Sins of the past were never forgotten. Father Cuthbert had spent the greater part of Annis’s early childhood trying to make her understand that. To her eternal shame, Annis of Glannoventa had never paid the old man much attention. He had lectured and made her stand primly against the wall of the abbey to listen. Her legs had gone stiff and her back had ached, but none of his efforts had made her truly understand. She had happily continued to wreak havoc on his sense of order and decorum at each lecture’s conclusion.
It was not until this very night, standing in the shadows of a seedy tavern near the sea, that Annis finally appreciated the sentiment. With a dagger she was prepared to use sitting heavy in the belt at her waist, she wasn’t in any position to ask for divine guidance. Nevertheless, Annis sent up a prayer as she checked one last time to make certain the blade was hidden in the folds of her cloak. The cool metal greeted her hand, the filigree work on the hilt threatening to cut into the soft flesh of her palm if she squeezed it too hard. Though it was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, it was meant for protection. It had proven its worth many times over, most recently two years past.
She closed her eyes against the memory of that long-ago day in Maerr. There had been more blood than she had ever seen in her life. So much blood that the smell had haunted her for months and she had locked the dagger away in the armoury, never to be seen again.
Until tonight.
Tonight, she had taken it out in the hope she would not be forced to use it. If only her target would co-operate. The Norseman stood ten paces across the tavern from her. A tankard of ale sat before him on the table as he looked out across the crowded room. The fur cloak fastened at his shoulders was thrown back, intentionally revealing a malicious-looking pair of blades at his hips. She had no doubt that a longer blade would be found strapped to his back. They were harsh reminders of her fate should she fail.
The tavern was filled to overflowing with men from the ship that had arrived earlier. The same ship that had brought the Norseman to their shore. She was forced to brush against a few as she went past. This garnered her looks, because she clearly was not a serving girl. Biting the inside of her lip to keep her nerves at bay, she kept her eyes on the man.
His profile was strong, showing a straight nose and moderately square jaw. He was broad shouldered with dark hair that shimmered gold where the firelight touched it. Up close, he was larger than she had originally believed him to be. It wasn’t a burly strength as much as one forged in battle, with lean muscle and solid brawn, which made it all the more dangerous. This was a man who knew how to fight.
She was a few steps away from him when she caught his eye and he turned his head to look at her, stopping her on the spot. His eyes were blue with a quiet intensity that seemed to see her for what she was: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A deep groove formed between his brows in a way that made her think he did not smile very often. Thank goodness there was no cruelty lurking in his features, only a solemnity that said he was not one to suffer fools. She might have liked him for it had she not been there to imprison him.
His rugged handsomeness made it easier than she had expected to give him a smile she hoped was sensual and inviting, her ruse to get close to him. Fighting to control the trembling in her hands, Annis pushed her hood back far enough that he could clearly see her features while hoping to keep the rest of her hidden from the crowd. There was always the chance that someone would recognise the auburn of her hair.
‘Good evening,’ she said, and pushed her way to his side, her hip brushing his as she rested an elbow on the time-worn wood of the high table. The Norseman shifted backwards, but not far enough to put any real space between them.
His movement made his scent waft over to her and she was surprised at how appealing she found it. It was a combination of clean male sweat laced with woodsmoke and an undercurrent she couldn’t quite name. Soap of some kind, she would guess. A quick glance confirmed that the short hairs at the nape of his neck curled with dampness from a recent bath. Catching his eye again, she gave him a small smile and tried to think of something witty to say.
Now that she was here and this was happening, she found herself faltering. He was staring at her profile and she could feel his gaze on her. It was like standing before a serpent and waiting to see if it would strike. Her breath threatened to lodge in her throat, but she pushed it out and took another one in. All the while she reminded herself that the Norseman did not know that she was his enemy. She could not appear meek or he would never follow her outside.
With that in mind, she forced her hand to move to his forearm as she leaned closer to him to be heard over the din of the conversations going on around them. The solid strength under her palm caused a flicker of unease in her belly.
