Chapter Two #2
A tepid north wind caught her face as she stared in the direction the soldiers had ridden.
If only they carried news about her uncle.
She would follow them to the ends of the earth to hear it.
Deep inside, she believed her uncle was dead.
Whenever Rachelle loved someone, they abandoned her or died.
It was an undeniable fact. This left only one person in the world she could love and trust—her closest friend Mercia.
But Rachelle wouldn’t burden her. Mercia’s family had no money to help.
Trapped between her sorrow and the need to leave years of suffering behind, she considered her future.
Having waited for a sign from God nearly all her life, each day had been filled with nothing more than tentative happiness.
Little by little her uncle convinced her to live again, to smile and laugh.
Not wanting to disappoint him, she’d conditioned herself.
Yet underneath, anguish thrived. That was the sum of her life.
Her heart quickened at a crazy notion. Could this man be the answer to her childhood prayer? There was something about him that made the earth move under her feet. Or was that fear? She still considered it. What if her bitter portions had suddenly run out?
The Viking exhaled and snatched her hand. “It’s time to go.”
“Before we do anything, I want to know why you were playing dead on this field.” Her gaze flicked up, meeting his.
“You can ask as many questions as you like, I won’t answer. I’m not in the habit of discussing personal matters with Saxons.”
His gaze slid shamelessly down her body as he muttered, “Why are you so bold and beautiful?”
Rachelle didn’t know if she was meant to hear those words. It baffled her.
As if snapped back into the moment, he asked, “Why were you examining an unconsecrated corpse?”
“Am I expected to answer your inquiries after you completely disregarded mine?” She needed to argue to feel alive again.
“Listen to me.” He gave her a gentle shake. “By morning, this field will be crawling with soldiers. I have no choice but to leave you behind. If you hide until daylight, you’ll be safe.”
His words jolted her. She didn’t want to stay alone in the dark. Just a moment ago, he’d announced it was time to go. Assuming he meant both of them, she tried to make sense of it. “What will you do with your brother’s body?”
“I’ll finish what I started.”
Willing to endanger his life for the sake of a funeral proved he was comprised of more than beastly instinct. It deepened her desire for a family of her own. The giant unhanded her, then returned to his brother’s side. He dropped on one knee.
“Lo, gj?r Det jeg ser min Far, og Lo, gj?r det jeg se min mor, og Lo, gj?r Det jeg ser mine br?dre og mine s?stre og Lo, gj?r Det jeg ser mitt folk tilbake til begynnelsen, og Lo de gj?r kaller meg, og byd meg ta min plass blant dem i haller av Valhalla, Hvor modig vil leve evig …”
His ardent entreaty raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “What does it mean?”
“Lo, there do I see my Father, and Lo, there do I see my Mother, and Lo, there do I see my Brothers and my Sisters and Lo, there do I see my people back to the beginning, and Lo they do call to me, and bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave will live forever …”
She wanted to believe his gods would grant his request.
Miraculously, it began to drizzle. She tipped her head, letting raindrops fall on her face.
After months of drought, this was like manna from heaven.
Wishing it would wash away the evidence of the battle, she froze when she saw the Viking arranging the body on the pyre.
After crossing a sword and shield over his brother’s chest, he kissed his cheeks.
Finished with his preparations, the Norseman took a square piece of metal and flint stone from his belt.
Misery and regret had silenced him altogether now.
She edged closer, standing at a respectable distance.
Nothing could ever strip this memory from her mind.
The tenderness this man displayed, the heavyheartedness that showed on his face made her heart skip a beat.
Knowing firsthand what it felt like to lose someone, her own tragic memories came flooding back.
Tears tracked down her cheeks. She’d cried more over the last two days then she had in years.
Not even the light rain could keep the flames from licking higher.
Her body tensed. Men should be buried, not burned.
Standing on the opposite side of the pyre, the fire illuminated every hard detail of the Vikings form.
Pain and exhaustion were etched on his face.
His broad shoulders drooped as if he’d been whipped.
Knowing if they delayed their departure any longer, he risked being captured. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Rachelle didn’t care who or what he was, she never wanted to see death again.
