He moved with a powerful, swaying stride. This one has spent too much time at sea, I thought before the blood rushed to my head and I slumped to the deck.
When I woke, I lay hot and heavy on the ship deck. Someone had thrown a fur over me. A thick white pelt, like the one the golden-haired warrior wore.
My head throbbed.
“What...” I mumbled, my words garbled. My arms felt heavy and my chest was full of rocks. My head pounded as if I’d drunk a half barrel of Nanny’s best metheglin.
Voices rumbled in the distance before a pair of boots thumped closer.
“Easy,” someone murmured. Something smooth touched my lips and when I thrashed, water spattered my face.
“Calm yourself. ‘Tis only water.”
My tongue lay thick in my mouth. My head was still filled with clouds. I felt this way sometimes, after I’d had a vision. Was that why I had fainted?
When I opened my eyes, the world was grey. My face was wet and so was the pelt. It must have rained. But I still needed water.
A warrior, dark-skinned with a patterned feather hanging from his ear, set the cup to my lips again. I drank, but when I went to grab the cup the warrior drew back. “Careful.”
The warning surprised me. The feather fluttered as the dark warrior backed away. He refilled the cup and set it by my foot. He retreated before I reached for it.
“He won’t like it if I touch you.”
“Who?”
A pause. Then, reluctantly, “The Sea Wolf.”
Under the heavy, white fur, my body trembled. I turned my head to the prow of the boat where a giant figure gazed straight out into the mist.
“That’s him,” the warrior confirmed.
“Who is he?”
A shrug.
“The Sea Wolf is a legend.”
Another shrug.
“Who are you?”
“They call me Hawk,” he grinned, flashing straight white teeth. “Now calm yourself, lass.
I scooted back to lean against the sturdy mast. The white pelt was large enough to cover most of my body, so I huddled under it. I was not ashamed to hide.
We seemed to be sailing into a storm. Rain lashed the mainsail. The wind rifled the ragged lines. I listened for the wolf howl but heard only ordinary sounds.
How long had I been asleep? How far were we from land? Had Danny gotten back to my father’s holding before the weather turned bad?
Poor Danny.
Poor me, if I did not escape. I could use magic but would prefer not to brave this weather.
For now, I’d rest.
The warriors I’d seen before tromped back and forth, keeping the ship moving in whatever direction we were headed. Other than Hawk, no one paid me any attention. When they came to fiddle with the mainstay, they gave me wide berth.
The Sea Wolf, or whoever he was, did not come back to check on his captive. Why had he taken me?
I fiddled with the silver brooch as I tried to remember the old tale. A warrior cursed by a witch. Forced to sail the open sea. I’d not paid close attention to the terms of the curse, or the story’s end. Something about a raven and a woman.
Apparently, he thought I was the woman. Which was ridiculous. First Dòmhnall, now him. This Sea Wolf.
The longer I leaned against the mast, the angrier I became. When a trio of warriors tromped by, their tattooed faces averted as if I was dangerous to look at, I’d had enough.
I surged to my feet, squinting against the protest of my aching head, and started towards the prow.
That’s when I found I was tied to the mast by a rope secured around my neck I fought with the knots until Hawk appeared.
I dropped my hands as he loomed over me. I had a knife in my bodice, next to my beating heart. But I didn’t want to use it too soon.
“A precaution,” said Hawk, nodding to the rope. “He doesn’t want you throwing yourself overboard.”
I fisted my hands at my side. “I am Muireann, daughter of the lord of the Northern Isle. I demand to speak with your leader. My father can pay ransom. Or my husband, if you return me to him.”
The warrior cocked his head. “Husband?”
“My intended,” I admitted. “I was to meet him when he—your leader—took me.”
The warrior grunted. He opened a leather pack and offered me a small dried fish. I wrinkled my nose. I’d already had enough of the sea.
“I must speak to him,” I insisted, trying to step around the warrior, brought up short by the rope I’d forgotten. When I grabbed at the tether the warrior made a warning gesture.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. Not if you don’t want to be tied down completely.”
