“Avril,” he murmured hoarsely, nuzzling her cheek.
Gathering him close, whispering his name, she kissed him, wanting to hold him and be held, to caress and feel cared for, wanting to give to him all she felt, all she was.
He slipped her tunic over her head, baring her to his gaze in light that might have come from moon or sun. Cold air, cold sea spray could not compete with hot kisses, the hot friction of skin against skin. She arched beneath him, felt his hands gliding over her. He aroused her so gently, with such tenderness, that she thought she could actually feel her heart breaking.
His fingers sought and found her feminine heat, brushing over her until need made her cry out softly. It seemed to take forever, a lifetime, before he finally became part of her, gathering her to him and possessing her fully as he already possessed her heart. The feel of him slowly becoming part of her, all heat and hardness and velvety steel, brought a moan from her lips, a soul-deep sound of longing and passion and exquisite, bittersweet pleasure.
Her hips arched to take him deeper and he began moving powerfully inside her, leaving her breathless. The rhythm of the ship and the sea became the rhythm of their bodies, flowing together, rising and falling. The sounds of the surf and the wind and their sighs filled the dawn as he filled her body.
She clung to him as she had once clung to the shattered pieces of her past, and she felt healed and whole and alive. More than alive. Loved. This gentle warrior had shown her how much love she still needed, how much love she could still feel. He had changed her life. Changed everything.
And soon she must lose him.
God, nay. Nay, please do not take him from me.
But not even heaven could keep them together. They could only cling to the present, this hour, this sweetest of moments. And try not to think of the morrow.
She surrendered herself to him, again and again, losing herself to the fierce power and passion of his lovemaking.
And when the sun filled the sky with light, she felt agonizingly aware of the cold bite of autumn and a darkness descending inside her that even the ascending sun could not pierce.
~ ~ ~
The docks of Antwerp bustled with traders and ships from every corner of the earth. All along the wharf, merchants haggled over prices in dozens of languages, inspecting goods and counting out coins, while sailors filled the air with lilting tunes in deep, salty voices as they unloaded their cargo and headed off to the taverns for the night.
There were so many people, Hauk thought. All of them foreign, utlending.
Her people.
The winds, curse them, had been favorable, carrying his knorr swiftly to Antwerp in just less than two days. He had wanted to slow down as the coast of Avril’s homeland came into view. But he knew it would not help to prolong their parting.
And, though he tried not to let her know it, he was not feeling well. His wounded arm pained him, and fatigue made him light-headed. He knew he needed to return to Asgard at once.
To whatever fate awaited him.
After he had secured his ship to one of the crowded piers, Avril threw herself into his arms. He held her close, one last time, trying to memorize the feel of her as evening fell and stars lit the sky with shades of pearl gray and amethyst.
Then he helped her onto the dock and did not try to follow.
“I still say I should accompany you until you find this beau-frère of yours,” he said.
Avril shook her head, blinking hard. “You have to return home. Do not worry about me. Gaston will have men searching for me everywhere, and since I disappeared from Antwerp, they will focus their efforts here. It will not be hard to find them.”
Hauk tried to think of something more to say, and could not.
She stood there, wrapped in her borrowed cloak, so brave. So beautiful. He had never known a lady like her. And never would again.
From somewhere deep inside him, past the sorrow and the ache in his heart, the words came out on a single breath. “I love you, little Valkyrie.”
Her eyes seemed to shimmer with emerald brightness. “I love you, husband.”
Those would be the last words he ever shared with her—those words, not farewell. His eyes burning, Hauk reluctantly took the rope from around the pier, and used one of the oars to push away from the dock, and began to row.
She did not move, watching him, as he watched her until his ship was too far away... until she was naught but a distant silhouette in the fading light.
Until he could no longer see her at all.
Chapter 22
Moonlight poured in through the tall, arched window, bathing Avril in the glistening colors of stained glass. She sat on a tasseled pillow in the window seat, humming softly to Giselle, cherishing the sweet weight of her daughter in her arms. Though her petite papillon, her little butterfly, had fallen asleep some time ago, Avril did not move, simply holding her, running her fingertips over Giselle’s raven curls, caressing her round, rosy cheeks, so peaceful in sleep.
The ride from Antwerp had taken almost three days, even at a gallop. Since returning to Gaston and Celine’s chateau this afternoon, Avril had offered a hundred prayers of thanksgiving for being reunited with her daughter... and yet her homecoming had not brought the happiness and contentment she had anticipated during her first days on Asgard.
Everything here was exactly the same. Exactly as she had left it.
Only she herself seemed different. Out of place, somehow.
Mayhap because she had left part of her heart and soul on that warm island in the center of a cold sea.
She hoped and prayed that Hauk had reached home safely. That the council of elders would be lenient with him.
She could not bear that she might never know what had become of him.
There was a knock at the door. Avril glanced up. “Come in,” she whispered, careful not to wake her daughter.
Celine entered, wearing a dressing robe, her long red hair trailing down her back. “I thought I would find you in here.” She smiled at finding Avril still cradling her little girl, came to sit beside her.
“I cannot bring myself to put her to bed,” Avril explained softly. “I do not think I will ever let her go again.”