‘The road was quite dusty and I am parched. I would be ever so grateful for an ale.’ She grimaced internally at the words. They came across as needy. He would never follow that sort of woman outside.
His frown didn’t ease, but he raised a hand and signalled to the barmaid. The girl had been awaiting the signal, perhaps a bit too obviously for Annis’s comfort, and hurried over to place a tankard down with a murmured reply. Annis drew a coin from her drawstring purse, but the Norseman was faster and tossed a coin on to the counter.
‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at him as she wrapped a hand around the tankard, letting her gaze linger on his eyes before dropping to his lips in a rehearsed move. She was surprised to find them well formed and lush, neither too thick nor too thin for her liking. They made a perfect bow. Strange how she had never noticed male lips before. Had Grim’s mouth been thin or wide? She was ashamed that she didn’t know. Certainly, a few years should not be enough to make her forget her own husband?
‘I have a seat for you if you want it,’ said one particularly crude man from a nearby table as he gestured to his lap. The salt encrusting his patchy beard and thinning hair marked him as a sailor, but his wiry frame had her wondering how the first strong gale did not send him hurtling into the sea.
‘You are too kind, but I prefer my seats to have more brawn.’ She turned her back on the table as the men broke out into a roar of inebriated laughter.
The Norseman’s lips twitched as he brought his ale up for a drink. She found herself relaxing the tiniest bit at his approval. Giving him an amused look, she said, ‘You can understand why I chose a place at your side.’ To be fair, at his side was the only place she could have gone had she truly been a traveller passing through. He gave off such a feeling of danger that the crowd naturally gave him a wider berth, leaving the space next to him free.
‘Are you travelling alone?’ he asked. His voice was pleasantly low and smooth for someone who was supposed to be her enemy.
She pretended to take a drink of her ale, letting a little of the bitterness touch her tongue. The ale had been laced with poppy and valerian, as had his ale which he had nearly finished. Her plan had been to press him to drink hers after he had finished his own. To her chagrin, he didn’t seem to be particularly affected by the combination of herbs, yet.
‘If you mean to ask if I am with a man, I am a widow.’ She had decided she would do better with lying if she could stay as close to the truth as possible. ‘I do have servants with me.’
He glanced at the door, then back at her. ‘Perhaps you should have sent one in here in your stead.’
Her natural indignation made her bristle. ‘I can take care of myself.’
It was the wrong thing to say. She had come in here expecting to play a ruse, to pretend to be a seductress to lure him outside into an assignation. Barring that, she would play the helpless widow in need of his help. Antagonising him would not get her far. She smiled at him to soften the words.
‘That is obvious.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the man she had offended. The sailor had made a move to rise, but one of his friends had pulled him back into his seat. Whether he meant to come over and make her sorry for embarrassing him in front of his friends, or if he was simply attempting to totter off into the night, she did not know.
Turning his attention back to her, the Norseman asked, ‘Do you often travel alone, taking care of yourself?’
‘You ask many questions for a man whose name I do not know. Do you travel alone?’
His gaze touched her face, stroking over her brow and then down to her mouth before settling on her eyes again. It was reminiscent of the seductive way she had looked at him just moments before and it made something exciting flicker to life in her belly.
‘Sometimes,’ he said and it was a moment more before she realised he was answering her question.
How was she so terrible at this? Before she could gather her thoughts, he threw back the last of his ale and said, ‘Be careful who you allow to purchase your ale. He might expect some sort of repayment.’ The tankard echoed with a hollow thump when he set it down.
She tensed, certain that he was about to walk away and she would miss her opportunity. They had failed in their attempt to find out where he had secured lodgings. It was entirely possible he would go upstairs or bed down in the common room and she would not get him alone. Her mind swirling with the possibility of failure, she placed her hand on his arm again. ‘Were my answers repayment enough or were you expecting more?’
Annis had never played the seductress in her life, not even with her husband, but she had to do it. Her thumb stroked against the inside of his wrist. She allowed her gaze to trace lazily across his features, as if she were anticipating him asking for more.
