They travelled many miles and the horse began to lather at the mouth, whinnying in pain. Rowan cursed under his breath as the animal faltered under them, knowing he could run it no further. He slowed, seeing a stream. He stopped when they reached it and got down, helping Ambryn slide from the horse’s back.
“Why do we stop?” Ambryn looked fearfully back in the direction they came. “Do you not worry they follow?”
Rowan said nothing, rubbing the horse’s thick neck with a grim expression as he led the animal to the river’s edge. Ambryn gasped to see him lead the horse into the water up to his hips. She watched in shock as he then cut the horse’s throat cleanly with his sword and pushed it under the water.
“Dear God! What have you done? Why did you kill it?” She watched, horrified as Rowan pushed to sink the dead animal under the water.
Rowan glared at her as he walked out of the water with his blood-drenched sword. “The horse could take no more. It grew lame. Do you suggest I leave it here for the tracker’s wolves to tear it apart?” At her terrified expression Rowan smiled without humor. “Yes, they use wolves to track us. They would smell the horse for certain. We can’t leave it here to wander about. It would probably only follow us. They would find us all the more quickly.”
Ambryn was humbled by his angry words, watching the majestic animal sinking under the water with a saddened expression. “What do we do now with no horse?”
Rowan’s face was grim as he wiped his sword clean on the bank. “I hope you can run in those long skirts. We have a few more miles until we reach the old monastery at the river’s mouth. We have only an hour to get there so we must run very fast.”
“I can run, do not worry of it,” Ambryn assured him and tied her skirts away from her feet, staring at her flimsy silk slippers ruefully before removing them and handing them to him to shove into his saddle bag over his shoulder.
“Don’t stop running until I do,” Rowan warned her harshly, his face grave. “You’re very life depends upon this, Ambryn. You heard all for yourself in Halfdene’s tent. If they catch us, they will kill me. They would take their time with you. It would not be pleasant for you, lady. If you are lucky Halfdene would seek your ransom and let you live. I cannot say what he will do.”
Ambryn could see by Rowan’s taut expression he had few hopes they would reach the monastery before they were overtaken. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him as they ran across the fields.
She ran as fast as she could to keep up with him, ignoring the pain in her side, trying to breathe when she became labored. Rowan appeared less winded than she as they continued on. It was growing darker. She could see her companion wasn’t pleased of it, frowning as he gazed up at the sky while they ran over the hills.
She didn’t dare look back or address the punishment to her feet as she stepped upon rocks and other sharp objects along the way. His terrifying version of what would happen to her if they were caught kept her running at his side.
Rowan was determined to make it to the monastery before nightfall. To lag or slow down would only ensure the Viking trackers caught up to them.
Ambryn didn’t know how much time elapsed. She was sure the final hour was almost upon them when she saw the outline of the crumbling stone structure high on the bluff in the distance to know they neared the coastal inlet of the Ouse River.
Rowan pushed her to keep running, grabbing her hand, urging her to keep up with him when she stumbled and would have fallen behind. She gasped hard, her chest burning. But still, she kept running, knowing her horrific fate should she stop.
Rowan slowed up once they reached the base of the bluff, holding his side until his breathing eased. She rested, wiping the sweat from her brow with her robe sleeve, looking back the way they came worriedly.
“We hide inside the ruin. I know a place underneath where the monk’s tombs reside. The smell of the rot might confuse the wolves. They will search for us at first light. You cannot make a sound or all is lost.”
Ambryn nodded and followed Rowan up the slope to the crumbling structure above them. Rowan used a tree branch to scatter their tracks in the dirt behind them as they entered the dilapidated remnants of the building. He scattered the dust they disturbed until he reached a large stone against the farthest wall. He pushed it aside and gestured below.
“The steps are there,” Rowan told her gruffly and pointed, seeing her look of revulsion to see the spider webs obscuring the opening. “So help me if you scream I will gag you, Ambryn. We have no choice. The creatures down there are harmless to the ones behind us.” He swiped aside the webs in annoyance, gesturing for her to go below.