“I don’t blame you.” Celine picked up a fabric doll Giselle had dropped, tucking it back into the little girl’s hold with a mother’s natural ease. “If I were away from Soren for a fortnight, I think I would go mad.”
“I am so grateful to you and Gaston for taking care of her, Celine. And for not telling her that I was missing.”
“We thought it best not to frighten her. Gaston was the one who decided we should simply tell her that you had been delayed in Antwerp for a few days.”
A few days, Avril thought. It seemed she had been on Asgard much longer than that. How could her whole life have changed, in so short a time?
“But if you hadn’t returned this week,” Celine continued quietly, “I’m not sure how much longer she would’ve believed us.”
Avril swallowed hard, preferring not to think of that. She could only be grateful that the separation had proved to be much harder on herself than on Giselle. “Thank you.”
“Avril,” Celine said after a moment, “Gaston is still rather upset—”
“I know. I know he is angry with me.”
“Not angry. Only concerned. We’re both so relieved to have you back alive and unhurt, but you must understand how he...” Celine turned slightly in the window seat, facing her. “It was rather surprising to have you reappear in Antwerp so suddenly, saying only that you were taken hostage by mistake in a feud between two warring families. Why can’t you tell us who these noblemen were, or where they took you? Gaston would like to—”
“I have tried to explain as best I can, Celine. There is no need for Gaston to go charging off to seek justice. They set us free once they realized they had abducted the wrong women. And we were well treated. I was not harmed.”
Celine regarded her with a puzzled look. “And Jos
ette decided to stay with them.”
Avril sighed. It pained her to have to be so secretive with her own family. “Sometimes, ma soeur, the heart makes choices that defy reason.”
Celine reached out to touch her shoulder. “Avril,” she said gently, “I know you may have been reluctant to speak freely in front of Gaston and his men, but...” She tilted her head, her eyes searching Avril’s face. “Is there anything you want to tell me? You said that your abductors didn’t hurt you in any way, but you seem... troubled.”
Avril blinked hard, forced a smile. “I am fine, Celine. Truly.”
“You know you can tell me anything. I would keep it between the two of us.”
Avril lowered her gaze. Celine was always so perceptive, especially when it came to matters of the heart. And Avril desperately wanted to pour out all that she was feeling. All the pain and loss and love and worry.
But she must never speak a word about Hauk, to anyone. Not even to Celine.
“I am sorry, ma soeur, but I must ask you to understand.”
Celine nodded and dropped the subject. “I know that there are some secrets that simply can’t be told,” she said quietly. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
“Thank you. Thank you for understanding.”
“Good night, Avril.” Her belle-soeur stood, her expression soft, her skin aglow in the moonlight—that special glow of a beloved woman who had a child growing within her.
Avril felt a pang of envy so strong it made her hurt inside. “Good night, ma soeur.”
Celine headed for the door. “I think I’d better go back to my bedchamber and try to soothe Gaston’s ruffled feathers.”
Avril smiled. If anyone could accomplish that, Celine could.
Her belle-soeur paused one last time at the door, looking over her shoulder. “Welcome home.”
Home, Avril thought, the word bringing a bittersweet ache to her heart as Celine closed the door behind her. Resisting the uncomfortable feeling, Avril stood and carried Giselle to her small bed, tucking the covers around her, dusting a kiss in her dark hair. Then she straightened and went to the window.
Looking out at the chapel in the forest, she closed her eyes.
And slipped the wedding band from her finger.
She held the circle of gold in her hand for a long time, remembering all the cherished moments that it represented, and then she walked to the hearth. Reaching up, she placed it in a lacquered box on the mantel that held Giselle’s most precious belongings.
“For you, ma petite papillon,” she whispered. “He will be with us, in our hearts, forever.”
Closing the box’s lid, she felt a sense of peace steal through her... at least about her past. As she slipped out through the door that led to her own bedchamber, she did not want to think about her future.
Because she had no tears left to cry.
~ ~ ~
The sun and warmth and sea winds of Asgard had not made Hauk feel any better, though he had been home a full day now. His wounds had healed, but he still felt... numb. Empty. A bleak fog had descended on him, and only one ray of brightness managed to pierce it: the thought that Avril was home now, safe. With her little girl.
He held fast to that image, took strength from it as he prepared to face whatever punishment he was about to receive.
Josette and Keldan accompanied him as he approached the door of his Uncle Erik’s vaningshus.
“Are you certain we cannot come with you?” Keldan asked for the third time, his arm around Josette’s shoulders as they walked. “I do not understand why the eldrer insist on seeing you alone. We all told them what Thorolf did—”
“Ja, and that does not change the fact that I broke our laws. The punishments must apply to everyone equally, Kel, or they have no meaning at all. I thank you for standing by me, but I must face this alone.” He turned to Josette, shifting to French. “Still feeling all right?”
She nodded. “I wish you and Keldan would cease hovering over me. I do not know if Thorolf’s claims about that potion were true, but I feel perfectly well.”
Hauk smiled at her, hoping that Thorolf’s claims were true, that Keldan would never lose his beloved bride and they would be together forever.
