Warrior Reborn (19 page)

H
ALLDOR DIDN’T LIKE
the looks of this. Not one damn bit.

Though a seductive smile curved the lips of the woman who performed with the minstrels, it didn’t reach her eyes. The windows to her soul were filled with resolve and determination.

She moved with a grace that would give the warrior queen a run for her money, but this one still carried the blush of youth firm upon her cheeks.

As she danced her way closer to the head table, closer to the dangerous laird of the castle, Halldor continued moving his way through the throngs of men to track her movements. Whatever she planned to do, he would intercede. She was no match for the evil she confronted.

Especially not under these circumstances.

Torquil was well into his cups, not wise for a man who dabbled in the black arts as he obviously did. Whether anyone else noticed the periodic flashes of red in the laird’s eyes, Halldor couldn’t say. He knew only that he had seen them and knew their origin.

Torquil wasn’t the only being who waited for the warrior maiden at the head table.

In an act of singularly bad judgment, which Halldor could only attribute to the amount of ale the laird had imbibed, Torquil leaned across the table as the woman drew near, twining his hand in the length of her hair to drag her close.

Fool!

Halldor shoved people out of his way, frantic to reach the head table before it was too late.

Candlelight glinted off the wickedly sharp blade sliding from her bodice, and he knew his time was up. Dinnerware rattled to the floor as Torquil slammed her back down upon the table, leaning over her as he pinned her arms at her sides.

Halldor leaped upon the table and off the other side onto the floor, reaching the laird as he leaned
in against the woman’s neck, his mouth opened wide.

“No!” Halldor yelled, hoping to catch the creature’s attention, for he knew it was the creature, not the laird, who sought to end the woman’s life.

Torquil’s head snapped up, his eyes glowing red as saliva dripped from his chin. Beneath him the woman lay unmoving, surprise and fear warring in her features.

“Wait.”

The glow receded, replaced by an icy blue that heralded the return of the laird.

“You’d stay my hand against my assailant?” Confusion shadowed Torquil’s face, clear evidence that only now did he realize it wasn’t his hand he’d been prepared to use against the woman.

“Apologies, my laird, but I fancy this one as I haven’t any for a long time. I’ll see to her punishment myself if you’ll do me the honor of gifting her to me.”

He hoped that the request would work, now that Torquil seemed more himself, due to what Ulfr had shared about their laird’s belief in his sister’s visions of the future. A future that somehow included either him or Chase in some important measure.

It was small comfort to rest upon, but it was all he had.

“Take her!” Torquil pushed away from the table to stand tall, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. “And when you’ve had yer fill of her, I’d
have her head on a pike and her entrails spread on the wall walk.”

“When I’ve had my fill, aye,” Halldor agreed. “Thank you, Laird MacDowylt.”

He pulled the woman to her feet, clamping one large hand over her mouth to forestall her protests even as the crowd around them broke into lewd jeers.

“One thing,” he added, waiting for Torquil to turn. “Have you a place of privacy where I can take her? I’m not of a mood to share with the likes of these.” He tilted his head toward the laughing throng.

“Use Christiana’s tower if you like. It’s empty until her return.” This time it was Torquil’s grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “And none will be able to hear her screams from there.”

T
wenty-four

C
HRISTIANA HAD FALLEN
asleep again, waking only when the wagon bounced in a rut, jostling her against the strong, warm man sitting next to her.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re done.” Chase pulled on the reins, drawing the animals to a stop. “Ulfr! We aren’t going any farther tonight. Christiana’s exhausted and she’s freezing. We need a fire and she needs some sleep.”

Ulfr pulled his horse back beside the wagon, his irritation evident.

“We’ve already wasted enough time digging the witch’s pit at yer insistence, Noble. Our lord has bid me to bring his sister back as quickly as possible, and I intend to—”

“As quickly as possible is tomorrow,” Chase interrupted. “For now, we’re stopping and setting up camp. You can stay here with us or you can go on ahead, but to do anything else is going to mean that you and I are going to dance. And seriously, dude, I don’t think you want that to happen.”

