She mopped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”
“Do you feel queasy?”
She looked surprised and nodded. “Aye, how did you know?”
“Serious head injuries can do that, although I cannot explain why you’re on your feet now.”
He had many questions. Like, who taught her how to stab a man in the kidney? Maybe she had witnessed a fair share of violence in her young life. But these kinds of questions would only elicit a feeling of indignity in a woman who risked everything to save him. Instead, he simply gave voice to one. “Why did you intervene? Those men weren’t after you, min lille dukke, they wanted me.”
“I overheard one say your mother told them where we were. It made me more furious than anything I’ve ever heard. She betrayed you, and I’ll be damned if she’ll make me a widow before I have a chance to live my life with you.”
Her words put to rest any lingering doubts. Before, he had wondered if she had only agreed to marry him to protect her family or to gain forgiveness from her god. He looked her over critically, wanted to make sure she was fit to travel. Injuries left them both weak.
Randvior was determined to make it home before nightfall. If she had been hurt worse, to Hel with his tenants, but he knew she was strong and they were determined to face whatever horrors awaited them at home.
Darkness set in as they met a group of riders halfway home. Noelle lowered her thick collar and stared across the field at the horses tethered to trees. She recognized Brandon immediately. He was alive and well. It gave her hope that whatever had happened might not be as bad as originally feared.
Randvior kissed the back of her neck before he slipped from the saddle. Several riders dismounted and met him near the trees. Noelle could see Brandon and Randvior’s hands gesturing angrily. Bad news. The men broke apart and Brandon followed Randvior back to his horse.
“My Lady . . .” Brandon bowed formally.
She nodded. “What news?”
He looked up and pursed his lips. Rarely did Sir McNally frown. “I’ll let your husband do the telling. But I’m very happy to see you alive. Randvior told us of your bravery. Once again, you have humbled men of war by showing us purity in spirit.”
She received his praise with mixed emotions. Managed to give him a half nod, before Randvior told her to stay put while they made further plans.
Randvior’s voice boomed across the clearing as she waited. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but none of it could be good. Bored with waiting, and desperate to relieve herself, she wandered into the woods. No harm with a small army standing nearby. A faint rustling and a whisper drew her deeper into the forest. It sounded so familiar.
Were the Norse gods summoning her?
For some inexplicable reason she wasn’t afraid. She jerked around at the sound of leaves and twigs being trampled underfoot. And there he was . . . whether a figment of her imagination or a ghost, her brother, Brian Sinclair, stood only feet away.
Astounded, she recalled seeing him back at the cabin before she passed out.
“Sister . . .”
Noelle searched for an escape route. But it was dark and Brian was faster and stronger. He extended his hand to her.
“I’ve come to take you home.”
“To what?” She realized he was flesh and blood now.
“To Durham.”
Noelle sank to her knees. Her mind painted a vivid picture of what misery her life would be back home.
“No. I am home.” There was nothing he could offer her to lure her back to a life under the same roof with him.
But Brian didn’t care about what other people wanted. He came at her—and Noelle couldn’t move out of the way in time.
“Life,” he whispered as he roughly yanked her to her feet, “is often unfair. Did you enjoy selling your soul to the devil? Didn’t I tell you I’d hunt you down?”
She gouged at his eyes, but he clapped his hand over her mouth and spun her around so her back faced him. He held her in a death grip and applied so much pressure to her chest she couldn’t breathe. She tried to break free, but he only gripped her harder.
“Help yourself. Come peacefully and I’ll let you live until we get home. Keep struggling and I’ll slit your throat right now and watch you bleed out like a pig.”
At that, she bit the fleshy part of his palm.
“You filthy bitch!” he yelped and shook his hand out while she ran for cover, hiding behind a large bush. Long moments passed, then she heard his footsteps.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .”
Noelle bowed her head. Good God—how had he gotten here? Her heart jolted. Lauga . . . Of course, they had a shared hatred in common.
“I’ve been trailing you for days. A touching wedding ceremony, I might add, outdoors for the entire world to enjoy. Did you really think Father would allow you to disappear? Did you think I’d allow you to live happily ever after?”
She could hear him walking around and it frightened her.
“Margaret has been sold off to an English baron and our father is very ill. He met with an unfortunate accident after his return from Ireland, after he tried to banish me.”
This news surprised her. Her father would never do such a thing unless the servants and soldiers convinced him Brian had murdered Ophelia in cold blood. Even Lord Sinclair had his limits.
He threw a bit of rope over the bush and it landed by her feet. “Bind your hands and come out.”
She focused on the air around her and considered her options, fleeing or dying. She would sleep an enchanted sleep having loved so purely and deeply. Death didn’t scare her anymore, but leaving Randvior behind and sailing home with Brian did. She threw the scrap of rope at him.
“I’d rather die.”
Her remark hadn’t quite registered when she faced him again. Before her brother could respond, Randvior struck as deadly as a rabid wolf.
