Chapter 15
“Haakon.”
Gytha.
Haakon frowned as he recognized her voice—and her scent.
She had placed a hand on his chest, right above his heart and was bent over him, doing her best to wake him up.
He was reminded of the night in her house, when he’d thought she had joined him in bed in the middle of the night, only to find himself under a drunken Oswald.
Was this what was happening now? Had she, like him, been driven to the edge of control by their constant proximity during the day?
Did she want him to make love to her? She could well do.
Why else would she come to him in the middle of the night or whisper his name with such urgency, touching him all the while?
She must have realized that there was something between them.
Had she danced so provocatively to provoke his lust earlier on, tried to stir his senses to make it impossible for him to resist when she came?
If that were the case, she had succeeded.
“Mm, yes,” he groaned. To hell with caution and his own resolutions, if she wanted him, she would have him. Now. Their game of cat and mouse had lasted long enough.
He placed his hand over her small one, wondering what to do.
Should he draw her on top of him and kiss her until she begged to be taken?
Should he spread her legs and feast on her sweetness first, then make her taste herself on his lips?
Should he roll her under him and plunge straight into her heat?
He was already hard and she would feel delicious around him, all soft and warm—
“Haakon, the musicians!” Her urgent voice cut in through his lewd musings—and the last vestiges of sleep. “They are going to steal our horses. You have to come, quick! We must stop them.”
He sat bolt upright, fully awake at last. This was not a seduction, and he was really a fool for thinking it might be. It was a rescue mission.
“Show me,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
Side by side, they crept through the bushes, to the place where Bear and Sleipnir had been tethered the evening before, next to the mules used for carrying the musicians’ equipment.
Four men were unfastening the ropes from the branches, ready to lead the animals away.
Gytha was right. They were trying to steal them.
Fury swelled inside Haakon as the events of the night before took on a different significance.
The child spotting them as they had entered the forest would have been sent to hide and warn the troop about the arrival of travelers.
The musicians’ hospitality had been meant to lull them into a false sense of security.
And the unusual, murky drink he had refused had no doubt been a ploy to intoxicate him and render him powerless for the night.
As to the daughter offering to suck him dry…
Had it also been part of the plan? A distraction, a way of keeping him out of action while others stole his most precious possession?
It was all too possible, even if it was clear she had not balked at the idea.
Bloody Saxon women! Hadn’t he decided they were the source of all his troubles?
“Stop!” he roared, when one of the youngest men grabbed Sleipnir by the mane.
The mare, already of a nervous disposition, and unused to rough handling, was stomping around and shaking her head, making it difficult for the lad who was holding the rope to control her.
It bought Haakon enough time to reach the youths and stop them from climbing on the horses’ backs and riding away.
But his problems were far from over. He was alone to face the thieves.
Admittedly, they were younger and not as strong as he was, but there were four of them.
As if that were not enough, they soon called out for help.
“Will! Albert! Over here!”
Gytha watched the scene unfold with eyes wide with horror. What had she done? This was all her fault.
She had gone to Haakon as soon as she had heard the musicians’ plan but what had she expected? That they would simply back away when they saw the Norseman charge at them? He was formidable, admittedly, but he was on his own.
By now the alarm had been raised. The whole camp was awake and rushing to the lads’ help.
The men at least. The women and children had huddled in one corner, and were watching silently.
No one protested, no one even looked at her, no one took Haakon’s side or voiced out their indignation.
Word had been spread earlier, informing everyone that the horses would be stolen—and no one objected.
Rage swelled inside of her.
The devious, underhanded bastards!
The word she had never used before exploded in her mind.
The hospitality, the laughter, everything had been an act.
These people had welcomed them in, fed them, danced with them, all so they could steal their possessions.
Why? Hadn’t the girl said they were richer than any troop of musicians they knew?
They didn’t need two horses and what little two travelers were carrying in their saddlebags.
Well, their motivations hardly mattered.
What mattered was that they now held Haakon captive and looked about to hurt him, because he was not giving up.
Four men, two on each side, were doing their best to hold him immobile. Would they keep him in place long enough for two others to ride away with the horses? Would they kill him when they saw he was not surrendering?
What could she do to help?
No one had bothered restraining her, so she was free of her movements at least. Everyone seemed to have concluded that she posed no serious threat and she had to agree, much as it galled her.
Even if she found a weapon, what chance did she have against a dozen men?
She would be disarmed before she could blink, and perhaps even injured.
Then she would really be powerless to help.
She racked her brain desperately.
Surely there was something she could do?
Haakon had never felt so powerless or incensed.
No matter how hard he tried, he just could not rid himself of the hold the four men had on him.
What did they want? Did they mean to keep him captive while they stole the horses or did they intend to kill him?
If he died, what would happen to Gytha? He had to at least ensure her safety.
If that meant sacrificing the horses for now, then that was what he would do.
They could always investigate and retrieve them later with the help of Wolf and his friends from the village.
A troop of musicians going from fair to fair would not be difficult to track down. Everyone would have heard of the singing starlings.
“Listen, we must—” he started, before being silenced by a vicious blow to the head. He groaned and fought the pain threatening to split his skull in two. A second man raised his fist. Would this second blow knock him cold? It was not impossible. Haakon braced himself.
“Stop!”
A woman’s voice sliced through the air, stilling the man’s hand.
All eyes turned to see Gytha lit up by the flames of the dying fire.
She was holding a heavy rock above her head.
At her feet was the cage with the birds in it.
She looked like an avenging goddess, he thought in admiration, or even a valkyrja.
Magnificent.
Haakon held his breath when he understood that he would never see her in the same way again. She had come to his rescue, something no one had ever done for him.
“Let go of him or I will kill the birds,” she said, sounding more assured than he had ever heard her. “No birds, no special song. No money. You can get horses anywhere. But it will take you months to replace your starlings.”
The clever, fearless little thing. Aware that any pleas of mercy would be ignored, unable to physically help him, she had used the one threat guaranteed to stop the bastards in their tracks.
No one moved or tried to go to her. They knew it was too risky, as she only had to drop the stone to crush the fragile birds.
She could perhaps be seized and immobilized, but not before it was too late.
She had chosen the perfect weapon. But he wondered where she had found the strength to lift such a massive stone.
“What do you want?” someone asked. Haakon recognized the old man who had spoken to him by the fire the evening before, the grandfather and leader of the troop.
Gytha nodded to where he was, still surrounded by the four men.
The hold over his arms had slackened somewhat, even if it was enough to prevent him from escaping.
Haakon didn’t dare move a muscle, do anything that might jeopardize the outcome of the confrontation now that Gytha was in control of the situation.
“You will let Haakon go and let us leave the camp with our horses.”
Having spoken, she lowered the stone, but kept her hold on it. He imagined the weight had become too much for her and she was relieved to hold it more comfortably, now that her point had been made.
“Anything else?” The old man sounded as if he didn’t believe she would not ask more from them.
“No. Nothing else. We, unlike you, are not thieves. Release him. Now.”
The arms fell away from Haakon at last. He straightened, and glared at the men who took a hasty step backward, as if afraid he would hit them now that he was free of his movements.
He was tempted to do so, but wise enough to tell himself that he should not be so rash.
Against all odds, Gytha had ensured neither of them would be harmed and the horses would not be taken.
It was more than he could have hoped for and he should not ruin her efforts with an inconsiderate gesture.