Chapter Thirteen #2
Odin? That pagan god had nothing to do with this.
She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. Keeping her thoughts to herself was the prudent thing to do.
She looked away, then walked to the wardrobe.
She took out a leather bag, selected several dresses, an extra pair of shoes, a wool cloak, and combs for her hair.
These clothes should keep her warm enough on the voyage home.
The prospect of landing on that rocky coastline, where she’d departed for Norway all those weeks ago, made her heart skip a beat.
She’d never felt so happy and sad at the same time.
Frida stepped around her, then reached inside the closet. Pulling out a fur, she flung it at Rachelle. “Put this on.”
Rachelle swore she’d boil alive before they made it outside—she was already dressed in so many layers. But she felt compelled to agree with the woman who offered her a way out. Frida completed her costume by covering her hair with a thick scarf. The servant stepped back and inspected her.
“Unrecognizable,” Frida slipped into her own cloak. “If you’re quiet, we should be able to get outside.”
“What about the guards?”
“Leave them to me. They’ll never suspect anything. Two wenches on their way home for a bit of fun.”
You’ll be in Tyr’s bedchamber the moment I’m gone.
Rachelle could not believe what she was seeing.
Frida flirted deplorably with the only sober man left in the great hall.
The rest were passed out drunk on the floor.
Rachelle didn’t wish to witness the maid’s defilement.
She refused to play the whore for anyone and slipped outside unnoticed.
With her own wits compromised after drinking so much wine, she prayed for the luck to make it through her deliverance.
It was cold outside and she rubbed her hands together to generate some heat.
She took a deep breath, exceedingly grateful for the extra cloak and buried her hands between the folds of fur.
She gazed skyward. Cloudless nights in England weren’t half as cold as Norway.
Everything about this place was brutal—everything.
A noise from the woods startled her. Left without any protection, she prepared herself.
Wild animals roamed the steading at night; wolves, bears, boar, nearly any creature imaginable.
She raised an eyebrow when she saw who it was.
A bear would have been more welcome than Aaron McNally.
“We meet again, Lady Rachelle.”
Why did everyone insist on calling her Lady Rachelle? That title hadn’t been formally bestowed upon her yet. She crinkled her nose. Any compliment this man made was purely condescending in nature. “I presume you are the friend Frida spoke to me about.”
His biting chuckle made her skin crawl. “It needn’t be so miserable for you. We both desire the same thing. Why shouldn’t we assist each other?”
Those words sounded uncomfortably familiar. Rehearsed perhaps? What had she really agreed to? She glared back. “I find it hard to believe you want to help me. Let’s be perfectly honest, shall we?”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get you out of here.”
Very carefully, she stepped closer. Oh, she agreed about escaping—that much she couldn’t deny. But this man shouldn’t be trusted by anyone. It worried her. Was she unknowingly part of a wider conspiracy to harm the jarl? Unable to live with that possibility, she tested him.
“You have a firm reputation for being a troublemaker. Is it possible you intend to use me as a weapon against your cousin?”
“I do appreciate a girl with imagination. If Tyr cared, why does he keep ye locked up like a dirty little secret?”
Offended, she turned to leave.
Aaron caught her by the wrist, then yanked her close. “Unlike the castrated bastards under this roof,” he said, releasing her, “I’ll not hesitate to discipline you if you get highhanded again.”
The threat didn’t surprise her. She looked up at him. His pale-colored eyes lacked the warmth his cousin’s possessed. Devoid of feelings of any kind. “I believe we understand each other.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“What do you understand?” Frida joined them.
The maid had taken much too long inside.
“Nothing important,” Aaron said dismissively. “Our friend has an unpleasant side. I’ve advised her to control it.”
Frida swatted his arm. Aaron responded by pulling her into a lewd embrace.
A tremor raced through Rachelle. Everything made sense now. Aaron and Frida were lovers. What had she fallen into?
“Forgive our lack of control,” Aaron apologized sarcastically. “I cannot resist this lady’s charms.”
Rachelle ignored them, and instead, eyed two horses tethered a few feet away.
She approached them slowly, then fumbled with the reins of the one she liked best. After she mounted, she stared at the shameless lovers.
“The night is short, Aaron McNally.” She purposely left off his title. Such a man didn’t deserve distinction.
“In a hurry to get away from here?” he asked.
“You must know nothing pleases me more.”
“Don’t forget this.” The maid handed Aaron the leather travel bag.
“Thank you,” Rachelle said.
“Don’t mention me to anyone,” Aaron instructed Frida as he climbed on his horse. “I’ll find you after I return.”
“Secrets have a way of catching up with you,” Rachelle warned.
“Oh?” The snake twisted in the saddle to look at her. His guilt betrayed itself. “I’m sure we’re capable of outrunning it.”
Even though she despised her riding companion, Rachelle left Tyr’s steading with hope in her heart that she’d soon be reunited with her uncle.