The Shipwreck (11 page)

Avril’s breath caught.

“Nay,” he said.  “It was an accident.  We were sparring.”

After a thoughtful moment, Kimbery rose to press a kiss to his brow.  Avril’s jaw dropped.  “Mama says this will make it all better.  Now you give mine a kiss.”

Before Avril could gasp out a word, Kimbery leaned her head toward Brandr’s lips, giving him no choice but to repay the gesture.

When Kimbery pulled away, she cocked her head and touched a finger to his temple, where Avril had clubbed him with the driftwood.  “Is that a battle scar?”

A hint of a smile threatened at the corner of his lips.  “Aye.”

“My mama has a battle scar.”

Avril nearly choked.

Kimbery continued, “It’s right here.”  She pointed to the right side of her chest.

Brandr’s smile blossomed into a full grin.  “Really?’

Avril had heard enough.  Blushing, she swept into the room.  “Kimbery, what happened?”

Kimbery jumped up and ran to her.  “Mama, I have a battle scar!”

“Is that so?”  She crouched to inspect Kimbery’s brow.  There was a red bump and a tiny cut there, so tiny that she’d be surprised if it left any mark at all.  Nonetheless, she frowned in concern.  “And who were you battling to give you such a scar?”

“Sir…Table!”

“I see.”  She ruffled the top of Kimbery’s hair.  “And did you give Sir Table battle scars as well?”

Kimbery nodded and then leaned against her and began twining her fingers in Avril’s hair.  “Mama, I let Brandr kiss my cut.”

And I let him kiss my lips,
Avril thought.  But all she said was, “Oh?”

Kimbery added in a loud whisper, “I don’t think he’s a very bad man.”

Avril sighed, and she felt the tension go out of her.  Kimbery was right.  He wasn’t a very bad man.  He’d done nothing wrong.  In spite of being shipwrecked and captured and tied up, he’d been civil and even kind.  He’d told Kimbery stories, he’d eased away her tears, and been a model father to a little girl who’d never had one.  He’d even saved Avril from falling into the fire.  Avril slowly raised her gaze over Kimbery’s shoulder and looked him squarely in the eye.  “Neither do I.”

Brandr should have been relieved.  Avril was staring at him with complete trust now.  He could tell by her eyes that she had no intention of turning him in.  He wouldn’t have to worry about escaping, because she wouldn’t tell anyone he was here.  She meant to set him free.

To his surprise, his heart sank.  As mad as it was, despite his broken arm, his banged-up nose, and the cursed dog collar around his neck, he’d rather enjoyed the past few days.  Avril was a fascinating woman—spirited and passionate, sensitive yet strong, and her daughter was delightful.  Now that the opportunity for escape was at hand, he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave.

The way she was looking at him made his heart melt.  Ever since he’d lost his wife and children, there had been a deep, hollow abyss in his soul.  Losing his ship and his men had thrown him farther into the chasm and made it seem impossible to ever reach the surface.  But between Avril’s kindhearted honor and Kimbery’s innocent adoration, he’d started to believe that he could climb out of that hole, that he might be capable of caring and loving again.

Kimbery pushed away from her mother suddenly and galloped across the room into the bedchamber, announcing, “Look at me!  I’m a Valkyrie!”

Avril looked askance at him, and he lifted one corner of his lip in a sheepish half-smile.

She came to hunker down beside him then, to tell him what he already knew.  “I’ve decided I won’t turn you in.”

He waited in silence, not sure he wanted to hear the rest.

She turned in profile to him and lowered her eyes.  “My father taught me not to judge a man by the sins of his brothers.”  She took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.  “You may have Viking blood in your veins.  But you have nothing in common with the man who attacked me.”

He held his breath, like a felon awaiting his sentence.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you yet,” she admitted, “but after all you’ve done for Kimbery…and for me…”  Her glance flickered momentarily to his lips, and he knew she was remembering their kiss. 
He
was remembering their kiss.  He wished she would kiss him again.  She tucked her lower lip under her teeth, then lifted love-soft eyes to his.  “I vow I won’t let harm come to you.”

The naked reverence in her beautiful amber eyes took Brandr’s breath away.  No woman had ever regarded him with such forthright fondness or gifted him with such a heartfelt promise.  The way she was looking at him made him feel he could do anything, even crawl out of his dark underworld into the light.