“You’ve gone too far.” Randvior wrapped his hands around her brother’s throat and slammed him to the ground. “I left your home unharmed and allowed you to keep half your wealth. What could have possibly enticed you to risk your life by coming here?”
Brian coughed and struggled to speak. Randvior relaxed his grip.
Noelle knew the answer . . . There was no other reasonable explanation.
“To kill her.”
With his bare hands, Randvior slammed her brother’s head against the jagged stones that littered the ground. Heaving for air, Randvior let go of Brian’s body and turned. “I heard your fearless words—say nothing—leave his corpse to rot.”
But there was something she needed, someone she wanted. “One thing, my husband.”
He nodded.
“Bring my sister home, I beg you.” She shouldn’t regret begging mercy for her sister’s life. Please my love . . .
Randvior came to her and took her hand. “If there is a way, I swear I will reunite you with Margaret.”
Tears filled her eyes. Together, they walked back to the horses.
Randvior rode ahead of the guards as they made their way toward home. It took a long while for her husband to speak to her again. When he did, he explained everything.
“Three cabins were burned to the ground last night,” he said ominously. “Four families perished.”
She turned in the saddle. A great sadness made his shoulders sag like an old man’s. Her heart rolled over in her chest. “Why?”
He dropped the reins and fanned his hands across his knees. The stallion kept moving. “It seems my mother, your brother, and other men of opportunity wish to destroy me. They want to force me back to my sire’s home so I have no voice in matters of importance. As long as I am a jarl, I will protect those who worship Odin.”
Her p
ulse raced as she shook her head in disbelief. Who was foolish enough to try to take power from Randvior? Brandon had warned of war. Although she didn’t know all the details of Norwegian politics, Randvior’s viewpoint differed from many of the men who ruled here—he refused to convert. He gripped the reins again and they broke into a gallop.
“I haven’t a bloody clue whom we killed back at the cabin yet, but rest assured I’ll find out.”
There was a scary confidence in his voice. She trembled at the thought of him going to war, destroying everything in his path. “I don’t want you to leave me . . .” she mumbled under her breath, never intending him to hear her private thoughts.
“What did you say?” he asked.
Suddenly, she blamed herself for the unfortunate circumstances they had faced over the last weeks. Even the deaths of his tenants were her fault. If she had stayed in the woods with Margaret and escaped, she would never have been brought here and Randvior would have never married her or been caught naked in the creek back at the cabin.
“What did you say?” he asked again.
“Behold, I come like a thief! Blessed is he who stays awake and keeps his clothes with him, so that he may not go naked and be shamefully exposed.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, then he broke into violent laughter that shook her body. She gave him her best scowl.
“Leave it to my witty bride to navigate through the canon of Christian scriptures and find the words to chastise me for bathing in a creek. I confess my sins—I am a fool. And yes, caught with my pants down.”
“You misinterpreted my intentions.”
“No, my sweet.” he disagreed. “I fully appreciate the wisdom you show in times of danger. Be careful, the Virgin Mother may be replaced if you keep espousing such words on behalf of your Church. Intended or not.”
They reached the cabins located along the northern side of his property and Noelle’s heart sank at the sight of the burning cross. Randvior wrapped his arm around her to keep her in the saddle. This was not the way the Church intended for the most sacred symbol of her faith to be used.
She covered her eyes to keep herself from staring. “Wicked mockery—sacrilegious representation of Christ’s divine mercy, this is not the work of Christians.”
“No?”
“No,” she assured him. “It’s obviously a trick to mislead you. But what kind of man would do something so outrageous?”
“One who wishes to send a clear message.”
He got down and went to the cross. The burning effigy stood near the smoldering ruins of the cabins.
Brandon led them to the bodies draped with canvas. Noelle’s eyes filled with tears.
“Turn away,” Brandon warned.
She refused. “I will witness this tragedy as anyone else would be expected to.” Though she indeed dreaded the moment he would uncover them.
She gasped in horror when he did.
Brandon identified the families. Scorched beyond recognition—the acrid stench of singed flesh made her stomach groan. She gagged and ran away—vomited uncontrollably.
She startled after Randvior’s face appeared on the opposite side of the tree she held on to. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sick?”
“Yes,” she snapped, “obviously.”
She could tell he was trying to gauge her mood.
“And you should be ill, after seeing and smelling that . . . that hellish stench.”
She retched again.
“You’ve thrown up quite a bit over the last few days,” he observed. He felt her forehead and cheeks, checking for fever. “Are you dizzy?”
“No.” She pushed past him.
He followed on her heels and offered a wineskin. “Rinse your mouth and take a deep swig. Liquid strength bolsters any man’s spirit.”
I’m not a man. She gargled and spat the mixture on the ground. As her husband suggested, she took a drink and handed the skin back.
“Is your heart made of stone?”
