Rachelle’s lips parted with a sigh. He traced the outline of that delectable mouth with the tip of his tongue, dreaming of the ecstasy of first entry. With a loud whimper, she locked her hands around his neck. Something more permanent than lust slammed inside him. By Odin’s eye, what was he doing? If he pursued this any further, he couldn’t be responsible for his own actions.
Wars weren’t strictly fought on battlefields. One raged below his waist right now.
Withdrawing slowly, he held her at arm’s length. “You nearly branded me the devil before.” His stomach lurched. “Woman, if I’m Satan’s offspring, you’re one of his prized jewels.”
She slapped his face. He deserved it, and let her go.
Damn the gods, there was more to him than animal lust. But there was no time to extend all the common courtesies he would have normally shown a virtuous girl. He nearly begged the gods to transform her into the whore he craved to satiate his desire and the freedom to ride her until every ounce of strength bled out of him. Deeply regretting his loss of control, he knew many women awaited his arrival at home. He’d find relief betweentheirlegs.
He shoved all feelings aside. “We’ve wasted precious time.”
She tucked a loose curl behind her right ear and nodded. Then she smoothed her dress as if nothing had happened, obviously afraid to look him in the eyes again.
An hour later,Tyr sucked in the brisk morning air as if it were his first breath outside his mother’s womb. It was considerably cooler on the coast. The mournful calls of the gulls made him smile inside. “We part ways here.”
There was no longer a need for pretenses. He dismounted. No obstacles stood between him and freedom. Staring eastward, he prayed to Odin. The sea made any Viking smile.Odin’s Eye, his swiftest ship, was anchored in a cove a mile up shore. Sadly, he had foreseen a possible defeat and left the vessel as a means of escape.
Rachelle slid off the horse, then walked to the edge of the water.
His gaze followed her. She looked out of place standing there alone, as if she were waiting for someone. Too much time with this wench might change his way of thinking. It was time to say goodbye. He strode a few feet. “Farewellfristerinne.”
She looked over her shoulder. “Is that what you call all the women you kiss?” She didn’t know what it meant, but the sound of it didn’t amuse her.
“No, you’re the first.”
Before she shot back, the sound of thundering hooves silenced him. Rotating on his heels, he eagle-eyed a red and gold banner flying above an English regiment. He swept Rachelle aside.
“Go,” he bellowed, stripping off his armor. He checked to see where she went. She stared at him dejectedly. He scanned her beautiful face one last time, then ran for the surf.
Rachelle’s mouth wentdry as she watched the gray waves swallow Tyr. The sting of his last kiss was still fresh on her lips. With soldiers at his heels, what else could he do? They’d torture and kill him. The very thought of his glorious body being slowly destroyed made her cry out. She must purge her mind of any thoughts of him before the soldiers arrived. Any evidence of guilt on her face would endanger her.
She shouldn’t be ashamed for choosing kindness over fealty. Although she’d never spent time alone with a man, she knew she had exceeded the limits of her world by helping Tyr. Their association ended here. At the edge of the sea that separated their lands and lives. Some things were better left unexplored. God must have further use of her in England. She’d immerse herself in more charitable work. Continue to study the healing arts or cooking. Join a convent if that’s what it took to forget Tyr Sigurdsson.
She mentally scrambled to come up with a convincing story. What would she tell the guards? Foolish, misguided thoughts always spurred Rachelle to do as she pleased without considering the consequences. She didn’t fear Tyr. Childhood prayers were as binding as a blood oath. Why shouldn’t she believe he was a blessing? In eight long years, no one else had shown up. English or otherwise. She’d survived any way shecould; suppressed her sorrow, smiled when she wanted to frown, and laughed when she wanted to weep.
Everywhere she turned reminded her of her family.
Someone grabbed her from behind. Wheeling around, her breath caught in her throat when she met those wide green eyes.
“Did you really think I’d let you get away so easily?” Tyr asked.
Words disintegrated in her mouth. In a split second her future could be altered. Uncle Henry’s memory held fast inside her heart. Her allegiance to him could never be questioned.
“I have further need of your talents. Will you come with me?”
He looked as mythical as one of Poseidon’s sons crawling from the depths of the ocean. Without giving her time to answer, he swept her off her feet, then carried her to the water. “Can you swim?”
She nodded mutely.
“Hang on,” he warned, bracing for the first wave. “We only need to go a short distance. There’s a fishing boat hidden further up the beach.”
Chapter Four
Condemnation
After lifting Rachelleinto the arms of his man on deck, Tyr hoisted himself onboard. She swayed on her feet and leaned against the wood rail for support.
“The Jarl has returned,” the crew cheered.
