The Captive - By Joanne Rock Page 0,8
to contend with but him. “There is an abandoned church ruin in a cove around a small bend ahead. Drop me there with the woman while you take the men farther up the coast for a few days’ rest. ’Tis all I need to slake a sudden thirst, and when I finish, I will reward the men’s idle time with a voyage farther west.”
It was a time-honored bribe to seafaring men. The promise of sailing uncharted waters enticed them faster than gold. Besides, they would need to stay well out of Haaroldson’s grasp for a few weeks before they commenced raiding this stretch of shore again.
On his lap, the woman tipped her chin into the spray of the water, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. She had not looked toward him once since they left the shore, her gaze trained on the land as they rowed hard along the coast. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but to do so in front of his men would not be wise. They had been dutiful enough to indulge this fancy of his. They did not need to suffer any more of his personal affair.
“They will come looking for you,” Erik assured him.
“They will not find me.” He would make sure he had time to explore the soft curves of the creature in his arms first. Her every twitch and wriggle imprinted knowledge of her body in his brain, making him all the more hungry to have her.
“Your luck will run out, especially if you insist on besting Harold in raids. He will not rest until he has the revenge he’s sought all year.” Erik spoke a naked truth that wrenched him from his thoughts about the dark-haired captive.
A familiar storm brewed within him, at odds with the clear day. A year at sea had not made the clouds of the past dissipate.
It was true that Hedra Haaraldson—Harold’s sister—had taken her life because of Wulf.
“Hard to shore,” Wulf commanded, earning a grunt from one of his men and a rapid string of oaths from Erik.
He would not think of Hedra. Losing himself between the thighs of the vixen in his arms would banish all other thoughts from his head.
“We have not reached the lodging you wanted.” Despite obvious frustration, Erik pulled his oar up from the water so the rowers on the other side of the ship could steer the craft toward land.
“No. We can travel the rest of the way on foot. The fresh air will be more welcome than speaking of a past I cannot change.” He did not think the old ruins he recalled could be far off. But he could live off the land if necessary.
Besides, the thunder brewing in his head needed release. And the willful maiden who fumed silently in his arms seemed an obvious companion to ride out the storm.
IN THEIR TIME AT SEA, no man spared her a glance save the leader. Wulf, the other man had called him.
Of course, Gwendolyn thought, one of the stony-faced oarsmen might have stolen a glance her way while her gaze had been tipped out to sea. But their backs had been to her as they rowed the ship, and she’d never felt an untoward stare from anyone except the brooding Norseman who held her fast against his hard-muscled chest.
When he’d given the order to head toward shore, she’d sensed the dissension between him and the only other man who’d spoken on the voyage. It seemed her captor had earned the enmity of more than just her overlord. Someone named Harold would be searching for him.
And heaven help him if her in-laws ever found out she’d been taken. They hated the Danes enough without knowing their lost prize had come under the control of the race of men who’d killed their precious Gerald. They would stake their claim to her—and her fortune that King Alfred controlled until her next marriage—with all haste.
All of which should have cheered her. It meant she would not be ruled by this Dane for long. But it only served to hammer home that her life would never be her own. “Rescue” by any of those parties only meant that someone else would have power over her life.
Now, as they navigated around rocks and driftwood into a quiet cove, Gwendolyn tamped down her fears and wondered what happened next. Had she been taken to the middle of nowhere only to be abused by a ship full of marauders?
She’d dismissed the niggling