Chapter Eleven
Ella’s first impulse was to break and run, but even before the thought was finished, she knew it was useless. The Viking still gripped her jaw.
“Well, well. It looks like we’ve found the little thief,” he said.
She jerked her chin away. “I am no thief!”
He shrugged. “That’s not for me to judge. I’m only in charge of this station. All the men said was a woman with long, red hair needed to be returned to Prince Ivar.”
Ella strove to remain calm. “I am sure I am not the only woman who has red hair.”
The guard raised a brow. “Perhaps if we were in Eire, that would be the case. Or even north of the border. In these parts, it is unusual.”
“Princess Aethelryth has the same color!”
He crossed his arms. “You’re no princess.”
“No.” For once, she was actually glad she could admit it. “I am a servant.”
Unfortunately, that might not have been the best thing to say. His two companions had now joined him and one of them laughed.
“Maybe we could tup her, then.”
“We’ve plenty of time before those men return,” the other said.
The man in charge ignored them and looked her up and down. “Why are you dressed like a lad?”
If she had any chance of saving herself—literally—she’d have the best chance with the commander. “I should think that’s obvious.” Ella glared at the other two men. “I wanted to be safe from the likes of those.”
They both growled and started forward, but their leader held up a hand. “If the prince wants her back because she’s his bed sport, he’ll not thank us for plowing that field.”
The small sigh of relief she breathed was short-lived.
“Of course, I do have to search you to make sure you have no stolen goods. Unless you’d like to undress yourself.” He smiled. “Or my men can help.”
His companions grinned. Even a few of the Saxon peasants gave her keen looks. She remembered what Bronwolf had said the night Lynet and Deira had been found trying to escape.
It would not be amiss to allow the men to toss you about like a ball, each of them taking what favors he would before passing you to another. By the time they finished, your clothing would probably be off, as well.
Bronwolf. If only she had sought him out earlier, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. Or, at least, she didn’t think she would. He had, after all, saved her from being humiliated in the Great Hall that night. Surely, he would have thought of something. But he was not here.
Panic bubbled up. She turned and ran…and hadn’t gone three steps before the Viking hauled her off her feet. One arm firmly around her waist, he reached for the ties of her tunic.
“Halt!”
Ella would recognize Bronwolf’s voice anywhere. But…he wasn’t here. Was she just imagining him?
The Viking set her on her feet and she swung around, then nearly fell as her knees grew weak. It was Bronwolf. He sat astride his stallion not fifteen feet away, looking like he was carved out of stone.
The guard saluted. “Captain! What are you doing here?”
He pointed to her, his face grim. “I’ve been chasing that wench since last night. The prince wants her back.”
Ella stared at him, not sure she’d heard right. She searched his face for any clue that he was glad to have found her, but he didn’t look at her. His expression remained stony and he sounded irritated. “I wasn’t able to enjoy the comfort that awaited me in my own bed last night. All because of her.”
She blinked. Was he referring to Lynet and Deira? He sounded truly angry.
“Just to make sure she doesn’t escape again, you’re welcome to wait until Ivar’s men who rode through here a short time ago return,” the leader said.
Bronwolf shook his head. “I’ve not time for that. The prince is livid that she ran away. The sooner I get her back, the better for all of us.”
The other man nodded. “I know what you mean.”
Bronwolf edged his stallion closer and gave her a cursory glance before he leaned down and pulled her up, hauling her across his lap unceremoniously. “If you give me any trouble, you’ll make it worse for yourself. Do you understand?”
A chill ran through Ella at the sound of the coldness in his voice. Then he turned the horse around to go the way he had come. Surely, he wasn’t going to take her back. Was he?
• ♥ •
Bronwolf hoped Ella would not give him any beseeching looks until they were well out of sight of the way station. It was bad enough that it felt so good to have his arms around her, to have the side of her soft breast pressed hard against his chest as her legs dangled over one of his thighs. What felt even better—and worse—was the bouncing contact her bottom made with a very engorged part of him as the horse trotted away. He slowed the animal to a walk. He had to appear gruff and angry at having to chase her down, although, in truth, the angry part had been easy. Only, it was directed at the man who’d had his hands on her.
Ever since he’d seen the band of soldiers ride by the burned-out village, his angst had increased. Each of those men was loyal to Ivar which is probably why they’d been dispatched to find Ella. If they’d found her before he did…he tried to put what her fate would have been out of his mind. And failed miserably.
