She squinted at what he wanted her to see; she gulped in disbelief. The most sacred Christian symbol, a cross, was suspended on the tree. What game did he play now? Pagans despised Christ. She’d learned that quickly here and witnessed firsthand the level of hostility Tyr possessed toward her religion. Tension flared as she met his steady gaze. “Your harsh words hurt and frightened me earlier,” she said.
“I owe you an apology. Forgive my foul temper.”
She was relieved to hear it. Was his immediate goal to make amends for his atrocious behavior? She remained confused. Above all, she had overheard the repeated violent threats he made against his baptized cousin and Prince Edwin.
Her heart pounded. “I don’t understand the motivation behind this gesture.” Did this represent a willingness to accept her faith? His immense hatred made that hard to believe. “Is this a peace offering?”
“Of sorts,” he admitted. “After everything you’ve been through, I knew you needed a place to pray. I can’t send you home, nor can I tell you anything about your Uncle’s whereabouts. Sometimes I take it for granted that my parents are alive in Scotland. I forget how blessed I am to have a family; brothers and a sister I love, a father who entrusted me with his birthright, and a mother I adore.”
Every day she remembered the enchanted first half of her childhood. How she’d enjoyed long walks with her parents, holy days, and her favorite thing, the eventide meal—her father often told vivid stories afterward. The sound of his engaging laughter was too fresh on her mind. Heat fanned across her face. Grief suddenly engulfed her. She needed to concentrate on the present. No more sad reflections. Someday, she’d be reunited with her parents in heaven.
Tyr’s intense gaze was fixed on her. His eyes were so hypnotizing and beautiful. His lips warm and tempting. It hadn’t taken more than a few kisses to convince her. But the passion simmering beneath his cool exterior terrified her. Tonight’s gesture eclipsed his bad behavior. Having a place to commune freely with God fed her starving spirit.
“Where are we?”
He pulled her close. “Odin’s altar.” They slowly walked to the stone. “My father stood near this monument and confessed his love to my mother.”
Were those tears brimming in his eyes? She’d never have guessed how idealistic he truly was. She had listened to his words quietly while taking in the sight of him—weighing the genuineness in his voice. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the same beast whose temper had exploded inside the great hall tonight. Her lips thinned. Would he too confess his love? Did this place bewitch men?
Although she was unprepared to hear it, part of her silently begged him to profess undying passion. Fear no longer mattered. The world offered little happiness. Shouldn’t she enjoy what little comfort she could get? She gaped in wide-eyed anticipation, but he failed to fulfill her girlish fantasy.
“I speak with the gods here. As do all my people.” He stared across the snow-covered field.
Since the first day they’d met, Tyr had been embroiled in strife and violence. Standing in this holy place, he seemed vulnerable, almost normal. Only once before had she seen this level of tenderheartedness in him. The degree of compassion he showed his deceased brother when he prepared him for funeral rites still haunted her. Of course, what man wouldn’t be moved by such tragedy? This was decidedly different. Baffled by this transformation, she observed him closely.
“Thank you for this kindness,” she said.
He embraced her. The motivation behind his touch had changed, she felt it.
“I swear on this sanctified ground, I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised.
He’d pledged it before. Would she be foolish enough to believe again? Didn’t he understand she couldn’t get past the fact he was holding her for ransom? Could she ever really forgive his deception and the shame he put upon her? The longer she lingered in his embrace, the more intense the jolts of lust that shot through her body became. It felt wonderful to be touched;yet as welcome as those feelings were, they must stay hidden forever.
“Iwantto believe you,” she said.
He tipped her head upward. “I make no promises I can’t keep,” he assured her. “If there’s anything I can do to ease your pain, ask me.”
She remained silent. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a place existed where happy thoughts thrived. She pictured how it might be if he dropped on his knees and declared his love. All of this was quickly swept aside.
“I’ll leave you now,” he announced. “My men are aware of your situation and will not disturb your observances. When you are ready, they will escort you back to the house.”
Tyr’s throat tightenedas he trudged away. Every time Rachelle’s lips quivered, he wanted to kiss them. Whenever she was nearby, he wanted to rip her clothes off and finish what he’d started in the bathhouse. He’d also failed to recite a poem he learned as a young man—a Norse verse that had always stayed with him. One he believed was meant for her.What were the first lines?
Du er den store sølvfargede North Star,
det evige lys som guider mitt skip hjem gjennom tomrommet.
It mattered not, she’d never appreciate the beauty of those words or that he thought of her every time he remembered them. Cursing softly, he knew he couldn’t survive another rejection from her. The one time he’d offered his heart, she’d said no, and it wouldn’t happen again. Entering the great hall, he walked along the wall adorned with weapons. His sire’s finest war axe hung just below the main beam. He admired it, his gaze eventually wandered to his mother’s wedding sword. She’dinsisted on giving it to him before he relocated to Norway. Her words stayed with him to this moment.Someday you’ll have need of it…
Until now, it had meant nothing.
He’d make no apologies for his past conquests. Men naturally enjoyed the company of women—many women. But after tasting Rachelle’s innocence and uninhibited passion, he’d never visit another woman’s bed again. Odin save him from such a terrible fate. Parting ways with Frida confirmed his future.Is this what my mother intended?Once I give my heart away, this elegant weapon should be passed on to my wife? If she accepted him, Rachelle’s name would be etched underneath his mother’s title. First, he must convince her to accept his proposal.
With a deep sigh, he moved on, touching the painted shapes on some of the ancient shields. Generations of Sigurdsson men carried them into battle, won and lost wars behind them, and died with them clamped in their fearless hands.
Fur clad Berserkers—fearless warriors—Odin’s bloodthirsty sons.
An unseen force brought him to his knees suddenly. Overcome with emotion, he wept bitterly for his brother, misguided king, and fractured country.