He looked at her levelly. “Stone, no.” He snatched her close. “But hardened after years of war and death,” he admitted. “These are my brethren—irreplaceable subjects who depend on me for protection. Thrall or freeman, if one is harmed, the cup of my wrath shall runneth over.”
This was not the homecoming Randvior had envisioned. Newly married, he wanted to celebrate, drink, and feast until his insides ached. He toured the grounds, stopped, and talked to the men on patrol. Brandon and Aud had wisely dispatched the remainder of the available soldiers to keep watch. Fifteen thousand acres was too large a swath for only a handful of men to protect. He returned to the hall and organized two more teams from amongst his tenants and slaves. Every available man was needed for defense. If he judged correctly, these bastards wouldn’t dare attack the main house, only the outlying grounds.
The war council met in the great hall, and Randvior slammed his fists on the table. “Aud!” His temper had reached its limits. “Take two men and ride to my father’s house. Bring my mother—either voluntarily or at the end of a rope. She will answer this night for her betrayal and high crimes.”
Aud was especially adept at handling Lauga’s manipulative mouth, almost handled it as well as Brandon. And unlike the men who lived within miles of his lands, Aud didn’t fear her magic.
“I should have let them burn her at the stake years ago in Scotland, after the priests accused her of witchcraft,” he fumed. “Should have let the winds carry her ashes to the four corners of the earth.” He hated her now. Nothing could repair their relationship. No one would ever hurt Noelle again. Oh, he knew who sponsored Brian and brought him to Norway.
And no one challenged his decision. Lauga’s dark magic . . . A mother should be the wellspring of her family, not cursed by her only son. He reminisced about his childhood—remembered a far off time when Lauga had been kind.
It shattered his heart.
He offered nothing further. Ordered most of his men to stand guard throughout the night and promised to rejoin them once he settled things with his wife. He went upstairs. Noelle was taking a bath in a large tub set in the middle of her room.
“Leave us.” He shoved Katherine outside.
“Finish quickly and gather some belongings—enough to sustain you for a few days.”
“Where are we going?”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” he snapped in a brooding rage. Noelle seemed unaffected by his sour mood, thankfully so. He softened his voice. “You are joining the women in the cellars and I’m staying aboveground to protect us and capture the bastards that murdered our tenants.”
She nodded and made a last pass with a soapy sponge over her delicate skin. She braided her hair and dressed while he watched. He gave her a leather bag and she chose an extra gown and clean leggings, packed her jewel box, two books, and a dagger he pressed into her hands.
He discarded the pack on the bed and lifted his wife into his arms. “I’m sorry.” He twirled her braid around his fingers. “Once this is finished, I expect you to return with me to our little cabin in the woods.”
She smiled.
It would be a lot easier if he had been matched with a shrew. The kind of woman who once the marital vows were taken clamped her legs shut as tightly as a cell door. He had lost his strength to resist her and carried her to his room. She waited patiently while he put on his armor. Strapping his helmet on, he gave her a serious look. Together they went to the stairs and stopped. He saw the glow of what he thought was admiration on her cheeks and realized she’d never seen him dressed in full armor.
The welcoming heat inside her mouth as he kissed her made him reconsider his goals. A quick detour to the bathhouse wouldn’t hurt a soul. He shrugged her bag off his shoulder, took off his helmet, and dropped it to the floor. God,
what he could do with that little body in just ten minutes . . .
With some hesitation and more than a little regret, for not having the time to make love to her, he pushed the thought out of his mind, picked up the bag and helmet, and escorted her downstairs, straight to the cellar. Guards were already posted at the door. His men saluted and opened it. Randvior grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and went in. The passageway curved left and opened into a wide stairway. The main room had a high ceiling with plenty of light. A hundred women and children gathered around them.
Questions were hurled at him all at once. Where had he been for so long? How long would they be locked in the cellar? Who burned the cabins? He listened until the last woman had an opportunity to express her concern. He shushed them as gently as he could.
“There are no definitive answers, only strong suspicions. We know these families were targeted because of their relationship to me. Once the guilty are apprehended, I promise to mark days of mourning and all of my household will honor the dead. Odin hears their cries for justice and my sword is his answer.”
Whispers among the women went on for a while. Some of the women and children were directly related to the victims and they wept for their loved ones. Randvior’s words were accepted and eventually they quieted, but the sound of weeping ripped through him. This had always been the most difficult part of his duties and he hated it.
“I have brought my wife to join you.” He pulled Noelle to the front. “We married four days ago in a secret ceremony at the standing stones. Who shall I entrust with the responsibility of looking after my bride?”
Unnr Raske raised her hand.
“Unnr,” he acknowledged, reached out, and pulled her from the crowd. “I give her over to your capable hands.” He joined his wife and Unnr’s hands as if in formal pledge.
Before he departed, he walked with Noelle toward the back of the room. “Once I leave these rooms, I will lock the door from the outside. Only I have the key.”
Blind Allegiance (Viking Romance) (The Blind Series) Page 20