“Aye.” He chuckled. “And it is a long journey back to town. We should sleep. Mayhap on dry land. After finding our clothes.”
“Mmmm.” Still smiling, she shook her head in denial. “Not yet. This water may taste terrible but it feels so...” Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Soothing.”
She snuggled closer to him, her lashes drifting down to her cheeks, her hand coming to rest over his heart. Hauk felt a knot of emotions burning beneath her palm.
He had been married before. He had had lovers before. But he had never felt anything like this before. This vexing tangle of caring and protectiveness and desire... and wonder.
Despite all his long years on earth, the feeling was utterly new to him.
He swallowed hard, looking down at his wife resting so peacefully in his arms. His little Valkyrie, surrounding him with her tender strength and soft wings, sweeping him up out of the darkness where he had lived so long alone. How could the gods have believed him worthy of a gift so sweet?
Until that day in Antwerp when they had dropped her into his path, he had been convinced that his future would be filled with naught but duty and solitude. Now he had a home filled to the brim with wedding gifts. And a small reindeer ensconced in his destrier’s stable. And a small child visiting his home every day to take care of the small reindeer.
And a daring, enchanting, stolen bride... who had somehow taken inside her all his pain and grief and loneliness and melted them with her fire and gentleness.
And he was in love with her.
He clenched his jaw, his heart beating too hard. By all the gods, he had not wanted this. Sharing this night with her made him ache with it—and another emotion, dangerously close to hope.
Hope for a future different than the one he had imagined.
But love and hope could not change the fact that he would lose her. She was utlending. He was innfodt. One day she would be gone, and he would go on. Alone.
And already he did not want to imagine his life without her in it.
He brushed his thumb along the delicate curve of her cheek. Her lashes fluttered open.
For a moment, they simply gazed at one another in the fading light of the fire.
Then suddenly her eyes glistened with tears. “I thought I would never do this again,” she whispered.
“Have your hair washed by a Viking?” he asked lightly.
She shook her head. “Never love another man this much.”
His throat tightened. “Avril.” He stroked the backs of his fingers over her cheek.
“Why could you not be as cruel and arrogant and heartless as I always thought Vikings were?” A tear slipped past her lashes.
“My apologies,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.
“Why do you have to be caring and honorable and kind—”
“I shall try to be more demanding and tyrannical.”
“Stop that. You are not allowed to have a sense of humor as well.”
He chuckled, afraid to give in to any of the other emotions spilling through him. “Avril, it is late,” he said quietly, threading his fingers through her hair. “You need to sleep. We must leave at dawn—”
“But that is hours from now,” she protested. “And I...” She kissed him. “... do not...” Another kiss, lingering and warm. “Want to think about tomorrow.”
He groaned, unable to stop himself from nibbling at her lower lip, her jaw, her throat. “If you are hungry, we could find something to eat. Forage for berries in the underbrush—”
“But I...” She moved over him, as liquid as the water all around them. “... do not...” Her hands glided down his ribs, lower. “Want food.”
“Then what—” His voice became a growl when her palms traced a path of fire below his abdomen. “What do you want?”
She answered with a caress, cupped him, stroked him.
He shut his eyes with a vivid oath.
“You,” she whispered, shifting her hips, settling her body against his, taking him captive in her snug heat. “You. With me, part of me. So hard and strong.” She nuzzled his cheek, sighing. “Hauk, there are hours left until morning.”
“Hours,” he agreed, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was lush and deep.
This time, he vowed, he would make it last. Gentle and slow.
As if the two of them had all the time in the world.
Clouds had moved in, obscuring the moon, turning the night almost as dark as Hauk’s mood. He lay stretched out on the woolen blanket by the fire, Avril nestled against his side, asleep at last.
The two of them had finally donned their clothes, her tunic and leggings rumpled and torn—partly the result of their adventure in the woods today, partly the fault of his impatient hands tonight. Only their belts and boots still lay discarded on the shore.
He guessed the hour to be near midnight. But no matter how many times he shut his eyes, he could not sleep. Could find no peace in this familiar, tranquil place—the gentle sound of the waterfall, the endless ebb and flow of the surf lapping against the shore. The contentment and hope he had felt earlier had vanished, replaced by a feeling he had never experienced on Asgard.
An unsettling sense that time was moving too quickly.
The declaration Avril had made kept circling through his mind: I thought I would never love another man this much.
He tried to blink away the burning in his eyes. If only she had not said those words, it might be easier for him to endure the idea that had taken shape in his mind.
An idea that could bring him more trouble than he had experienced in his entire life.
A rueful smile curved his lips. He should have known his little Valkyrie would only make this more challenging for him.
He turned his head toward her, trying to commit every sweet detail to his memory. The shape of her lips. The silkiness of her skin. The way her hair looked, damp and tangled against the blanket. The soft touch of her breath against his bare chest. The way her body felt beside his, warm and languid from their lovemaking.
He tried to convince himself that it would hurt less to lose her now, rather than after spending a lifetime—her lifetime—together.