Leaning down to be closer to her, the Norseman spoke and his breath brushed across her cheek. ‘Finish your ale, woman, before you take on more than you can handle.’
‘You never answered my question.’ When he raised a brow, she asked again. ‘Are you alone?’ It was a valid question. She needed to know if anyone would miss him. Cedric and his men hadn’t yet been able to figure out if he was travelling with companions.
‘Am I with a woman?’ He tossed her response back at her with a teasing gleam in his eyes. ‘There is no woman.’
‘Not even at home?’
The glimmer of dark humour flickered out. ‘I have no home.’
‘Then you’ve come to Glannoventa to stay?’
He shook his head and glanced to the table where the men’s voices had grown louder. ‘Passing through.’
Before she could respond to that, someone dragged the hood down off her head. She turned to face a man she did not recognise. He was likely a fisherman. The stench of fish rose off him and a few scales clung to his shirt sleeve. Instead of letting her go, he twisted the fabric of the hood in his fist. Her palm itched to grab the dagger at her hip, but she didn’t want to reveal its presence.
Towering over her while giving her a lascivious grin, he asked, ‘You alone, wench?’
‘Release my cloak.’ Her words came out with the full authority she had accumulated over her years as the Lady of Mulcasterhas.
Both the fisherman and the Norseman paused in obvious shock. Her assailant recovered quickly and gave her a crude grin as he realised she must be alone since no one had stood up to challenge him. He opened his mouth to speak, but that was as far as he got before the Norseman stepped forward and grabbed him by his throat. A choking sound was the only thing she heard. She gasped at how quickly the Norseman had moved and she jumped back, dropping her ale on to the straw-covered floor.
Across the room, Alder, her most trusted warrior, stood, but she quickly shook her head to warn him away. The Norseman had things under control. The fisherman had released her and was now grabbing the Norseman’s arm with both hands to loosen his grip. The tips of his toes worked for purchase on the floor, but it was clearly a fight he was losing.
‘Leave here.’ The Norseman spoke with a calmness that belied the fact that he was in the process of strangling a man.
The man gave a jerky nod as well as he was able and found himself immediately released. He sank to the floor, gasping for breath, before finding his feet and disappearing through the crowd.
‘We need to go, too.’ The Norseman’s gaze took in the room, as if expecting the man’s friends to make themselves known.
She nodded and stepped over her fallen tankard as he took her arm to lead her outside. This was not how she had planned to get him to leave with her, but she would not argue if it got him out the door.
‘Where are you staying the night?’ he asked once they were outside. The tavern’s door closed behind them with a hearty thud, muffling the voices inside. He showed no intention of releasing her and she didn’t care. This was playing right into her plans of getting him alone.
The cold air caressing her face was a welcome change from the almost stifling heat inside. Her breath made a cloud of mist as she said, ‘I am not certain I should tell you.’
Tilting his head down, he asked, ‘Do you think I would save you inside the tavern only to ravish you now?’
‘Perhaps you simply do not like to share.’ Despite her words, she started walking down the cobblestone path that led through the village and past the docks and shops. A few of her men were waiting there where it was darker and no one could see them overtake him. A twinge of guilt pulled at the edge of her mind. It didn’t help that she was starting to like him a little.
‘Besides,’ she added with a smirk when he fell into step beside her, ‘you did not save me. I told you I was perfectly capable of handling myself.’
‘Yes, I heard your strongly worded request. It was terrifying.’
Despite herself, she laughed out loud at his dry tone. He spoke as if he was in on their game and more than happy to spar with her. ‘It was an order and a warning. Had he not listened, I would have followed up with a well-placed knee to his groin.’
‘He would have blocked you,’ he said as his gaze moved from one shadow to the next, alert to the possibility of an attacker. This man was a seasoned warrior and she would do well to not underestimate him.
To keep him talking and hopefully distract him from the fact that Alder almost certainly followed them, she asked, ‘Why do you think so?’
His hand tightened gently on her arm, careful not to hurt her, and he gestured to her clothing with his other one. ‘The wool of your skirts. They’re too heavy. He would have likely brought his own knee up faster than yours and, on the chance he could not due to his inebriated state, the blow would have been far less effective than you intended.’
