The Heart's Warrior (7 page)

As Kerstin listened to her father and King Hakon

make plans for war, she knew she couldn’t wed Jonas Sigurdsson, even if it meant peace.

A subtle smile curled Jonas’s harsh mouth. He must be pleased to see his plans come to fruition. She would be in his power. His brows lowered and his gaze scoured her body, then moved to her face and hair. He assessed her!

Even now, he was eager to dominate her.

The thought terrified her. Fear filled her lungs with every breath she took. The room closed in on her, stifling.

She couldn’t remain here any longer. Bolting to her feet, she faced her father, not caring that she interrupted him and the king. Thralls served great platters of roasted meats, yellow cheese, bread and creamy butter. Though she hadn’t eaten since the day before, Kerstin had no appetite. She felt sickened—heartbroken.

“I will
not
wed Jonas Sigurdsson.”

She whispered her defiant words, but they rang

throughout the hall. The clatter of eating stilled. Silence reigned in its stead. A tremor of premonition filled the room as the men stared at her. Knut rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. An act of loyalty, but he was only one man. Scores of angry men who would force her to wed Jonas surrounded Kerstin.

Her father’s warriors looked at her with sympathy, but their mouths thinned with disapproval. They couldn’t be pleased to give her to a Sigurdsson, a little girl they had watched grow into a woman, but they would do it—

for peace.

“You will do as I say, daughter,” Alrik said in a hoarse voice.

Maybe Alrik had a plan. Some way to protect her

from this fate until her brothers had time to return and 41

Leigh Bale

lend their aid. She gazed at his stony eyes.

“And what of my oath to Elezer?” she asked.

King Hakon lowered his brows in a stormy glare and Kerstin forced herself not to quail.

“You dare defy my word, Kerstin of Moere?” Hakon’s mouth tightened and his rumbling voice sent tremors to her bones.

Kerstin tensed. Hakon was king, but he held no

power here in Moere, unless he took it by strength. His boldness infuriated her and she wanted to scream at him for his audacity. She wanted to kick him in the knee and pull out his beautiful, blond hair.

“What do your troubles have to do with me?” she

cried. “You have no right to demand I wed a man I can never love. A man who hates me in return.”

Conscious of Jonas’s heavy glare, she would not be swayed. By Viking law, a woman had rights of her own—

the right to refuse Jonas Sigurdsson.

“Sigurd will not lend me the aid of his army without this marriage,” the king replied.

Swallowing, Kerstin looked at Sigurd. Both he and Jonas had stood up, almost the same size, Jonas a hand taller.

“Why?” Kerstin asked Sigurd. “Why do you demand I marry your son? I don’t even know him.”

Even as Kerstin asked the question, she knew the

answer. Sigurd hated her and wanted to punish her for killing Bjorn. Revenge drove him to do this dreadful thing.

“Why?” she asked again.

“Because I want you.”

Jonas’s low rumble filled the room. The heavens

shook and thundered from without. Kerstin heard the rain begin anew, pounding the roof of the hall with a vengeance. It mimicked the beat of her heart.

Kerstin thought she imagined a subtle softening in Jonas’s eyes, yet she doubted his compassion. “You want me so you can use me. You will kill me if you can.”

He didn’t deny her words. Their gazes clashed and Kerstin stood transfixed for several painful heartbeats.

Jonas showed a puzzled frown. He was cold and

heartless—a beast.

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Jonas opened his mouth to speak, but Sigurd cut him off. “You needn’t fear my son. Your death would mean his death. The king has ordered it.”

“Jonas will keep you safe,” King Hakon reiterated as he relaxed back in his chair and fingered the jeweled dagger sheathed at his side. “He’s no longer angry with you for attacking us. With time, I have no doubt he will come to appreciate such a spirited woman as his wife.”

Aye, when sheep could fly. Cold dread squeezed her chest. Once Hakon defeated the Eirikssons, what then?

Would he still offer protection to her? Or would she be on her own, at the mercy of her brutal husband?

No matter what, Elezer would be lost to her, along with all happiness.