The wind blowing in across the cove made her shiver. She stirred, blinking sleepily. “Hauk?”
“It is not yet dawn,” he whispered, reaching across her to pull an edge of the blanket over her, tucking it close. “Go back to sleep.”
She settled against him once more, but could not seem to take her gaze from the night sky—from a scattering of stars that winked through the clouds.
The sight made her breath catch. “Oh...” She sat up, as if to see them more clearly before they vanished, but they were already gone, swallowed up by the gloom.
She remained still for a moment, staring up into the darkness.
“I wonder if Giselle watched those same stars tonight,” she said softly. “We like to... or rather, we used to...”
The sorrow in her voice went through him like a blade. Hauk sat up, reaching for her, easing her into his arms. He had planned to wait until morning to tell her of his decision, but delaying would not make it less painful.
“Avril...” He rubbed one hand over her back, tried to think of how to say what he did not want to say. “One day I will lose you,” he began, his voice hollow. “One day you will leave this world and I will—”
“I do not want to leave you.”
Her quiet words scattered his thoughts.
He drew back, holding her by the shoulders. “You wish to stay here with me?”
Her eyes shone with emotion. “Tonight and tomorrow, and for as many tomorrows as God would grant us. But I cannot stay here with you.” She lowered her lashes, her expression anguished. “I cannot abandon Giselle. Hauk, you know better than anyone how she is feeling. How alone and confused and frightened she must feel.”
He shut his eyes, rested his cheek against hers. “I know.”
She was right.
And that was the very thoug
ht that had kept him awake.
For a long moment, they held each other, silent.
“B-but... mayhap if you could... if you could take me to the coast on your ship, and return to Asgard,” she said, as if thinking through the idea even as she voiced it, “I could bring Giselle to the coast and you could come back for us.”
He lifted his head. For a moment, disbelief stole his voice. “You would bring your daughter here to live all the rest of her life? Knowing she would never again be allowed to set foot in the outside world?”
Avril looked as if her heart were being torn in two. “Hauk—”
“And how would you explain to your family where you have been?” he asked roughly. “How would you persuade them simply to let you ride away with your daughter, with no explanation as to where you were going? How would you ensure that no one followed you when you left?”
She shook her head. “I... I do not... “
“And your family—this powerful duc who lives in the Artois, who holds favor with the French king—would they merely accept that you and your daughter had gone? Or would they use all the influence at their command to have you followed and found?”
She shivered as if suddenly realizing how it could all go terribly wrong, how she might unwittingly lead French men-at-arms to Hauk, to Asgard.
Tears slid down her cheeks. “My beau-frère, Gaston, the duc... if Giselle and I disappeared, he would never relent in trying to find us,” she admitted.
Hauk brushed her tears away with his fingertips. “Avril,” he said more gently, “you told me once that you did not want your daughter made a captive here with you.” He tilted her head up. “Has that changed? Would you willingly, happily give up your freedom—and hers?”
Her answer seemed to be wrenched from her, scarcely a whisper. “Nay.”
He gathered her close, buried his face in her hair. Her plan—her impulsive, reckless, impossible plan—would never work.
But his would.
And ironically, it was the strength of her feelings for him, and for Josette and the people of Asgard, that assured him it would be safe to let her go.
Let her leave. Take her back to Antwerp. Set her free.
He knew he could trust her to keep their secret. She would protect everyone on Asgard with the same fierce devotion she showed all her loved ones.
He did not know what the eldrer would do to him for daring to break the very laws he was sworn to uphold.
But he would willingly pay that price, for Avril—and for her little girl.
“What is she like, your Giselle?” he asked softly. “Strong-willed and clever and determined like her mother?”
Wiping at her tears, Avril smiled. “All of that and much more,” she informed him, her voice warm with love and pride. “She asks at least a hundred ‘why?’ questions every day. And she skips wherever she goes, as if she is so full of happiness that merely walking will not do. And this Christmas past, the only gift she wished for was a baby sister—not a brother, she said, because boys are loud and bothersome.”
Hauk chuckled, picturing her in his mind, a daughter any man would be fortunate and proud to call his own.
“I never wanted her to grow up alone, as I did,” Avril continued, her voice wavering. “I wanted to have many children.”
Hauk shut his eyes, the longing behind her words making his heart thud against his ribs. If the two of them continued as they had tonight, there was every chance she would be carrying his child soon—mayhap very soon. And if their child were born here, on Asgard, their son or daughter would be innfodt. Native-born. Unable to leave the island.
And Avril’s heart would be torn apart for the rest of her life, divided between one child on Asgard and one in France.
He could not do that to her.
He loved her too much to do that to her.
“God’s breath.” She pulled away from him, blinking rapidly. “I have not admitted that aloud to anyone, not since I lost Gerard. I have tried so hard not to...”
“Not to want,” he murmured. “Not to dream.”
Nodding, she reached up to brush her fingertips over his stubbled jaw. “I did not believe God could ever bring another man so special into my life.” Her voice was edged with wonder and sorrow. “I thought no one could ever take Gerard’s place.”