At first, Tyr thought it would be a good idea to take the girl with him.
But after she demanded answers he wasn’t willing to give, he quickly changed his mind.
A swift escape and time alone with his thoughts is what he wanted, not a cackling moorhen trailing him everywhere.
After walking briskly for three hours, the girl caught up once he slowed down. He’d rather have Loki on his heels.
“Stay here. I’ll give you a knife and build a fire and shelter.”
She adamantly refused. “You’d abandon me in the middle of nowhere?”
“You cannot consider it desertion if I didn’t invite you to travel with me.”
In the moonlight, her pearly skin made him want to touch her.
More reason to put as much distance between them as he could.
What strange thoughts were playing in her mind?
Her people were searching for her. She had somewhere to go.
Perhaps this was a passing fancy, an adventure for a pampered girl who suffered from nothing more than boredom.
He wouldn’t ask. The less he knew, the better.
Frustrated, he pointed southwest. “Go.”
“You can only order dogs and children home that way.”
What a stubborn little wench. Sighing, he rubbed his chin.
Logic didn’t work. Neither did direct commands.
It was too late to frighten her off. Didn’t she sense the danger of the forces at work here?
All-consuming hatred drove him right now.
If he acted upon it, nothing good would result. He closed his eyes.
Tyr wanted to take her, to carry her innocence away like a trophy.
Stegir’s death had eternalized a level of grief and violence he’d never known.
Vengeance pumped through his veins. Saxon pigs …
He ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to leave this place before he changed his mind, turned back, and slaughtered anything with a pulse.
That’s what she risked if she kept following him.
To reach the coast by sunrise, he needed a horse.
Searching the nighttime sky, he used the constellations as a compass.
Headed northeast, he already smelled the salt air and heard waves crashing against the shore.
That’s what he loved. The ocean provided everything a man needed to survive.
At this moment, it was his lifeline—the only way home.
Looking back at the girl, her motives still remained a mystery. She offered a sad smile. His palms went clammy. “There’s nothing to grin at,” he chastised. “Many died today.”
“How many?”
Gods curse the delicate inflection of her voice. He didn’t want to remember the details. It slowed progress and forced him to recognize his shortcomings as a leader. Recalling the faces of the men whose lives he’d carelessly turned over to Hardrada. Maybe if he answered, she’d shut up.
“Nearly ten thousand.” He recoiled. “The most decorated warriors from Norway have fallen, including many of my own.” Odin keep them.
Rachelle’s eyes widened. Her gaze was solidly fixed on him. “We’ve both suffered—”
“We have nothing in common.” His fury exploded. “I don’t care why you were roaming the battlefield. Don’t pretend to share my pain and offer false sympathy. Did you forget yourself, Rachelle Fiennes? You’re Saxon.”
She licked her lips nervously. “How kind of you to speak my name for the first time while insulting me. Yes, those soldiers were looking for me. And if I wanted to be found, I could have bitten your hand so hard you would have screamed to high heaven. But I didn’t.”
Hammer some common sense into this girl’s foolish head. Boundaries, that’s what he needed to establish to protect them both. And he should instruct her not to challenge someone bigger and stronger than she. He didn’t care to hear why she stayed.
“My name is Jarl Tyr Sigurdsson, and that’s all you need to know. Don’t consider me an ally because I spared your life. And cease talking, I cannot think straight.” He’d been patient. Tolerant. But it must end here.
Then those fathomless eyes brimmed with tears.
Guilt surged in his chest. Kick a dog, it comes back.
Make a woman weep … Although he wanted to comfort her, if he did, she’d use it as a reason to stay.
She sniffled, then wiped her face with her sleeve.
I mustn’t blame her for my misfortune. Who was he to judge? Half his cursed blood was English, too.
Finished with her for the moment, he started to walk again.
His rank mood only deepened. What Odin-loving man could suppress his rage after his heart had been ripped out of his chest?
And his gut moaned from hunger. Every sort of distressing thought crossed his mind.
His parents would never forgive him for Stegir’s death.
Tyr should have sent him home to Scotland after he confirmed plans for the invasion.
Drit … His whole world was disintegrating.