Bride of Ice

by Glynnis Campbell

  There was no pain yet. But there would be.

  He couldn’t die. Who would protect the laird?

  How could he have been killed by a lass? A lass?

  After a moment, he realized the curious sharp star protruding from his padded cotun hadn’t actually penetrated his chest. But relief mixed with rage when he realized the wee dark-haired lass had probably meant the weapon to pierce his heart.

  He plucked the strange steel piece from his cotun and dropped it on the sod. Then, with a growl of ire, he lunged forward, upending the malicious maid like a sack of barley over his shoulder.

  It was only then that he turned and got a good look at the third lass.

  What he saw took his breath away, stopped his heart, and nearly made him drop his burden.

  A beautiful Valkyrie appeared to have fallen from Valhalla. The maid was tall and slim. Not willowy, but strong. Despite her plain dress—a simple, woad-blue kirtle with a girdle of leather wrapped in silver chain, and a small silver pendant—she had a regal bearing.

  If her two companions were as savage and scrappy as wildcats, she appeared to be their calm mistress. Courageous. Cool. Collected.

  Her long braided hair, several shades blonder than his, shone like white samite in the moonlight. She lifted her chin high with pride and held her gently angled jaw steady. Her bright eyes gleamed with intelligence. But it was on her soft, full, kissable mouth that Colban’s eyes focused.

  When she began to speak, he was so distracted by the lovely movement of her lips and the even tone of her voice—in light of the violence surrounding her—that he hardly heard her words. Until she casually suggested that he and Morgan release her friends.

  Release them? The vicious, spitting lasses who were still struggling in their grasp? She had to be jesting. His heart was still pounding from his brush with death. There was no way in heaven—or Valhalla—that they were going to let the bloodthirsty wenches loose to do more mischief. Especially when they discovered the dark-haired one was harboring several more pointy and vicious weapons.

  Still, it was a valiant attempt on her part to secure their freedom.

  In the end, Morgan had no choice but to take the maids prisoner and hold them in the castle for the night for everyone’s safety. They could sort things out on the morrow.

  The laird, who trusted no one else to keep the wily wenches from escaping, stored them in his bedchamber and guarded the door himself.

  And Colban, trusting no one else to serve as the secondary line of defense, returned to his post at the palisade gates.

  He was secretly glad Morgan was watching over the lasses. After a final lingering look at the one they called Hallie, Colban didn’t trust anyone else to keep their hands off the breathtaking Valkyrie.

  Chapter 3

  Once Hallie spied the comfortably appointed bedchamber with the enormous, fleecy bed that would serve as their prison, her mind was made up.

  Their captors might be savage Highlanders. Burly. Brutal. Bold.

  But the laird obviously meant them no harm. He’d treated them with honor, graciousness, and civility. With little more than a word of warning against their escape, he’d closed the door behind him. She could therefore expect him to be reasonable on the morrow when she negotiated for their release.

  If she could just keep her ungrateful cousins from interfering with those negotiations. Neither of them appreciated the careful diplomacy Hallie had employed, the diplomacy that had won them the Highlander’s trust and their comfortable lodgings for the night.

  At the moment, beneath her surface of icy calm, Hallie seethed with irritation and disappointment. Irritation that impulsive Jenefer had acted alone, without thought of the consequences. Disappointment that Feiyan had flouted Hallie’s authority, bringing weapons and nearly killing an unarmed man.

  If Hallie couldn’t manage to rein in her own cousins’ rebellious habits, how would she manage to get them out of this? And how was she ever going to take command of an entire clan? It was a laird’s responsibility to keep her clansmen safe, and that included keeping them safe from their own foibles.

  Now Feiyan and Jenefer had begun bickering so loudly they’d awakened a babe in the adjoining chamber. It was crying inconsolably.

  With an exasperated sigh, Hallie made her cousins swear they wouldn’t attempt a brash escape until she sorted things out. Then she burrowed under the fleece to try to get a good night’s sleep.

