Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,40
slay him now. But at least he’d die knowing he’d done his best to give the Valkyrie a fighting chance against the invaders.
He prayed Hallie had listened to him. Fled fast and far. Hidden in a place they’d never find her.
Squinting against the blinding light of dawn, he spat out one final defiant curse. “Rot in hell, ye sheep-swivin’ cowards!”
The rising sun was suddenly eclipsed by a figure towering over him. The leader of the army, no doubt. The one who would deal the killing blow.
In a brazen act of courage, Colban glared boldly at the faceless warrior.
The last thing he expected to hear was a woman’s voice. “Are you hurt?”
He frowned.
Hallie. Why was she here?
He’d told her to flee.
If she didn’t escape, the knights would…
He narrowed his eyes.
The knights weren’t attacking her.
“Are you injured?” she repeated.
Confused, he gave a small shake of his head.
“What the devil are you doing?” she demanded. “Attempting escape? Or trying to get yourself killed?”
Before he could answer, one of the knights replied. “I think he was trying to save you, Hallie. From us.”
The rest of the knights laughed low.
“What?” she said. “Why would he…”
Colban blinked as he slowly realized the truth. These weren’t invaders. They were Hallie’s own forces. He’d been protecting her against her own men.
But why had they attacked her?
Or had they? Was it possible his blurry eyes and sleep-addled brain had misinterpreted what he’d seen?
If so, they must think him a fool.
“God’s wounds, did you see him leap from the window?” one of the knights said in awe.
Another marveled, “’Tis a wonder he can walk.”
A third gave a low whistle. “And the way he wielded that claymore…”
“Like a bloody berserker…”
“Broke my blade, he did.”
“Mine as well.”
“Tore my gauntlet clean off.”
“Lucky he didn’t tear your hand clean off.”
“Stop,” Hallie said, holding up a hand to silence them before they could dizzy him with their praises. Then she hunkered down beside him, close enough that he could see the sky blue accusation in her eyes. “That isn’t true, is it? You weren’t trying to come to my…?”
The way she said it—in disbelief—chafed at him. He scowled in silence. Of course he’d been trying to come to her rescue. What man with any ballocks would not?
From the back of the company, Brand pushed his way forward. “Why would he come to her rescue? Hallie can handle herself. Besides,” he sneered, “when a lass is in trouble, ’tis usually trouble of her own making.”
One of the knights gave the lad a chiding smack on the back of his head. “Half-baked whelp.”
Another added, “You’ve got a lot to learn, lad.”
A thin cry from a window above interrupted their discourse. It was Isabel.
“Oh Hallie, what have you done?” she lamented, clutching the neck of her night shift and wailing in despair. “You killed him, didn’t you? How could you? You’ve ruined everything!”
“He’s not dead, Isabel!” Brand yelled back. “Don’t be a chit!” Which earned him another smack.
But Hallie was paying no heed to her siblings. Her frosty gaze thawed as she looked at Colban in wonder.
“You could have been killed,” she murmured.
“Aye.”
“Why would you risk your life…for a foe?”
He knitted his brows. How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself? He hadn’t made a decision. It had just happened. He hadn’t thought. He’d acted on instinct. He’d seen the beautiful Valkyrie in danger and done what had to be done.
In the end, he shrugged. “They don’t call me ‘an Curaidh’ for naught, I guess.”
The knights chuckled.
But Hallie was too lost in thought to find humor in his remark. She stared at him as if he were a knot she needed to untangle.
Normally Colban appreciated the attentions of a beautiful woman. Hallie’s gaze was sweeping over him like a caress, touching his snarled hair, his stubbled jaw, his heaving chest.
But her intense scrutiny was unsettling. Particularly now. His blood was still hot from battle. They were surrounded by her clan. And he suddenly realized he was clad in naught but his linen braies.
Finally she showed him mercy.
“Let him up.”
The knights withdrew their swords. She held out a hand to help him to his feet.
Manly pride made him turn down her gesture. He wasn’t about to be coddled by a woman he outweighed by half. He might be vanquished by her knights. But he could damn well rise and stand on his own two feet.
He rocked forward and made the attempt. But as he stood, a searing bolt of pain shot up his left leg. He hissed, shifting