The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,11
slid in the sandy cliff face, but she never worried he would drop her. She could not imagine a warrior any stronger or more capable than this one. Righting his feet, he chose a more zagging path for the end of the climb.
“I did not intend to take you at first. But I have been forced to roam the sea all year long, with naught but raiding to relieve the boredom.”
“You have tired of defiling churches.” She did not hide the bite in her tone. She’d seen his men hefting the altarpiece to Alchere’s ornate chapel into their longship. But she could not see what his answer had to do with his reasons for taking her. Fear and frustration made her careless with her words.
“I do not defile churches. I merely tire of the endless raiding. When I spied you on the battlements of the keep, I knew I would pursue something besides gold or relics worth a fortune I do not need.”
“Have you found your conscience then?” Perhaps he would repent. But the dark look that turned his eyes from azure to sea-blue did not appear full of remorse for his deeds. If anything, he suddenly had the appearance of a man who wished to devour her whole.
She gulped. Why had she not learned to keep her comments to herself?
“Instead of gold, I have decided to pursue pleasure. And the first pleasure on my list is you.”
3
“PUT ME DOWN.” GWENDOLYN’S icy words suggested she had not appreciated his plan where she was concerned.
Wulf did not break his stride.
“On the other side of the tree line—”
“Put me down!” Her high, thready voice hit an odd note as her heartbeat throbbed in a blue vein at her neck.
He could also feel the dizzying pace of the pulse in that tender curve just below her breast where he cradled her. He seemed to have sent her into a full-blown panic.
Could she be so naive? What else would he take her for if not the wealth he could barter for her return?
Reaching the top of the cliff, he stopped and put her down. No sooner had her feet hit the ground than she tore off ahead of him, as fast as her shorter legs and long, heavy skirts would allow.
As luck would have it, she ran in the direction of the ruins he sought anyhow. But she ran with such heedless abandon, branches snapped and tore at her clothing, surely scratching the delicate skin beneath. Foolish woman.
He gave chase, moving with stealth so he did not scare her unnecessarily. If she fell from a high ledge, all of his effort in taking her would be for naught. He almost had her in his grasp when she stepped on a low patch of earth and tumbled.
“Oh!” Her cry of distress was genuine, but her injury could not have been serious. She sprawled in pine needles and long dead leaves, but then scrambled up again, back on her feet to limp away.
“It is not enough you nearly fell from the ramparts today? Must you throw yourself from the cliffs, as well?”
He caught her easily, locking an arm about her waist. Perhaps, now that she was hurt, she would see the wisdom in following where he led. Briefly, he debated investigating the extent of her injuries since the idea of peeling up her skirts held considerable appeal. But he sensed the fight had not gone out of her yet.
“Where are you taking me?” She winced with the first few halting steps, so he bore a bit more of her weight. “If you sought no more than a moment’s pleasure, you could have taken it on the beach.”
“Perhaps I seek more than a moment.”
“Maybe a moment is all you can afford since I am a prisoner of great worth. My overlord will seek me before he hunts for the altarpiece you stole. We do not have much time.” She peered over her shoulder as if she half expected a rescue to come riding up the cliffs at any moment.
It seemed the woman was no stranger to spinning lies convincingly. A less experienced warrior might have believed her.
“Are you wed to Alchere?” That was the only reason he could imagine the Saxon overlord mounting a search party immediately. Otherwise, the only thing driving him would be pride. And while that would no doubt bring him in search of Gwendolyn soon enough, it would not draw him out of his protected keep while Harold Haaraldson remained at his walls.
Wulf