by Delle Jacobs
Ronan, leading his favorite pied horse. Her heart beat faster. Nay, not here, not now.
"Go away," she said, trying not to look at him, but it was not possible. He was too compelling, too huge, and by far too handsome. Her eyes swept a path upward over hard-muscled thighs, and flickered away at the bulge beneath his breeches. Was that all it took for him, just to be face to face with a woman? Truth to tell, she did not want him any less.
Bright sun glinted off the silver trimmings on his sword scabbard and illuminated golden strands in his richly dark hair. She recalled how that same scabbard strap had looped twice about her own waist, and the scabbard itself had nearly skimmed the ground.
"We need to talk," he replied. His eyes were dark with a hidden kind of hunger.
"I do not need to." She cast an anxious glance over her shoulder, hoping Liam was out of earshot. He had found a small tidal pool among the rocks.
"Aye, we do, wife."
"I am not your wife."
"I say you are." His jaw set hard. "Arienh, what is wrong?"
She looked down, studying the debris of the strand line. "Nothing is wrong. I have nothing to say to you."
"If I have done something wrong, I would like to know."
"You know what you did."
"Aye." His brows rose high. His tongue licked across his lips. "And I know what you did, too."
"Hush. Someone will hear."
"That's a thought. Shall I tell them? I could force this if I wanted to, Arienh."
"It wouldn't surprise me. You do whatever you want, with no regard for others. We don't want you here, Viking. Can't you get that through your head?"
"We're not leaving."
"That is my point." Arienh spun away, striding across the wet sand toward the tidal pool where Liam dangled his fingers, but it did not discourage the Viking. Very little did. Leading his piebald horse by its reins, Ronan loped up beside her and took up her pace.
She could walk faster, of course, but so could he, so what would be the point in it?
"You cannot say you didn't enjoy it."
Her jaw tightened as she fixed her gaze on a scraggle of dead seaweed at the strand line.
"Can you, wife?"
"I'm not your wife."
"Can you?"
"No, I cannot."
"Then what is wrong?"
She whirled on him, her fury blazing. "That is not marriage, Viking. Marriage is a lifetime of living. And I do not want to live it with a heathen Viking."
"Heathen, aye. Viking, nay."
"You say you are different, but you have come and taken from us, just like the others."
"We have taken nothing."
"Land. Sheep. Houses."
He was silent. The horse's hooves squished the wet sand as they walked. Then Ronan leaped in front of her, walking backwards when she refused to slow her pace.
"Arienh, your people are dying out. No matter how hard you try, you cannot save them by yourself. Can you not see it, for their sake?"
Aye, she knew it. But how was she to choose? She could not sacrifice Birgit. Surely if she held out long enough, an answer would come to her, but now she could only defend her position. "That is like opening the door to the wolf."
As they reached the line of shingle above the sandy beach, a shout rang down from the high cliff above them, faint against the wind. Curious, they both strained their eyes against the glare of the sky to look up to the top of the cliff. Egil stood, shouting at Ronan, pointing out to sea.
Ronan turned, frowning as he scanned the wide horizon. She followed his line of sight, squinting out at the bright sea.
"Blood sails!" Ronan shouted. "Go, Arienh, run!"
A striped red sail crowned the horizon. A speck. A square, growing as she watched. The chill ran deep into her bones.
Run! The children!
"Elli! Selma! Vikings! Run!"
The gusting wind stifled her voice as surely as it brought the invaders toward shore.
"Liam, run!" she screamed.
But Liam only stood beside the tidal pool, his face a mask of blank fear. She screamed again at him, and at Selma.
Suddenly hearing, Selma jumped up from her knees, grabbed her two cousins by the hand and sped across the sand toward Elli, her mouth open in a yell they could not hear.
Ronan dashed to Liam and hauled him onto the piebald's back. "Liam, we need you. Ride for help. Find the first man you can and tell him the raiders are coming."
The boy came alive, eyes shining. "Aye."
Ronan slapped the horse's rump and sent it trotting back along the path. Arienh prayed Liam would not fall, but Liam leaned into the horse’s dark mane, his bony knees gripping the horse's flanks.
