A Heart of Fire (10 page)

Finna
wondered, several hours later, as they ambled across the area of her former
camp where bodies littered the ground between a scattering of trees, if he had
chosen this direction on purpose. Blood stained the grasses of the hill where
the ground rutted upward, torn by the scuffle, and bones of men lay torn from
limbs by animals. She tried not to look at the faces of the dead as they rode
slowly through the casualties, and so she shut her eyes against the bloody
visage.

"Do
you know what I see when I look upon those men there?" Valdrik asked.

She
stiffened at his voice. "Nay," she said. She tried to ignore the iron
of his thighs moving against hers, the hardness of his torso warm against her
back. His hot virility poured off him, and for once, she felt altogether
dwarfed by a man.

"I
see them as the men who slaughtered my family. I see them as what they are. Men
better off dead than living to brutalize others." He spit onto the ground
as they passed by a corpse.

She
peeked through her lashes at a few of those slain, but quickly regretted doing
so at the sight of a man's open ribcage, the empty holes where his eyes had
been. She gagged, the effects of nausea swirling from her vision to her belly. She
was not one to be squeamish, but seeing and smelling a battlefield days after,
compared to the heat of a fight, was wholly different.

Finna
gathered herself. "They were not all brutes," she choked out a few
moments later.

Through
the day, they had ridden in and out of densely forested areas, through valleys
still covered in green. The first bite of frost had not yet taken hold here as
it had high on the peaks above where the first signs of snow capped the rocky
crags.

Paths
carved between rocks that led them along the fjord to a place narrow and
shallow enough to cross without the use of a boat. She shuddered at the thought
of the frigid waters on her skin if this Valdrik had no vessel to cross in.

She
peeked to see their surroundings again once the smell of death no longer
assaulted her and found them entering another forest. The sky had grown dark,
and night things began to make noises in the wood around them.

The
sharp chirp of bugs, distant howls, and scurrying of small animals could be
heard throughout the wood. Her eyes grew heavy, as she had not rested while
Valdrik had earlier, after they had eaten. Finna yawned and reached her bound
hands up to rub at her eyes.

Though
she tried, she could not remove her mind from the bodies on the hill. Her
memory flitted to some of those warriors and other raids they had been on
together. "You think
 
those warriors
were nothing but animals?" she asked. "What do you consider yourself?
You have surely slain men in battle and raids. Do you not brutalize as
well?"

He
was quiet a moment. "Have I brutalized you? Nay, I have not," he
answered for her. "I told you, I do not kill unnecessarily. I would not
harm a woman or a child or any who cannot defend themselves. Those men you
fought beside, that is what
they
did."

Finna
thought of her smarting wrist, and it was as though their minds connected, for
Valdrik reached down to touch the tender swelling above the rope.

"You
know, I did that to teach you something," he said, his dark beard brushing
her neck as he spoke, sending a shiver though her.

"And
what would that be?" she snapped, pulling forward, away from him.

"That
you are a woman. A shieldmaiden with an admirable talent, I will admit. But
your strength cannot match mine. You could have been killed."

She
balked. "You spared me because I am a woman?"

"Aye."

Finna
made a sound of disgruntlement and straightened her spine. "Forgive me if
I do not bestow you the same kindness and spare
you
because you are a man."

Valdrik
laughed at her spirited words just as they left the cover of trees and
descended a sharp hill into an open valley that sunk down from the cliffs to
meet the water's edge. "I find it amusing you think
you
will spare me anything when you are
my
captive," he said. They continued on to a flatter area and
then stopped by the edge of the fjord where icy water lapped at the shore. He
paused, examining the area. "We shall camp here for the night and cross
come the morning."

Finna
sighed, blinking heavily to stay awake and looked over the dark waters of the
fjord to the crescendoing hills behind them and decided the place was well
enough for her liking, too. She would not argue for fear she might fall from
the horse's back in slumber at any moment, but she did purse her lips at the
open area with only driftwood on the shore, cast up by the water and left to
rot on the white sand. Beyond the protected little area stretched soft grasses
over a knoll.

Finna
raised her brows and turned to her captor, her gaze drifting harshly up his
chest to his face where she stopped with a scowl. "Here, Viking? Alas,
there are no trees to tie me to. Whatever shall you do?" she asked
mockingly.

Finna
turned back to the scenery with a smug turn of her lips.

Valdrik
leaned around her. "I shall tie you to me," he said low, near her
ear, his beard once again tickling her neck.

Gooseflesh
prickled her arms at the depth of his voice, and her back stiffened. She shied
from his nearness, jolting at his touch as his hands clamped around her middle.
Finna remained rigid as he lifted her down and dismounted beside her. She
turned to him, her bound arms dangling in front of her, and regarded him
coolly.

"I
know," Valdrik said. "I shall pay for this." He laughed as he
went to tend his horse, and Finna stood watching him a moment.

"Lout,"
she said under her breath.

When
he came back, he walked past her to a grassy area, plush but flat, hidden by
the side of the knoll. He removed his long cloak and cast the mantle over the
ground and then turned to hold out a hand to her.

"Come,"
he said.

Finna
narrowed her gaze on him, but inwardly she trembled. She had never slept near a
man before. On raids, she had always made sure to sleep far away from the
others for her own privacy and protection.

"Now,"
he called more sternly, dropping his hand. Valdrik fell to his knees and then
rolled to his back on the fur cloak, stretching out his long legs. His body
took up nearly the entire area, leaving Finna little hope of staying away from
him.

She
swallowed.

My, but he is a
large man.

