Surely, this girl hadn’t been completely undone by the devastating news Edwin had so callously shared. Anger and fear were acceptable emotions to feel, but broken? Never. Not this spirited wench. NothisRachelle. Tyr recognized the qualities that made someone resilient. The Norse had perfected it.If you get knocked down, stand up quickly.
“There’s no reason to believe your uncle was targeted by the Normans. On the contrary, your family bears a Norman name.” He meant to ease her mind, if only a little. On any other night, he’d welcome blessed silence.Speak woman.
“I’ll believe whatever you wish, milord.”
He smiled inwardly. Now she played the submissive. Stubbornness creased the pretty spot between her finely shaped eyebrows. A tiny spark remained after all.
“From this day forward, I won’t shield you from the hard truth. I’m sorry that bastard made such a shocking announcement. I would never—”
“Yes, you would,” her voice rang sharply. “You withheld the truth. I admit there’s no excuse for Prince Edwin’s behavior. Both of you have proven just how far you’ll go to get what you want.”
A log fell in the fireplace and Rachelle startled.
Beyond weary, Tyr exhaled. Irritation raked his spine. At times, women didn’t make any sense. His heart-felt apology should be accepted, but remembering how he’d felt after he found his twin dead made him more accepting of her sadness and confusion. Reason had fled his mind that night on the battlefield near York. She must feel the same. Maybe she suffered more because she didn’t know her uncle’s fate.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I cannot deny it. I’m the sort of man who’d go to any lengths to protect what I consider my own. It’s what my father taught me.”
She stared. Damn those cold, steely-blue eyes.
“Truth is finally revealed,” she cracked. “We both knowwhyyou kidnapped me. Money. And then you have the audacity to propose to me. Edwin did nothing so underhanded. You are unusually cruel, even for a Norseman.”
He didn’t want to hear her judgment. “Goddamnit, woman.” He gritted his teeth. “Can you not recognize when a man is trying to make atonement?”
“A pathetic attempt, if I ever heard one.”
That’s where he drew the line; he’d protect his honor, even if he was wrong. How could she judge him so carelessly? She didn’t know the truth, because she refused to believe a word he said.
He lifted her by the shoulders, then gave her a small shake. “You’re not an idiot. Stop acting like one for the sake of spurning me. What will you have me do to prove myself?”
“Send me home.”
Her welfare was his primary concern. He shook his head. Reports from England were grave. The Normans had ransacked and burned dozens of cities, enslaved families, and executed rebels without trials. That was only the beginning of the atrocities. “You request the only thing I cannot give. Conditions in England are deteriorating by the hour. Would you risk your life by returning?”
Visibly rattled by his reply, she folded her arms across her chest and turned away.
“I pledge to share any information I receive concerning your home if it eases your pain. Although I don’t understand how it would. Some things are better left unsaid. My spies are searching for your uncle in northern England as we speak. If he’s alive, they’ll find him. For now, be strong.”
“Strong?” She twisted around. “Haven’t I been? I’ve endured much since I first met you. Imprisonment, seduction, murder…”
Sympathy hadn’t softened her. Brutality wouldn’t help. Yet, the more defiant she grew, the more aroused he became. Those soft lips weren’t meant for spewing insults. Infinite passion thrived inside her. He felt it and wanted it for himself—but only at her invitation.
Perhaps a blast of arctic air would clear his head and tame his groin. “Do you want to go outside?”
Glancing up, she asked, “Now?”
“Aye.”
She gave him a brief, half smile. Praise the gods for helping him think of something to break through her icy exterior.
Chapter Twelve
A Rare Gift
Rachelle followed Tyrthrough the woods. He outpaced her and she breathed in mouthfuls of frigid air while trying to catch up with him. The deep silence reminded her of the night she’d spent in the English moors with him. Mist spiraled off the snow. Uneasiness settled into her bones. If the moors were haunted, vile spirits must occupy this dark place. As long as she stayed close, nothing could harm her.
They entered a large clearing. She stared in amazement at the bright light surrounding them. Although moonlight reflected off the snow, it seemed as if a thousand candles were lit. Ancient trees rimmed the field. A large stone in the center drew her attention. Two men were adding logs to a bonfire. She looked questioningly at Tyr.
He pointed to a tree.
