.
“Get back!” a voice warned.
Noelle raised her head, arms flapping uselessly at her sides. The third attacker circled her, blocking Randvior’s path. With great effort, she managed to rise up on one elbow and meet her husband’s worried eyes. She looked toward the woods and spotted another figure. It moved closer—Brian? She wanted to scream his name out, warn Randvior, but it was impossible. Her brother was in Durham, not Norway!
The world started to spin. She collapsed and vomited, didn’t have the strength to sit back up. Noelle heard the unmistakable sound of bodies moving and weapons scraping. The world went black.
Randvior’s eyes snapped open. His head felt like it had been impaled on a Rus pike. He wiped fresh blood off his right brow. He could hardly move his left arm, where he found a gaping wound. How much blood had he actually lost? And then, it hit him,Noelle…
He staggered to his feet. Found her withered body some twenty yards away from where he had fallen. He raced to her side.By Odin, what have I done?
