Alrek(22)

“Stay close to me,” he hissed. If she ran, they’d likely go after her.

Her eyes were wide under the moonlight. She gripped his arm. He returned the snarl of the wolves with one of his own. These beasts might be killers by nature but he was a Viking—a warrior bred to fight. And these animals wanted to harm the woman he loved. They would not succeed.

The leader of the pack lunged and Alrek landed a punch on the animal’s nose. The others appeared to take this as a sign to attack. One scratched his arm, the other nearly caught his leg in its jaws.

“Get back,” Ilisa cried and kicked the wolf going for his ankle in the head. It turned on her and swiped its claws across her leg, eliciting a yelp from her.

Alrek cursed, forced himself between her and the animal and kicked the wolf hard in the stomach as it dove again. With a yowl, it toppled back and the remaining wolves backed off. He swung the torch several more times, bellowing desperate curses and threats until his voice ran dry. The pack eased further back and finally turned away. Alrek closed his eyes for the briefest moment and drew in a breath.

He turned to Ilisa, dropped the torch and pulled her into his embrace. He clamped her head to his chest, against the pounding pressure of his heart.

“You foolish woman, what were you thinking?” he scolded quietly, his voice still hoarse.

“I wanted to save the sheep,” she snivelled. Her whole body trembled and she wrapped her arms about his waist.

All Alrek could think of was how close to losing her he had been, of her delicate body against his. The need to protect this woman burned in his chest. It was a need he didn’t think would ever extinguish. “They are not worth your life.”

“They’re all I have,” she sobbed.

“Nay, not anymore.” He loosened his hold and drew her chin up to view her. Tears shimmered in the moonlight, her beautiful features streaked with them. Thumbing them away, he glanced around for the torch, now doused on the ground somewhere. “Let us return to the cottage now. I do not wish to be out here while those beasts are around.”

She nodded and gulped audibly. He took the chance to stroke her cheek once more and released her. Alrek gave up on trying to spot the torch and took Ilisa’s hand. As they began down the hill, she let out a shallow hiss.

“What is wrong?”

“My leg.”

Alrek cursed under his breath. Of course, the wolf had swiped at her and he hadn’t even asked if she was well. In one movement, he scooped her into his arms.

“’Tis only a scratch,” she protested.

He didn’t care. One drop of her blood spilled was too much. Not to mention he didn’t mind having her in such a position. She weighed little and her supple form moulded perfectly to him. When she slipped her arms around his neck, he almost forgot they’d just been battling wolves.

By some miracle, Alrek made it down the hill at a quick pace without stumbling. Perhaps the knowledge that he held the most precious treasure of all in his arms drove him to step swift and sure. He pushed open the door with his back and didn’t release her until he had laid her on the bed. Using the dull fire to light a candle, he placed it on the table near the bed and urged Ilisa to lie back.

“Let me look,” he commanded.

“A mere scratch, Alrek,” she insisted but lifted her skirts.

Sure enough, several red streaks marred her milky skin. Alrek shook his head and dabbed it with the sleeve of his shirt. “It isn’t deep,” he observed, “but you should not have been hurt at all. I should have reacted sooner.”

“Alrek,” she said softly, a hand to his, “you saved my life. I was foolish, you were right, but you saved me from paying for my folly.”

He grimaced, unable to let go of the feeling of having failed her. “Now we are even,” he said mirthlessly.

“We are.”

He let his fingers remain on her calf as he eyed the laceration. It wasn’t deep and didn’t look to be bleeding any further. He would however need to clean it. “Do not move.” Straightening, he set about lighting the fire and fetched some cloths and water. Ilisa barely stifled a whimper while he cleaned the wound but her meek behaviour told him how ashamed she was of her rash decision.

The pounding of his heart began to slow, the fear ebbed away. Soft skin beneath his fingertips and the way she watched him seared his senses. Smoke whirled around them, mimicking the thickening of the air in his lungs. He glanced at her again and paused. Jaw clenched, he made a decision. He was staying.

He dropped the bowl and cloth on the floor and skimmed a finger over the soft curve of her calf, his gaze locked onto hers. Her eyes rounded, lips parted. A silent understanding ran between them and he saw everything he felt reflected in those pale eyes. Love, desire, desperation.