She glared at him. “Can’t trust the word of a thief, can you?” The familiar tic at the corner of his eye let her know she was right. “Don’t be so surprised that I know what you think. I’ve seen that look far too many times before not to know what it means.” She stood, dropping the slice of soap in front of him. “I am who I am, like it or not, husband.”
Wolf watched her climb out of the tub, her shirt clinging to her, showing the outline of a narrow waist and curved hips. Water dripped down her slender legs and her every step, her every movement, was more graceful, more powerful than the next. She grabbed two towels from the stack by the tub and walked over to the hearth slipping one towel beneath her shirt to tuck around her before she slipped the wet shirt off. She dried herself with the other towel. Once she was done, she rinsed her wet shirt near the hearth, the stone hissing where the water hit, then she moved one of the benches in front of the hearth to lay the shirt on it to dry. She went to the bed and snapped up the nightshift that had been left on the bed for her and slipped it on, the towel falling away as the shift drifted down to cover past her knees, allowing no chance at a peek of what lay beneath.
That she had enticed him without seeing a hint of her naked annoyed him, “I won’t touch you until I know for sure,” he said, condemning himself to ache possibly needlessly for days or weeks, he didn’t know.
She turned a cunning smile on him. “I know, and so my virginity continues to remain intact.” She went to the bed and snuggled beneath the heavy blanket and furs, cold down to her bones once again.
His wife played well with words that left him wondering, frustrated, and aroused. She talked about trust, but how was he ever to believe anything she said?
When you discover if she is a virgin or not.
The thought haunted him well into his sleep.
Chapter 7
Raven walked through the quiet village in the pre-dawn light, leaving tracks in the snow that had fallen on and off for the last two days. She had left her bedchamber both days before her husband woke. She hadn’t slept well either night, not since she had woken in the middle of the night and found herself pressed against her husband’s back, his heat having drawn her to him. She had quickly moved away to hug the edge of the bed.
The memory still haunted her since his warmth had felt so good and so comforting, which bothered her even more. He was her enemy. How could she find comfort in him? But how could she go on thinking him her enemy when the rest of her days would be spent with him?
Life had changed in a single day all those years ago and she had learned to adapt. It had changed again and she needed to adapt once more.
She glanced up at the keep as dawn broke with an overcast sky, painting the keep solemn and gloomy. It would be a good day to explore the place.
First light would have her men up and about and since her husband had been avoiding her, he wouldn’t care to her whereabouts. She turned, eager to see if she could spot her men when she spotted a dark figure, his hooded cloak concealing most of him, standing a distance away staring in her direction.
She saw it then, the bow in his hand primed with an arrow. He raised it and she had only a moment to make a decision. She ran since she remembered well that a moving target was more difficult to hit. The arrow missed her but not by much and she had a few feet to go before she reached a cottage she could duck behind. Her walk had taken her away from the village and toward the keep and the sufficient gap between the two left her vulnerable.
Her dark cloak also made her an easy target against the white snow. She whipped it off and let it fall as she ran. The next arrow completely missed her, spiraling well past her, and with not far to go to reach a cottage she hoped she’d make it.
Another arrow flew and missed her again and she knew the assailant only had time for one more shot before she reached cover. She didn’t run in a straight path until she had no choice and she knew that was when he’d take his last shot and that was when she’d be the most vulnerable.
She picked up as much speed as she could and dove the last few feet to the side of the cottage. The arrow caught her arm just before she hit the ground.
She barely had time to cringe or see that the arrow looked to have lodged in the upper part of her arm. Pain or blood, she could let nothing stop her from getting to her feet or she’d leave herself vulnerable. Once on them, she ran, darting between cottages, not sure if the assailant followed.
A few people had emerged from their cottages and spotting her stared in shock. She saw one take off in a run and she knew where he was going—to alert Wolf. She preferred the trust and protection of her men and that’s where she headed.
Fyn was outside, his arms raised in a strong stretch and his mouth open in a wide yawn when she reached the cottages. His yawn turned into a roar when he spotted her and had the other men spilling out of their cottages, weapons drawn.
Fyn had already reached her, stepping in front of her as his eyes searched the area.
The other men circled her, so she no longer was a target.
“A dark cloaked figure between the keep and village,” she said with a wince, finally allowing herself to feel the pain in her arm.
Iver and Brod took off while Clive, George, and Fyn remained with her, Fyn helping her to sit on a bench near his cottage.
Greta had emerged from her cottage and once Raven sat she hurried to her. “I can help.”
Fyn blocked her with his body. “We’ll see to her.”
“No you won’t—MOVE!” Wolf bellowed as he approached them, fury in his eyes.
Fyn looked to Raven.
“This isn’t her choice and don’t make me tell you again to move,” Wolf warned, the commanding timbre in his voice enough to make any sane person obey.
“Do as he says, Fyn,” Raven said, before it escalated into an unreasonable situation.
Wolf’s fiery glare turned to complete rage when he saw the arrow that protruded from his wife’s arm and the blood that soaked her shirtsleeve.
