Warriors in Winter

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘Run away, little girl,’ he warned.

  ‘I’m—I’m not a little girl,’ she whispered. In her voice, he heard the tremulous fear.

  He moved his hands on either side of her, against the wall. ‘If you stay here in my arms,’ he murmured, ‘I’m going to kiss you.’

  The threat was meant to push her away, to send her back to the other side of the cave where she would count the minutes until she could go. He didn’t want her sympathy or worse, her pity.

  At last, she shoved her way past him. Good. If she had any sense at all, she’d leave him alone. He heard the slight rustle of her movement nearby and turned toward the warmth of the fire. Before he could sit, her hand caught his in a firm grip while she pushed back his sleeve.

  A soft cloth wiped his forearm, gently stanching the blood flow. Kaall froze in place, as Rhiannon wrapped the linen over him, forming a bandage.

  ‘There,’ she breathed. ‘I really need to clean it, but at least the bleeding will slow.’

  The act of compassion angered him. She’d called his bluff, not believing he would act upon his threat. So be it.

  ‘You were warned.’ Then he leaned in, his mouth seeking hers.

  Chapter Two

  Blood pounded in Rhiannon’s veins when the Viking cupped her chin, his mouth claiming hers. His lips kissed her hard in a storm of heat, demanding a surrender from her. She was stunned by it, unable to think or breathe while he conquered her.

  She’d never been kissed before by any man, and whatever she’d imagined, it wasn’t the molten sensation of drowning against his sensual mouth. His warm breath stole hers away, quickening her heartbeat as she struggled to make sense of it.

  Without warning, her body began to respond to the onslaught of sensation, her skin growing hotter. Her breasts tingled, and an invisible thread of desire slipped downward, until she found herself clenching her legs against the unfamiliar ache.

  It made her angry, for this was not what a first kiss should have been. She’d wanted to kiss a man who liked her, not one who was trying to prove a point. By the holy Virgin, if he believed she would stand by and be frightened by him, he knew nothing about her.

  As if to fight back, she returned the kiss, echoing the fierceness of his lips, her hands coming up to touch his face. She poured herself into it, meeting his force with her own aggression. He seemed taken aback by her actions, as if he’d expected her to surrender to his conquest. Or to be more afraid.

  Instead, she chose to prove her own point—that he would never bend her to his will. She slid her hands into his hair, and from the moment she touched him, he softened his mouth upon hers, no longer punishing. But he didn’t stop.

  He slowed down, taking his time. The difference devastated her, for now he kissed her as a lover would. His lazy mouth nipped at hers, tasting her lips and coaxing her to open her mouth. She did, and his tongue slid inside while his hands moved up her ribcage. Against his mouth, her lips were swollen while he aroused her. Between her legs she grew wetter, and her breathing quickened. His hard body pressed close to hers, and when he drew her hips close, she felt the length of his own arousal.

  He was lean and muscular, a warrior in every sense of the word. His mouth was fearless, demanding that she yield to him, while his hands moved over her hair and face, learning her by touch.

  When he drew back, his thumbs moved across her lips and down her chin. She imagined his hands moving lower over bare skin and warmed to it.

  In the light of the fire, his dark gold hair was haloed, his blue eyes shielded against any words she might say. She stared at him, wondering why he was so isolated here, with no family or friends. Was it by choice, or had he been driven out?

  She didn’t speak, allowing her heartbeat to calm while she watched him. Though he was undeniably handsome in a fierce manner, there was something else troubling her. Not once had he looked into her face. He seemed to look past her, and she stared into his clouded eyes once again. They were gazing at the wall behind her as if...

  She frowned, a sudden thought making her wonder.

  When he let her go, she stepped backward, watching his face. She lifted one hand and moved it slowly in front of him, but his eyes showed no sign of seeing it. Again, she moved a different hand, but his eyes never tracked the motion.

  ‘Don’t come near me again,’ he ordered. ‘Unless you want to finish what we started.’

  ‘You’re blind,’ she blurted out. ‘Aren’t you?’

