Chapter Eleven #2
“Be reasonable. The only alternative is staying here under the care of Marteinn and Tayte.”
She smiled. “Most women would jump at the chance to be alone with such accomplished warriors.”
Aaron felt a pang of jealousy. If she knew how Tayte felt about her, she’d reconsider.
“You confiscated my armor and weapons. You won’t let me out of this tent and I abhor chamber pots.” She stared resentfully at the brass urn in the corner. “Why should I go anywhere with you, if you don’t trust me?”
Anything he said set her on edge. “Consider it a chance to start over with each other.”
She arched a delicate brow. “Really?” She rested her chin on her hand. “When do we leave?”
Aaron let out a long breath. For the first time in days, he’d finally chipped through her cold resolve. “First light.”
“Who rides with us?”
“No one.”
“Won’t my maid and Marteinn be opposed to us travelling alone?”
“Your honor has already been compromised, milady. Weeks in Erling’s camp has raised suspicions. Your father’s captain has spoken with me on several occasions. I assured him your maidenhood is safe.”
“I don’t remember you giving me an examination or inviting a spaewife to visit me.”
His mouth tipped ruefully. How could he ever know what had really been done to her? “I believe what you told me.”
She closed her eyes. “A refreshing thought—a man accepting my word.”
“I admit you’ve told some lies before,” he said. “But I cannot fathom you being dishonest about something so serious. I’ve seen the results of rape.” He inhaled sharply. “Out of desperation, women usually tell the truth in order to protect themselves from retaliation within their families.”
“I, too, know the bitter sting of rape.” Her eyes widened.
“Girls employed by my father have fought off drunkards or succumbed to their relentless assaults. I’ve held weeping women in my arms too often, milord.
Seen the devastation of bearing illegitimate children who will never know their fathers.
If it weren’t for the grace of my sire’s compassion, those women would have starved.
Believe me when I tell you I’d never lie about something so important. ”
He felt his throat constrict in pain for what violence she should have never been exposed to. “Then it’s settled. We leave in the morning, together.”
“Will Marteinn be there to say goodbye?”
“No,” Aaron answered more astringently than he intended. “He’s scouting west of here.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”
“Good. I suggest getting some sleep. It will be a long day.”
Erling skillfully used his teeth and fingers to bind the ends of the clean linen he dressed his shoulder with.
The injury had healed well, no infection, and the pain was tolerable.
The bloody Scotsman had wounded him in a place he knew would kill him or take forever to heal.
Just above the armpit. It didn’t alter Erling’s plans.
Instead of abandoning his old camp, he’d rebuilt it.
Recruits showed up every day. King Olaf was assembling a new army, why shouldn’t he?
Many sought refuge in the forest after the war, criminals and outcasts.
People who refused to pay tribute to a Christian king who failed to rally the Norse army in England.
Erling welcomed them—for a price. The more men he commanded, the closer he’d get to Aaron McNally.
Although he respected the jarl’s accomplishments, he despised him for joining the king’s ranks after he was banished from the Trondelag.
A rogue was a rogue—there was no redemption. Above all, if Erling bided his time wisely, he’d be reunited with Kara Dalgaard soon enough. The fact that the two people he wanted the most were now together couldn’t be counted as less than a blessing from the gods.
Kara met Aaron outside her tent at dawn. Dark clouds loomed overhead, threatening rain. “Good morning, milord.” She proffered her only bag.
He didn’t speak, but grabbed her satchel, then turned when Amelia approached with their horses in tow. She looked too happy to see her leave. And without a chaperone. Since when did her maid approve of her traveling alone with a man?
“Lady Kara,” she curtsied.
“Good morning.”
Amelia handed the reins to Aaron, then approached Kara. “Embrace me,” she whispered.
Kara preferred to smack her. Instead, she opened her arms wide. The maid pressed something hard into her right hand. What on Odin’s green earth?
“For your protection.”
Kara hid the bale under her cloak.
“Are you ready to go?” Aaron asked.
Home, Kara wanted to go home. Away from everyone. She brushed past him and mounted her horse—riding astride as she was accustomed to. She arranged her skirt so it covered her thighs.
“I’ll make an exception on this journey.” He stared at her.
