The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,42

fell and torches were lit all around the small village of temporary huts and tents to welcome him home, he could not enjoy the day’s successes with the fury of his Saxon widow surrounding him like a storm cloud.

It seemed she’d come to terms with being a captive, but did not appreciate being his concubine. A prickly woman, his Gwendolyn of Wessex. Still, what else could she be for him? She was the daughter of an important Saxon noble, wealthy beyond imagining. Perhaps one day he would ransom her back to her overlord. But his thwarted love for Hedra had darkened a part of his heart. He did not plan to wed, and if he did, it would be for political advantage in his homeland, not for wealth he did not need.

He moved to help her off the ship as they docked, but before he could get his hands on her, she cast him a dark glare and then dove overboard headfirst into the shallow water.

“Thor’s hammer,” he shouted, convinced she would not clear the bottom when she landed.

Leaping over the edge, he found the sea deeper than he’d expected as the water rose up to meet him. Reassured that she would not have hit her head, he looked around the ship where she should have surfaced. Where did she think she could go in the dark in a strange land?

Nearby, his men jumped carelessly overboard to reach their women and wine on shore. He wanted to shout at them all to mind their bloody arses before they landed on Gwendolyn accidentally. But he was too busy fighting off the rising fear that something must have happened to her.

She should have risen to the surface by now or else he should have seen her on shore.

“Gwendolyn!” he bellowed.

She had vanished into thin air.

10

FREEDOM.

Had she ever known it until now? Truly?

Gwendolyn swam for all she was worth, heedless of whatever sea monsters might take to the waters at night. Her arms burned with the effort of calling upon little-used muscles, but by God, it was worth it to be free. She did not know where she headed, but the darkness would provide cover and the victory over Godric’s men that day had made her bold. She’d hit a man in the head with a rock to defend herself. That decision to take action—a decision that had paid off—reminded her she still had choices. She would strike out on her own to find help and be free of the Danes.

She’d shed her gown and condemned it to the muck at the water’s depths, refusing to be hampered by the heavy fabric. She swam underwater in nothing more than her thin shift for as long as possible, hoping to put enough distance between herself and the longship that Wulf would not see her in the darkness. The spring sea was cold, however, and she feared remaining in the water any longer.

And now, pulling herself from the water by the roots of a tree, she threw herself onto dry land out of sight from the Danes’ camp. In the distance, she could hear their shouts and the merry-making of men returning after a journey. Strange music, rich with deep horns and guttural drums, drifted on the water. Closer to her, night birds whistled and called to one another while the waves rolled in at her feet, making shushing sounds as if to tell the rest of the world to be quiet.

And Gwen was free.

The giddiness of the moment could not be dimmed by her shivering or her fears for the future. True, she had no idea how she would proceed with her gown and shoes missing and naught to wear through the forest but a thin undergarment. But she would think about that later. At this moment, she simply wanted to enjoy the knowledge that she had masterminded an escape right under the heathen’s nose. He dared to call her his concubine?

Never. When he had wooed her to his bed with his thought-drugging kisses and enticing touches, he had told her she should think only of her own pleasure. But instead of feeling free at following her impulses, she felt more a captive than ever because of his words. He had claimed her in front of his men, declaring her his personal plaything.

The humiliation of it still stung, but she closed her eyes against the burn of tears and reminded herself about her triumphant swim through the dark sea. Blinking her lids open once