But only time would tell. For whatever secret Thorolf had discovered had indeed died with him.
The three of them stopped before the door of Erik’s remote dwelling. Hauk turned to tell his friends farewell, but emotion drew his throat tight, and he could not find the words.
He did not know if this would be the last time he ever saw them.
“You have done a good thing,” Josette said before he could speak, her eyes bright and earnest. “Setting Avril free was the only choice you could have made. As was killing Thorolf. Your council must understand that.”
“I am not certain they will be as understanding as you, Josette.” He looked at Keldan, held out his hand, tried to banish the leaden feeling in his stomach. Only seeing the two of them so happy together made this bearable. “You are fortunate to have such a bride, Kel,” he told his friend in Norse. “You were right in Antwerp. You chose wisely.”
“Ja, as did you.” Keldan gripped Hauk’s outstretched arm, his voice hoarse. “I will take care of Ildfast until you return.”
Hauk held his gaze. They both knew he might not be returning. “Take care of yourself, as well,” he said gruffly. He pulled Kel into a quick, hard embrace. “Live a long and happy life, my friend.”
“And you, Hauk.”
Hauk stepped back, nodding in gratitude for his friend’s good wishes. Though he did not believe they would come true.
Turning, he entered his uncle’s vaningshus.
He stopped just inside the door, his heart thudding a single, hard stroke.
Only his uncle was there, standing before the hearth, the flames behind him casting his large shadow across the darkened chamber, his expression dire.
The other thirteen eldrer were missing.
“Have a seat, nephew.”
Hauk shut the door, held himself rigid. “I would face this standing. Where are—”
“I believe you are going to want to sit down,” his uncle told him somberly.
Hauk could not reply for a moment, cold dread spreading through him at his uncle’s tone. “Where are the rest of the eldrer?”
“We finished our discussions an hour ago, and they departed.” His uncle grimaced. “I asked to be allowed to speak with you alone.”
Hauk took a deep breath, sensing that his worst fears were about to be confirmed. “Then let us dispense with the prelude, Uncle,” he said evenly. “I have naught to say in my defense. I killed Thorolf. I wish there had been another way, but there was not.” Hauk came forward to stand in the center of the room. “I also set my wife free, and that I do not regret for a moment. Simply tell me what punishment you and the other eldrer have chosen for me.”
“There can be only one punishment, even for the vokter. When you killed Thorolf, you sealed your own fate.” A look of unmistakable sadness crossed Erik Valbrand’s usually stoic face. “Solitary imprisonment. For life.”
Hauk felt an icy tingle go straight down his back. “Forever, then,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded upon saying it.
“I could not persuade them otherwise.”
Hauk looked away, nodding. “I understand,” he choked out, breathing unsteadily as he tried to absorb the idea, the finality of it. “I am grateful for your efforts, Uncle, but I understand the decision.”
“And so do I. But that does not mean I accept it.” Erik turned toward the hearth. “I did not tell the other eldrer the true reason I wished to meet with you alone.”
Hauk glanced at him. “You cannot break with the other eldrer,” he said flatly. “I would not ask it of you. If I were to try to remain free on Asgard, in hiding somewhere—”
“That is not what I meant.” Erik picked up an object from the mantel. “The reason I wanted to meet with you
alone was so that I could give you this.”
Walking over to Hauk, he held it out: a small velvet pouch, like those Hauk and his mother used to use for collecting seashells, when he was a boy.
Hauk frowned in bewilderment. “Where did you—”
“Open it, nephew.”
Hauk took the bag, pulled on the strings, and lifted out what was inside: a faceted bottle made of clear glass, the sort made to hold perfumed ointments. It held only a scant amount of whatever precious scent it had once contained, the green liquid just enough to cover the bottom of the flagon.
“It is the elixir your father created,” Erik explained, “during his efforts to discover Asgard’s secret.”
Hauk’s head came up sharply. “Elixir?” he choked out. “Are you saying it was this he used to try to make my mother innfodt? Was it this that killed her?”
“Ja,” Erik said quietly. “But your father was not trying to make her innfodt. You do not know the truth—I have never told you the truth,” he amended, “about how your parents died.”
“How they died,” Hauk echoed, gripping the bottle in his hand. “What are you talking about? Why give this to me now? Are you offering me a chance to take my own life rather than spend eternity imprisoned?”
“Nei, that is not my purpose at all. Hauk, your father did not want to make your mother innfodt.” Erik shook his head. “He wanted to leave Asgard, to live in the outside world with her. Hakon wanted his freedom. He was trying to find a way to become mortal—utlending—not only for himself but for you. For everyone on Asgard. So that we all might be free to choose. Despite Thorolf’s boasts, I do not think he recreated your father’s elixir, but rather stumbled onto something different.”
Hauk stared at him in shock. And when he studied the bottle, he realized the green liquid it contained was different from Thorolf’s elixir, which had been a clear, ruby red.
“Your father was about to test that potion on himself,” Erik continued, gesturing to the bottle in Hauk’s hand. “But when your mother learned of it, she was terrified for his life... so she went and took some from his workshop. Secreted it in that perfume flask. And tested it on herself.”
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