Cedric stared down at her, all kindness wiped from his features, but his voice was not harsh when he said, ‘Wilfrid paid them and he agreed to be a part of the first assassination attempt, so he bears the brunt of the responsibility.’
‘It is kind of you to say so, but if anything, we share responsibility. The Norseman would not be here now had I not gone to Maerr.’
‘He paid the assassin. It is possible the Gael would have used Wilfrid’s name while there.’
Annis inclined her head in acknowledgement. That was true; there was no telling how the assassin might have betrayed them. However, it did not relieve her of any responsibility for her own actions. She had chosen to go. She would have to face the consequences of that decision.
‘We have to kill him.’ Cedric’s words were so abrupt and unexpected that Annis jolted with them.
‘We will not!’
‘We have no choice. He cannot be allowed to let others know where we are.’
Her mind raced with some way to convince Cedric that he was wrong. Killing the Norseman would not be the right course of action. Her heart would not allow her to be responsible for another death. ‘They will know already. He claims that he has men out there. That he arrived with some and they will even now be wondering where he is. Perhaps they even know that he was taken.’
‘Do you believe his claim?’ he asked.
‘I have doubts. I have had the men looking all night and they found no one.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then no one is here. Even if men do come later, they can prove nothing without the Norseman’s corpse.’
It was Cedric’s duty to evaluate threats and snuff them out. Perhaps that was the best thing to do in this case, but she could not allow it to happen.
‘Cedric, I cannot have another death on my head. Besides, I am certain he must have told someone—perhaps his brothers—where he was heading. Someone knows he is here.’
Cedric paused. He turned from his pacing where he had possibly been playing out ways to kill the Norseman and dispose of his corpse in secret.
‘Another death?’ he finally asked. She was so concerned with the Norseman’s fate that she had not realised what she had said.
She gave him a jerky nod, but found that she could not tell him about the Norsewoman’s death. It had been too horrific, too painful. There was no way that she could speak of it. ‘It was chaos. We had to fight our way out.’
Cedric raised a brow, but he did not ask again. ‘We cannot keep him down there indefinitely.’
‘I know.’ The words came so softly that she did not know if he had heard her until she felt his warm hand on her back.
‘I wish you would have confided in me earlier. I would have forbidden you to go to Maerr and none of this would have happened.’
She forced a smile in an attempt to return to normal. ‘You would have forbidden me to go and I would have left anyway.’ She had been so determined to avenge Grim, and so lost in grief for the child that was never to be, that nothing could have stopped her.
He gave a mirthless chuckle and put his arm around her shoulders. Warmth spread through her chest. Despite the heartache of her past, she was very lucky to have Cedric and Wilfrid in her life. The men had both filled the role of father for her in very different ways. Cedric was the one who listened and guided, while Wilfrid had always been the playful one. The one who had urged her to learn to fight and hold a dagger.
‘Death is the only way to end this, but since this is your mistake, you get to decide. But decide quickly what is to be done,’ he said after a moment. ‘We do not have much time.’
The thought sobered her instantly. Death was not something she would consider, but what other option was there? The Norseman was here and she did not foresee him leaving until his vengeance was satisfied. What could she offer him instead that would gratify him?
CHAPTER FOUR
Rurik had been a captive for almost a full day. His major discovery during that time was that if he craned his neck a certain way and looked towards the end of the corridor, he could make out a sliver of sunlight sneaking in through a gap between the stones. That light was fading now as the sun set, meaning he was no closer to getting himself free than he had been when they had carried him in. At least he was conscious and had suffered no ill effects from being captured. It was a minor detail for which he was grateful as it might mean the difference between life and death.
A thorough search of his cage had taken most of the day. He had explored every crevice and crack in the stone, only to discover there was no easy way out. The rocks were beginning to crumble in several areas and he had managed to use his chain to scrape away bits and pieces of old mortar. The stones were only a single barrier to the soil. Once a few were removed, it would be simply a matter of digging himself out, which meant that the cell would not hold him indefinitely. However, he did not have the weeks it would take for that particular escape route. Every day he stayed down here was a day closer to his eventual execution. He did not know why he was being kept alive. Perhaps they meant to ransom him to anyone who happened to come looking for him. One day soon, they would realise it would be easier to kill him and pretend that he had never arrived on their shores.
He paced his cell, unwilling to accept that he had failed. This could not be the end. He had not failed his brothers in bringing this murderer to justice. He would return to them with this triumph so that he would finally belong. Escape would simply have to come by some other, quicker means. Since the woman was the only person he interacted with, it would have to come through her.
He had no choice but to get her into the cage with him. If he could bind her in some way, then he could take the key from her. From there it would be a matter of locking her in—killing women, even those who took him captive, held no appeal to him—and then finding his way to wherever that coward Wilfrid was hiding. He briefly considered taking her along with him and using her as leverage, but decided that she would be too much work. She had proven herself to be feisty and not the least bit biddable. He could not imagine that kidnapping her would improve her disposition.