“I’m the daughter of the lord of the Northern Isle and I demand—”
“You’re not daughter of anyone anymore. Or intended,” he spat the word. “You belong to the Sea Wolf now.”
I kept my head down for the rest of the journey. Goddess help me. I had my own resources, the tricks my mother taught me, but the fog still surrounded us. This ship, these warriors, the mist seemed otherworldly. I’d heard of people unlucky enough to be stolen by the sidhe or to bumble into the land of the fair folk by accident. They were trapped in the otherworld, outside of time. After a season or two, they might return home to find a hundred years gone by.
Is that what the mists meant? Had I crossed the border into another world. And if so, how could I return home?
I must have dozed, for shouts awakened me. When I rose, I gasped. Ahead loomed two giant rocks and the ship was headed straight for them.
“Stop,” I whispered, but we rode the swell, gliding between the stones. The fit was so tight, if I’d leaned over the ship’s side, I could’ve touched the granite pillar.
Beyond the archway was a small harbor, somewhat protected from the angry weather. I scrambled out of the way as the warriors let down the sail and braced myself when it seemed they’d let the ship run right up on the beach.
I was right. The shallow-bottomed craft rode the waves right to shore. Warriors poured over the sides, shouting to one another.
Hawk took the rope from the mast that leashed me. “Come then,” he ordered. I glanced to the prow, but it was empty.
Hawk smirked when he saw me looking for his leader. “He’s gone. He’ll meet you inside. Come.” For all his rough tugging on the tether, he helped me down gently, though he was careful to only touch the parts of me covered by the wolf pelt.
When I stepped onto the sand, but my body tingled as if magic leavened the air.
“Come on,” Hawk started towards a dark grey cliff at the far end of the beach. I scrambled to follow. A light rain washed my face, turned the white fur I wore into wet spikes. At least my braid had held.
The cliff turned out to be a stone keep. An old Viking stronghold, carved from the sea rocks.
The Sea Wolf was cursed. He could not set a foot on land or else... Nanny’s words tugged at me as Hawk led me into the massive keep. The roof was part gone, leaving the hall open to the elements. The old stones were worn from the work of keeping the ocean outside. A few more decades and the walls would crumble into the sea.
The warrior band dispersed, their movements certain. some went up the shore to collect bits of driftwood. Another knelt in the great hall, stoking a fire. The rest seemed to have duties unloading or loading supplies, heading out to fish or spreading out skins to dry.
Hawk led me past all this to an ancient staircase curving along one wall, the stone steps were narrow and perilous, crumbling underfoot. I bit back a whimper. My captor kept a firm hand on my leash, tugging me closer, but he was not unkind. When I reached him, he bid me walk before him, and he let me inch along next to the wall while he kept to the outside. Despite his care not to touch me, the unspoken message was that he’d catch me if I fell.
Slowly I made my way up and up, fixing my eyes on the narrow doorway at the top and not at the dizzying distance to the stone floor. If the men working below watched our progress, I did no
t know.
When we reached the top step, I hesitated.
“Go on,” Hawk ordered, and I stumbled into a dark, empty-smelling room. The roof here was better preserved, held up by a great trunk in the center of the room. The only light came from a broken wall.
My captor brushed past me, tugging the leash to bring me to the center of the room. He tucked the end of the rope under his boot as he knelt to build up a fire.
I took a chance to study the room. A small table holding nothing but a great horn. One side of the room, the farthest from the door, was a giant bed heaped with animal pelts. Large enough to fit the giant warrior and a whole bevy of women. I backed away as far as the leash would let me and turned to examine the broken wall. It was in the rough shape of a window, but someone had torn out the stones to widen it large enough for a man to fit through.
I inched closer to the opening. If I rose to tiptoe I could see the wild sea without, the waves crashing against the base of the stone keep far below. But this tower was separate from the keep, suspended on little more than a few stone buttresses and air.