The hardest thing to do was tamp down his instinct to ride hell-bent after them. Instead, he’d forced himself to trail far enough behind that he would not be seen, which wasn’t easy, since much of the road was straight. He’d been somewhat relieved when the guard at the first relay station had said he’d seen nothing unusual since that meant Ivar’s men would find nothing, either. Apparently, a group of wandering peasants wasn’t unusual. Bronwolf could have kicked himself—hard—for not asking more questions. Then he’d lingered farther behind, partly because he wanted the band to pass the second station, and partly because if Ella were taking a trail through the woods and spotted him alone, she might come out.
He’d had to fight every urge he had to stay astride his horse when he rounded that last bend and saw the guard snatch the cap off her head.
“Are you…are you taking me back?”
“Shhh.” He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Don’t talk yet.”
She didn’t question him like most women would, for which he was thankful. He wanted to assure her, but that would have to wait since he had to maintain this agonizingly slow pace to keep his own sanity.
What felt like a small eternity was probably only a few minutes before they finally came to the bend and were out of eye-sight as well as ear-shot. He stopped the stallion.
“Do you know if there is trail or path in these woods?”
She drew a shaky breath. “In which direction?”
“North.” He smiled. “Away from York.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not taking me back, then?”
He shook his head. “Never. I’ll not let Ivar take his wrath out on you.”
A tear trickled out of the corner of one eye. Before he could wipe it away, Ella threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.
It was a good thing his horse was standing still, for the world suddenly swirled around him. Her lips were warm and pliant beneath his, and she tasted slightly of salt. And who was he to argue when she ran the tip of her soft tongue along the crease of his mouth? With a low growl, he pulled her closer, his tongue doing battle with hers as he deepened the kiss, exploring her fully, wanting to devour every bit of her. She moaned and pressed herself even closer.
He slipped one of his hands beneath her loose tunic, letting his fingers slide along her rib cage until he felt the binding cloth she’d used. With another growl, he pulled it loose, allowing her breast filled his hand. She mewled low in her throat as he kneaded the soft orb and then moan again when he flicked his thumb over the nipple, causing it to pebble immediately. His own organ hardened even more in response. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted—or desired—a woman as much as he did Ella.
The stallion nickered and stamped a hoof, bringing him back to reality. Bronwolf reluctantly broke the kiss and withdrew his hand. “We need to get off the road.”
Ella looked somewhat dazed, her lips puffy and swollen from his kiss, but she pointed, albeit shakily. “Over there. There’s a deer trail that goes toward Crayke.”
He maneuvered the horse off the road and into the trees. They hadn’t gone very far into the forest before the foliage became too dense to ride. He reined in and dismounted, then lifted her down. He dropped his hands quickly before the urge to finish what they’d started took over. Now was not the time.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled. “For the kiss? Anytime.”
Her face turned a becoming shade of pink. “For that, too.”
“Too?”
Ella looked up at him. “Yes, and for letting me go. I can find my way from here.”
“What?”
“Crayke is only about ten miles from here. I can find my way.”
Had he heard correctly? “I’m not going to leave you alone in these woods.”
She frowned slightly. “But you’ll get in trouble if you stay with me.”
“I’m already in trouble.”
“But it will get worse. Right now, you could ride and catch up to those other men Ivar sent out. They don’t know what happened at the relay station. They’ll think I’m still missing. You can all make your report to Ivar together.”
“I’m not going back to York.”
Her eyes widened. “Why not?”
“I saw your village. I saw what we did to your people.”
“But it wasn’t you. You mustn’t blame yourself.” She sighed. “It can’t be undone.”
“Maybe not, but I made my decision before I set out to find you.”
Her brows rose. “You did?”
“Ja. Don’t worry though. Lynet and Deira went to her cousin’s village.” When Ella grew quiet and looked down, he frowned. “They’ll be safe. They left amidst the chaos that was going on.”
“It isn’t that.”
He put his hand under her chin and lifted it. “What then?”
She held his gaze although her face turned pink again. “Will you miss them?”
“Will I…” Suddenly, he realized what she was asking. A part of him wanted to laugh aloud, but he suspected Ella wouldn’t appreciate that. He couldn’t resist teasing, just a little. “Why would I miss them?”
Now, she blushed furiously. “They were…were… your lemans.”
The soulful look in her eyes before she looked down made him want to kick himself—again—for teasing her. “They were not my lemans.”
Her gaze met his then. “They weren’t? Ever?”
He shook his head. “Not once. Either of them.”
“But I thought… The maids all talked about…” She let her voice trail off.
Bronwolf struggled not to grin. It would probably earn him a slap. Had Ella been jealous? His manhood stirred again. “I thought it safer for both of them if we all pretended it were so.”