  That was not to be.

  Though Hallie managed to half-doze through hours of wailing, it was the babe’s abrupt silence in the middle of the night that startled her awake. She rose up on her elbows, instantly suspicious.

  A chill draft was wheezing through the window. The fire had blown out. The shutter must have come ajar.

  Hallie felt her way in the dark, intending to secure the loose latch. But when she got to the moonlit window, the breath froze in her throat.

  The end of a bedsheet was tied to the shutter. She peered out over the edge of the window. Another bedsheet was tied to the first. The fabric swirled in the breeze, lashing the stones of the castle.

  Her heart plummeted.

  Had her cousins broken their word? Had they climbed out the window and escaped? Had they abandoned her to the enemy?

  Damn their lies. A lairdship was based on clan loyalty. Could she not even count on the allegiance of her own cousins? If they’d only waited till morn, she could have gotten them all out of this.

  Thinning her lips in aggravation, she scoured the sward below, looking for signs of the wayward lasses. A wisp of cloud moved across the face of the moon, sending a shadow across the distant field below. As it passed, a beam of light glinted off something in the grass.

  The arsenal Feiyan had been forced to surrender.

  All the soldiers of Rivenloch possessed valuable weapons of war. But Feiyan treated hers like jewels. Her unique blades and spears and axes were precious works of craftsmanship.

  On the wet sod, they could rust or—worse—be stolen.

  Maybe Feiyan had only climbed out the window to retrieve her weapons. Maybe she meant to come back.

  But a snort and a snore sounded behind Hallie. Feiyan hadn’t left at all. She was still in bed, asleep.

  Suddenly, from the adjoining window—the chamber harboring the crying babe—Hallie heard raised voices.

  She cocked her head to listen.

  There was no mistaking that stubborn tone of challenge.

  It was Jenefer.

  She hadn’t fled after all. She must have used the bedsheets to make her way to the window of the room next door.

  And by the agitated sound of her voice, the foolish lass was going to get them all into trouble.

  Hallie had to do something.

  She dared not rely on the loyalty of her cousins.

  Feiyan may not have made her move yet, but at some point, she was bound to risk life and limb to get her weapons back.

  And hotheaded Jenefer was going to start a war with that sharp tongue of hers.

  Hallie had to take matters into her own hands.

  Locating her boots and cloak in the dark, she dressed quickly. Then she crept back to the window. She tightened the knot around the shutter. Praying she wasn’t making a mistake, she slipped over the ledge.

  She’d made her cousins promise they wouldn’t flee.

  She’d said nothing about making her own escape.

  The bedsheets proved sturdy enough. Hand over hand, Hallie lowered herself along the castle wall. At the end of the rope, still several yards above the ground, she took a calming breath and let go, landing as softly as a cat.

  She needed to reach Rivenloch before her parents returned. Hopefully, Feiyan and Jenefer could stay out of trouble till then.

  Hallie didn’t intend to start a war. Hers was a mission of diplomacy. But without the assurance of her cousins’ cooperation, she needed leverage. She had to stack the odds in her favor. Which meant she’d have to gather a good number of Rivenloch kni
ghts and return to negotiate for the release of Feiyan and Jenefer.

  She pulled the hood of her cloak close about her face. Then she crept across the dewy grass toward the palisade gate, keeping a watchful eye on the parapets.

  At Rivenloch, there were always half a dozen guards patrolling the castle walls. But it appeared Creagor couldn’t spare the men.

  She’d taken careful inventory when she’d first been brought through the great hall. If the men gathered there were any indication, their numbers were few.

  Not that they were any less of a threat.

  They were a burly bunch of Highlanders, broad of back and wide of chest. Two of them—the laird and his golden-haired companion, the handsome one Feiyan had almost killed with her throwing star—towered above the rest.