He opened his mouth to blurt something in return—he wasn’t sure what—probably something foolish and maudlin.  But Kimbery shot suddenly back through the doorway, and Avril steered her into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Part of him felt relief.  He’d been racked with guilt all this time, cursing his misplaced affections for Avril as some weakness on his part.  To know that she felt the same way about him—that her feelings went deeper than lust, that she recognized his good heart, and that she genuinely cared about him—lifted his spirits.

But the other part of him, the rational part, realized that there was one thing he feared more than Avril turning him in.  And that was Avril trying to keep him safe.

Her trusting gaze filled him with dread.  There had been much more than simple mercy in her expression.  He’d glimpsed a dangerous combination of affection and determination in her eyes, the same unflinching adoration and steely will that had kept her daughter alive on this barren spit of shore.

The fact was she didn’t want him to leave either.  As improbable as it seemed, the two of them—captive and captor, mortal enemies—had somehow done much more than find common ground and an uneasy peace.  They’d fallen in love.  And now she naively believed she could keep him.

But she couldn’t, not without endangering herself and her daughter.  She couldn’t hide him.  Anyone with one good eye could see Brandr was a Viking.  She’d never be able to explain how he’d arrived here, where he’d come from, how they’d met.

And he knew what would happen after that.  Avril would be called a Viking sympathizer, branded a traitor, and probably executed.  And Brandr wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing to protect her.

He was cursed.  Misfortune befell anyone who got close to him.  As much as his heart ached with the desire to stay, as much as he knew he’d be hurled back into his familiar pit of despair if he left, he knew the only answer was to ignore the bittersweet yearning in his soul, turn his back on her—on both of them, and go.

A
vril swept through the seagrass toward the bleating ewe, a stool under one arm and her milk bucket bouncing against her thigh.  She felt as light as thistledown atop a bubbling stream.  She didn’t have all the details worked out, but she knew that sparing Brandr’s life was the right decision.

He was a decent man.  Maybe he was a Viking, and maybe he’d come as an invader, but he’d shown her nothing but humanity, courtesy, and kindness, in spite of her hostility. He’d seen to Kimbery’s cut and kept her from harm by telling her stories.  He’d saved Avril from fire and feared for her welfare when she’d confronted her neighbor.  It was obvious he felt protective of them.

Did he feel something more?  Her heart fluttered at the possibility, and she grew slightly giddy, remembering the way he’d looked at her just now, not only with relief and gratitude, but with a sweet sort of devotion.

She couldn’t help but smile as she pushed through the gate and closed it behind her.  Plopping the stool down next to Caimbeul, she seated herself.  She rested her palm on the animal’s flank and set the bucket under the sheep’s belly.  As she milked the ewe, she daydreamed.

What if Brandr stayed here with her, with them?  He had nowhere else to go, after all.  His men hadn’t shown up.  He was a stranger in her land.  He was a castaway, stranded here with no means of survival.  She could offer him a roof over his head, food, safety…and perhaps something more.

She leaned her brow against the sheep’s woolly side and closed her eyes.

What if the attraction she felt for him grew into genuine love?  Could he be a father for Kimbery?  And—she dared to imagine—could he be a husband to
her?

Three days ago, she would have thought it impossible.  Now it seemed not only possible, but right.  After all, they were both castoffs, exiled from their people.  It seemed natural and fitting to seek comfort in each other’s company.

She squeezed the last milk from the ewe’s udders and retrieved the bucket before giving the sheep a pat to send her trotting across the pasture.  Then she sat there for a moment, gazing up at the sky, where low morning clouds made a soft gray blanket that would dissolve away by midday.

Staring into the heavens, she made up her mind.  She was going to let him go, set him free.  In fact, she’d unleash him right now.

It was risky, she thought as she made her way back to the cottage.  Once he was loose, he could physically hurt her, or he could run out of her life forever.

But she didn’t think he’d do either.  He’d had ample opportunity to do her and Kimbery harm, and he’d done nothing.  Nor did he seem the kind of man to leave women to fend for themselves.  There was no question in Avril’s mind that he was a man of conscience, that she could trust him.

Now that she’d made that decision, she couldn’t reach the cottage quickly enough.