Ambryn swallowed hard to see the heavy cobwebs in her path, imagining the spindly spiders that made them as she gingerly pushed them aside and stepped downward to find purchase upon narrow stone steps leading below. She looked back at him hopefully.
“Are you coming too, Rowan?”
Rowan grinned down at her look of fear. “I’m right behind you. Do not be frightened, lady.”
Ambryn watched Rowan continue to scatter dust until he stepped backward into the opening in the rock, shoving the heavy stone back into place over the opening and cutting out all light. He spoke very softly, telling her the short amount of steps leading to the tombs below.
Ambryn allowed his voice to guide her, feeling breathless and nearly hysterical. She cringed to hear the scurrying of creatures sharing this limited space with them. She kept climbing downward, more confident as they neared the bottom.
She coughed from the dust, heavy and thick in the air, the rotting mustiness of the place making her cover her mouth and nose. She waited for Rowan to descend, trying not to think about anything else.
Rowan grabbed her arm in the darkness, pulling her with him as he made his way down the low stone corridor to their right, feeling along the walls to guide them. Finally, they came to an opening in the wall. He pulled her with him inside. They sat upon the stone floor of an ancient monk’s tomb, listening to the sounds above them with heads craned upward.
Ambryn’s eyes soon adjusted to the dark. She could see nothing more than Rowan’s outline as he reclined against the wall. “Are they here yet?” She whispered closely to his ear.
“They have no reason to be quiet, Ambryn. You will hear them all too soon. These trackers are very cunning. They were trained by me when I was in Ivar Ragnarsson’s army. All of them would want the satisfaction of besting me.”
“How long were you in Ivar’s army?” Ambryn whispered curiously, trying to take her mind off what was happening above.
Rowan looked over at her, shrugging his broad shoulders. “I was a foundling, abandoned on the streets alongside the Oslo fjord in Norway. I was fostered at Ivar’s longhouse there with Joran Ivarsson when we were but small boys. I was thirteen summers when I began to fight in Ivar’s army. I stayed with him for five years before going out on my own. That was over seven years ago.”
“Where are your parents?” Ambryn was shocked to know he was orphaned and left to fend alone in the warlord’s household. “Did they die?”
“I never knew of them, only that I was abandoned. I was kept by a drunkard for a time that beat me until he grew tired of feeding me. He left me at Ivar’s longhouse. I haven’t seen the man since. You could say he was the only sire I ever knew.”
Ambryn heard the tinge of bitterness in his voice. “How is it you came to be a mercenary?”
“I grew tired of Ivar’s constant raiding and making war on innocents,” Rowan replied mockingly, disproving her earlier accusations. “I realized I could make more coin on my own with my sword talents, such as they are.”
“And your men,” she pressed him. “They were all once in Ivar’s army too?”
“All but the younger ones,” Rowan told her. “We all left Ivar’s service together. Jasyk and Aldan joined us just a few years ago.”
“How do you ever begin to find such work?” Ambryn was fascinated with the life he led and eager to hear more.
“It usually finds us,” Rowan replied quietly. “War is but one way. Then you have your petty land disputes between Viking tribes. They are always bickering and fighting. The disputes in the foreign isles are also aplenty. We are never at a loss for battles, my lady.”
“Halfdene told you all that you seek. What do you mean to do with me now?”
“You are the great White Wolf of Whiltshire’s daughter,” Rowan said wearily in the gloomy darkness surrounding them, folding his arms across his chest. “Make no mistake the ransom for you will be a much larger. For all this trouble you have caused me, I will ask for more than I intended for you. Thrice your weight in gold should suffice.”
Ambryn grumbled under her breath as she nursed her sore feet in the dark. She wrapped them with a bit of cloth she tore from her sleeve. She bit back a fiery retort of what she thought of his plans when she heard the growling of wolves.