  No sooner did she begin to muse about the invaders than she realized she’d been spotted. Perhaps ten yards before her, standing atop the palisade gate, was one of the pair of lofty Highlanders himself. The man with the golden hair. His arms were crossed over his massive chest as he frowned down at her.

  “Who goes there?” he demanded.

  She froze, keeping her face concealed in the hood. Under normal circumstances, Hallie had an answer for everything. But for an instant she couldn’t think.

  It certainly wasn’t because of the way the moonlight was shining on his fair hair. Or the impressive breadth of his shoulders. Or the ringing command of his voice.

  He’d only startled her, standing there like the all-powerful Heimdall, guarding the gates of Asgard. That was all.

  Colban hoped the beautiful runaway couldn’t tell he’d been dozing a moment ago. Between the fog of sleep and his surprise at seeing the hooded but unmistakable Valkyrie stealing toward him in the starlight, he was having trouble gathering his thoughts.

  Torn between his duty to protect the clan and his fascination with the warrior lass, he blurted out, “Halt!”

  She glanced around her, probably wondering who he was addressing. “I have halted.”

  So she had. He cursed under his breath. For the love of Brighid, why couldn’t he think straight?

  In his embarrassment, he growled, “I asked ye, ‘Who goes there’?”

  He expected her to confess. Once confronted, she had two choices. She could throw back her hood and boldly claim her identity. Or she could lower her head and surrender with a sigh of defeat.

  She did neither.

  Instead, she scoffed at him. “For shite’s sake, don’t get your braies in a twist. I’m just the new servant, going to gather mushrooms in the wood.”

  He frowned. Did she not realize he recognized her? Did she think she was fooling him?

  The new servant, indeed.

  “Mushrooms?” He arched a dubious brow, wondering how far she was willing to carry this farce. “Indeed? In the middle o’ the night?”

  “Of course in the middle of the night,” she reasoned. “The best mushrooms are gathered by the light of a full moon.” She shook her head. “Did you not know that?”

  Colban had never heard such a thing. Was it even true?

  “Mushrooms,” he repeated.

  “If you must know, they’re for an elixir to calm the babe,” she smoothly confided. “No one can sleep with that racket.”

  That he could almost believe.

  “So if you’ll stand aside…” she said.

  Almost believe.

  But now that he was fully alert, he remembered his duties.

  With finality, he said, “No one is to go past these gates.”

  She was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Fine. ’Tis your head.” She turned to go back to the keep.

  “Wait,” he said, startled that she’d surrendered so quickly. “What do ye mean?”

  “I mean, the laird will be mightily vexed if I don’t return with his mushrooms,” she warned. “And I’d hate to be in your boots when he has to come slogging out here in the middle of the night, clenching his fists and cursing your name because he can’t sleep.”

  Unfortunately, that sounded exactly like Morgan. The babe had been a source of anguish and frustration for him for weeks.

  But Colban wasn’t a fool. And neither was Morgan. He would never let a captive wander out the palisade gates, much less send a maidservant into the woods on a midnight errand.

  The lass shuddered once from the cold. “I told him I’d return in a trice with the mushrooms. But if you won’t let me pass, well, I won’t stand out here, shivering.” She moved to go.

  “Wait.”

  She paused.

  Colban knew the Valkyrie would never surrender so easily. If she didn’t manage to slip out the palisade gates, sooner or later she’d look for another means of escape.

  If he let her go now, he could track her, learn what she intended. That could be more valuable than confronting her with her lies.

  He pretended to reconsider. “How long will ye be?”

  “Not long.”

  “And ye swear ye’ll come back straightaway?”

  “What else would I be doing in the woods on a night like this?” She shivered again.

  It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t answered his question directly. But he couldn’t argue with her. It sounded like a plausible excuse. After all, what reasonable lass would venture alone into the woods on a frosty night unless someone had commanded her to do so?

  “Very well,” he said, climbing down to unlatch the gate. “I’ll come with ye.”