Selma shoved one of the girls to Elli as the larger woman caught up to her. Hitting the dunes, they sloshed across the loose sand, headed for the far slope of the hill. They would be all right if they could make it inland to shelter. Too far for Ronan and Arienh.
Ronan grabbed Arienh's arm just as she turned to look back at the approaching ship.
She gasped. "Ronan, look. Blessed saints!"
Two little girls played alone in the surf near the mouth of the estuary, where the Viking ship would enter the river.
Mildread's girls!
Arienh slogged over the sandy dunes, fighting the loose sand with agonizing slowness, to the firmer, wet beach, screaming the alarm. Ronan dashed past her, yelling for her to follow her friends, but she sped on.
The longship drew closer, its striped sails billowing like storm clouds. With his heavy sword banging at his side, Ronan sped across the sand into the water, swung one child under each of his strong arms, turned and raced for the beach. As Arienh rushed up, he passed the smaller girl to her.
"Run!" he yelled. They ran together along the narrow trail between the steep cliff and the river, slipping in the mud where the high tide brought the water onto the path.
Alien shouts rang out behind them. Long oars slapped the water.
"Take them both, Arienh. Run. Don't stop, don't look back!" He shoved the second girl toward her, and pivoted around.
He meant to make a stand. Alone against a shipful of marauders, to protect her and the children. Arienh set the child to her feet with a quick swat to her rear.
"Run!" she shouted, as the sister caught up. "Don't wait for us."
Yanking out her knife, Arienh planted herself alongside him.
"Get out of here." Ronan shoved her behind him.
"Nay."
Too late for a contest of wills. The raiders sprang down from their shallow ship into muddy water at the river's bank. Ronan raised his big sword, ready for the onslaught.
The man at the lead stopped. His mouth widened into a malicious grin of recognition.
"Hrolgar," said Ronan, as if fate had just struck a crushing blow.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Aye," said the toothy marauder, glaring from malicious eyes as he waved his crew to a halt. "'Tis my little nephew, grown to be a brawny man. 'Tis a man you are, isn't it?"
The man was easily as broad as Ronan, but squat and pot-bellied, with short, beefy arms.
"Try me out, Hrolgar." Ronan raised his sword, poised for the first blow.
"Settling down, are you, boy? Gunnar make a farmer out of you? How long's it been since you swung that sword?"
"Too long. It's hungry for your blood." Without a backward glance, Ronan stepped in front of her to block the grizzled Viking. "Arienh, get out of here."
"Nay."
"Women fight your battles now, nephew? Maybe old Gunnar's too feeble to do it for you now."
"I fight my own, Hrolgar. And this place is mine. You'll harm no one." Ronan stepped forward, set his stance.
"Who's to stop me?" The marauder grinned, baring darkened teeth, and raised his sword. With a lunge, the blade crashed down toward Ronan's bare shield arm.
Ronan leaped away and swung. His blade slashed down as the raider's wooden shield rose to block it. Hrolgar roared, d
odged and swung, his blow parried by Ronan's sword, and countered Ronan's reply with an upward swing. Hrolgar staggered back from the force. His foot slipped into the muddy river bank.
Ronan slashed downward, his blade gouging into the upraised shield. Fiercely, he yanked it free.
The older Viking lunged at him and swiped at empty air as Ronan leaped aside, again set his stance.
He glanced over his shoulder at Arienh. "Get out of here!" he yelled.
Angry shouts poured from the band of raiders, but the older man bellowed back at them. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, Hrolgar crouched, then with a raging yell, he hurled himself at Ronan, sword swinging wildly. Ronan leaped back and slashed, first down, then up. The upswing cut through flesh.
Startled, Hrolgar yelled and staggered back, clasping his shield arm. Blood poured like a torrent between his fingers. The wooden shield dropped to the mud, revealing a deep gash on the arm's underside. He glanced over his shoulder toward his longship as he backed up, slipped, and tumbled into the mud.
Angry curses, roars of rage came from the marauders behind as they hurtled toward Ronan and their leader.