  There was an immediate change in his visage. He closed the distance between them, his expression rigid. ‘I don’t need sight to recognise who’s before me. A MacEgan princess, pampered and given everything she’s ever wanted. You live in a castle with servants to tend you. And these hands have never known work.’

  His sudden attack revealed the fierce pride of a man who loathed this weakness. He was taunting her, trying to make her hate him.

  In the dim light, she narrowed her gaze. Upon his arm, she saw the evidence of heavy bleeding through the bandage, his face tight with discomfort. Like her father and his brothers, this man would not admit to weakness, and the kiss had done nothing to distract him. He needed a respite from his pain more than all else.

  With this amount of bleeding, the wound might need to be stitched shut. The problem was gaining his consent to be treated. And she lacked the healing herbs she needed to prevent swelling and fever. Animal bites rarely healed easily.

  ‘I need to clean and treat your arm,’ she informed him calmly, ignoring his angry words. ‘If you allow me to tend it, I promise I’ll leave at first light. Or if you insist on being stubborn and proud, I’ll continue to stay here.’

  ‘Don’t you want me to die, kjære?’ He lowered his voice, adding, ‘I deserve it.’

  ‘You probably do. But not right now.’ She seized his hand and led him back toward the fire. ‘Sit down and let me clean it.’

  She could tell he didn’t want to, but she’d given him no choice.

  ‘Do it quickly, then.’ He sat down before the fire, holding out the arm. She took a wooden bowl and went outside to scoop snow. She would melt it and use the water to clean the animal bite.

  All the while, she was trying to recall the best ways to ward off fever and swelling within the wound. Garlic bulbs, archangel, harebell roots—but none of those herbs were here. Nor could she find any herbs in the forest during winter.

  When she returned, she set the bowl of snow near the fire to melt. He hadn’t moved from his position, but from the tension in his posture, he knew she’d returned. Rhiannon reached for his forearm and unwrapped the bandage. ‘I’m melting snow for water,’ she said. ‘It’s the best I can do to clean it.’ She didn’t tell him the danger he faced from fever or poison within the wound. The next few hours would be the true test.

  When the water was ready, she scooped handfuls over his skin, wiping away the dried blood. ‘Have you been blind all your life?’ As she spoke the words, she watched the shielded anger cross over his face.

  ‘If you’re too proud to answer, I’ll assume the answer to my question is yes,’ she continued. The ragged flesh wasn’t as bad as she thought, and she wrapped the bandage tighter, putting pressure upon it.

  ‘Do you enjoy pretending to be a healer?’ His voice held mockery, as if he didn’t believe her capable of it.

  ‘I am a healer,’ she countered. ‘And if I had my herbs, I’d make you a poultice or a sleeping draught. Something to improve your mood.’

  ‘This is one of my better moods. I liked kissing you.’

  Her face brightened, for his voice had grown husky, as if he wanted to touch her again. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘You kissed me back.’ His words held a hint of disbelief as if he couldn’t understand why.

  She didn’t know the answer. It had started as her own rebellion at being kissed against her will...but it had transformed into a dizzying desire. Wounded or not, he’d offered her a taste of sin. It shamed her to know that she’d liked
his hands moving up her back, losing herself in the raw sensations.

  The unexpected longings he’d conjured were nothing but a betrayal to her best friend. This man had killed Brianna’s husband, leaving her heartbroken.

  ‘It won’t happen again,’ she vowed. Right now, she needed to put distance between them. The space had grown intimate, and she no longer knew if he could be trusted to leave her alone.

  She needed a distraction, something to keep her hands busy. Her stomach ached, for it had been hours since she’d eaten last. ‘Is there any food?’ she ventured. ‘I could prepare a meal for both of us, if you’re hungry.’

  ‘There are supplies over there.’ He pointed toward the back of the cave.