Christiana didn’t blame Ulfr for his look of confusion. Sometimes the things Chase said confused her, as well. But for all his strange words, his meaning was clear enough when he climbed down from the wagon and reached up to assist her in following him.

“Kenneth! How about you take care of unhooking these horses while I escort the lady to the trees over there?” Chase gave orders as if he were the one in charge, ignoring Ulfr’s halfhearted protests. “Look at you, Ulfr. You’re about to fall out of that saddle. Did you even take an hour to sleep before you started back after us? I didn’t think so. Come on, man, give it a rest. Let’s bed down for the night and we’ll head out at first light. For all I care, you can tell Torquil I’m the one who held us up. It doesn’t have to be your fault.”

Ulfr appeared almost relieved as he dismounted and led his horse away.

“Come on.” Chase grasped Christiana’s hand in his, allowing her to lean some of her weight on him. “I’m sure you need to do your lady-stuff before we catch some sleep.”

Her “lady-stuff.” Christiana muffled the giggle she felt bubbling up in her throat at such an unladylike reference, and tightened her hand in Chase’s as he led her limping away from the others.

“I’ll wait for you here,” he said, releasing her hand once they’d gone far enough into the trees that the sounds from the camp no longer reached them.

When she returned, he was staring up at the night sky.

“I wish I’d spent more time studying the stars,” he said. “Because it seems more than a little weird to me that they don’t really look any different here than they have anywhere else I’ve ever been.”

“And you would expect them to be different?” She reached out to reclaim the warmth of his hand again.

He pulled her close to him, tucking her under his arm in the protection of the plaid he draped around her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them to stand here in the dark together, staring up at the sky.

“Yeah, for some reason, I did. If you could only see the places I’ve been, I’m guessing you’d think so, too.”

Standing here so close to him, she tried to imagine what he would say if he knew she had seen those places. Or at least bits and pieces of them in the Visions she’d had of him. Tiny slices of a world remarkably different from her own. It was that very difference that had led her to seek the assistance of the Elf in bringing him to her.

One day she would have to speak to him of these things. But for now, she simply wanted to revel in this moment as they stared up at the sky. Simply to enjoy without any guilt, without any consideration of the world around them, without any question as to why she wanted this moment to last forever.

But even as she relaxed into the moment, her conversation with Orabilis slipped into her mind, niggling away at her peace and contentment.

Was Chase her porridge?

She certainly felt the burn in her belly every time she was near him. Near him? She only had to
think
of him, to imagine his touch, and the burn ignited.

This moment they shared right now—was this the comfort in silence of which her Shen-Ora had spoken?

The need to know now weighed heavily upon her.

Trust yer heart as well as yer head,
Orabilis had advised, and she had never steered Christiana down a wrong path before.

She turned so that they faced one another, with her nose buried in the broad expanse of his chest. His arms tightened around her as if by instinct, enclosing them in the cocoon of his plaid.

“Smells like they have a fire going now.” His voice was barely more than a whisper as he gazed down at her. “We should probably be getting back so we can warm you up.”

Trust yer heart as well as yer head.

Whether from fear or some emotion she couldn’t yet bring herself to admit, the heart she was to trust pounded against the walls of her chest. So loud, so hard, she was sure Chase must feel it as if it were his own. Even as that heart urged her forward, reason
called out for her to stop, lest she have to live with the humiliation of rejection.

Trust yer heart as well as yer head.

She needed to know for sure. She needed to know now.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, lifting her face up toward his.

He stared down at her for an instant, an instant that felt like a lifetime as she wondered if he’d refuse her.

And then, his mouth covered hers, breathing life into her very soul. She melted into his arms and somehow they turned as one and her back pressed against the trunk of a large tree.

His lips left hers and he whispered her name in tones so beautiful, it brought tears to her eyes.

