Chapter 1
Ulf smiled to himself as he entered the forest. He was certain that he had interrupted what had been about to become a scandalous tryst. Haakon and Gytha, one of the newly-wed couples in the village, had been kissing with unbridled passion when he’d rounded the corner of the forge.
Not only that, but Haakon had sat his wife on the stone wall and settled himself between her spread thighs.
There was no doubt that he had been about to suggest they did more than just kiss, there out in the open, despite the risk of being walked up upon.
And Gytha would have agreed.
Ulf shook his head. Haakon was a lucky man to have married someone who shared his taste for experimentation thus.
In his, admittedly limited, experience not many women were as ready to embrace what they considered unusual, or even willing to give it a try.
The girls he’d kissed at the various fairs he’d attended in the last few years had never allowed him to do anything unless they were safely hidden from view.
But even then, even if they had allowed him to kiss and caress them, they had never thought to touch and caress any part of him.
He suspected that a few would have allowed him to bed them if he’d expressed the desire to do so, but their lack of initiative had rather cooled his blood.
If they balked at the mere idea of touching his cock, chances were they would lie immobile and wait for him to do everything, and that was not what he was after.
He wanted more than a passive conquest. He wanted a responsive lover in his bed, a woman who was not afraid of her desires, of her feminine urges, and would prove eager to indulge them with him.
Growing up in a village where happy couples were plentiful had given him the impression that this harmony was easily achieved. Seeing more of the world had made him realize that such attitude was perhaps not as common as he’d thought. Pity, because he didn’t think he would be satisfied with less.
In fact, he knew he would not, his dalliance with Revna had proved it.
Their encounters had left him oddly dissatisfied.
Something had been lacking every time, some spark, some passion, some reciprocity.
She had been more than happy to lie on her back and let him take her but she had only ever allowed him to do that.
Not once had she agreed to try another position and when he’d told her, in the heat of passion, that he would like to lick her, she had been so shocked that she had refused to continue what they had started and fled the hut.
That had been six weeks ago and she had not visited the village once in that time.
The only conclusion to draw from this was that whatever they had shared was over.
She probably thought him a dangerous deviant and he was certain she would never give him satisfaction, only a purely physical release, which was not what he was after.
He had his hand for that. What he craved was something…
more, even if he wasn’t quite sure what that might be.
Well, it was no use thinking such things now. He would not find the answer to his problem out here in the woods, and he would only get depressed thinking about it. He had come here to forage for food, not to bemoan the lack of adventurous women in his life.
As if nature had decided to help him forget his glum mood, Ulf spotted the familiar shape of the crumbling log ahead of him.
After the rain they’d had in the last few days, it might well have sprouted some delicious fieldcaps.
He placed his basket on the ground and knelt down to check.
To his delight, a cluster of tender-stemmed mushrooms was indeed waiting for him.
These, along with garlic, made the best omelettes. Perhaps this time he could try to add—
A rustling sound interrupted his culinary musings.
Ulf straightened up and turned in time to see a woman burst out of the bushes, her eyes wild with panic, her long hair flowing behind her like a living flame. A Saxon, evidently, and one he had never seen before.
“Help!” she cried out, heading straight for him.
What was going on? Who or what was she fleeing from? An attacker, an animal? He hadn’t heard anything worrying. But there had to be something to justify her agitation, people did not behave thus for no reason. Had she been stung by a bee? Was she simply mad?
There was no time to think. At the speed she was going, she was going to crash into him at any moment. If he remained crouched on the ground, she would topple all over him. Ulf stood back up, opened his arms and braced himself to absorb the impact. Not a moment too soon.
The woman slammed into his chest, looking dazed and on the verge of tears.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, half supporting her weight. He still could not see or hear anything that might have scared her in the bushes. Besides, now that he was holding her, he could see that she was distraught rather than afraid.
“Forgive me, I’m so sorry,” she said on a sob.
Forgive her? What for?
When white-hot flames seared his left side, Ulf understood she was asking his forgiveness not for something she had done but for what she was about to do.
He staggered back, incredulity and pain causing him to stare at the Saxon. Just as he’d thought, there was a dagger stained with blood in her right hand.
The minx had just stabbed him.
And, having realized that the first strike had not killed him, she was about to do it again.
Except that, to his surprise, she hesitated.
This was her mistake—and his chance to save himself.
Grabbing her by the wrist, he immobilized her before she could move, forcing her to let go of the dagger she’d been holding.
“Oh no, you’re not.” Anger and pain had reduced his voice to a snarl. But really, how else was he supposed to react?
Now that he was out of immediate danger, Ulf started to think.
The cut the woman had inflicted was severe, even if evidently not lethal, and it impeded his movements.
He needed help. She might have a second weapon hidden about her person and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop her for much longer if she was determined to strike again.
He was losing blood, and his mind was rapidly clouding.
It was then that he remembered Haakon and Gytha. Were they still by the forge or had they gone back to their hut to finish what they had started on the wall? Would they hear him if he called out? Perhaps. It was his best chance anyway, and worth a try.
“Haakon!” he shouted. “Over here!”
His father’s friend would be more than enough to neutralize the woman. If he had not disappeared to go bed his wife, of course. Thankfully, it seemed that he had not. A moment later, footsteps were heard. Haakon and Gytha, stirred by the urgency in his voice, were coming at a run.
“What the—”
Instead of finishing his question, Haakon seized the woman, trapping both her arms by her sides. He would have seen the dagger at their feet and his bloodied tunic, and understood the situation in a heartbeat.
Ulf let out a sigh of relief when Gytha slipped an arm around his waist in support. All danger was past now. The frail woman would never be able to free herself from Haakon’s hold. The man was just too strong.
Incredibly, given the situation, a small laugh escaped Ulf’s lips. Had he really been wishing he would meet an adventurous woman only a moment ago? Well, his wish had been granted ten times over. The little fury who had jumped on him was all that was adventurous—and clever.
She had found the best way to approach him without raising his suspicions, or even giving him time to think.
Had she run at him, dagger in hand, he would have easily stopped her.
She was too slight to pose any challenge to a man like him.
Had she just appeared and started a conversation, he might have wondered where she had come from and stayed on his guard.
So she had boldly run at him, as if she were the one in danger, guessing that his protective instinct would take over and stop him from seeing her as a threat.
In order to stab him, she had needed to be close to him. But there was no way he would have taken a stranger in his arms. So she had ensured he had no choice but to hold her. Yes, she was clever. And far too intriguing for his liking.
Her hair was of the most unusual color, a very light brown streaked with—was it amber, gold, copper?
Probably a combination of all three. The result was rather striking, and explained why he had thought of a flame when she had appeared.
Did she have Norse ancestry? It was not impossible, because her eyes were of a deep, intense blue, not unlike those of his aunt, Eyja, whom her husband called “Imp.”
Well, what should he call this stranger who had almost killed him? She-devil could be a good start.
“Here, Ulf,” Gytha said, pressing on his side with the blanket she’d taken from his basket. “We need to try and stem the blood.”
Blood. Yes. He was still bleeding, damn it!
Haakon let out a growl. “We need to get you back to your hut so you can lie down, that’s what we need to do. I’ll take the Saxon to Wolf while Gytha sees to your injury.” He glared at the woman who recoiled. “He will deal with her, and it won’t be pretty.”
Indeed. His grandfather was the undisputed leader of the village. Normally fair and measured, he might forget his legendary levelheadedness when he saw that someone had hurt his eldest grandson. Hurting the people he loved was the one thing guaranteed to bring out the wolf in him.
“Please. You need to let me go.”