pushed harder. At last, he struck. He darted more fully to the right, knowing there was nowhere for the runner to go.
Just as he reached the tree line where the river’s sandy bank opened, he skidded to a halt. He felt his jaw slacken in stunned silence as the red blur at last froze and turned to him.
It was a woman.
A beautiful woman.
A terrified woman.
Her small frame heaved with labored breath. Berry-red lips parted as she gasped for air. Her wide eyes darted desperately, searching for a way to escape, but they found none. At last, those large eyes settled on him, and his sharp inhale had naught to do with the chase he’d just given her.
Deep pools of liquid amber held him, begging silently for release. Her golden eyes were set off all the more dramatically by her auburn-red hair.
This wild forest spirit was the red blur he’d seen earlier. But she wasn’t a spirit. Nei, she was a flesh-and-blood woman.
Slowly, Alaric lowered his sword and shield. A quick glance at her lithe form and empty hands told him she bore no weapons. At his movement, slow though it was, she started and tried to take another step back. But her heels were flush against the lapping river and she was forced to remain in place.
His gaze once again slid over her, and despite himself, Alaric’s blood stirred with lust.
Her ragged breathing caused her breasts to press against the finely made woolen tunic she wore. The garment was elaborately adorned with delicate needlework along the collar, wrists, and hem, which fell to her booted ankles.
Her slim waist was belted with a braided leather band that had a pouch dangling from it. With her legs braced apart in preparation to flee, he could make out the outline of her gently curved hips and slim but shapely legs. Her delicate yet womanly form caused something primal to twist deep in Alaric’s belly.
Suddenly, shouts sounded in the forest behind him. His crew was closing in on them. A look of utter horror stole over the young woman’s face, and all at once he was drowning again in her amber eyes as they pleaded with him wordlessly.
“Go,” he said, choosing the Northumbrian tongue. He had no idea if this girl would understand, but based on the look of terror she’d given him, she certainly wouldn’t be familiar with the Northland tongue.
Impossibly, her eyes widened even more as disbelief and comprehension warred over her soft features. So she did understand him.
Alaric glanced over his shoulder to gauge how far away his crew was. When he turned back, the girl had already darted away. He watched as she dashed along the sandy shoreline, then slipped into the trees.
Why in Hel’s realm had he let her go? He needed answers—about the charred bones, about her presence in these woods, and if there were others.
But something about the desperate fear in those enthralling amber eyes had been his undoing. She might have died of fright if she’d seen forty armed Northmen explode from the forest behind him. Even still, he cursed himself for losing an opportunity to question her.
“What in Odin’s name—” Madrena crashed through the underbrush, sword raised and breathing heavily. When her eyes landed on Alaric, unharmed and with his blade and shield lowered, she stilled.
“’Twas a woman,” Alaric said, loud enough for the others to hear as they caught up with Madrena.
“And she got away?” Madrena snapped, her eyes flaring in outrage.
“I let her go.”
“Alaric, why in—”
He held up a hand to silence his sister. His gaze roamed once more to where the auburn-haired beauty had stood a moment before. Her small boot prints trailed through the sandy riverbank, then cut into the shadowed forest.
Alaric gritted his teeth. He had a responsibility to Eirik, his crew, and all those counting on him back in Dalgaard.
“We’ll follow her. If there are others who live in these woods…well, we’d better introduce ourselves.”
Chapter Four
Elisead dared to
Just as he reached the tree line where the river’s sandy bank opened, he skidded to a halt. He felt his jaw slacken in stunned silence as the red blur at last froze and turned to him.
It was a woman.
A beautiful woman.
A terrified woman.
Her small frame heaved with labored breath. Berry-red lips parted as she gasped for air. Her wide eyes darted desperately, searching for a way to escape, but they found none. At last, those large eyes settled on him, and his sharp inhale had naught to do with the chase he’d just given her.
Deep pools of liquid amber held him, begging silently for release. Her golden eyes were set off all the more dramatically by her auburn-red hair.
This wild forest spirit was the red blur he’d seen earlier. But she wasn’t a spirit. Nei, she was a flesh-and-blood woman.
Slowly, Alaric lowered his sword and shield. A quick glance at her lithe form and empty hands told him she bore no weapons. At his movement, slow though it was, she started and tried to take another step back. But her heels were flush against the lapping river and she was forced to remain in place.
His gaze once again slid over her, and despite himself, Alaric’s blood stirred with lust.
Her ragged breathing caused her breasts to press against the finely made woolen tunic she wore. The garment was elaborately adorned with delicate needlework along the collar, wrists, and hem, which fell to her booted ankles.
Her slim waist was belted with a braided leather band that had a pouch dangling from it. With her legs braced apart in preparation to flee, he could make out the outline of her gently curved hips and slim but shapely legs. Her delicate yet womanly form caused something primal to twist deep in Alaric’s belly.
Suddenly, shouts sounded in the forest behind him. His crew was closing in on them. A look of utter horror stole over the young woman’s face, and all at once he was drowning again in her amber eyes as they pleaded with him wordlessly.
“Go,” he said, choosing the Northumbrian tongue. He had no idea if this girl would understand, but based on the look of terror she’d given him, she certainly wouldn’t be familiar with the Northland tongue.
Impossibly, her eyes widened even more as disbelief and comprehension warred over her soft features. So she did understand him.
Alaric glanced over his shoulder to gauge how far away his crew was. When he turned back, the girl had already darted away. He watched as she dashed along the sandy shoreline, then slipped into the trees.
Why in Hel’s realm had he let her go? He needed answers—about the charred bones, about her presence in these woods, and if there were others.
But something about the desperate fear in those enthralling amber eyes had been his undoing. She might have died of fright if she’d seen forty armed Northmen explode from the forest behind him. Even still, he cursed himself for losing an opportunity to question her.
“What in Odin’s name—” Madrena crashed through the underbrush, sword raised and breathing heavily. When her eyes landed on Alaric, unharmed and with his blade and shield lowered, she stilled.
“’Twas a woman,” Alaric said, loud enough for the others to hear as they caught up with Madrena.
“And she got away?” Madrena snapped, her eyes flaring in outrage.
“I let her go.”
“Alaric, why in—”
He held up a hand to silence his sister. His gaze roamed once more to where the auburn-haired beauty had stood a moment before. Her small boot prints trailed through the sandy riverbank, then cut into the shadowed forest.
Alaric gritted his teeth. He had a responsibility to Eirik, his crew, and all those counting on him back in Dalgaard.
“We’ll follow her. If there are others who live in these woods…well, we’d better introduce ourselves.”
Chapter Four
Elisead dared to
Similar Books
Leon and the Spitting Image
Allen Kurzweil
Power Play: Katie and the Dom
Selena Kitt
Cross the Ocean
Holly Bush
The Darkness Knows
Cheryl Honigford
Overkill (The Mammoth Book of Special Ops)
E. C. Sheedy
Ever the Same
BA Tortuga
Heat and Dust
Ruth Prawer Jhabvala
The Boy in the Black Suit
Jason Reynolds
Rhett in Love
J. S. Cooper