"I c-cut it off!" Gwendolyn stammered, trying to stay calm despite the fierce beating of her heart. "S-see for yourself, Svein . . . tear my tunic if you must . . ." Sweet Jesu! she prayed fiercely. Protect me! She watched breathlessly as Svein's eyes moved from her face to her heaving chest. He laid his knife on the ground beside her, then took the linen fabric of her tunic in both his hands and ripped it easily from collar to hem. He gasped in surprise as her rounded breasts were bared to his stunned gaze.
Gwendolyn waited no longer. With every ounce of her strength she brought her knee up and drove it into his groin. Svein screamed in pain and doubled over on top of her, but she shoved him off roughly and scrambled to her feet. He lunged for her, but only managed to wrench the cloak from her shoulders before she was off and running along the bank of the fjord as fast as her legs would carry her. She breathed in great gulps of air that hurt her lungs, and her sides ached horribly, but she did not stop.
"Anora!" Svein shrieked, as he dragged himself to his feet. He snatched his knife from the ground and set out after her. His enraged cries could be heard even above the surging roar of the waterfall. They echoed off the steep sides of the mountains, over and over again. "Anora!"
Gwendolyn glanced over her shoulder, cold fear gripping her as she saw that he was narrowing the distance between them. Suddenly she slipped on the grass, wet from the mist of the waterfall, and fell heavily to the ground. For a moment she was stunned. She did not hear the thundering hooves fast approaching her from the direction of the settlement, nor the spirited snorting of a horse as it was reined in not far from her. She tried to get up, then felt herself lifted to her feet by strong arms.
"Nay!" she screamed, struggling wildly, thinking Svein had caught up with her. But she gasped in surprise, her breath caught in her throat, as she looked up into a pair of vivid blue eyes.
Chapter 41
"Stand behind me," Hakon muttered tersely, pushing her away as Svein ran swiftly toward them, brandishing his long knife in his hand.
Gwendolyn quickly did as she was told. Clutching her torn garment about her, she took several stumbling steps backward until she was well out of the way. She watched, wide-eyed, as Hakon drew his broadsword from the scabbard at his belt, then gripped it in front of him with both hands on the polished hilt. He stood tall and straight, his keen eyes never wavering from the grotesque figure approaching him.
Svein slowed his pace, then pulled up short a good twenty feet from Hakon. Sweat had stained his tattered clothes, and his dark hair and beard were matted and damp. His red-rimmed eyes looked from Hakon to Gwendolyn, then back again. He smiled, an evil, lopsided grin that was distorted into a grimace by the red scar that slashed down the left side of his face.
"So, I see you have your protector here, Anora," Svein sneered. He bowed mockingly. "A good day to you, Lord Hakon." He spat out those last words with obvious loathing. "Well, 'tis fine wi'me. When I finish with him, the outcome will be the same." His crazed eyes raked heatedly over Gwendolyn while he slowly walked forward. "I have waited a long time to savor what is mine. If your fine lord had na' seen fit to steal you from me, I would have felt your body writhe beneath me a long time ago!"
Gwendolyn shuddered visibly and backed up a few more steps. Even his voice made her flesh crawl. Try as she might, she could not still her trembling.
"Save your wild ravings, man," Hakon growled, his blue eyes glittering dangerously. "Come, your death awaits you." Hakon's words infuriated Svein. Suddenly he rushed forward, bellowing madly, his long knife poised in front of him. He lunged fiercely at Hakon, but he found only empty air as Hakon stepped swiftly out of his way. He charged once again, deadly intent in his pale eyes, only to be met by a swipe of Hakon's broadsword across his middle. He screamed in pain and fell to his knees, his eyes rolling as he clutched his stomach. Blood spurted from beneath his gnarled fingers.
"Mercy, Lord Hakon, mercy!" Svein shrieked in terrible fear. But there was to be no mercy. Hakon raised his broadsword above his head, his expression cold, implacable.
Svein's pale eyes widened in horror. Then he laughed, a bone-chilling, maniacal sound. "May the gods curse the rest of your day—"
The flashing blade of Hakon's broadsword sang through the air as it came down, severing Svein's head from his body in a spray of blood.
Gwendolyn gasped, closing her eyes to the gruesome sight. Nay, she could take no more of this brutal land! Repulsed and sickened by the awful carnage, her only thought was to flee from the savagery she had just witnessed, from Hakon and his blood-red sword . . . from everything!