Rowan placed a finger to her lips to silence her. They sat quietly as they listened.
“They’ve made camp for the night by the sounds of it,” Rowan whispered sourly after several minutes. “If we are in luck their group has split up at the stream.”
“Why would they split up?”
“The wolves smelled the horse’s blood I dripped on the bank. It confused them. The trackers split up thinking we go north, back to York. The rest come here knowing this is the closest place to meet my ship.”
“How do you know any of this for certain?” Ambryn kept her voice to a whisper in the darkness, a note of panic in her tone at his arrogance.
“I did train them to think that way,” Rowan answered her shortly. “The others will follow the stream for a time and meet back here with the rest of the group when the wolves lose our scent. We can only hope those up there grow restless and go north along the coast on the morrow. Helmet should be here in a day.”
“How can you be so sure they will do that?” Ambryn couldn’t keep the pessimism from her tone. “You can’t know that!”
“I can be sure of nothing, Ambryn,” Rowan said sharply under his breath. “I can only hope their greed in catching us blinds them to all else. They will search north for us if they grow bored waiting for the others.”
Ambryn was at once apologetic for their sad circumstances. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth sooner. The fault is mine.”
“Was another marriage really so bad, Ambryn?” His chiding tone grated on her nerves.
“I have been married to men of my father’s choosing for almost six years,” Ambryn stated coldly, indignation heavy in her voice. “I watched them all die one by one taking whatever hope I had with them, only to be married away soon after without even time to grieve their loss. You are used to seeing men die. I am not.”
“Who is to say your father won’t find you a more sturdy Englishmen the next time around?” Rowan laughed delightedly at his own jest and soon sobered. “You’re right. There are none to be had in this land.”
“Are you married?” Ambryn couldn’t avoid asking the question, knowing most of his men were. Somehow the thought of him having a wife bothered her.
“No, I leave no wife behind. Or even a child that I know of,” Rowan replied brusquely. “I vowed never to fall into that trap as some of my men. I have to listen to their tales of all they endure from heckling wives to know it is not for me. And it is hardly fair to a woman.”
“Has no woman ever been special to you?” Ambryn persisted to learn more of her captor.
Rowan made a noise of disgust. “Would it be crude for me to say they have all been special in their own way, lady? Some pleased me more than others. I’ll not say I don’t have my favorites among them that come to mind.”
“Like Daria? I’m certain you dwell on her after her betrayal. And Cera? She would bed down with anyone to avoid more work.” Ambryn’s waspish tone made him chuckle aloud.
“Why all of this interest in my women?” His tone was mocking. “Why do you care whose skirts I get underneath as long as they are not yours?”
“You seem to enjoy going from woman to woman,” Ambryn observed and was quick to defend her snide comments, blushing at how jealous she sounded to her own ears.
“I do, and it is quite enjoyable,” Rowan goaded her, smiling widely in the darkness to hear her indignant gasp. “Why deny myself such pleasure when there are so many willing women eager to avail themselves to me?”
“With no thought of anything more?” Ambryn gave an exasperated sigh of disgust. “Do you care for none of them? Do you not ever want more than just to satisfy your baser urges?”
Rowan chuckled wickedly, enjoying himself immensely. “My baser urges are quite great, lady. I need many women to satisfy me. One wouldn’t do for me, I think.”
Ambryn’s inward gasp was enough for him to quit the play.
“Once, there was a woman who made me rethink all and wish for more,” Rowan began softly before he sighed in annoyance. “She loved another already. I didn’t have a chance to win her heart. It was for the best that she refused me.”
Ambryn was stunned to think any woman could resist Rowan. “This woman you cared for—was she very beautiful?”
“She is very beautiful. But that wasn’t all that I saw in her.”
“What did you see?” Ambryn hung upon his every word, trying to imagine the woman Rowan once loved in her mind’s eye, feeling piqued to feel a bit of jealousy hearing the reverence in his tone.