  “Nay!” she blurted, then softened her answer with a laugh. “Don’t be daft. I’ll be fine. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be guarding the gates against folk going in?”

  He hesitated. She was a clever lass. But he was clever as well.

  He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. Then, wondering if he was doing the right thing, he opened the gate for her.

  As she swept past him with her face concealed, he inhaled, stealing a breath of her essence. Wafting off of the fearless maid was the scent of wool and spice and intrigue.

  “Do not tarry,” he told her, watching her go and carefully noting the spot where she entered the wood.

  Chapter 4

  Hallie held her breath as she strode purposefully toward the trees. She could feel the Highlander’s eyes on her the entire way.

  Not that that was unexpected. Men were ridiculously easy to distract. Even in battle, when it came to throwing off an opponent, sometimes a cool smile and a toss of her pale tresses worked as well as a shield.

  Still, she felt sorry for the guard. He seemed like a good man. Honorable. Loyal. Well-intentioned.

  It wasn’t his fault that he was too simpleminded to see through her ruse. To notice how she’d evaded his questions. To wonder why she’d never exactly identified herself.

  She didn’t expect him to follow her. She didn’t even worry that he’d notice when she was gone for more than a “trice.” Indeed, the poor man looked bone-weary. She half-expected him to drift off to sleep before she reached the forest.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t be punished too severely in the morn when the laird discovered he’d allowed their prisoner to stroll out the palisade gates.

  Meanwhile, she’d hasten to Rivenloch. Knowing Rauve, he’d be awake, worried about her. They needed to assemble a contingent of knights and return.

  Fortunately, despite the dark of night, some moonlight filtered through the pines to light her way. But the breeze-blown branches made the shadows shift across the trail in eerie patterns. More than once, she was startled by a movement she perceived at the edges of her vision.

  Shaking her head at her own foolish fears, she straightened her shoulders and continued along the path.

  Still, she couldn’t dispel the nagging sense that something was watching her. And as she progressed deeper into the forest, she kept seeing flickers among the trees. Hearing strange whispers of sound amid the sighs of the pines.

  Maybe it was only the wind, making the leaves of the elms quiver and the hair stand up on the ba
ck of her neck.

  Maybe it was only wee beasts hunting in the night. Wildcats chasing owls. Owls swooping down on mice. Mice scrabbling after beetles.

  Disgusted by her trepidation, she frowned, gathering her cloak more tightly about her and training her eyes on the trail.

  She was Hallidis Cameliard, after all, the daughter of Deirdre, Warrior Maid of Rivenloch. She’d fought alongside the sons of Vikings and faced down giants in battle. Why was she shivering like a leaf?

  Though she hated to admit Rauve was right, she wished she had her trusty sword on her hip.

  She continued for another half a mile. The sensation persisted. Highly alert now, she narrowed her eyes and strained her ears. Something or someone was following her. She was sure of it.

  Several yards later, she heard a menacing growl from the bushes behind her. She went still.

  Strangely, her first response was relief. She’d been right. It hadn’t been her imagination. Something was stalking her.

  Her second response was naturally to defend herself.

  Careful not to make any sudden moves, she slowly turned to face the threat.

  An enormous gray wolf emerged from the bushes. Its hackles were raised. Its head was lowered. And its teeth were bared.

  But that wasn’t what alarmed Hallie.

  What made her breath catch and her heart pound with fear was the man beyond the wolf. The handsome guard from the palisade gates was charging up the path toward the beast, brandishing a blade.

  Colban had never meant to let the lass venture so far. But she was obviously familiar with the woodland path. And she took damned long strides. By the time he’d buckled on his claymore, secured the gate behind him, and set off after her, she’d disappeared from sight.

  Now that he’d finally caught up with the fleeing maid, miles later, he was glad he’d decided to pursue her.

  Perhaps a dozen yards separated them now. But crouched between the two of them was an enormous wolf. A slinking, growling, snapping beast. A beast that could devour the helpless lass with one clap of its slavering jaws.