  Rhiannon crossed the space and studied his belongings, which were in disarray, as if he’d been searching through them. Nothing was organised or in any sort of order. Though she knew she shouldn’t concern herself with his possessions, she couldn’t simply leave everything on the ground. Everything needed to have its own place, and she couldn’t stop herself from the intrinsic need to bring order to the mess.

  Quietly, she began sorting through them, putting clothing in one stack, weapons in another, food in a third. The sacks of food contained stale bread and venison of an uncertain age. But the frigid air had kept the meat cool, so it might serve well enough.

  She took out a knife and began trimming off the questionable parts of meat. Her hands were shaking, and she tried to push back the nerves that had crept up once more. It was just a meal, she reminded herself. Nothing to fear.

  Yet, she studied the man sitting beside the fire, his knees drawn up. Though he was blind, he showed no trace of weakness. He’d fought a wolf, without being able to see. It was startling to even imagine that kind of courage.

  Why, then, was he living here alone?

  Rhiannon speared a chunk of venison on to a stick and brought it with her as she approached. ‘I don’t know how long you’ve been living here, but your belongings were spread out everywhere. I suppose you couldn’t find anything at all.’

  She stoked up the flames, adding a chunk of peat, and then set up a makeshift spit to hold the meat over the fire. ‘I organised them for you.’

  His expression turned furious. ‘Why would you do this? I knew where everything was.’

  ‘You had bags of food mixed in with weapons and clothing.’

  He stood up and advanced upon her. ‘You had no right to move my belongings.’

  ‘It will be easier for you to find them without stumbling over everything.’

  ‘I could find everything right where it was!’ He reached out and groped for her wrist. ‘Put it back. All of it.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that if I wanted to.’ She tried to pull away, but he held fast. ‘If you’ll stop treating me like a barbarian, I’ll show you where everything is.’

  ‘I don’t want your interference,’ he warned. ‘You shouldn’t have moved anything.’

  She reached out to take his other hand. Gently, she pulled at him, guiding him into the darker space. ‘The food is here.’ She drew his hands down to touch the sacks, which she’d set against the wall. ‘And your clothes behind that, and last, the weapons.’

  ‘So if we’re attacked, I’ll have to sort through food and clothes before I can find my weapons?’ His voice held both anger and scorn. ‘Should I tell the wolves to wait outside while I find what I need to kill them?’

  ‘You have a blade at your waist,’ she pointed out. ‘And if you want me to move the weapons closer to the front, I will.’

  ‘I don’t need you to do anything for me. I was fine before you came here.’

  ‘And before that?’ She didn’t know what possessed her to argue back, but she couldn’t see what harm there was in trying to help him be more organised. ‘Did you live among the others, snarling at anyone who tried to help you?’

  ‘I didn’t need any of them,’ he fired back. ‘I could live well enough on my own.’

  ‘You’re making it harder on yourself.’ She reached out and touched a dark spot on one cheek. ‘I imagine you have many of these bruises from walking into trees or walls.’

  ‘Did you want to see my other bruises?’ he countered. His voice resonated through the space, sliding beneath her skin in a challenge. She imagined his bare skin, golden in the firelight, a temptation she didn’t want. From the tight muscles that stretched against his tunic, she had no doubt that his body would be ridged with strength.

  ‘No, of course not,’ she answered. But it didn’t deter her imagination.

  Rhiannon continued turning the meat, though she cast a glance at his blue eyes and the way his blond hair hung down over his shoulders. He stood with his back to the wall, his immense height towering over her. His fists were clenched, his face shadowed with pain. This was a man who fought hard for everything he wanted. A proud man who wanted no one to see him as weak.

  ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, kjære. I don’t need your pity.’ He stepped away from her and went to examine his belongings, running his hands over them to mark where they were, before he moved the weapons to the front.

  ‘How long do you plan to stay here?’ she asked. ‘When you run out of food—’

  ‘I’ll hunt,’ he finished. ‘And if I can’t provide for myself, I don’t deserve to live.’

  She didn’t believe he would truly stay here that long. No man could live alone without companionship. ‘Surely you must have parents or family at Gall Tír.’