“I think it was the fact I wanted something I couldn’t have, couldn’t begin to fight to attain. She looked right through me and wanted only him. I could have never won her heart should I have tried,” Rowan admitted quietly in the darkness. “Maybe that is the only reason I loved her at all.”
“Where is she now?”
“Where she belongs. With the man she loves,” Rowan replied without bitterness. “She is happy. It pains me to know it, but not for the reasons you would think.” He paused to reflect upon his next words. “I knew I could never make her as happy as he. I would have tried, but I would have failed. I would have only disappointed her. She would have tired of being a mercenary’s woman had I forced the issue. And that is why I need no woman. I take what I want from them and both of us are happy of it. I need nothing more from them. I do them a favor by going on my way.”
Ambryn felt for his melancholy, reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortingly. “The woman you cared for will grow fat and bored one day. She might rethink her choices then, mayhap.”
Rowan chuckled appreciatively. “You try to make me feel better of it? I cannot picture it in my mind but my thanks for your taking my side.”
Ambryn grinned in the dark, enjoying the easy banter between them. Rowan was rifling through his saddle bag and pulled out the flagon of wine. She heard him uncork it and take a long pull from it before handing it to her.
“I don’t usually partake of spirits,” Ambryn said indecisively as she accepted the flagon from him. “It is said to be a sin.”
Rowan nudged it to her lips. “Tomorrow we could die a horrible death, lady. Partake of it, by all means, and sin as you would. By the gods, you have earned it.”
Ambryn drank the rich red wine, coughing behind her hand as she handed it back to him. Rowan drank a bit and handed it back. She took it without argument, wanting to dull the fear that was nipping at her consciousness to know this might be her last night to live. Soon she was feeling quite giddy and lightheaded, giggling under her breath. Her former intentions came to mind in regard to her handsome captor. She hiccoughed as she strived to gain courage.
“I feel most strange all of a sudden, Rowan.”
“You are becoming quite drunk, lady,” Rowan replied with an amused chuckle. “Not that I approve of women indulging, but you deserve some respite.”
“You think we will be found, don’t you?” Her eyes tried to seek his expression in the dark but she saw nothing before her face but blackness.
Rowan said nothing for a time, drinking from the flagon before handing it back to her. She drank deeply, barely tasting the wine. Finally, he broke the silence, speaking in the barest of whispers.
“I would ask you what you want me to do should we be found. I will take your life if you ask it of me,” Rowan whispered softly and took the flagon from her hands to drink. “I would spare you what they will do to you. I will be quick of it. You will feel no pain, lady.”
Ambryn was strangely touched by Rowan’s offer to kill her before their Viking pursuers found them. She drank more of the wine when he handed it back to her, feeling wondrously lightheaded as she leaned into her captor’s side, having other thoughts.
“I appreciate your offer to kill me, Rowan. I might even accept it, but tonight, I wish to think only of living.” Her hand reached for his in the darkness. “And for now, you can pretend I’m that woman you once loved. I will pretend you are my next husband that I will never meet in this life. I wish to have you lay with me before we die.”
Rowan squeezed her hand in his. “The drink is doing its talking for you. You know not what you ask for. I am hardly the sort of man you would choose to lay with, lady.”
“You appear to be the only one here at the moment. And there are those great base urges of yours that we spoke of,” Ambryn pointed out and hiccoughed softly, giggling as her head rolled upon his shoulder. “I’m hardly ugly to look upon, Viking. You aren’t doing the asking. I must insist.”
Rowan laughed softly at her outrageous last request, his arm drawing her closer against his chest. “You will only hate yourself for it. I would not take such advantage of you. You are drunk and not thinking clearly. The answer is no, lady. Do not take it to heart. I have had my thoughts of you as well.”
Ambryn was in the throes of the wine. She was determined to wear Rowan down. She refused to die a virgin. She took him by surprise, by turning and straddling him where he sat. Her lips met his clumsily in the darkness, their noses bumping. Rowan tried to push her off but she was more than determined to have her way with him.