"Run, Arienh!"
She could not leave him. Her heart thumped wildly.
Behind them roared thunderous hoofbeats, and the shrieks of berserkers turned loose. She leaped aside, only to be snatched about the waist and swooped onto one of the galloping horses.
"Nay!" She screamed. "See to Ronan!"
"Egil will see to him." It was the smaller one, the one called Tanni, who held her. He turned his horse.
"Do not leave him. There are too many of them. Let me down!"
Tanni's grasp around her waist tightened, threatening to cut off her breath as he reined in his horse.
Spotting the defenders, Hrolgar's men spun in their tracks, and raced for the longship as Egil and their Vikings descended upon them.
With one foot, Ronan pinned Hrolgar's sword arm to the ground while he jerked the weapon from his hand. Enraged, the older Viking rolled and kicked Ronan in the gut.
Where the knife wound was.
Arienh screamed.
Ronan staggered back, barely holding onto both swords as Hrolgar scrambled to his feet and splashed into the water after his departing ship, just ahead of Egil's horse. The ship, sail furled, raiders rowing hard, slid into the estuary, Hrolgar dangling at its side, and his men hauled him aboard while ribbons of red blood ran down his body and brightened the dark water. Egil reined in where the water deepened and rode back to his brother. He jumped down from the horse's bare back.
Seeing the situation safe, Tanni released Arienh to slide down, and she ran back to where Ronan had fought.
"I'm all right," Ronan said to Egil, his chest heaving as he held his gut.
"You lie," Egil replied. "You take the horse." Egil lifted Hrolgar's sword from Ronan’s hand.
"Nay." Ronan straightened, the movement almost taking away his breath. He sheathed his sword and whirled on Arienh. Bloody rage darkened his eyes. "Next time I tell you to run, you run."
The fury caught her off guard and she staggered back, before she recalled her intent not to be intimidated by the Vikings.
"I meant to help," she said, setting her jaw to bolster her determination as she squared her stance.
"Meant to help? I had to limit my stroke for fear of slicing you. Never stand so close to me in a fight."
"I didn't mean-"
Ronan expelled a disgusted breath and flexed his hands as if trying to make them relax. "Arienh, get it straight. Defy me in any other thing if you must, but in a battle, there must be only one leader. It will be me. You will do as I say."
"Nay, it is not only in a battle that you want to have your way. You do mean to rule the entire valley."
"Aye, I do." Power and fury jerked the muscles of his jaw. "We will not go away, Arienh, and you'd best get used to it."
"Nay."
"You will. I have had enough of your pranks and defiance. Tomorrow, Arienh. On the green. Bring your women. We are going to have this out."
Never had he frightened her so much as now. Arienh folded her arms to bolster her sagging composure. "We will not negotiate with you."
Ronan's eyes narrowed and he closed in, to stand so close she could feel his heated breath. He leaned over her and whispered, his voice like the rustle of dry autumn leaves in the breeze. "Aye, you will, wife."
She had never realized a whisper could be so forceful. As he stomped away, struggling to disguise his pain, he abandoned her and Egil on the path.
"He will be all right," said Egil as he led the horse to walk beside her.
"I suppose he is right," she said. "I was in the way."
"Aye, you were," the man replied pleasantly, as if the battle for their lives had not just taken place. "And he would take it to heart greatly if you were harmed. He should have killed Hrolgar when he had the chance. I would have. But then, he is not my uncle."
"Not yours? But you're brothers. I do not understand."
"Hrolgar is brother to Ronan's first father, who is dead."
"Gunnar is not his father?" She wanted to stop, but forced herself to keep walking.
"He is now. His father was Gunnar's cousin. When Ronan's father died, Hrolgar took Ronan away from Wynne. Gunnar did not learn for a few years, for we were on the Green Isle, but when he did he went looking for them and forced Hrolgar to give him up. Hrolgar has never forgiven either of them for that. After that, Gunnar married Wynne and took Ronan as his son. So we are brothers." He smiled. "I think that is what you wanted to know, isn't it?"
