No answer.
He waited a moment longer before speaking again. “Come out.”
A rustling sound from behind a stack of dilapidated crates alerted him to her exact location. He took four steps and stopped, kept a safe distance so she wouldn’t feel cornered.
“Noelle, I’m here as an ally, not an enemy.”
“Hah!” Her face appeared. “You have a strange way of showing it.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “But situations change as quickly as the direction of the wind at sea. You must be brave a little longer.”
Momentarily distracted, he took full advantage and inched closer. The graceful curve of her mouth and the pinkish color of her lips did not escape his attention. Unfortunately, his first opportunity to get closer was impeded by a pile of rotting wood. Blast his misfortune!
She didn’t seem to mind he was within arm’s reach and stepped from behind the crates. He watched the expression on her face change as she studied him. He’d give her plenty of time to admire his features once he got her on ship. Until then, every second that passed represented increased risk—her father’s army could return at any moment.
“It’s time to go.”
“Where?”
With her face streaked in soot and dirt, she looked more like an orphan than a lady. Her long tawny hair was little more than a mass of dirty tangles, and her shift was badly stained. ByOdin, she was still beautiful. His gaze moved slowly up and down her tiny frame and stopped on her feet.For the love of Odin… “Where are your boots?”
“I never had a chance to put them on. I was rather preoccupied with getting out of the castle, because you set it on fire.” Her voice was thick with sarcasm. “Am I not suitably dressed?”
Randvior actually preferred his women naked. But this point might not foster feelings of cooperation.
“Under the circumstances, I cannot fault your state of dress. Come with me, you need to change into something warm before you catch your death.”
She ran her fingers up the side of a crate, avoiding his stare. “I want to stayhere. I need to oversee the preparations of my sister’s body—plan her burial.”
“Impossible.” Although he deeply sympathized with her loss, nothing could extend their stay. “My men are expecting us. There is much to do before we depart.”
She inclined her head. “I cannot say I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
He had been awake for two days straight, and if she didn’t hurry up and cooperate, there was going to be a price to pay. “Surely you understand what your brother meant by this arrangement—we bartered for more than just gold.Youare a large part of my takings.”
He turned and searched for an empty floor stand, found one, and placed his torch in it.
He lacked what most educated men consideredvirtues, or the moral ingredients that truly made any nobleman noble. These traits were loosely based on the GreekPillars of Wisdom.Humanism. Rationalism. Love of Freedom. Moderation.Patience was the hardest, of which he usually possessed none.
“Enough.” He waved a hand and swore silently at the unnecessary gruffness in his voice. “Youwillaccompany me back to the hall.”
Her eyes fluttered erratically. “But I don’t want to go with you! You’ve no claim on me—no right to make any demands.”
He drew a sharp breath.Be patient, her world is crumbling before her very eyes.“I know you need time to mourn your sister, time to digest everything your brother—”
“Stop talking,” she said shakily. “My brother will pay for his sins one way or another. He is a subject of the English crown, not you. And a subject of Christ’s vengeance—an eye for an eye… As for anything else, I’ve nothing to say about it.” She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but with him.
She flapped her arms and barely managed to finish. “All of this is beyond my capacity to work through. I hate you—you destroyed my home and it might as well have been your hand on the knife that slit my sister’s throat, it’s your fault!”
She started to shake uncontrollably, gulping for air between hiccupping sobs. Randvior wanted to snatch her up and hug her close. Show her how he could ease her pain.
Between breaths, she found the strength to explain. “I’m sure you overheard my brother blame me for my mother’s death…”
Randvior nodded.
“She died from birthing fever. And I’ve lived with the guilt of it since I was old enough to speak. My brother, even my sisters at times, harbor ill feelings for me. All I have left of my mother is right here in this castle. Her books, collection of tapestries, and trunks of clothes. Her scent still lingers on some of her gowns.”
“You can choose anything to take along,” he said. This simple gesture seemed to soften her a bit.