The rusty hinges of the door at the top of the stairs creaked and squealed in protest as the door opened. He straightened, his mind racing with how to entice her into his cage. It would have to be something believable, something that would make her disregard her own safety to enter. There came her even footfalls on the steps. One…two…three…
He moved as silently as possible with the old chain attached to his wrist. Holding it against the stone, he debated on pretending to have got it stuck on one of the rocks. If she had brought food, he would not be able to reach it and she would be forced to come in. He disregarded the idea just as quickly. Anyone with any sense would suspect it for the ruse it was, and she did seem intelligent. She would likely seek help before coming inside and he would have lost his advantage in having her alone.
The only thing to do was to pretend to be injured. Despite the fact that she had kidnapped him, he had seen a reluctance in her eyes to bring him harm. His only chance to get her inside would be to pretend to have some lingering head injury from the assault. If she believed him and reacted as he hoped, she would come inside. If she went to get help first, then it would have been a failed attempt that cost him nothing, because they could not prove he had no ill effects and thus he wouldn’t be punished. It was his only hope.
The moment her boots touched the floor, he dived for the straw pallet, grimacing at the low clink the chain made as it scraped against the stone. He closed his eyes just as the light from her lantern flickered against the iron bars.
‘Norseman!’ Her voice was a sharp contrast to the thick silence of the underground chamber.
He forced his breathing to stay shallow and kept his face turned away from her. The scent of roasted meat met his nose, making his stomach rumble in greedy displeasure. He only hoped it was not loud eno
ugh for her to hear. His heart pounded in his head every moment she stood there watching him. She stayed still, the weight of her stare a nearly tangible touch as she tried to determine if he was faking an injury.
Finally, her breath exhaled on a sigh and there was a series of soft clips as she set the wooden bowl and the lamp on to the floor. The one from earlier had long since burned itself out. The rattle of keys followed a moment later as she pushed one of them into the lock. It must have been stubborn, because she had to fumble with it for a bit before it gave way with a harsh clang. The creak of old iron told him the door was opening, but he would have known even without the sound. The very air changed around him, becoming thicker with her presence.
‘Norseman?’ The tip of her boot pushed at his hip. Apparently satisfied that he wasn’t pretending, she knelt down at his side and touched the pulse at his neck.
Conscious thought gave way to instinct as he grabbed her wrist with one hand and her hip with the other. He twisted his body and attempted to roll her beneath him before she could make a sound, but he wasn’t quite prepared for the ferocity of her response. She struggled with her whole body. Her hips rose to thwart him while her knees did their best to unman him. She struck a blow to the side of his head that had him seeing spots even as he tried to wrestle her into submission. The tables had turned and she was the animal bent on fighting her way out of captivity.
Only his greater weight saw him succeed in the end. They were both breathing heavily by the time he managed to sit on her thighs, his upper body leaned over her as he held her wrists to the straw pallet at her back. Her eyes blazed with her fury. Had they been weapons, he would have been ripped to shreds by their intensity.
‘You have made a grave mistake.’ Her voice was as hard as that of a queen whose sovereignty had been called into question.
He had expected yelling and more than a little screaming. What he got was a vow of retaliation that was all the more powerful for its unwavering belief that she would prevail before this was over. The proclamation was so jarring that he hesitated, but only for a moment before he renewed his commitment to the path he had set out for himself. He had to escape and the only way to do that was through her.
‘It is you who made the mistake, Lady Annis. You believed that you could take me captive with no ill effects. You were wrong.’
Giving a quick shake of her head, she said, ‘I never thought that. You left me no choice. When you came here to my home asking questions about Wilfrid, what did you expect would happen? I cannot allow you to bring harm to him.’
It wasn’t the first time she had spoken of Wilfrid as if she were responsible for him when it should very well be the other way around. Suspicion had niggled at the back of his mind the day before and now it became full-blown.
‘Do you not mean that he cannot allow harm to come to you? Should he not be here himself?’ At the look of mutinous righteousness that flared to life in her eyes, he added, ‘Not that you are not capable of defending yourself, as we can both plainly see.’ He smirked at the flash of rage the remark evoked. Now that she was beneath him and powerless, he could not help but take the time to enjoy her righteous anger.
‘Are we back to this again, Norseman? Tease the woman because you are so much bigger and stronger than she?’ She sniffed. ‘I am disappointed. I thought you would be above such things.’
His smile had broadened before he even became aware of the fact that he was smiling. He couldn’t take the time to ponder it now, but one day when he was far away from Glannoventa and its dangers he would sit and wonder how she could affect him so. Settling into the back-and-forth game they were playing, he said, ‘As you can see, I am not, but I am above you which does give me something of an upper hand.’
‘You are despicable.’ She bucked against him to no avail. Well, to no avail but to raise his awareness of the fact that she was indeed beneath him.
Strange as it was, a rush of heat began to simmer deep in his belly and his body tightened in response. The thighs between his were taut and firm, but there was no denying the curve of her hips or the softness of her belly when she bucked up against him. She was strong and lithe, while also being supple. Her beauty rivalled that of any great beauty he had ever known. Only, it was different in a way he could not describe, but could appreciate no less for his inability.