“You won’t find escape that way.” Hawk cut into my thoughts. “Just a long, long drop to your end on the rocks.” He gave me a sardonic glance before turning back to coax the fire.
I bit my lip. He didn’t know my powers.
But he was right. Until I was sure I could find my way back through the storm, I dare not climb through the window and jump.
I plucked at the damp sleeves, staring out the window. There was nothing else in this room to look at besides Hawk or the bed.
I didn’t fear Hawk. He took too much care around me. The Sea Wolf had a loyal servant. Would he inspire the same loyalty in his slaves?
The logs were snapping and crackling in a meager blaze when Hawk rose, my leash in hand. Holding my gaze, he secured the rope around the great pillar in the center of the room. “In case you decide you’d prefer the long drop.”
I shook my head. If I leapt from the window, I would not die. But he didn’t know that.
Once he secured my lead, Hawk headed for the door. I followed but the rope wouldn’t allow me to reach the door.
“Wait!” The firelight made me bold. “Why am I here?”
He smirked over his shoulder. “You’ll know soon enough.”
I took a steadying breath. “You said I belong to the Sea Wolf. Where is he?”
“Don’t you worry. He’s coming.” With a nod at the window, he left.
I couldn’t help stretching my tether as close to the window as it would go. A storm had rolled up, rain beating the sea-washed stone. The giant barriers to this hidden cove loomed so large, I could scarce believe the boat fit between them, slipping like a thread through a needle.
What a strange place this was. Stormy and full of mist but the longer I tarried the more I knew this place was not the otherworld. It was real.
My hand worked at the knotted collar, but my fingers were clumsy.
I had a knife hidden in my bodice, but it was too soon to draw it out. Even if I cut myself free and escaped out the window, I was weak and tired and could not fly all the way home.
No, best to stay and rest, and learn the rest of the story.
That’s right, daughter. That’s the way.
As I stared out the window, a shape detached itself from one of the giant rocks, and leapt through the mist, landing on another outcropping that brought it closer to the keep. The dark shape rose up again and leapt from rock to rock. But no, it couldn’t be. The distance was further than any man could jump.
The wind howled and shook the rocks. The sound was like the eerie dirge I heard earlier—was it only this morning?
The storm made the sea surge, water fingers tipped with foam reaching, grasping, failing to pluck the shape right off its path. But the figure kept coming.
The clouds parted enough to limn the bright head with silver light. The Sea Wolf was right outside the window, making his way to the keep, leaping and climbing like a creature from myth imbued with supernatural powers.
The man reached the base of the keep. There was no way an ordinary man could scale the wet-slicked stones. But this was no ordinary man.
Pay attention, daughter. Remember the story.
I retreated until the lodge pole was at my back, but kept my eyes fixed on the window. My heart was already in my throat, so I felt nary a tremor of surprise when the great golden head appeared. Battle roughened hands gripped the broken stones, pulling another free and tossing it behind. And so, the Sea Wolf entered his keep and the tower where his man had imprisoned me.
When he straightened, the top of his head threatening to brush the roof where it met the old wall. He strode in, filling the room with his muscled bulk. The room shrank and I shrank along with it. With light, sure steps he approached. My hands touched the rough wood behind me. No escape there. I clenched my fists and teeth, raising my chin to hold his gaze.
He stopped when there was nothing but a hairsbreadth between us. His rich honeyed scent drenched my senses, drugging me. I swayed.
His face was broad yet spare, like a sand colored rock face scoured clean by years of sun and wind. His brows and hair were the same tawny gold of the tow-headed conquerors from the north. He was a Northman, and this an old Viking hold.
I stared up at him, unable to speak, unable to move. My heart thumped loudly. By the way he tilted his head, I swore he heard each beat.
His hands were large and scarred, but gentle as he tilted my head up to examine the rope collar. When he withdrew and marched to the fire, I slumped against the wood post, weary after holding myself upright and courageous in the thrall of those bright eyes.