“I should go for Wren,” Clive said, stepping forward.
Wolf looked to Greta.
“She is a far more experienced healer than I am,” Greta said, “but it will take her time to get here and the arrow shouldn’t wait that long to be removed.”
“Go and fetch the woman but take George with you,” Wolf ordered with a nod to Clive, then looked to Gorm, who stood not far from his right. “Send six warriors with them.”
Clive went to protest but the flair in Wolf’s dark eyes warned him against it. He gave a nod and he and George followed after Gorm.
Fyn moved from Raven’s side to step behind her as soon as Wolf stepped toward her.
Wolf lowered himself to rest on his haunches in front of her. “You will keep your eyes on me and tell me what happened as Fyn helps Greta remove the arrow from your arm.”
“I don’t need to be distracted from the pain,” she argued.
“Believe me, wife, you do,” he said and reached out and took her hand.
Raven glanced down at his hand wrapped tightly around hers, its strength strangely comforting. She looked up at him ready to tell him she didn’t need his help, and yet there was something about the way he held her hand, that to her surprise, she favored.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not letting go,” Wolf warned.
It struck her odd that he was staying with her. He didn’t have to. He could have gone off to search for the culprit, and leave her alone to deal with her wound, but he hadn’t. He stayed. He didn’t leave her to face this alone. His thought was of her and that puzzled Raven.
“I need to get some clean cloths, then you’ll need to break the end of the arrow off so that you can pull it out,” Greta said to Fyn. “If you could tear away her sleeve while I fetch what I need, that would help.”
Fyn nodded and saw to the task.
Wolf was pleased that Fyn was gentle in ridding Raven of the bloody sleeve, while he kept her occupied with talk. “I spoke briefly with Iver a
nd Brod, both impatient to chase the culprit that wounded you. The only thing they could tell me was that a dark cloaked figure shot at you when you were in the open space between the keep and the village.”
Raven nodded, still baffled by his actions. She didn’t know if his talk would distract from the physical pain she was about to suffer. However, she had found physical pain easier to bear than pain that touched the heart. A wound healed sooner or later. A pain to the heart never truly healed. It lingered and would open unexpectedly and you would suffer the hurt all over again.
She would suffer the pain of the arrow and be done with it. It was the pain Wolf had caused her family and scarred her heart that had yet and perhaps never would heal. And yet she found herself confused by him. He treated her well enough and had eventually helped her clan. What enemy does that?
It concerned Wolf that she was so quiet, not saying something to annoy him. It meant that she was in more pain than she would say. So he said something he knew would annoy her.
“I will make sure one of my warriors remains with you at all times from now on,” he ordered.
“You will not,” Raven snapped. “I need no one following me about.”
“Why? Are you up to something I don’t know about?” Wolf challenged.
“With a husband that ignores me, I need to find something to do around here,” she quipped.
Her tongue was quick and her barbs could sting more often than not and Wolf felt that one, but he tossed it back at her. “I will make sure to spend more time with you.”
“Oh, joy!” she said and rolled her eyes.
Greta returned and placed a basket of clean cloths on a small bench she had Fyn fetch for her.
“It would be wise to hold her still,” Greta said to Wolf.
He surprised Raven when he lifted her gently in his arms and sat on the bench, his one arm remaining around her waist to hold her tight against him and his other hand latching onto the forearm of her wounded arm in a firm grip, keeping it from moving.
Once settled, Wolf turned his face to her and he hastily stopped the catch in his chest before it fell from his lips in a sharp gasp. However, he failed to stop the words that hurried out of him. “You have the most stunning blue eyes I have ever seen.”
She stared at him, speechless. Men had commented on her eyes before, but never the way he did. There was something intimate about the way he’d said it. And she had no response for him.
“Tell me about the culprit,” he said, his lips not far from hers.
She felt him tighten his hold on her, which meant Fyn was about to break the tail of the arrow off. She focused on her husband’s dark eyes, full of strength and actually found comfort in them.
“He was small in size.” She clamped her eyes shut and gasped at the pain that shot through her arm. She felt his brow rest against hers.
“Small in size, you say,” Wolf said to distract her.
She nodded, glad for the feel of his warm breath whispering across her face. He was closer than anyone had ever been to her and for the first time in what seemed like forever she didn’t feel alone.
“And fast, so fast,” she whispered.
His breath faintly brushed her lips. “I’m going to find him and make him pay for hurting you.”
His grip grew tight again and this time Raven latched on to his arm around her waist, needing to hold on to him for what was to come next.
“I’ve got you, wife. I won’t let go.”
He whispered so softly Raven could barely hear him and she thought, for a brief moment, his words sounded as if he actually cared for her.
The pain stabbed so sharply that it caught her unaware and her eyes went wide before everything went black.
“It’s good she fainted,” Greta said, I can clean the wound before she wakes.”
