Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “Hauk would certainly not like having you in his keep,” she said as she returned to her reading. “Which is why I am allowing you to stay,” she added, a mischievous curve tugging at her mouth. “Imagine the havoc you will wreak when you grow large enough to have horns. I wonder how long that might take.”

  For another hour, she sat poring over the Norse books, until she was forced to admit that they would be of no help, though the drawings were lovely. Apparently, some Vikings were of more poetic than warlike spirit. Whoever had written these volumes long ago possessed an artist’s eye and a deft touch with pen and ink. In addition to the drawings of the island, there were sketches of European cities, castles and cathedrals, the ruins of Roman aqueducts, sailing ships, a snowy mountainside.

  And one sketch that was particularly striking: a beautiful young woman caught in a moment of laughter, her black hair blowing in the wind.

  Avril closed the book with care, for some of the pages were so old and fragile, they crumbled at her touch.

  She stood and returned the texts to the trunks where she had found them, hoping Josette and the others were having better luck in discovering the island’s location. They had all agreed to share word of their progress tomorrow night. The townspeople were planning some sort of grand celebration to welcome the new brides formally to Asgard.

  A knock sounded at the door. Startled, Avril turned. Who would venture out in this drenching downpour to pay a visit, other than a child with a homeless reindeer?

  Whoever it was knocked again. Sharply. Impatiently.

  “Saints’ breath.” Avril crossed toward the entrance. “Have I not been greeted by the entire town yet?” She glanced at Floyel sleeping in the corner. Mayhap little Marta could not wait to see him again.

  She lifted the latch, opened the door, and stepped back, letting in gray afternoon light and a chilly breeze wet with rain.

  And a tall, cloaked figure who was definitely not Marta.

  Her visitor hurried in out of the storm, reaching up with slender hands to lower the cloak’s hood—revealing an elegant, feminine face framed by a wealth of auburn tresses. The lady’s movements were so graceful, her bearing so regal, that Avril almost felt as if she should drop in a curtsy.

  Was this the wife of one of the elders, or one of the prosperous merchants, come to offer even more presents?

  “No more gifts,” Avril pleaded, pointing to the overflowing tables. “Too many now. No need.”

  “My, what a charming way of speaking you have,” the woman replied in fluent French, shaking out her damp hair and running her fingers through it. Her voice was as cool as the gray eyes that skimmed Avril from head to slippers in a quick, assessing glance. “And you are even lovelier than everyone said. But I am afraid I brought no gift.” She smiled.

  It was not one of the warm, welcoming smiles that Avril had become accustomed to.

  The woman made a disapproving tch, tch sound with her tongue. “Well, do not simply stand there staring at me like a sheep.” She swept off her cloak and tossed the sodden garment toward Avril, scattering water all over her. “Show a bit of hospitality.”

  Avril could not catch the cloak, recover from her confusion, and summon a reply all at the same time.

  “Imagine my surprise upon hearing that Hauk Valbrand had returned from the voyage with a new bride.” The woman brushed past her, looking around the chamber. “I simply had to come and see for my—by all the gods, is that a reindeer?” she asked with distaste.

  Floyel bleated at her, then buried his head in his blankets.

  “Indeed it is,” Avril said at last, dropping the cloak over a chair, brushing raindrops from her face and gown. “If you are looking for Hauk, he is not here. And I have had—”

  “Oh, I know he is not here, my dear,” her visitor replied with cool amusement, glancing at the gifts piled everywhere, pausing to run her hand over a white fur. Ruby and sapphire rings glittered on her long, tapered fingers. “I heard that he left on sentry duty. You poor, poor child, to be deserted already. So soon after the wedding. The man is so accursedly devoted to duty.”

  “Is he indeed?” Avril frowned, watching as the woman moved from one heap of presents to the next, unable to guess her purpose. Had she come all this way in the rain in hopes of procuring a few unwanted wedding gifts? “If you will pardon me, I have had rather a large number of visitors since—”

  “You must not let it hurt you, you know. The way Hauk abandons you in favor of his work. You must not take it personally.” The lady glanced at Avril over her shoulder, her white teeth gleaming in the candlelight, her voice low. “I never do.”

