Chapter 10
One look was enough for Merewen to establish that the two men were none other than Rolf and his excitable friend. She muttered a curse under her breath and tugged at her hood.
It was just her luck to find herself face to face with the two of them when she’d thought herself far enough away from the village not to be recognized.
After a grueling walk, she’d slept most of the morning, hidden in the forest, and reached the town some time before dusk.
Then a night in a ditch had almost put paid to her resolve to try and reach her home, for she had woken up barely able to move from the cold.
Only the jeers of a group of men approaching had managed to shake her into action.
It would not do to be found out alone and unprotected.
She was also famished and rethinking her impulsive reaction.
For a moment, shocked by Wolf’s revelation she had fled without thinking that it would take her days to reach her house, as first she’d had to establish where she was.
Now she knew that she was a fair distance from it, because she’d had to retrace her steps, having unfortunately set off in the wrong direction after leaving the hut.
Alone and with no money, it would be a miracle if she arrived anywhere unscathed.
She missed, not Wolf himself, as she kept telling herself sternly, but the comfort of his home, the protection of his body, and the warmth…
The warmth of his embrace, the fire in his eyes, the heat of his kisses.
But how could she think of him without shuddering at the idea of what he may have done to his first wife? Worse, in the light of what he had revealed, she was reassessing everything he had ever said or done.
How could she believe any of it? He’d said he had not killed his wife but he had no proof of his innocence.
He’d claimed not to be able to return to Iceland but for all she knew, he was about to leave and abandon her.
He’d told her they were married but she had not understood a word of the ceremony performed.
The man could have been saying anything and there had been no guests, no witnesses.
So were they really husband and wife or had it all been just a ploy to get her into bed?
No. If Wolf had really wanted to bed her that desperately he would have gone a different way about it.
There would have been no need to go through the whole charade of a fake marriage.
He could simply have drawn her into his arms and kissed her doubts away.
It would not have taken long for her to surrender.
But he had not tried to force her hand or balked when she had asked him to wait.
So this marriage might well be the genuine thing.
Still, too many things remained in the shadows and too many uncertainties played in her mind.
What if he left the village which was not his own and got rid of her once he’d realized she was not the wife he had hoped for?
After what had happened to her, she was prepared to believe the worst of people.
So she had to establish a few things before she could return to him, and decide if she wanted to give their marriage a chance.
First, she would have to find someone who could describe to her what a Norse wedding ceremony looked like. Was the fact that the man—she still didn’t know how to call him— had tied their wrists together enough to make the marriage legal?
She also needed to put her affairs in order. She had vanished into thin air a week ago, and if she was to live in the village as Wolf’s wife she needed to make provisions for her house and lands, reassure the few friends she had that she was alive and well, explain what had happened to her.
And finally, she would have to inquire about Wolf’s past and assure herself he was indeed innocent.
She could not remain married to a murderer.
That, without a doubt, would be the most difficult of the tasks and she had no idea how she would go about establishing what had happened.
But she would have to worry about that later.
For now, she had to get out of sight from Rolf and his friend.
They were haggling with a merchant about a piece of cloth not far from her. She had to move for fear they would spot her. She was still convinced the argument with Wolf had been about her and she did not trust the way they looked at her every time they crossed paths.
Her nerves, already strained by all that had happened to her, abandoned her, causing her to trip and almost fall flat on her face.
This was not good, she was only drawing attention to herself.
The men would not fail to notice her if she walked like a drunkard.
A change of plan was needed. Too weakened by the cold and the lack of food to escape, she would have to hide.
She sharply turned around and hurried into a small alley, hoping it would be enough to vanish from view.
Hidden in the shadows, she watched the entrance anxiously.
Had the two friends followed her? A moment later, she saw them walk past. Lost in conversation, they carried on without even glancing her way or slowing down.
She hadn’t been seen or recognized.
