Read The Viking's Woman for Free Online
Authors: Heather Graham
escaped.”
“Aye … but in time?” The nobleman pondered. He gazed at his companion, who appeared miserable.
“Why do you fret? I pray that the Viking had her, and had her without mercy! ‘Twill speed my suit, for she will not be so hasty to spurn my offer now. Used and discarded by such an enemy! She will be grateful for the crumbs that I offer.”
The younger man did not look at the elder. “You could be wrong,” he said. “She is in love with Rowan, and Rowan with her. She will accept no other.”
“She will do as she is told.”
“Only the king can command her.”
Laughter, harsh and jarring, followed the words. “After this day I am certain that the king
will
command her. And he will not let her have her penniless young lover, of that I am certain. Come, the deed is done and the day is ours. We must ride to the king with the dire news of what has happened.”
“My lords!” the youth, their spy, called to them.
The elder looked at the boy, his cunning eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
“My reward! You promised me payment in silver.”
“So I did,” the elder of the men said.
He nudged his horse forward, closer to the youth. “You are certain that all who could name me are dead?”
“I am certain. I have done well. You promised me reward.”
“Aye.”
He smiled. The youth’s startled eyes grew large as he watched the nobleman reach for his sword. He did not have time to cry out; his life was too quickly sliced away. He sank to the ground in a pool of blood.
The younger lord protested with a choking sound. “Was that—God, was that brutality necessary?”
“Aye.” Calmly the elder cleaned the blood from his sword. “Aye, completely necessary. Mind my words. If you would commit treason, friend, leave no clues.”
Ruthlessly he led his horse to step over the body. “Come. We ride to the king.”
2
Rhiannon’s heart hammered, her legs ached, and her lungs were in agony, but still she ran, tearing more and more deeply into the forest, farther and farther away from the town that had been her homeland, her birthright. For all of her life she had been fighting, but she had never come so close to sheer terror and despair as this.
At last she paused, having entered into the forest, which was a sea of green darkness. She knew the area well and welcomed the night. She found a lichen-covered rock and paused, gasping desperately for breath and listening lest the Viking horde be coming at her heels. At last she began to breathe more easily. They did not seem to be coming after her. She was not worth their effort. Perhaps they did not know who she was; perhaps they did not care.
She started to shiver.
He could have killed her. And if he weren’t so grievously wounded, he would have come after her.
A trembling started up inside of her, and she closed her eyes, fighting it. But she could not close her eyes to memory, and she saw the Viking in her mind, blond and powerful, and it seemed that she stillbreathed in the subtle masculine scent of him, still felt his hands as he touched her ….
She took a ragged breath. He could have killed her. He could have aimed his knife at her heart, but he had not done so. He must have known that she would run, that she would bring a warning to the king. And still he had spared her.
’Twas hardly mercy, she thought. He had been ruthless enough. But what had he meant when he demanded to know what had happened? She swept her arms around herself, wishing that she dared scream aloud with fear and fury and frustration. What had happened? A horde of Vikings had descended and destroyed her home!
She had to keep moving. She had to reach the king.
Rhiannon rose and stumbled onward until she came to the bubbling little brook that crossed through the forestland at this point. She wondered if the Vikings would raze the town. So many were dead. Nobles, carls, and serfs had died alike, with pride, with courage.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Egmund was dead. Dear,
“Aye … but in time?” The nobleman pondered. He gazed at his companion, who appeared miserable.
“Why do you fret? I pray that the Viking had her, and had her without mercy! ‘Twill speed my suit, for she will not be so hasty to spurn my offer now. Used and discarded by such an enemy! She will be grateful for the crumbs that I offer.”
The younger man did not look at the elder. “You could be wrong,” he said. “She is in love with Rowan, and Rowan with her. She will accept no other.”
“She will do as she is told.”
“Only the king can command her.”
Laughter, harsh and jarring, followed the words. “After this day I am certain that the king
will
command her. And he will not let her have her penniless young lover, of that I am certain. Come, the deed is done and the day is ours. We must ride to the king with the dire news of what has happened.”
“My lords!” the youth, their spy, called to them.
The elder looked at the boy, his cunning eyes narrowing. “What is it?”
“My reward! You promised me payment in silver.”
“So I did,” the elder of the men said.
He nudged his horse forward, closer to the youth. “You are certain that all who could name me are dead?”
“I am certain. I have done well. You promised me reward.”
“Aye.”
He smiled. The youth’s startled eyes grew large as he watched the nobleman reach for his sword. He did not have time to cry out; his life was too quickly sliced away. He sank to the ground in a pool of blood.
The younger lord protested with a choking sound. “Was that—God, was that brutality necessary?”
“Aye.” Calmly the elder cleaned the blood from his sword. “Aye, completely necessary. Mind my words. If you would commit treason, friend, leave no clues.”
Ruthlessly he led his horse to step over the body. “Come. We ride to the king.”
2
Rhiannon’s heart hammered, her legs ached, and her lungs were in agony, but still she ran, tearing more and more deeply into the forest, farther and farther away from the town that had been her homeland, her birthright. For all of her life she had been fighting, but she had never come so close to sheer terror and despair as this.
At last she paused, having entered into the forest, which was a sea of green darkness. She knew the area well and welcomed the night. She found a lichen-covered rock and paused, gasping desperately for breath and listening lest the Viking horde be coming at her heels. At last she began to breathe more easily. They did not seem to be coming after her. She was not worth their effort. Perhaps they did not know who she was; perhaps they did not care.
She started to shiver.
He could have killed her. And if he weren’t so grievously wounded, he would have come after her.
A trembling started up inside of her, and she closed her eyes, fighting it. But she could not close her eyes to memory, and she saw the Viking in her mind, blond and powerful, and it seemed that she stillbreathed in the subtle masculine scent of him, still felt his hands as he touched her ….
She took a ragged breath. He could have killed her. He could have aimed his knife at her heart, but he had not done so. He must have known that she would run, that she would bring a warning to the king. And still he had spared her.
’Twas hardly mercy, she thought. He had been ruthless enough. But what had he meant when he demanded to know what had happened? She swept her arms around herself, wishing that she dared scream aloud with fear and fury and frustration. What had happened? A horde of Vikings had descended and destroyed her home!
She had to keep moving. She had to reach the king.
Rhiannon rose and stumbled onward until she came to the bubbling little brook that crossed through the forestland at this point. She wondered if the Vikings would raze the town. So many were dead. Nobles, carls, and serfs had died alike, with pride, with courage.
Tears welled up in her eyes. Egmund was dead. Dear,