What choice did he have? She gave him an appraising look. He’d taken time to groom himself, no stubble darkened his chin and his long hair was tied back in a queue.
“Like what you see, lass?” he asked.
“I’d prefer to see much less of you.”
His horse trotted a few feet, then halted alongside her. “Hungry?”
At the mere mention of food, her stomach growled. “Yes.”
He rifled through his saddle bag and pulled out a crumbling oak cake. “Here.”
“This wouldn’t feed a rat.” She eyed the stale lump in her palm, then dropped it on the ground. “Give me something more substantial.”
“Only if you can catch me.” He heeled his mare. The beast shot forward, quick as the wind.
Hours later, Kara winced. She’d never ridden a horse so far.
Gone without food for so long. And never wanted to gut someone with a knife so badly.
Her legs and arse were numb. When Aaron finally chose a place to stop for the night, her legs were too weak to dismount.
Damn his underhanded tactics. He knew she’d never complain.
Knew she’d fight to keep pace with him the whole way.
And knew she’d be as stiff as a board, come nightfall.
As he unpacked, he whistled as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Then he unrolled his fur and spread his tartan over it.
The rogue represented a Norse king, but slept under his clan colors.
She shook her head. Another reason she doubted him.
Just who did Jarl McNally serve? What god did he pray to?
What country did he love? He continued his preparations without stopping to check on her.
Kara slumped in the saddle, nearly too tired to hold herself up.
She bitterly refused to ask for his assistance.
By now, her arms were tingling. She’d probably suffer a permanent disfigurement just so the jarl could show that she wasn’t as strong as him.
She envisioned herself as a cripple, hunch backed from leaning over so long.
Too tired and hungry to think about it any longer, she managed to drag her right leg over the saddle.
When her feet touched ground, she staggered to the nearest cluster of trees.
Before she went too far, Aaron called for her.
Did he want to hold her hand while she relieved herself?
He caught up with her. “I told you to stay close.”
At first, there appeared to be two of him. She closed her right eye—getting the same result. “I’m not in the habit of asking permission to see to my personal needs.”
“Look around Kara,” he said. “There’s no chamber pots. No safety.”
Bullying swine. “I’m sure I’ll find my way back.” She turned away.
Aaron’s strong fingers fastened around her arm. “It’s late. I’m tired. You’re exhausted. Don’t fight me.”
Kara took a deep breath and swung around, suddenly feeling wide awake.
The smug look on his face infuriated her.
She jabbed a finger in his chest. “Fight you? You cast more insults than a stable boy slings shite.” She walked him back several feet.
“I deserve respect. Unless all of this is because you wish to peek under my skirts.”
His lips twitched. And then he came dangerously close, making her feel very small and helpless. “Careful with your words, lass.” His hot gaze swept over her. “And your body.”
His words triggered something inside her.
All of this tension, all this disagreement amounted to one thing.
Attraction. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist. Then she tugged him closer, clinging as if her life depended on it.
It felt so good to be in his arms again.
Aaron’s eyes brimmed with emotion. But he refused to touch her.
“Will you deny me your affection twice?” she asked.
“Jesus bloody Christ . . .” he moaned. “Do you know what you’re asking, lass?”
She stood on her toes and planted a firm kiss on his lips.
Then she raked her teeth across his bottom lip.
His eyes flared open. Hesitation is weakness.
Something Geilir had taught her. Although the adage pertained to battle, Kara knew a war raged inside him.
Her, too, most especially between her legs.
She felt a surge of moisture and heat. Her neglected lips ached for his attention. “Kiss me, Aaron.”
There was no reason to deny himself. She didn’t need protection, she needed him.
Staring heavenward, she noted the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon.
Colors of dusk reflected in his eyes. She could languish in his warmth forever.
Then she suddenly regretted every offensive word she’d pitched at him.
Pride kept her from apologizing now, but it wouldn’t keep her from touching him.
What she couldn’t affirm with words, she’d confess with her body. “Kiss me.”
He attacked her frenzied and desperate, brushing his lips roughly over hers. His arms encircled her waist. “I cannot give you half my body, lass. Are you sure you want this?”
She nodded. More than anything.