Her sigh of relief was cut short when an arm wrapped around her waist. Her first thought was that Wolf had come after her. That hope was shattered when a foul smell reached her nose.
Wolf smelled of leather and wood, not manure.
“Let me go,” she instantly cried out. Although panic lent her some strength, it wasn’t enough to disentangle herself from the man’s hold. “I have to—”
“What’s the hurry, my beauty?” the man wheezed in her ear. “Why don’t you stay a while, keep me warm?”
A moment later, she was flung to the floor.
“Wolf, your wife.”
For the first time in his life, Wolf felt like the animal he had been nicknamed after. As he rushed to Sigurd or, more precisely to the woman he was holding in his arms, he barely repressed the need to howl in fury.
White-hot rage flooding his every pore, he took a limp Merewen from his friend’s arms.
“What happened? Where did you find her? Was she…”
He deposited her gently onto the pallet. One look at her was enough to make his heart stop. Her clothes were torn, her cheek was bruised, her lip was cut.
“I think not,” Sigurd said slowly, answering his most pressing question first. “As I walked into town, I chanced upon her. Her screams alerted me. I ran to her aid and only recognized her afterward.” Though they were alone, he lowered his voice.
“The man on top of her seemed more enraged than anything else. I suspect she fought him all the way. He was bleeding even before I got to him.”
“Yes, she would have fought him. She is a feisty little thing, but no match for a bastard determined to have her.” Wolf’s chest constricted at the thought of the dangers she would have faced on her own. “Why is she unconscious?”
“By the time I had prized the man off her she had fallen into a swoon. I guess that once she realized she was not alone, it all became too much for her to deal with and her body just collapsed. She probably has no idea who came to her aid.”
“It should have been me.” Wolf gently brushed away a strand of hair from Merewen’s brow. The sight of her bruised face made him clench his jaw so hard he feared he would crack his teeth. “Did you get a good look at the bastard? I will need to find him.”
Sigurd gave a sigh. “He was not someone I know, and he took advantage of the fact that I was attending to her to escape. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You did well. Your priority was making sure Merewen was all right. I will never be able to repay you for finding her.”
He stroked her cheek, wishing he could erase the traces of her ordeal.
For the first time, he understood the reaction of the young men whose beloveds had been assaulted.
He had helped many such women in the past two years and it had always seemed to him that the men’s gratitude toward him was excessive.
After all, he had done nothing any man of honor would not do by rescuing the poor women.
But now he knew how it felt like to owe to someone else the return of what you held most precious on earth and, indeed, nothing he could do would ever convey his gratitude toward Sigurd.
“Do you know…” he heard his friend say behind him. “When you told me you’d married her the other day, for some reason I had difficulty believing you. I didn’t think you would ever remarry after Solveig.”
Wolf didn’t take his eyes away from Merewen.
“No. Neither did I.”
And it was clear he shouldn’t have. He didn’t deserve a wife if he was unable to defend her from assault.
Some protector he made, not there to pummel the bastards to the ground, not even knowing where she was!
Wolf gritted his teeth. To know that Merewen had placed herself in danger just to escape him was unbearable, yet another burden he would have to bear.
Would he forever be responsible for his wives’ misfortunes?
He could defend anyone, come to everyone’s help, and yet all he could do with the people he had vowed to protect was to stand by and watch them get hurt.
Merewen had been attacked. She could have been raped, mayhap killed, and all because she had preferred to take her chances in the unknown than stay with him.
It was sobering a thought. Had their marriage been a mistake? Had he overreached himself?
Silence stretched in the room.
“Well, I suppose once you meet the perfect woman, all your resolutions fly out of the window,” Sigurd commented.
“The perfect woman!” Wolf scoffed, shaking his head. “She is pricklier than a hedgehog and more contrary than a mule!”
His friend was not in the least impressed. “Takes one to know one is all I’m going to say. And you wouldn’t want her if she were any different, so stop making it sound as if it were a problem.”