  Avril inhaled sharply, feeling foolish for not having guessed sooner that this stunning, coolly regal woman was his... his... “How interesting,” she said woodenly, her cheeks burning. “But it matters not to me what he—”

  “Nay, my dear, do not protest to me that you do not care that he has abandoned you. And so soon after the wedding night,” the woman repeated, her smile widening as if that fact pleased her immeasurably. “Once a woman has had a taste of Hauk Valbrand, she is never quite the same. Of all the men of Asgard, he is the most...” She paused, stroking a tasseled pillow someone had brought, sighing dreamily. “Gifted.”

  Avril felt a strange, cold sensation lance through her, as if she had been stabbed with an icicle. “How kind of you to come and keep me company,” she choked out. “But I am truly not interested in hearing any more of this. Now if you would—”

  “Nina.” Pushing gifts off a large, carved oak chair, the lady helped herself to a seat, curling up comfortably and tossing her russet tresses. “You may call me Nina. And I have not come here to keep you company, or to pay court as everyone else has. I came here to reclaim something that belongs to me.”

  She pierced Avril with a chilly glare, and for a moment, the noise of rain drumming on the roof made the only sound.

  “My white silk kirtle,” Nina continued lightly, her lips curving upward. “I left it here some time ago, but I suppose I must retrieve it now. Mayhap you have seen it? It is cut low here”—she trailed a fingertip between her breasts—”and high here.” She traced a line up her thigh.

  Avril gritted her teeth, not certain for a moment which of them vexed her more: Hauk, who had dressed her in a garment that belonged to his paramour, or the wench who sat here waiting for her to erupt in outrage or crumple in tears.

  “If I happen across it,” she said smoothly, “I will have it returned to you.”

  “You are so kind,” Nina drawled. “I cannot understand why Hauk left you so soon. I would think someone as young and charming as you would hold his interest.” She arched one slim, red-gold brow. “How old are you, my dear? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  Avril folded her arms. “Three and twenty.”

  “Three and twenty!” Nina laughed—a deep, throaty laugh that had poor Floyel burrowing for cover—as if this were the most amusing jest she had heard in a long time. “Oh, the way you say it! As if you are far too sophisticated and mature to be mistaken for eighteen.” Her shoulders shook. “My dear, you are barely out of swaddling clothes.”

  “But you cannot be more than... five or six years older than I,” Avril replied, not understanding the woman’s amusement.

  Nina kept chuckling. “You flatter me, silly child. But then, I do adore flattery. And I have aged well, haven’t I?”

  Avril sighed, gesturing toward the door. “You have also worn out your welcome. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance, milady, but now you must allow me to bid you—”

  “Oh, by Frigga’s mother.” Nina waved a hand dismissively and made no move to rise. “Your kind are always so sensitive, so delicate, so fragile.” Her voice was laced with disdain, and her eyes as she regarded Avril suddenly burned with resentment. “But the men seem to find that attractive for some reason. When Hauk and I last parted, I assumed he would return to me anon. I never suspected he was secretly longing for one of your kind.”

&nbs
p; “My kind?” Avril demanded. “What do you mean, my kind? Captives? Women who have been forced here against their will?”

  “Utlending,” Nina spat. “You are utlending. A foreigner. I am innfodt,” she informed her loftily, rising gracefully from the chair, crossing to a mirror that hung over the washbasin. “A native-born woman of Asgard.” She studied her reflection, running her fingertips over her flawless ivory skin.

  “I see. Well, mayhap I should correct a mistaken impression you seem to have—it was not my idea to come here. I would like naught better than to leave this island and let you claim Hauk and his clifftop dwelling and whatever gifts you say he has.”

  Nina turned to stare at her, eyes wide with surprise. “He has not bedded you yet, has he?”

  Startled by such a question, Avril opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “Nay, clearly he has not.” Nina brightened, looking even more pleased than before. “If he had, you would not be so eager to leave.”