She turned on her heel and took off running along the bank of the fjord, ignoring Hakon's repeated shouts for her to stop. Raging tears blinded her eyes and streaked her ashen cheeks. She stumbled and fell, crawling on her hands and knees until she could summon the strength to pick herself up and continue her mad dash along the grassy slope. Her chest heaved painfully, her labored breathing tore at her throat.
Hakon's face was grim as he quickly wiped the bloodied blade of his sword on the ragged shirt of Svein's beheaded corpse, then slipped it into his scabbard. He ran to his mighty black stallion and hoisted himself up into the saddle. Pulling tightly on the reins, he wheeled the horse about and dug his booted heels into its glistening flanks. The stallion neighed loudly, tossing its proud head, then set off across the bank at a gallop.
Gwendolyn heard the pounding of hooves hitting the earth behind her, but she did not slow her pace. She raced on desperately, her heart beating fiercely against her chest. Suddenly Hakon reined in his stallion in front of her, startling her. She turned and ran back the other way. He caught up with her again, this time throwing his leg over the saddle and sliding to the ground. She turned abruptly, but not quickly enough. As she tried to run in the opposite direction, he took a flying leap and caught her about the waist
"Nay, leave me be!" Gwendolyn screamed, pommeling him with her clenched fists as she tried to break free of his hold. But it was too late. They tumbled on the ground together in a wild frenzy of flailing arms and legs, rolling over and over down a steep incline to the very edge of the grassy bank. Hakon caught her just before she went over the side into the icy waters of the fjord and pinned her arms above her head with one strong hand. She struggled mightily against him, kicking her slender legs and tossing her head from side to side. But he caught her chin with his other hand so that she faced him, then brought his lips down upon hers with crushing fury.
Gwendolyn gasped in breathless surprise. She ceased her struggles and suddenly lay still in his arms, overwhelmed by the fiery passion of his kiss. All thought of resisting him fled from her mind, and she met him measure for measure with bittersweet abandon. It seemed as if there was nothing else in the world but Hakon, herself, and the raging kiss they shared.
Hakon tore his mouth away and looked down at her, his blue eyes searching her face as if he were seeing her for the first time. "Gwendolyn," he murmured huskily, savoring the sound of her name upon his tongue. "Gwendolyn." He traced a finger gently down her cheek and across the soft curve of her lips. "You seem determined to try me, little one. I had gone to the hall to tell you all was in readiness for the voyage, and I learned from your sister that you had not yet returned from your walk. When I found that you had eluded your guards, and had gone out alone. . ." He shuddered, a tortured sigh escaping his throat. "To think I might have been too late!"
He bent his head and kissed her, tenderly at first, but then growing more possessive. "Nay, I cannot let you go," he whispered vehemently. "I love you, Gwendolyn . . . love you . . ." Gently he kissed away the tears that streaked her face, then released her arms and crushed her to him in an impassioned embrace.
Stunned, Gwendolyn exulted in her heart at his fervent words of love. Yet she could not help wondering why he had so cruelly denied her own admission those two weeks past. She sighed, wrapping her arms tightly about him. Whatever the reason, at least there was no longer any deception or pretense between them. All thoughts were soon chased from her mind, replaced by delicious sensation as Hakon's mouth blazed a trail of molten kisses down her creamy throat. His strong hands pulled aside the torn edges of her tunic, baring her perfectly rounded breasts to his scorching touch.
"It has been so long," he murmured thickly, breathing in the heavenly fragrance of her silver-blond hair, savoring the silky feel of her skin. "Too long . . ." His fingers found a nipple, taut and hardened by the cool breeze. He plied the pink-crested nub with deft, featherlight strokes, while his teeth nibbled at a delicate earlobe.
Gwendolyn moaned softly, writhing under his touch. It seemed her breasts were so much more sensitive now than before. She gasped in surprise as his hot mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue flicking a moist circle of flame around her raised nipple. "M-my lord!" she exclaimed softly, pulling away. "Surely someone will see us here! We are so close to the settlement!"
Hakon lifted his head, a smile fighting his handsome features, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He chuckled lustily. "So what if they do? No one will question the Jarl of Sogn!" At the shocked expression on her beautiful face, he laughed and rose to his feet, holding out his hands to her. "Come with me, Gwendolyn. I will find us a soft, secluded bed for our pleasure."