“No one ever will take his place,” he assured her quietly. “You are only afraid—”
“I am not afraid.” A familiar, mutinous spark came into her eyes. “I am not—”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “You are not afraid of wolves, or sailing dangerous waters alone, or even rather large Norsemen who carry you off across the sea.” He reached down to take her hand. Her left hand. “But you are afraid to let him go.”
Her gaze settled on the gold band she wore. “That is not... I am not...” Her voice wavered as if the possibility had never occurred to her. “It is only that... I lost him so suddenly.” She fell silent for a long moment. “I never even... had a chance to say farewell to him,” she explained haltingly. “When he rode off that morn, I did not know it would be the last time I ever saw him.”
Hauk kept his touch and his voice gentle as he asked the question. “How did it happen?”
She looked up at the night sky. “He and his father were going to a tournament.” She said the word as if she hated it. “Only a tournament. I had not even told him yet that I thought I might be with child. It was too soon to be certain...” A low sound of hurt escaped her. “So he never knew about the baby. He died without ever knowing that he was to become a father.”
Hauk clenched his jaw, pained more than ever that he had taken the little girl’s mother away from her. He threaded his fingers through Avril’s, holding on to her.
Knowing he would soon have to let her go.
“On the day he left,” Avril continued, her voice hollow, “that morn, he had been hunting in the woods, and he came in covered in mud, and I chastised him for tracking dirt everywhere. Then much later, after his squire came to tell me...” She swallowed hard. “To tell me that he was dead, that both he and his father had been killed by an enemy’s treachery, I ran to our bedchamber. I was on the floor, crying, and I looked up and saw a handprint, a muddy handprint on the wall beside the door. His handprint.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “For weeks I would not let the servants clean it away, because it was... as if he were still there with me.”
Hauk shut his eyes, thinking of the sketch of Maeve he had made in one of his journals. He had once believed that he could hold on to her by holding onto some part of her, some symbol.
“You do not need a handprint to remember him, Avril. Or a ring. You need not fear that you will forget him. You will never forget him.”
She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with emotion.
He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “And you need not fear that letting another man into your heart means you must banish him. That you could never do. But you should not be alone, little Valkyrie. You were not meant to be alone.” His voice became hoarse. “You need someone to share your life, and keep you safe, and tease you until you smile. And hold your hand.”
But he would not be that man.
“You are wrong, Hauk Valbrand,” she whispered, reaching up with her other hand to caress his cheek. “I do not need someone, I need—”
A movement in the cove made Hauk glance out over the water—and freeze in shock. Avril gasped as she saw what he did.
His ship, gliding straight past them toward the open end of the cove.
Hauk leaped to his feet, swearing as he ran to the water’s edge, Avril just behind him. From here, in the scant moonlight, he could just make out a lone figure at the oars. A dark-haired man. “By Thor’s chariot, what does Keldan think he is—”
“Why would he take your boat?” Avril cried.
The man aboard the ship stood up, reaching for a line that bound the tiller in place, and the size and shape of the silhouette made Hauk curse. “That is
not Keldan,” he growled, icy fury pouring through him. “It is Thorolf.”
Chapter 20
“Thorolf?” Avril gaped at the ship, her heart pounding. The single-masted vessel had to be more than twenty paces long, but with Thorolf at the oars, it cut swiftly through the waves. “But I thought the others were taking him to—”
“He must have broken free somehow and escaped.” Hauk swore.
Avril glanced toward the opposite end of the cove, near the forest, drenched by fear. “Sweet Mary, what if he hurt Josette and Keldan?”
“Go and check on them, Avril.” Hauk was already grabbing his belt from the sand, unsheathing his knife.
“But what are you—”
“I have to stop him.”
“Nay! Hauk, where could he possibly be going? If he can only survive for six days—”
“He is either insane, terrified of facing the elders, or angry enough to reveal our secret to the outside world. Mayhap all three. Whatever he is planning, I cannot let him leave.”
Avril shook her head, alarmed at the idea of him going off to face Thorolf alone. “Hauk, you cannot—”
“It is my duty, Avril. He could endanger everyone on Asgard. If I run, I can cut him off before he reaches the mouth of the cove.” He paused just long enough to give her a quick, hard kiss. “Do not argue with me. Go and see if Keldan and Josette are all right.”
He turned and raced up the shoreline, into the darkness. Avril watched him, feeling helpless. If Thorolf was so determined to leave, he would be more dangerous than ever. And he might have weapons.
Hauk was armed only with the knife in his hand. They had left his sword and her crossbow lashed to Ildfast’s saddle.
She glanced back the way they had come. They had walked such a distance to the waterfall, it would take her twenty minutes to reach Keldan and Josette. By then Hauk could be hurt. Or worse.
There are some things even an innfodt cannot survive, he had said.
Swallowing hard, she turned to look at the ship. It was nearing the mouth of the cove. She could just make out Hauk’s silhouette as he reached the end of the shoreline and dove into the water, swimming straight for the boat. Terrifying memories of almost dying in those cold, night-black waves rushed over her.
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