Strong. Feminine. Powerful. It was odd how that particular mix of attributes was appealing to him, but he could not deny her allure. Even chained to the wall of her prison on a bed of straw, he wanted her. Badly.
The night they had met had found them in a similar position to now, him holding her pressed against the wall as he had tried to show her a better way to defend herself. There had been a hitch in her breathing when he had spoken to her softly. In that moment before the attackers had come upon them, Rurik had known that she was attracted to him. The knowledge had been heady then and it was heady now for all that they were in a cage. Thoughts of seduction whirled in his head. If he could get her into his bed and compliant, she might very well give him the freedom he wanted and even the information he needed. Of course, he had a feeling she would also give him far more pleasure than he had ever known, but that was secondary to his real motivation. Wasn’t it?
As if she could read his thoughts, she stopped bucking. But the moment her gaze met his he saw that it was because she had noticed the heat between them. The blacks of her eyes had grown larger, which could have been a result of the weak light, but was most likely enhanced by the shift in the mood between them. Her gaze went to his mouth and, whether she realised it or not, her own mouth softened. The pink tip of her tongue laved her full bottom lip before her eyes darted back to his. They were wide in awareness and perhaps a tiny bit of fear.
The fear he could understand. He felt it, too. She was the last woman in the world that he should feel anything for…but that did not seem to matter. Before he could remind himself that he was only doing this to gain the upper hand, he followed his need for her and leaned down to kiss her.
* * *
For one tiny moment, Annis went mad. Rurik’s intent was clearly written on his face. His eyes fairly lit up with his carnal interest in her. Instead of being appalled or using the seax at her waist to ward him off, she wanted his kiss, welcomed it even.
It had been years since Grim had kissed her and he had only ever kissed her in the darkness of her chamber. Even then his eyes had never gone so deep and intense, as if kissing her were the most important thing in the world to him. He had never once kissed her outside of her bed and never would he have done so at such an inappropriate moment. The need in Rurik’s eyes…the way they seemed to eat her up… Annis had never felt so wanted. The feeling was so heady that she was drunk on it, dizzy with weighted limbs that would have trembled had he not held her so firmly…so very firmly.
As Rurik came closer, his head tilting to the side, his thumb a gentle stroke along the inside of her wrist, she found herself licking her bottom lip in preparation for him. When his breath touched her cheek, hers became shallow in anticipation. There was a flicker deep within her belly. She barely had time to ponder the hows and whys of this ill-advised kiss. One moment they had been struggling for control and the next there was this.
His lips were incredibly soft as they touched hers. She had expected a hard kiss, as rough and terse as the man himself. What she got was so much different. So much more. He took his time. Even as they lay there in the cell on a pile of straw, he kissed her as if they were lying in bed on a morning of leisure. His lips brushed hers once, twice, in a lazy back and forth before pulling away to tilt in the opposite direction as if he could sample her better that way.
She should end it before it became deeper. She meant to, but some urgency in the back of her mind made her extend what would surely be the only kiss in her foreseeable future. So instead, she touched her tongue to his bottom lip before retreating. She should end this now and
was tensing to do just that when his soft groan gave her pause.
The sound vibrated in her, sending a bolt of molten need shooting to her core. She barely had time to register it before he gave chase, plundering her mouth as if it was his for the taking. Perhaps it was, because she only arched beneath him to give him better access. Grim’s kisses had never been anything like this. This was nothing short of a pillaging, a stealing of her very soul if only she hadn’t meant to hand it over. She was very certain that she might do just that, because so far she was kissing him back. Not passive in accepting him, but her tongue twirling with his as if it were a long-lost lover come back to her.
He pulled back to take in a breath. His callused hand moved gently down her arm on its way to what she thought might be her breast. Or at least her breast seemed very hopeful as it swelled and her back arched even more to push it higher. Opening her eyes a sliver, she looked at him through a glossed haze to see the corner of his mouth tick upwards as he watched her response. A grin of triumph. A smirk of conquest.
The excitement building in her crumbled on its shaky foundation. That smile broke the spell he had cast on her far faster than anything else could have. He was using her and why wouldn’t he be? She was his captor and a veritable fool to have succumbed to her curiosity. She would be damned if she would allow him to gloat over it.
Using his inflamed opinion of himself against him, she moved quickly, knowing that he would think nothing of it, and drew back as far as she could in the cushion of straw at her back before swinging her head forward so that her forehead caught him on the bridge of his nose. He let out a cry as he released her to bring his hands up to his face. Taking advantage of his momentary incapacitation, she wiggled free and drove her knee into his stomach. He let out a guffaw of air as he crumpled to the straw. His hand shot out to grab her ankle, but he was too late, grabbing only a handful of her skirt before she was able to jerk herself free and hurry towards the door.
Harlequin Historical May 2020--Box Set 2 of 2 Page 5