  ‘The only person who would ever miss me was taken away because they believed I couldn’t take care of her.’

  ‘Taken?’ Had the tribe members stolen a loved one from him? How was that possible? ‘Was it your wife?’

  ‘My daughter.’

  The words were so quiet, she could sense the pain in his voice. In that moment, she saw the crack within his shield, the feelings for his child. She simply couldn’t imagine how terrible it would be to have a daughter taken away. Likely they didn’t believe a blind man could care for the girl.

  ‘Will they ever give her back to you?’

  He gave no answer, and the silence was damning. She knew, as he did, that they would not. They judged him by what they saw—a man without sight. And he was already condemned for it.

  The injustice bothered her. This man was holding back anger and pain, but she saw the softness toward his daughter. No one had the right to separate a father from his child.

  It brought to mind her relationship with Connor MacEgan. It had been years before she’d known he was her father, but she had memories of him taking her on long walks, showing her the hidden treasures in the woods. Sometimes it was a flower bud about to unfurl or a squirrel’s nest high in the trees. When she was a girl, she’d felt beloved and protected by her father.

  It was only within the past few years that their bond had deteriorated. Connor’s overprotective nature had driven a rift of resentment between them. But despite her frustration, she still loved him.

  Just as this Viking loved his own daughter.

  ‘Where is your daughter now? Is she living at Gall Tír?’

  He shook his head. ‘But I will find her.’

  The vow was spoken softly, but beneath it, she heard the determination. He wouldn’t stop searching until he knew she was safe. Just as her own father would search for her, once he learned of her disappearance.

  ‘I hope you do.’ The meat was done, and Rhiannon divided it between them, spearing the other half for him.

  She reached for his hand and guided it to the skewer. ‘I fear it won’t be seasoned properly, for I haven’t any herbs or salt. But it should be good enough.’

  He took the offering and bit into the meat. Rhiannon did the same and though it was somewhat bland, at least she hadn’t burned it.

  ‘You never told me your name,’ she said at last.

  ‘Kaall Hardrata,’ he admitted. ‘I am Vigus’s son.’

  She stilled at the mention of the chief. ‘I didn’t know he had a so
n.’

  ‘He didn’t want to acknowledge me.’

  Though his words were spoken in an indifferent tone, undoubtedly he felt the sting of his father’s rejection. She was beginning to understand why he lived apart from his family. Perhaps he didn’t want to live among those who saw him as different.

  But there was another person he hadn’t spoken of. From his bitterness, she suspected the worst. ‘What of your wife?’

  His unseeing eyes regarded her, and an expression of harsh amusement rested at his mouth. ‘Why would you think a woman would wed a man like me?’

  There was no good answer to that question, but she pressed on. ‘What became of the woman who bore your daughter?’

  Kaall tossed the stick toward the fire, his face growing shadowed. ‘She died a year ago.’ Though he said nothing else, the grim expression revealed that the woman had meant something to him. And a part of her sympathised with him for the losses he’d endured.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The fire was beginning to die down to coals, and Rhiannon added more fuel to bank it for the night.

  Kaall rested his hands upon his knees, turning his face toward her. Though he couldn’t see her, his presence raised the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘Have you a husband who will search for you?’ he asked. In his voice she heard another unspoken question: Is there a man who has laid claim to you?

  Her cheeks warmed, and self-consciousness overcame her. The idea of sharing this space with him was suddenly intimidating. ‘No. But my father will search, once he learns I didn’t return with the others.’ She sent up another silent prayer that Alanna and Cavan had made it back safely.

  ‘Why were you so far from your home before the storm?’ he asked.

  ‘It was my own foolishness,’ she confessed. ‘I allowed my cousin to cast a love charm upon me, so that I might find a husband.’

  Abruptly, she stilled when she realised what had happened. She had met a man this night, one who had saved her life. A handsome man, albeit one who wasn’t at all tame by nature. And he’d kissed her. To distract herself, Rhiannon picked up a few stones from the ground, sifting them in her hand.