When Avril left to milk the ewe, Brandr realized he didn’t have much time.  He began working on Kimbery at once.

“How would you like to play Fenrir, Kimmie?” he asked, licking his lips, hoping his ploy would work.

Kimbery played coy.  “Maybe.”

“You can be Fenrir.  And I’ll be Tyr, Fenrir’s loyal friend.”

The little girl hesitated, swaying indecisively for a moment.  Then she dropped to all fours on the floor and began snapping her teeth together, pretending to be a ferocious wolf.

He spoke in the growling voice of Tyr.  “You’re so strong, Fenrir, stronger than any other god.  I wonder if you’re strong enough to break one of those sticks in two.”  He nodded to the kindling near the hearth.

Kimbery snarled and picked up a twig in her jaws, then took it out with her hands and broke it.

He gasped in feigned awe.  “I wonder if you’re strong enough to pick up that sword and bring it here all by yourself.”

Kimbery hesitated at that and sat back on her heels.  “Mama said wee lasses aren’t supposed to touch her sword.”

Silently cursing in frustration, he said in Tyr’s voice, “Wee lasses?  But you’re not a wee lass.  You’re Fenrir, son of Loki, son of Odin, the most powerful of all the gods.”

The little girl roared once, but then she came close and whispered in his ear.  “Mama doesn’t even want Fenrir to touch her sword.”

Brandr sighed.  Avril had her trained well, that was certain.  But it didn’t matter.  He could get free without the sword.

“Great Fenrir,” he intoned, “I wonder if you’re strong enough to escape this heavy collar.”

Kimbery gave a fierce growl of agreement.

“I’ll take it off my neck,” he said, “and you can put it around yours.”  He made a show of trying to break free of the collar, twisting and straining.

She became Kimbery again for a moment, whispering, “I’ll unbuckle it, and then you can put it on me.”

“All right,” he whispered back.

As her tiny fingers worked on the strap, a feeling of misgiving weighed down his heart.  He didn’t want to hurt the little girl.  He didn’t want to betray her mother.  But he saw no other way.  He couldn’t endanger them.  And he had to leave before Avril returned or she’d tempt him into staying.

The instant his neck was free, he bent forward to untie the ropes about his wrists with his teeth.

“Put it on me!” Kimbery impatiently demanded.

“I can’t until I loose my hands,” he explained.

“Hurry.”

He did.  As soon as his wrists were free, he untied the rope around his middle, then moved aside so Kimbery could stand in his place.

He buckled the collar loosely around her neck so she wouldn’t be able to follow him or hurt herself.  She bared her teeth in a snarl as he struggled to his feet on legs that had grown weak with sitting.

While Kimbery growled and twisted against the collar, Brandr glanced at the jeweled sword.

In the end, he found he couldn’t bring himself to take it.  The blade was Avril’s hard-won prize, a gift from her father, and her only defense.

He straightened slowly, groaning at the strain of his stiff muscles.  Kimbery quieted.  She was eyeing him uneasily now.

“You’re Tyr,” she said.  “You’re supposed to put your hand in my mouth.”

He meant to leave without a word and without a backward glance.  It was best if Kimbery remembered him as a bad man.

But his betrayal must have been written on his face.  Kimmie’s chin began to tremble.  “Nay, Da.  Don’t go.”

He gulped as a knot of emotion rose up to choke him.  He wanted to kneel before her and take her in his arms one last time, to give her the farewell embrace he’d never been able to give his own daughter.  But he couldn’t.  He had to leave…now.

The words spilled out of him in a rush.  “I have to, Kimmie.  But I’ll never forget you.  I promise.”

Then, before tears could engulf them both, he slipped out the cottage door, closing it behind him.  He headed toward the sea, where Avril would never think to look for him.

Avril froze as she closed the pasture gate and noticed the distant figure limping along the shore.  It took three heartbeats for her to recognize who it was and another two to realize the significance.

She dropped the bucket, and milk spilled across the ground.

Kimmie!

Fear sucked all the moisture out of her mouth as she hurtled toward the cottage.

When she threw open the door, she was relieved to find Kimbery relatively unhurt.  Still, her hands shook as she rushed forward to unbuckle the collar around the little girl’s neck.