Annis had lived in the household of her father-in-law since the age of eight. Having no surviving daughters of his own and a wife who had died soon after Annis’s arrival, Wilfrid had been at a loss as to how to raise a girl. But he was not a man given to defeat or neglect, so he had more or less raised her as one of his own sons. She had been allowed lessons in combat which had included blade skills and fighting. She had grown up confident in her ability to protect herself. Perhaps too confident, because she had never once considered that her heavier winter wool might be a hindrance.
‘I really do not think—’ Her words broke off as he grabbed her about the waist and whirled. She ended up with her back against the plaster wall of a shop that had long been closed for the night with him towering over her.
‘Try it.’ One corner of his mouth tilted in a dare.
She was suddenly very glad for the full moon above him. Though there was some cloud cover, the light that did break through was enough to allow her to see him. Her stomach gave a little flip of excitement at the way he looked at her. His gaze was hot and alive with excitement. Whether it was from his game or his interest in her, she didn’t know. ‘I cannot.’
‘Do it.’
‘I could hurt you.’
He gave a quick shake of his head and said with an infuriating grin, ‘You could never hurt me.’
It was a taunt, plain and simple, said to spur her into action. Part of her despised how easily she rose to the bait, while the other part of her simply wanted to prove him wrong. That turned out to be the stronger part, because she reared back and brought her knee up. He blocked her and twisted her so that her back was against his front, her hands pressed against the wall.
‘Do you see?’ he said against her ear.
A pleasant shiver ran down her neck. ‘I see.’ She gave a jerky nod as much to dislodge the unfamiliar feeling as to acknowledge him.
‘You would do much better to use your weapon straight away in situations like those.’
‘What if I don’t carry a weapon?’
She swallowed a gasp when his hand moved over her hip and to her waist. ‘But you do,’ he said, his fingers touching the hilt of the dagger.
Despite her misstep tonight, she was still confident that she could have levelled that man had she been pressed to do so. Instead of saying that, she turned in his arms to face him. A little surprised when he didn’t immediately release her, her words came out slightly breathlessly. ‘Why do you care?’
He stared down at her. ‘I don’t.’
She smiled as he was obviously lying. ‘I think you do.’
Her smile faded when his gaze slipped down to her mouth. The air between them changed immediately, as if even it was aware of what was happening between them and had slowed down to take notice, thickening and pressing in close. His grip had somehow softened at her waist even though he still held her quite firmly. And while his eyes were alert, there was a slumberous quality about them now as if he were thinking of what it would be like to kiss her.
Her lips parted as his head tilted the tiniest bit. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware of the echo of boots on cobblestone, but it hardly signified. Her mind went dim as he leaned closer, easily consuming her attention, unexpectedly wanting his kiss more than she had wanted anything in a very long time. Except at that moment, the clatter of swords and boots became too loud to ignore.
The Norseman whirled, keeping her at his back to face the men. A small part of her sighed in relief when she saw Alder and his men spread out before them in a half circle. A larger part of her bemoaned the fact that they had come at precisely the wrong time. A moment sooner and that almost kiss would not have happened. A moment later and she would at least know the pressure of his lips on hers.
‘Draw your dagger,’ the Norseman commanded without looking back at her. The whisper of his own twin blades being pulled from their leather sheaths accompanied his words.
She drew it slowly, as guilt once more made itself known. He didn’t know. He was bent on protecting her still, not even realising that she was about to betray him.
‘These men are not friends of that man at the tavern,’ she said.
He turned his head partially towards her while keeping them in his sight. ‘Thieves, then?’
She slipped away before he could react, moving towards the group. ‘Not thieves,’ she said, turning to face him.
He understood then. For one moment before the fury took over, the hurt of betrayal flashed in his eyes.
Alder took advantage of his distraction and cracked him across the back of his skull with the hilt of his blade. The Norseman crumbled to a heap on the stones.
Despite the fact that she told herself she did this to protect them all from him, watching him fall very nearly broke her heart.