Her eyes grew round. “You were protecting them?”
“I suppose.”
“I want to kiss you again!”
This time, he did grin. Then, he held out his arms. Ella moved into them as naturally as though they’d been doing this for years. This time, as he deepened the kiss, he brought the entire length of their bodies together. Her body melded into his perfectly, her soft curves along his hard angles. She rubbed her breasts against chest, practically purring. His hands roamed her back then lowered to grasp her rounded bottom, lifting her to her toes while his erection pressed against her belly. She gasped, and he slipped his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her higher so she could wrap her legs around his waist. His hungry cock eagerly nestled itself into that space between her legs. He could feel the heat penetrating from her even through the breeches she wore.
His blasted horse nickered again.
With a groan, Bronwolf released her legs, letting her slip down. He glared at the stallion who gave him an equally baleful look. He supposed he couldn’t blame the animal. The musky scent of lust practically reeked in the air. He took a deep breath.
“How badly do you want to go to Crayke?”
Ella blinked several times, probably clearing her head. “It’s the only place I know to go right now.”
“But do you want to?”
“I’ll be safe there.”
“At Aelle’s camp?”
“It’s probably not the best of places to be, but I don’t think he’ll risk sending me to Manchester or…anywhere.”
“Probably not, but what I’m wanting to know is if your loyalty lies so much with Aelle that you want to remain here.”
She frowned. “Where else would I go?”
“To the Faroe Islands.”
“The Faroe Islands?”
He nodded. “It’s where my grandfather is. I’m going there.”
Her eyes grew wide again. “You’re asking me to go with you?”
“I am.” Bronwolf took another deep breath. “As my wife, if you’ll do me the honor.”
“Your wife?”
Her question made him suddenly feel shaky. Somehow, this was harder—and more frightening—that any battle he’d ever fought. “I know it might take a little getting used to. We don’t have to get married right away if you need some time—”
“I don’t.” Ella gave him a direct look.
Bronwolf swallowed. Hard. What did she mean by that? She didn’t need time because she didn’t want to marry him? By Odin! He’d convince her… Then he stopped thinking when he saw the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Was the minx paying him back for teasing her earlier? He took a step closer. “Your answer, my lady?”
“Yes!” She threw her arms around him again. “Ja. Ja. Ja!”
• ♥ •
Ella’s mind was still reeling as they started off again, this time veering to the east of Crayke. She still wasn’t quite sure she’d heard correctly. Bronwolf wanted her to be his wife. Wife. Since she was orphaned and penniless, save for the generosity of Aethelthryth—the real one—she’d not given much thought to getting married. The princess had asked her once if she’d like to be wedded to one of her father’s bondsmen so she could have children, but Ella didn’t relish spending her life in a loveless match.
Marriage to Bronswolf would not be loveless. She’d been attracted to him since the moment he’d lifted her away from the pitcher she’d intended to throw. He could easily have knocked her senseless for that attempt, but he hadn’t. He’d kept Lynet and Deira safe. He’d helped her to evade Ivar countless times over the past weeks. And, just minutes ago, as he helped her mount, he’d told her he loved her.
A Yuletide miracle had happened after all.
“How far is it to the Faroe Islands?” she asked.
“Once we get on a ship, it will take perhaps a fortnight, if the winds are favorable.”
“Where will we find that ship? Newcastle?”
Bronwolf shook his head. “That is the busiest port, but it’s too far. Every day we spend on the road is one more day we can be found. Whitby is smaller, but closer. We’ll take whatever boat is available and switch to a larger one later if we need to.”
Ella smiled. “I’m as eager to be gone from here as you are. How long will it take to get to Whitby?”
“A good three days’ hard riding, maybe four if you find it too taxing. I don’t want you hiding the fact that you’re in pain.” He gave her an earnest look. “Promise me you’ll say something if you are. We’ll find a place to stop.”
“I’m not that delicate,” Ella replied. “I don’t want to put us into danger.”
“Well, once we get beyond Crayke and into the northern moors, we should be safe.” He grinned. “And I know just the thing to work all those sore muscles loose.”
Ella felt her face heat, but the rest of her tingled too. Their all too short embraces earlier left her wanting more. Lots more. She laid a hand on his thigh. “Promise?”
His grin widened. “Promise.”
She lifted her face as he bent his for a quick kiss. A second later, she heard a swishing sound and then a soft thump. Startled, she opened her eyes to see an arrow stuck in a tree next to them. An arrow that would have struck Bronwolf’s head if he’d been upright. Before he could free his sword, they were surrounded by soldiers.