"Then it is true that your people take boy children from their mothers and raise them?"
"Hrolgar did. It was his right." The blond Viking winced lightly, as if he himself had felt the pain. "But it could hardly be called raising. Hrolgar is a plague. Everyone hates him. He forced Ronan to raid with his band, and he was ill-treated, beaten, ill-fed. I am glad my father went for him."
Egil paused to face her, his eyes entreating. "He is a good man, Arienh. Will you not give him a chance?"
Her fleeting glance caught the Viking's eye but guilt forced it away. Like Ronan, he had a kindness about him that entrapped her. She wanted to believe in it, but it was Egil's kindness that worried her most, for he would do what he thought was right. And that would mean he would take Liam, for Liam's good, because he needed a father, not a blind mother. That would destroy Birgit as surely as if they took her life. And if Arienh accepted Ronan, she would also be letting Egil in the door.
"Nay," she said. Yet to say it was like a stab to her heart.
"Aunt! Aunt!" shouted Liam as he ran down the path, far ahead of his mother. "I did it! I didn't fall off, and I rode all the way to the village, and I told them."
Catching the boy as he sped into her arms and hugging him tightly, she said, "Ah, Liam, you are my little hero today. You brought help in time to save us all."
"Only I didn't, Aunt. 'Cause Egil got there first. Did Ronan save you, Aunt?"
"Aye, he did. He was very brave. I did not think either of us would live. But we did because he was brave and you were brave, and Egil brought everyone to save us."
Egil slanted a glance at her, then swung Liam up onto the horse for the ride back into the village. Far up the path, Mildread stood with an arm around each of her girls, watching solemnly. Elli and Selma hovered close by with Birgit.
Unraveling.
***
Birgit stood near the slit window looking out at stars she could not see. "I can hear them singing."
Arienh leaned back on her pillow, propped against the stone wall. "They like to sing at night. They sing more when they’re drinking, I think."
"But it is beautiful. Listen."
Arienh was listening. She wasn't sure beautiful was the right word. The voices were deep, sometimes raucous, haunting, strangely lilting. A sound that told of their close bond with each other. A masculine sound unlike any she had heard before.
"You're worried about him," Birgit guessed.
"He must be in pain."
"They wouldn't be carrying on like this if he were truly hurt. But maybe you should go see."
She shook her head. Probably Birgit couldn't see the movement. "Nay."
"You were right not to let him die, Arienh. We were wrong."
"But if I had, perhaps we would not face this now."
"You could never have done it, anyway. And the others still would have come. They already meant to." Birgit turned from the window to fix her pale eyes on Arienh. "I know how you feel about him, Arienh."
Arienh returned her focus to the embers of the banked fire. "I don't feel anything, Birgit."
"Aye, you do. He saved Liam today. And you, too."
"Mildread's girls, too. He meant to die for us."
"And you say you feel nothing?"
She chewed her lip. Of course she did. But she didn't want to admit it. "I'm grateful."
"More than that. What will you do tomorrow?"
Arienh pulled her brown blanket around her and sat on the bed's edge. "I don't know. He is right, we cannot survive without them. But somehow we not let them get too close."
With a sigh, Birgit left the window. She stirred the fire in the stone hearth with an absent sort of movement. "I think you fight a losing battle. They are going to find out, no matter what we do. They have earned much respect today."
"Aye."
"Arienh?" A curious knot of anxiety tinged Birgit's voice.
Arienh sat up, away from the pillow. "Aye?"
"Perhaps you should bow to the inevitable. Perhaps it would not be so bad. At least for Liam."
"It would not be good for him to lose you. I will not allow it."
"You must think about it. Think of everyone's needs."
"I will not sacrifice you. There must be another way."
Whatever that might be, she had no idea. Mildread, Selma, all of them, were beginning to look at the Vikings differently.
If only she could talk with Wynne.
Arienh watched as Birgit walked back to the window, alternately clasping and dropping her hands to her side. "What if he is badly hurt, Arienh? He saved my Liam, and you. I cannot stand not knowing."
"You could do nothing about it."