Her fingers, which were somehow tangled in his hair, tightened and she pulled his mouth back to cover hers, unwilling to end what they had started.

His hands slid down over her breasts and the fire in her belly burned hotter with the pleasure of his touch.

When he lifted his lips from hers, his breath came in heavy, erratic puffs of air, exactly like hers did.

Between them, the little pouch holding her runes seemed to throb with a life of its own, and she knew, as surely as if she’d already walked the paths in Skuld’s world, nothing from this moment on would ever be the same again.

“Again,” she managed, just before she lost herself
once more in the heat of his mouth, spinning away into the wonder that she’d discovered in his embrace.

“Noble?” Ulfr’s voice in the distance cut through her haze of pleasure. “Mistress Christiana? Where are you? Answer me!”

Though the moment was entirely ruined, she had discovered what she’d set out to learn.

She had indeed found her porridge.

T
wenty-five

P
UT YER TEETH
together and come along with me quietly if you want to live.”

The warning hissed in her ear halted Brie’s struggles and she dropped her fists against the big man’s chest. She didn’t trust him, but every good warrior knew there was a time for battle and a time to assess your enemy’s strength.

This particular enemy was stronger than most men she’d encountered.

Around them, the throngs of men jeered and laughed, many yelling out their disgusting suggestions of what he should do to her. He hoisted her to his shoulder without any sign of effort and strode from the great hall.

Much, much stronger than any man she’d encountered before.

Torquil was nowhere to be seen. Like the coward he was, he’d disappeared from the great hall as soon as he’d pronounced his verdict upon her fate.

As she’d attacked the MacDowylt, something hideous
and terrifying had encased her, restraining her knife and blinding her vision, as if a blanket through which she couldn’t even breathe had been dropped over her head.

She’d seen the eyes, though. Seen them clearly before her world had gone black. Red and glowing, as if hounds from the depths of the seven hells dwelled inside Torquil’s body. She’d seen her own death promised in that glow.

“Be still,” the big man muttered as a shiver wracked her body.

He moved quickly out of the keep and across the bailey.

She heard the door of the old tower slam open and a moment later he dropped her unceremoniously on her backside, cutting off the trickle of light by kicking the door shut when she made a move in that direction.

“Don’t even think of it,” he growled. “His men would take you down before you made the outer bailey.”

He was likely right. All things considered, she wasn’t exactly working from a position of strength at the moment. It was her wits she’d need to count on now.

On hands and knees, she felt her way to the wall and followed it to a corner, where she huddled. At least here he couldn’t come at her from behind.

A thud sounded somewhere in the inky black of the small room, and the big man muttered a curse at the dark just before the flames in the fire pit came to life.

She watched him, wary of what he might do next, as he lit two large candles and set them upon the mantel.

When he turned, his face was a stern mask, his hands upon his hips.

“What do you plan to do with me?” she demanded, putting as much bravado into her words as she could muster.

“Plan?” He all but spat the word. “Of all the plans I’ve considered, none of them included a nameless shrewling who’s too witless to see her own way through the Mortal world.”

His burst of anger reignited hers.

“I’m neither nameless nor witless, you great hulking fool,” she countered, feeling much more comfortable cloaked in anger than in fear. “Both charges I’d turn back upon you, a beast of a man who’d toss a helpless woman over his shoulder to carry her off and ravage her.”

Her verbal thrust and parry might have held more weight had she been on her feet towering over him while he cowered in the corner, rather than the other way around, but she didn’t quite have the wherewithal to rise to her feet just yet.

The big man laughed, making his way over to
where she sat. “A helpless woman, is it? Well then, by all I hold dear, rest assured, woman-child, I’ve no intent to claim your virginity this night.”

“For a fact you’ll no be doing any such thing. I’ll see to that my ownself,” she shot back.

He’d be in for quite a fight should he try. Though perhaps, considering his size and strength, she’d be better served by trying a different defense.

“Besides, I am a woman of the world. Whatever would give you the impression that I’m yet a virgin?”