  “Hauk Valbrand is a... a brigand. A rogue. He is keeping me here against my will. I would never let him take me to his bed!”

  Nina laughed, softly this time, glancing down at the toes of her embroidered slippers. “Oh, I do not think that is true. But if you are indeed unhappy here, if you truly wish to leave Asgard—”

  “I must leave Asgard. I have a three-year-old daughter awaiting my return home.”

  Nina’s head came up. “A daughter?” She paused, something shifting in that icy, gray gaze. “You are a mother?”

  Avril could not reply, astonished by the change in Nina’s tone and expression. For once, the woman was not mocking her.

  “Aye, and I am... I am all my little Giselle has left. I was widowed three years ago.”

  Nina’s long lashes swept downward, concealing her eyes, and she turned away. “Then of course you must return home.” After a moment, she glanced over her shoulder. “And I am willing to offer my help,” she said, her voice cool and regal once more.

  Avril regarded her warily, still trying to puzzle out what emotion she had seen in Nina’s eyes for that brief instant. Whatever it had been, it was gone, replaced by that remote, faintly superior air.

  Which made Avril reluctant to trust Nina’s offer of help. The woman clearly viewed her—however mistakenly—as a rival for Hauk’s affections. Avril could too well imagine what kind of help Nina might offer.

  She might happily help her fall off a cliff.

  “Would you not be breaking the laws?”

  “It would involve a certain amount of risk,” Nina admitted. “But we cannot think of that, with our happiness at stake—both yours and mine.”

  “Hauk told me no one ever leaves Asgard.”

  “Did he?” Nina shook her head, smiling ruefully. “That is not entirely true. Hauk himself leaves, now and then. It is part of his duty as vokter.”

  Avril turned away, biting back an oath. He had lied to her. That son of a cur—

  “He keeps a knorr—a small sailing ship—in a sheltered cove on the western side of the island. It is only a few hours’ journey through the western part of the forest.”

  “I see.” Avril felt angry enough to spit. No wonder he had told her to avoid that part of the woods.

  Unless...

  She turned again, studying Nina, cautious. “I thought the western part of the forest was dangerous. Someone mentioned there were wolves there.”

  “Aye, there are. But there is a safe way to reach the cove. How do you think Hauk goes there and returns safely?” Nina rested her hands on her slender waist. “I would be happy to show you where to find it, little utlending. I will escort you myself.”

  She looked sincere.

  Or was trying to look sincere.

  Avril held her tongue and listened to the rain, uncertain what to do or whom to believe.

  Which one had lied to her? Was there in truth a boat in a sheltered cove—or was Nina making up the tale, thinking to lure her into danger? Finding a boat would be faster, and safer, than attempting to build a seaworthy craft of her own.

  Avril glanced away, and the glitter of steel above the hearth caught her eye.

  Which gave her an idea. “Thank you for the offer,” she said lightly, picking up Nina’s wet cloak from the chair, “but I am afraid I must decline.” She went to the entrance and opened the door, holding it for her guest.

  Nina sighed. “As you wish.” She walked over and plucked the cloak from Avril’s hands. “But if you change your mind, you will find me in town. And it might be best if you did not tell Hauk we have met—else he will suspect that you now know about his ship.” She donned the cloak, lifting the hood as she stepped past Avril, into the rain.

  Then she paused and turned, her expression concealed within the depths of the hood as the storm spattered them both with wind-driven water. “I truly am willing to help you, little utlending, in any way I can.”

  Before Avril could respond, Nina turned and walked away into the storm.

  Watching her go, Avril wondered again if she should accept the woman’s offer. But with so much at stake, she dared not take the risk. And she did not need to: She had more trustworthy allies in her fellow captives.

  And a wall full of weapons at her disposal.

  In the morn, she and her sisters-in-arms could go and search for the boat on their own.

  Chapter 9

  He tenderly kissed her tears away, whispering words she had not heard in such a long time. Words of love. His strong hands touched her intimately, each caress slower than the last as he gently aroused her.