Crouching, he tossed a few more logs onto the blaze. When his boot steps returned, I kept my head down until a tug and a snap told me he’d cut the rope that tethered me. Slowly he drew me up, forcing me to scramble to my feet if I didn’t want the rope to choke me. Without looking back, he pulled me along to stand before the bed. The wood creaked as he settled himself.
I kept as much distance as the tether allowed.
He patted his knee and looked expectantly at me.
“No,” I muttered and cleared my throat of cobwebs. He wasn’t forcing me onto the bed even though he easily could. Nor had he thrown me down, tore my gown and claimed me in a captor’s right. His care made me bold. “No,” I said louder and planted my feet, calling up the haughty iron of a chieftain. “You will explain to me why I am here.”
He tilted his head again and I recognized the movement and glowing eyes as wolf’s, wary and confident all at once.
“Where are we? Why did you take me?” I challenged.
A rough scrape on the step made me whirl. Hawk paused in the door, wearing his typical smirk. He hesitated, looking past me to his leader and raising the earthen jug he held.
The Sea Wolf nodded. Before I knew what was happening, he reeled me in until I stood between his legs. His thighs were thick as tree trucks, wider than my hips. I clenched my hands before I reached out to use them to steady me.
Hawk set the jug down on the table. “The men have built the fire. There’ll be meat, soon.”
My golden-haired captor grunted. Hawk touched his forehead and was gone.
The Sea Wolf looked at me and pointedly at the jug. It seemed I was to act as a serving wench.
But I was grateful for something to do. And a horn would keep his hands busy and away from me.
Aware of his gaze on my back, I went to the small table and filled the horn. It took all my will to pivot and walk the short distance back to the bed. I held out the drink as soon as I could, but the Sea Wolf had another idea. Instead of taking the horn, he drew me forward, a sardonic humor in the curve of his mouth. The closer I grew the more the honeyed scent enveloped me. Mead tempered with the sharp tang of salt.
Using the leash, he maneuvered me between his knees. Closer, closer, he reeled me in, until I practically rested on his great chest. Reluctantly I raised the cup to his
lips. He drank deeply, eyes on mine, and pushed it back to my lips.
I shook my head. I did not want to drink and lose myself. He stared at me and I lost my nerve. Dropping my eyes, I drank a mouthful.
“I’ll get more,” I muttered. I could not take much more of this. I swayed and almost stumbled on my way back to the table. Danu curse him! A man had never affected me thus. His very presence intoxicated me.
It was time. Before I lost my nerve, I slipped my left hand in my bodice for my knife. One strike, and my captivity would end.
The next time the Sea Wolf tugged me forward, I let my hair fall in a thick curtain between us. I held the horn to his lips as the fingers of my free hand closed around knife hilt.
“Drink,” I whispered. He gulped and pushed the horn to my lips. My eyes held his as I sipped. When I lowered the horn, my hand was at his throat, the knife point set into the hollow below his jaw.
For a moment his eyes glimmered—did he guess?—and my arm weakened. Then I pressed the blade and drew it across. Fast. Hard. As if he were a goat or deer marked for sacrifice. A quick, clean kill.
I had forgotten there’d be so much blood. A red spray hit me in the face. I choked and fell back, sputtering.
The knife hit the stone floor with a clang. Then there was nothing but a horrible, gurgling sound. The Sea Wolf’s life ebbing out.
Pain wrenched my middle. I stood with head bowed and hair tangled over my face and counted my heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Long enough for a man to die.
But when I risked a glance, a golden blaze caught me fast.
No. Impossible.
The warrior raised a hand to his wounded throat. He pulled it away and examined his dripping fingers with mild curiosity. He shrugged back his red-stained hair. Blood pooled on his chest, ran in rivulets between the muscles. Another heartbeat and another, and the ruby waterfall lessened to a thin trickle.
The Sea Wolf was not dead. I had failed.
The horrible gurgles stopped, replaced by a deep chuckle. The man who should be dead was laughing at me.
My knees knocked and I slumped to the flagstones, weak as if my own life’s blood had run out.
Pirates, Passion and Plunder Page 52