“Father, please.” Desperation thickened her voice.

Alrik’s face remained stony. “You will do as you are told.” Blinking back tears, Kerstin swallowed and took a halting step toward her father. “You would betray me to our enemy?”

He refused to meet her gaze, showing her his

shoulder. Kerstin stumbled forward, holding one hand to her throat as tears of pain burned the backs of her eyes.

He shunned her!

Was it for the king’s benefit, and also the watching men? He showed them his strength and mastery in his own home, over his own daughter. To make Kerstin

understand he would not change his mind.

With a choking cry, she whirled about and pushed

her way through the wall of men and ran out of the hall.

They let her go and she dashed through the pouring rain, racing through the palisade gates and up the winding path that led over the fields and into the forest. It was difficult to see in the dark, but she knew the way. Rain pelted her, cold, and stinging. Her breath came harsh and painful until her lungs burned and her stomach tightened into knots.

Slipping in the mud, she fell to her knees, then

scrambled up and ran again. Shrubs and tree limbs snagged her hair and clothing, pulling her back, ruining her lovely dress, scratching her face.

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Leigh Bale

Beneath the protective shelter of pine, she fell to her hands and knees beside her mother’s grave. Laying her head against the large boulder marking the spot, she sobbed in agony. Though protected from the storm by the thick foliage around her, her soaked gown caused her to quiver with cold.

Long minutes passed before the rain ceased and her sobbing slowed to pathetic hiccoughs. Her eyes felt puffy and scratchy. She heard the soft tread of someone approaching and saw the flicker of a lighted torch. Joy speared her. Her father hadn’t forsaken her after all and would now soothe her fears. Her heart leapt as she turned her face away and wiped her tears so he might not think her weak.

She heard his breathing at her back and felt his

presence close behind. Her voice shook as she spoke. “Do you remember when I was a little girl, how you told me I would marry a strong, mighty warrior one day? Someone to give me fine sons and daughters? Someone I could respect?”

With no reply, she continued speaking. “Elezer is fine and good, Father. He loves me, as I love him. I know you wouldn’t betray me by giving me to a savage man who seeks my death. Jonas believes I’m a witch.”

She gave a croaking laugh. “He doesn’t know how I tried to save his brother. Even as Bjorn lay dying from poison, I administered atropine, an effective antidote. But I was too late. He died in my arms and I cried afterward. I would have married him. He was a handsome, strong man like his brother, but he wasn’t fierce or cruel like the Beast of Hawkscliffe.”

Still no response, only the thunder and blazing

lighting as it jagged across the sky. Wondering why her father remained silent, she whirled about and gasped.

“A touching story.”

Mortification burned her cheeks as she looked up into the fierce eyes of Jonas Sigurdsson. He had followed her, not her father. Even now, when Alrik knew how

distressed she was, he had not come to placate her. He sent the Beast instead.

“Don’t stop now, Kerstin. I would hear the rest of your tale.”

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45

She gave him a hateful look. “After Bjorn’s death, many believed I killed him. I felt bereft, facing the accusing stares and suspicion of our people. Many called me a witch when all I wanted to do was help them. Elezer soothed my fears and offered me a strong shoulder to lean upon. Our friendship soon turned to love.”

The memories of that difficult time and Elezer’s

unwavering support made her tremble. “When Elezer asked for my hand, the proposal filled me with joy, yet my father refused him. A month passed and twice more Elezer asked to marry me. Finally, my father agreed and I was so happy.”

“I am sorry I must be the one to destroy your joy.”

Kerstin stood and brushed away the wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks. “I don’t believe you.”

Jonas came toward her and she backed up until she felt the coarse trunk of a tree at her back and had nowhere to run. She thought of dodging to his side, to escape him. It would be futile. He would catch her.

“And I don’t believe you are innocent of killing my brother.”

****

the morrow and fury twisted his gut. In the hall, he had felt sympathy for her and respect when she stood up to her father and the king. Though she was a mere woman, she challenged them all even though they could sentence her to death for doing so.