  Moaning softly, she lifted her hips, wanting to take him inside her. Please, mon coeur, it has been so long, I need... I need...

  He nudged her thighs apart, positioning himself there at the silky core of her body. Then he raised his head, and in the firelight she could see the passion in his eyes—those pale-blue eyes, like the sky lit by the sun’s hottest rays, his hair like strands of gold between her fingers.

  Avril jerked awake with a sharp cry, eyes wide, heart thundering.

  The night sky tilted dizzily in her vision. She thrust out a hand to steady herself. Felt the sand beneath her, a warm sea wind blowing through her hair. Waves swept rhythmically onto the shore a few paces away. The torch she had staked into the sand flickered beside her. She had been dreaming. Only dreaming. She had come down to sleep on the beach after the storm abated. Hauk was not here. He was...

  God’s mercy, he was the man in her dream.

  “Nay.” She stumbled to her feet. “Nay!” The ocean breeze billowed her emerald cloak out behind her and cut through her linen shift, cooling the perspiration from her body, her breasts. Her limbs still tingled with arousal.

  Hauk Valbrand could not be the man in the sensual dream that had tormented her for months. How could he be? She had not even met him until a few days—

  The roar of the surf seemed deafening as she remembered their first meeting in Antwerp. That jarring moment of time when he had seemed familiar. His face. His eyes. His voice. So hauntingly familiar.

  Only now did she understand why.

  Because he was the man she had been making love to in her dreams.

  Stunned, breathless, she touched her mouth, aware of the lingering heat of a kiss there. Nay, it was impossible! She was confused. Tired. Overwrought by Nina’s visit and her talk of Hauk’s “gifts.”

  That was the reason Avril had fled his vaningshus. But it was not enough that she had avoided sleeping in his bed. Not enough to banish him from her thoughts.

  From her dreams.

  With a wordless sound of confusion and denial, she grabbed the torch and hurried blindly down the shore, gulping mouthfuls of air that still held the lingering scent of rain. The damp sand gave way softly beneath her bare feet. The storm had ended hours ago, yet the moon barely glimmered through the clouds hanging overhead.

  Waves rushed up to bubble around her ankles and dampen the hem of her shift and the embroidered cloak, one of the wedding gift
s she had received from the kind people of Asgard. Her steps gradually slowed but she kept walking, too restless, too agitated to stop.

  Oddly, the water felt cold. Icy cold—in stark contrast to the island’s summery weather and lush greenery and air that, even down here, was warm and scented with the fragrance of exotic blooms.

  Avril tucked the water’s temperature away in her mind with all the other troublesome, conflicting bits of information she had been gathering about Asgard Island.

  And the man who had brought her here.

  Even now she could not chase him from her thoughts. Could not keep herself from wondering where he was. If he had found shelter in the storm. Had he been gone two days now? Or was it longer?

  She halted, chastising herself. It was ridiculous to feel worried about her captor. And if she found it difficult to count the days since she had seen him last, mayhap it was because the pace of life seemed so slow on Asgard.

  Almost as if time itself moved more slowly here.

  Frowning, she continued down the shore, wondering if God had purposely designed this place to confuse and confound any poor mortal who set foot here.

  She would try to make sense of it all tomorrow. Tomorrow, when she had the chance to meet with her fellow captives and discuss whatever answers they had found. Tonight, she was too exhausted to think anymore.

  A short distance down the beach, looming out of the darkness, she noticed a massive tangle of broken trees, lodged among rocks at the base of the cliff. Driftwood, washed ashore by some long-ago storm. The jagged trunks created a sheltered place away from the wind and waves.

  She walked over and staked her torch into the sand, then took off her cloak, spreading the garment out. Sinking down onto the silk-lined fabric, she lay on her back within the driftwood’s shadow and gazed up at the gray clouds high overhead.

  The clouds concealed the stars as well as the moon, but one silvery glimmer managed to pierce the murk, just for an instant, winking at her. Avril’s heart pulled tight.