“That’s a ridiculous question,” she retorted. “You deceived me, like so many others.”
“Are you denying you freely came to Norway? I sympathize more than you know. My cousin is a debaucher and thief.”
Rachelle shook her head furiously. “Be silent. Why slander your kinsman when he’s not here to defend himself?”
He took hold of her cloak. “You’re quick to defend him.”
“You misunderstand me.” She smacked his hand away. “I’m only interested in one truth right now. Whyyoubrought me here.”
“You agreed to come,” he said. “Did Frida coerce you?”
“No.”
He nodded. Rubbing his chin, he stared at her for a long moment. “After all these hours of riding, what finally alerted you we were headed in the wrong direction?”
What reason to lie? Her fate rested in his hands. “You spoke about Scotland.”
His brow tilted with curiosity.
“Your complaints brought back many fond memories, the ocean. We’re far away from it,” she said.
“Aye.” He chuckled. “And we still have a few more hours to go. I’m afraid you’ll need to surrender your horse, Lady Rachelle. I no longer trust you to ride alone.”
The thought of sharing a saddle with him nauseated her. Polite conversation had run its course. No longer his guest, she cursed herself for trusting Frida.
With his jaw clenched in triumph, Aaron McNally resembled his arrogant cousin. Aaron had been quick to abuse her in their confrontation in the great hall. What would stop him fromslitting her throat and leaving her to die? Ravens would pick her bones clean.
Bloody hell …
She glanced cautiously about, then returned her attention to him. He’d already mounted, held the reigns to her horse, and now patted the empty space in front of him on the saddle.
“I won’t molest ye,” he spoke with an exaggerated Scots brogue. “My manly appetite is quite satisfied already.”
Curse his indecency. Spending another minute with him would be akin to self-mutilation. If she could find her way back to Tyr’s house and explain, or better yet, slip into her room unnoticed, there’d be no harm done. She stole a last glimpse at Aaron, slid off her horse, and then bolted.
“Christ’s blood!” he bellowed.
She followed the hoof prints in the snow, running several yards, then careened left. Darting between two pines, jumping over rocks, avoiding uneven ground, she managed to stay on her feet. Nearly out of breath, she pushed herself to run faster and farther, until she found a tiny copse to hide in.
Aaron McNally was a rogue who took advantage of women, clearly demonstrated by his immoral behavior with Frida—only recently turned out of Tyr’s bed. If only she’d listened to Onetooth that first night and stayed in her room, she wouldn’t be a victim of Aaron’s deceit. Compared to his cousin, Tyr looked the saint.
Tension weakened her body while she waited silently. Where was that deceiver lurking?
Twigs snapped.
Barely recovered from her violent run, Rachelle sprinted away. Through the thinning canopy, she eyed the full moon. It wouldn’t help her navigate. Her gaze darted in every direction. Then she collided with a tree.
Aaron heard adeafening thud. He launched from his saddle, then found Rachelle in a heap on the ground. He knelt beside her and wiped blood from her right temple with his sleeve.
“Stupid lass,” he muttered.
Confident there were no other injuries, he scooped her off the ground with a grunt. She’d pay the price for her foolishness after she woke up. The ache in her head would be punishment enough. He cupped her cheek, what a pity to waste such an exquisite girl on Prince Edwin. But Aaron needed this newly found alliance and the wealth it promised. Five hundred gold pieces purchased her—a ridiculously generous bride price. And Edwin had promised to marry her. Not a bad arrangement for all parties involved. Imagine the daughter of a modest merchant marrying into the Hardrada family.
After Aaron walked back to his horse, he shifted Rachelle to his left side, then rummaged in his saddle bag for a piece of rope. No more risks. If he didn’t bind her, the next time she ran off she might kill herself accidentally. With her hands secured, he cradled her in his arms again. He smiled at her enticing, slender form. No wonder Frida cursed her. His new lover’s bountiful arse alone seduced men—but there was something incredibly tempting about Rachelle. He considered bedding her now, but it wasn’t worth jeopardizing his arrangement. If the prince discovered his bride wasn’t a virgin, he’d demand reparation. A penalty Aaron couldn’t afford to pay.
Onetooth advised Tyrnot to drink alone. Ignoring his captain’s wise council, Tyr secluded himself in his bedchamber. Everything had caught up with him. He’d suffered too much over the last few weeks. Emotionally depleted, the lasting effect Rachelle had on him drove him madder with each passing day. Sweetness filled the air wherever she went, leaving a hollow spotin his heart. War and death couldn’t defeat him—her rejection had.
He held the cure to all misery in his left hand. Mead. He uncorked the wineskin, then swallowed deeply.
