Chapter Ten
“Get in the boat and lie down.” Rurik’s voice was firm.
“You cannot mean it.”
Her pulse raced. She didn’t move, half expecting him to toss her over his shoulder. He took a step and bent low before her. Air wheezed into her lungs. When Rurik stood up, the scrap of cloth was in his hand.
“You dropped this. You’ll need it for your triumphant return.”
Her heart withered. She took the cloth and tucked it in her boot under her heel, soul-crushing truth roaring in her ears.
By wielding her power, she’d given Rurik a choice—and it wasn’t her.
She couldn’t help but notice his erection had waned somewhere between her saying I must be untainted and his pacing the grass. They’d arrived at another negotiation point. A new fork in the road of...whatever went on between them.
She attempted a light laugh. “We have another truce, no?”
“We do.”
Rurik stood a respectful arm’s length from her. He was still her protector, the wolf who would watch over her. By a trick of moonlight, hobnails shined a dull circle around the ferocious beast on his chest. Shadows painted dark circles under his eyes. Or was he as exhausted as she was? He checked the camp where the fire burned, its smoke taking the men’s laughter to the heavens. The Sons were his priority. Gunnar snapping open his hudfat. Thorfinn standing tall for a stretch. The band of brothers was his family. Not her.
Rurik’s hand was on her shoulder. “Come. We both need our sleep.”
She stepped onto a fallen tree, and he helped her climb into the boat. Her limbs worked but she was clumsy. And lonely. How quickly the night changed. Rurik would sleep chastely with her. Again. Curling up on his hudfat, she waited for him, the fur coarse on her cheek.
The boat creaked with his weight settling down beside her. He was fully clothed. Closing her eyes, she willed the sting of rejection to pass. He was being practical. What man wouldn’t take the treasure? She’d told Rurik the truth and given him a choice. It was simple as that. Nor could she deny her choices. Freedom was hers. To carry on with a lie and let herself be swept away by living for today without a worry for tomorrow, or go home to her family.
Her knees pressed high to her chest, her body a ball on the fur. A lone tear pricked her eye. She sniffled. Savta, Father, Mother, her sisters and little brother...they must think her dead. It was utterly selfish to want to be with Rurik, to live with him wandering wide open roads and quiet forests. She was never truly a free woman. Her path had been set since birth.
“Safira?” Rurik’s hand was on her shoulder.
She gave in to his gentle tug and rolled onto her back. Where the trees opened, hundreds of stars were the tiniest lights.
Rurik drew one finger down her cheek. “You’re crying.”
Bats flew overhead. The ugly creatures didn’t scare her. Nothing did when she was with Rurik. Colors were bolder. Wine tasted better. And she didn’t care what clothes she wore. No one did. There wasn’t anyone to impress. Curling her fingers around his, she raised Rurik’s hand to her mouth and kissed his battle-scarred fingers. She pushed up on one elbow and pulled the ties on his arm brace, content in the small task of taking care of him.
“It was one tear, Viking.” Her tone was lofty as she loosened the brace.
“You are hiding something from me.”
Her gaze flicked up. Blond hair fell around his face, and his smile was...kind. His ear with the missing chunk showed. She wanted to kiss the indent, to heal his past, and take care of him. Be with him. Rurik filled the boat, and he filled her with his presence.
Slipping the brace off his wrist gave her a moment to collect herself. Tomorrow Rurik would be the abrasive Viking leader. Quiet, hard, calculating about everything he would do. But when they were alone, he was all hers. A man of thoughtful tenderness. A man willing to enjoy their growing companionship. A man who liked her opinions, fed off them, if she guessed right.
She kissed the jagged scar that sliced his skin from hand to elbow. His arm hairs crinkled against her mouth.
“How did you get this?”
“Safira,” he chided. “Don’t evade me. Why the tear?”
Sighing, she curled up against Rurik. She’d slept all her life on the finest sheets, yet the Viking’s coarse-furred hudfat was heavenly. He was heavenly—at least when he was not being a stubborn man.
“I could bend your ear with the whisperings of a foolish, spoiled maid, or we could talk of more interesting things. We have little time left together. I will not waste it.”
He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Nothing with you is a waste.”
“I will remind you of those words.” Her forehead rested near his ribs. “How is it you are this patient with a woman? At least in private with me.” She frowned, imagining a beautiful Viking woman waiting for him to end his wandering ways.
His large body gave a sleepy shrug. “A mother and a sister who lived through too much hardship. Sometimes the best I could give was a listening ear.”
“You surprise me.” She touched the scarred hand resting on his flat belly. “This must’ve been a vicious wound.”
“A parting gift from an old enemy.” Rurik sat up and ungartered his boots, careful to set his knife by his side. He was never without a weapon, even when he slept.
“You are not going to explain, are you?”
She lay on the fur, speaking to his back as he untied his vest. Apparently, Rurik had decided he could control his lust enough to remove the garment after all.
“It’s in the past. A past I’d rather forget.” He yanked free of the leather, his voice humored. “I’d rather know about this tear of yours.”
She rolled onto her back and stared at the stars. “I was thinking how much I will miss this time with you.”
He lay beside her, their shoulders touching. “You don’t have to go.”
“My family must think me dead. I can only imagine their torment. I was in our pear orchard at our home outside Paris when men grabbed me.” Wetness stung her eyes. She curled up on her side, her knees bumping his thighs. If she could, she’d fold herself into him and never let go. “I remember the screams of my little sister, Rinna... We always thought ourselves safe.”
Rurik wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Shhh...” he soothed her, kissing her head.
“I am not crying,” she said tartly.
“Of course, you aren’t.”
The back of her fingers petted Rurik’s arm draped across his chest. Muscles and furrows fascinated her, the skin brown from the sun. She snuggled close and kissed a dip between two big slabs of muscle. It was like finding a secret place on his body. A place for her alone to kiss. With his calming strokes and soft murmurs, her innocent kisses on his arm... This was cuddling.
How nice.
Her eyelids were heavy. Contentment was a blanket covering her.
“You will see your family again,” he said against the crown of her head.
“Mmmm.” She breathed in his skin.
After a time his voice drifted near her ear.
“There will be a delay,” he said quietly. “I need to go to Rouen first.”
“The furs. I understand.” She yawned again, wider, curling against his warmth. “We can send word to Paris from there.”
The lone wolf howled in the woods, a distant soulful cry. His woeful song grabbed her and coiled around her heart. Would the feral beast find his mate?