“Be quick if you can,” Wolf ordered and looked down to where his wife’s head rested on his shoulder. He had been surprised at the shot of fear that had rushed through him when her head dropped like a stone on his shoulder. He didn’t know why it had upset him so, he barely knew Raven. She could annoy him endlessly and yet he also admired that about her. She hadn’t shown him an ounce of fear or submitted to his every word. And she defended her family and her men regardless of what she might suffer. If she did that for the family they would have together, then she would make a better wife than he had expected.
Wolf felt the slight stir of her body against him and knew she was fighting to wake. “She’s waking. Are you almost done?”
“Aye, just a bit more,” Greta said. “The bleeding is but a trickle which is good.”
Wolf watched as Fyn gently kept Raven’s arm aloft for Greta to tend it. He hoped Greta would be done with it before Raven woke, but feeling her stir more strongly he doubted it.
“Stay as you are, wife. It is almost done,” he said softly.
Raven managed to look up and finally get her eyes open to gaze upon Wolf’s face, and winced as a cloth was wrapped around her arm. She let her head rest on his shoulder, not having the strength or will to do otherwise. After a few moments, she felt him stand, holding her firm in his arms.
“I’m taking you to our bedchamber. You will rest and Wren will be here soon,” he said as he walked.
A bit disoriented, she said what she thought. “You are kind to me.”
“You are my wife. It is my duty to see you protected and see you kept safe.”
She thought, but once again spoke her thought aloud. “We are enemies.”
“Only if we allow ourselves to be,” he whispered.
Once in their bedchamber, he laid her on the bed, removed her boots, but left the wool socks on her that he had made sure were tucked in her boots for her to use, and her plaid, leaving her in her shirt. He eased her under the blankets, brushed her hair away from her face and ordered, “Rest. It won’t be long before Wren arrives.”
“We need to talk about why someone tried to kill me,” she said, grateful for the warmth and comfort of the bed.
“We will, but for now rest.”
She closed her eyes, the pain in her arm taking all of her focus. She heard the door close and knew she was alone. She allowed herself to drift, to find a way to cope with the pain. She found something nagging at her more than the pain, something about the arrow in her arm, something she had caught when she had first glanced at it. She let herself drift to see what she could find and after some time her eyes opened wide.
Raven paid no mind to the pain in her arm, she got dressed with some difficultly, wincing each time she moved her injured arm too much and opened the bedchamber door to the sound of arguing voices. They grew louder as she approached the common room.
“This is how you protect my daughter? You might not value her as a wife but you pledged to honor your agreement and that means keeping Raven safe.”
Raven recognized her da’s angry voice and hesitated along the narrow hall that ran from the bedchamber to the common room with two rooms off to either side of the hall.
“I will see my wife kept safe,” Wolf argued.
“Yet she suffers an arrow through her arm.”
That was Royden and he was as angry as her da.
“He could have killed her.” Her da pointed out.
Raven didn’t want to think of that. After fighting these last five years to return home to her family only to die was an unbearable thought.
“I will find the one who did this and the reason why, and he will suffer for what he did,” Wolf said with a confidence that didn’t have Raven doubting him.
“You all should temper your tone. You will disturb Raven.”
Though the voice was softer, Raven recognized it. It was Oria.
“Oria is right. Raven needs rest right now.”
That female voice was stronger and easily recognizable. It was Wren. Raven was glad to hear them both and proceeded into the room.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Wolf cautioned and went to her, his arm quickly circling her
waist.
“I remembered something about the arrow that lodged in my arm,” she said.
Wolf nodded, knowing what she would say. “A Northmen symbol was carved near the tip of the arrow.”
“You tried to kill my sister,” Royden accused with a shout.
“That ends it. Raven returns home with us,” her da demanded.
Wolf’s hand shot up when Royden went to approach and Oria was quick to grab her husband’s arm.
“My wife stays with me and no one from here tried to kill Raven,” Wolf said with the strength of a man who spoke the truth. “Many Northmen engrave their arrows in the hope that they will claim many lives. Some tribes use the same symbols, but the one on the arrow that struck Raven is a common one and refers to no particular tribe.”
“One thing it does tell us,” Royden said, “is that the arrow belonged to a Northman.”
“Or the one who used it wanted us to believe that,” Wolf said.
Wren stepped forward. “You can speak or argue about this all you want but Raven’s wound needs tending.”
Wolf looked to see the cloth covering her arm had turned bloody. “You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”
“As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right,” Royden said.
“Enough!” Raven snapped and foolishly raised her wounded arm to wave her hand at her brother. A fierce pain shot through her arm and had her going limp and leaning against her husband, who immediately lifted her in his arms.
“Sit her at the table so I can tend the wound,” Wren ordered and Wolf did as she said.
Wolf remained near his wife’s side, his hand on her shoulder while Wren gently unwound the cloth covering Raven’s wound.
The door to the common room opened and two of Wolf’s warriors entered along with Brod and Clive.
“We lost the tracks,” Wolf’s warrior said once he came to a stop in front of him. “And we weren’t able to find any evidence of anyone camping in the immediate area. I have extended the search, but have found nothing so far.”
With Iver not there, she knew the man continued to follow the culprit’s trail, but said nothing. She wanted to see what he might find before confiding anything to her husband.
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