She had faced him in battle, offering to heal the Beast. She was a puzzle, intriguing but deadly. He could not comprehend the hold she had over him. He barely knew her, yet she drew him to her like a moth to flame.

He must resist her enchantment or be burned by her fire.

When she had run from the hall, he followed, to

reassure her he meant her no harm. She wanted more than a hollow marriage to a savage man and he couldn’t blame her. No woman wanted him. Soon, she would see his horrid scars and cringe as other women did.

He had been angry earlier that day, he couldn’t deny it. Discovering who she was stunned him. She shot him with an arrow. A woman! Since then, he had watched her closely and discovered that he wanted her, whatever the 45

Leigh Bale

cost. But he must be careful lest he be taken in by her beauty and give her the power to destroy him. Jonas tried to tell himself that he didn’t care if she hated him. He wanted sons and daughters, a family of his own, but he also longed for affection in his marriage.

He would never have it. Not from this witch.

Holding the torch higher, he peered at her red nose and the tears wetting her cheeks. Right now, she didn’t look regal or graceful and her misery didn’t seem contrived. He’d been shocked when her father told her of their marriage in such a public manner, without

preparing her beforehand. Alrik should have taken Kerstin’s feelings into consideration and spoken to her in private. It had been cruel to hurt her so callously.

When Alrik agreed to the match, Jonas began to hope again. To feel some small affection for this woman he would wed. How could a woman with so much courage resort to poisoning her betrothed? Jonas didn’t want to believe she murdered Bjorn, but many testified she had done the deed. Only a fool would believe her innocent of the crime.

“You are devious,” he said. “You knew I stood behind you and thought to speak pretty words that might turn me to your advantage.”

“That’s not true.” She shrank away from him, her

feet slipping in the mud.

Jonas advanced, determined not to let her sway him from the truth. “Remove your spell from me.”

The green of her eyes glittered in the night like a cat’s. Their color intrigued him, so different from his own.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Of course she denied it. He wasn’t surprised. He

never expected her to admit to killing Bjorn, either.

He could take her now, and none would challenge

him. Kerstin belonged to him, their vows tomorrow a formality for the benefit of their people. Courage and loyalty were the two things Jonas respected more than anything else, but could he marry a woman who loved another man?

He must do his duty, but he would never allow

himself to desire Kerstin’s affection. He needed only what she brought to him. Her body, her lands and wealth, her 46

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father’s strength and the heirs she would provide. It would be enough.

Then, why did he long for more? Why did he feel so empty inside?

Lifting his arm, Jonas ignored Kerstin’s cringe and twined his hand in her coppery curls. Silk met the callused pads of his fingers as he wound the soft strands around them. She smelled warm and womanly, like

lavender after a spring shower.

Jonas leaned down and brushed his nose against her forehead, inhaling a deep breath. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Drawing back, he saw her eyes widen, then narrow, and he felt her tense against him. Her muscles coiled, ready to spring, like the yellow leopard he had seen in a cage in the city of Miklagaard. Pacing and impatient to be free.

“I want peace between us, Kerstin.” His request

disguised his feelings. Peace, but no trust.

“Never!”

She tried to thrust him away. He caught her hands in his own, holding her firm. How fragile she felt, vulnerable and feminine, but she was a warrior-woman. A witch who wanted his death and might yet achieve it. Though he fought hard to ignore it, he still felt the throb of her arrowhead lodged deep in his shoulder, imbedded in the bone. His men hadn’t been able to remove it.

King Hakon had suggested Jonas have Kerstin take

it out. Inwardly, he laughed at the idea. By Odin’s toenails, she would heal him right into a grave. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Kerstin.”

Her eyes crinkled. “How can you lie so easily?”

He met her look with a level gaze. “I don’t lie, but neither do I trust you.”

“I feel the same.” Drawing herself up, she glared at him, not appearing at all impressed by his efforts to console her. It irked him for he didn’t often stoop to offer comfort, especially to a woman.

“We will never be anything but enemies,” she said.

“I’ll hate you all my life, and I’ll fight you at every turn.”