the ancient ways.”
“And do not your forest spirits run through the trees, hair unbound, luring strange men deeper into the woods?”
He took a tangled lock of her auburn hair between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it boldly.
Elisead jerked back, freeing her hair from his gentle grasp. Of course, if he had wished to maintain his hold, he could have—and might have even yanked out a few strands given Elisead’s swift jolt. But he let her hair slide between his fingertips and then dropped his hand.
She floundered for a long moment, trying to come up with something to say in response to his teasing question. She must have looked the fool, for he chuckled again.
“You are quite safe, little spirit,” he said, though his smile began to fade. “My honor, the life of my sister, and the future of my people depend on it.” By the time he finished speaking, his jaw was clenched and his emerald eyes were stormy.
Though he was a Northland savage, strangely she believed that she wouldn’t have her throat slit in the night or her skull split with an axe. Yet heat continued coiling deep within her as he shook away the tension that had crept into his strong features and flashed her another wicked smile.
At last, he turned away and fell into pace with the one called Rúnin. The two spoke quietly in their own tongue.
It wasn’t long before she caught a whiff of salt air among the pine and soil scents of the forest. The trees thinned ahead and the two longships came into view. Their curved dragon prows, painted red and baring their teeth, send renewed apprehension through her.
She was in the belly of the beast now.
Chapter Ten
Alaric watched Elisead’s face as she took in the sight of the longships moored along the bay’s sandy shoreline.
Did she know just how expressive her amber eyes were? He doubted it, for she’d seemed surprised at how easily he’d sensed not only her changing moods but the shifting thoughts and fears behind them.
Alaric forced himself to tear his gaze away and return his attention to where it belonged—on his crew, and on the camp that needed making. A quick scan of the area helped get his thoughts in order.
“We’ll make camp there.” He pointed to a level patch of ground slightly elevated from the bay’s shore. The trees were sparser on that sandy expanse before the forest rose and the land sloped into a series of hills.
His crew set about unloading the two longships. They formed a line and passed down chests and beams of wood that had been tucked along the ships’ sides.
Alaric was about to take up a spot at the end of the chain when he heard Elisead shifting in the cart behind him. Before she could awkwardly struggle to the ground, he spun and captured her waist in his hands.
Even through the thick material of her cloak, he could feel the supple trimness of her waist in his grasp. She gasped but automatically placed her small hands on his shoulders as he slid her to the ground.
Involuntarily, he inhaled. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity earlier when he’d caught her in her swoon, but now he took full advantage of her nearness. She smelled like sun-warmed pine boughs and something sweet and subtle, perhaps her own skin.
When her feet reached the ground, he quickly removed his hands lest he forget how to control himself. Even still, he lingered. Alaric’s pulse thrummed as he stared down at Elisead, those liquid gold eyes enthralling him.
By Thor’s bloody hammer. He spun on his heels and took his place at the end of the line.
’Twas an innocent touch, he told himself firmly. Naught to berate himself over—and certainly naught that warranted the heat coursing through his veins.
He flexed his hands in preparation to take the large wooden chest being passed down the line. He’d only promised to leave her a virgin, not forego assisting her in any way that put them in physical contact.
As he piled chests, tent beams, weapons, and the rest of their
“And do not your forest spirits run through the trees, hair unbound, luring strange men deeper into the woods?”
He took a tangled lock of her auburn hair between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it boldly.
Elisead jerked back, freeing her hair from his gentle grasp. Of course, if he had wished to maintain his hold, he could have—and might have even yanked out a few strands given Elisead’s swift jolt. But he let her hair slide between his fingertips and then dropped his hand.
She floundered for a long moment, trying to come up with something to say in response to his teasing question. She must have looked the fool, for he chuckled again.
“You are quite safe, little spirit,” he said, though his smile began to fade. “My honor, the life of my sister, and the future of my people depend on it.” By the time he finished speaking, his jaw was clenched and his emerald eyes were stormy.
Though he was a Northland savage, strangely she believed that she wouldn’t have her throat slit in the night or her skull split with an axe. Yet heat continued coiling deep within her as he shook away the tension that had crept into his strong features and flashed her another wicked smile.
At last, he turned away and fell into pace with the one called Rúnin. The two spoke quietly in their own tongue.
It wasn’t long before she caught a whiff of salt air among the pine and soil scents of the forest. The trees thinned ahead and the two longships came into view. Their curved dragon prows, painted red and baring their teeth, send renewed apprehension through her.
She was in the belly of the beast now.
Chapter Ten
Alaric watched Elisead’s face as she took in the sight of the longships moored along the bay’s sandy shoreline.
Did she know just how expressive her amber eyes were? He doubted it, for she’d seemed surprised at how easily he’d sensed not only her changing moods but the shifting thoughts and fears behind them.
Alaric forced himself to tear his gaze away and return his attention to where it belonged—on his crew, and on the camp that needed making. A quick scan of the area helped get his thoughts in order.
“We’ll make camp there.” He pointed to a level patch of ground slightly elevated from the bay’s shore. The trees were sparser on that sandy expanse before the forest rose and the land sloped into a series of hills.
His crew set about unloading the two longships. They formed a line and passed down chests and beams of wood that had been tucked along the ships’ sides.
Alaric was about to take up a spot at the end of the chain when he heard Elisead shifting in the cart behind him. Before she could awkwardly struggle to the ground, he spun and captured her waist in his hands.
Even through the thick material of her cloak, he could feel the supple trimness of her waist in his grasp. She gasped but automatically placed her small hands on his shoulders as he slid her to the ground.
Involuntarily, he inhaled. He hadn’t gotten the opportunity earlier when he’d caught her in her swoon, but now he took full advantage of her nearness. She smelled like sun-warmed pine boughs and something sweet and subtle, perhaps her own skin.
When her feet reached the ground, he quickly removed his hands lest he forget how to control himself. Even still, he lingered. Alaric’s pulse thrummed as he stared down at Elisead, those liquid gold eyes enthralling him.
By Thor’s bloody hammer. He spun on his heels and took his place at the end of the line.
’Twas an innocent touch, he told himself firmly. Naught to berate himself over—and certainly naught that warranted the heat coursing through his veins.
He flexed his hands in preparation to take the large wooden chest being passed down the line. He’d only promised to leave her a virgin, not forego assisting her in any way that put them in physical contact.
As he piled chests, tent beams, weapons, and the rest of their
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