The Viking's Highland Lass by Terry Spear

this—the Norseman’s rugged body as he protected her, and his horse that gave her hope that she might indeed manage to slip away from her lands without any trouble. Her feet and fingers were frozen though, and she didn’t think she’d ever been this cold in her life.
    She snuggled closer to the Viking, wanting to be wrapped up tight with him, to feel the warmth taking the chill from her blood. But she felt badly that she didn’t know where they actually were. Because she never ventured very far from Anfa Castle or the shieling where she’d lived before that, she wouldn’t have a clue where to go even if it was a warm, summer’s day. Exhausted from running, she was relieved to have collided with the man, and learned he not only had a horse, but that he seemed intent on rescuing her.
    Still, she didn’t wholly trust him. He was a Finn-Gall after all, and she wasn’t sure she could have complete faith in him that he would take her somewhere safe and not ask something of her in return. She had to admit that the Vikings living near her people only raided them as much as they raided the Norsemen back.
    What if this Gunnolf of the North, the Fighting Wolf, lived among the Viking settlers and wished to ransom her to Seamus? Or what if Gunnolf was as wicked as Seamus? Just because Gunnolf treated her well now, didn’t mean she would be safe with him if they found a place to bed down for the night later. He could want his wicked way with her just as much as Seamus had wanted. Except for now, Gunnolf had to bide his time or he was a dead man. Which had her feeling a pang of remorse that she had involved him in this deadly business. Though she was not feeling enough guilt to force him to release her. She highly doubted Gunnolf would anyway. For now, she was more afraid of Seamus getting hold of her as angry as he had to be. Not only had she shown him she wouldn’t submit to him of her own freewill, she had forced him to come after her in a snowstorm to bring her home.
    He’d beat her for certain if he got hold of her.
    She thought back to when she’d planted her body against Gunnolf’s next to the shieling, not really meaning to. But when she dove for the pile of snow to avoid being struck by an arrow, all of a sudden a mountain of a fur-covered man had loomed in her path. Just like that. What else could she do but tackle him with all her weight and shove him down so she didn’t get shot? Not that she wanted him to either, but he had been in her way. Which was why the arrow had nicked her! It was his fault that he was now in this predicament with her.
    She thought about how she’d tried to climb off him, and she’d made him groan in pain. He’d been hard all over, and she couldn’t understand how she’d hurt him. But when he’d forced her to straddle him, she wasn’t sure what his intentions had been, until she realized he was trying to protect himself from her wicked knee. She let a smile slip, but then frowned again, worried they wouldn’t find shelter tonight, and if they did, what if Seamus found it also?
    Gunnolf was a handsome devil of a man, for being a Viking. Large, bearded, his hair more chestnut now and streaked with gold, his blue eyes disarming, he was a compelling figure of a warrior. She still couldn’t believe he was the lad she’d bandaged so long ago and that he’d actually survived. She’d had reoccurring dreams about finding him and taking care of him, but then losing him in the mist. But she’d never envisioned him so tall or muscular. “Are you all right?” she asked.
    â€œ Ja , but I must rest my horse and get us out of this…”
    His abrupt pause in speech concerned her. “What?” She wanted to sit up and peer around him, but decided she didn’t wish to see what was ahead of them as much as she wished to remain tight against his back and continue to gather what warmth she