A
large, intimidating man.

Finna
took slow steps, unsure of his intentions, but she was sure if she did not lie
down of her own accord he would pluck her up and drop her onto his cloak just
as easily as he had tossed her up onto his horse. Never had she thought to be
handled by a man in such a degrading fashion.

She
would not deny that she had fantasized of a man who could handle her as other
men did their women—just not
this
man. Finna's feet sank into the white sand as she crossed the area and came to
the soft grass to drop herself on the edge of his cloak—very gawkily, as she
had little use of her hands—and as far as she could from him.

Her
captor lay flat on his back with his ankles crossed, so peaceful almost. He
stared at her a moment as she struggled to lie back. Discomfited by every
nuance of his presence, Finna eyed him like a hawk.

Valdrik
rolled to his side, the rope he had used to tie her to the tree earlier in
hand, and he reached to grab her bound wrists. A small gasp escaped her at the
graze of his fingers on her flesh. Again, unsure of his intent, Finna scooted
back, at the same time lifting her bound wrists to bat him away.

Valdrik
grunted in his exasperation with her. "Let me have them," he growled.

He
pushed himself up on one arm with an intensely irritated expression for her.
Finna stilled, and he grabbed up her wrists, causing her to wince at the sudden
yank jarring her injury. She bared her teeth at him as Valdrik looped one end
through the rope tied round her wrists and then tied the second rope into a
tight knot. He relaxed back once more, taking the other end to his belt and did
the same.

"There,"
he said when he was done. "Make one move and I shall know."

Finna
looked down at her bound hands, her skin chafed and raw from the rough binding.
Every time the horse had joggled her in the saddle or Valdrik had moved her,
the rope had cut into her more and more. At the very least the length afforded
her the distance she wished to keep. With a huff, she looked skyward.

"Tell
me of these people you take me to, Viking," she said.

He
turned his head toward her. "You have met your father already."

"Of
course I have."

He
sighed hard. "Your
real
father.
The man you nearly killed before I stopped you and tossed you from that bluff.
He recognized you just as you were about to cleave his head from his
shoulders."

Finna
jerked her head to Valdrik, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, wondering why he
insisted on this wild tale, and then she rolled her head back to look up at the
stars.

It
was a clear and crisp night. The wind blew from the north over the waters of
the fjord, chilling her, and at the same time heralding the changing seasons.
Already the fjord collected icy patches as she had seen from their camp days
before.

"The
others?" she prompted.

He
sighed, pausing. "Enough. We both need our rest. You shall meet them on
the morrow."

Finna
shook her head against the fur of his cloak, frustrated with this situation.
She turned on her side, away from her captor. "You are a strange man,
Valdrik Haraldson," she said into the night.

Though
she cared not for the man lying at her back, it was comforting to know someone
else was with her.
And
his cloak was
very soft. She curled into a ball, pulling her knees to her middle and hugging
her arms to her chest for warmth. She snuggled her face into the warm fur only
to catch his scent, and she immediately balked.

Aghast
at herself, Finna allowed the scent to pervade her senses as she was too
exhausted to stop herself. Deeply masculine, spice and leather. The scent of
him was not bad.

Wolves
howled in the distance just then, in the direction of the battle site, and she
squeezed her eyes shut. Her father should have sent men to collect their
casualties already. It was an insult to their fallen warriors that he had not.
Why hadn’t he,
she wondered.

In
a moment's time, Finna drifted away to a world of slumber only to have a steely
arm snake around her middle causing her to gasp sharply, sending alarm knifing
through her. Her eyes flew open at the sensation of her body gliding across the
fur, as Valdrik pulled her into his hard body. Her back came flush to his chest
before she had time to protest.

Finna
jerked her head around to him. "What are you about?" she demanded.

He
chuckled, not bothering so much as to open his eyes. "'Tis cold," he
murmured. His breath tickled her neck, but more frighteningly, he pressed a
heavy muscled thigh between hers, nudging her knee forward where his leg lay
over hers, her ass pressed into his groin so firmly she could feel
him
.

She
gasped.

His
body against hers, powerful and virile, radiated with his strength and
confidence. How in all the gods’ names was she supposed to sleep like this?

Finna
ground her teeth and sighed. For a moment, she found it hard to breathe. His
masculine scent engulfed her all the more.

"'Tis
uncomfortable," she said, trying to wriggle away, but he only pulled her
closer, more securely. She struggled to breathe at their closeness, and her
shallow breaths rattled her lungs. His fingers were warm against her skin, like
hot steel set on her belly where his hand splayed against her.

She
felt his chest press into her with a huff of annoyance, his breath blowing into
her hair. He was right. The night was cold, and though she did not relish being
near him, the warmth from his body bled into her flesh and comforted her even
more. Finna blushed at being held against him in such a way, his arm wrapped
under her breasts, his fingers under her side between her and the fur.

She
did not allow herself to think overlong on where their bodies connected.
Valdrik's breath came slow and gentle not long after. She could try to escape
again, but there was no denying, she had not the energy. He had bested her
every move, and she was certain he would again if she tried.

The
wind blew over the water causing her to shudder, and she sank herself against
Valdrik for more warmth. He shifted into her in slumber, his fingers gliding
downward. His mouth came to the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her
flesh. Finna gasped sharply at the sensation, and again as his hand began to
slide down, slowly, until he pressed between her legs and touched her
there
. His fingers sent a sharp stab of
heat through her core. What was apprehension only a moment before flooded away
to pleasure she had no right to feel in the arms of this barbarian.