The Shipwreck (12 page)

“He left, Mama,” Kimmie sobbed.  “We were playing…and he left.”

Avril wavered between humiliation and rage.  How she’d been so gulled, she didn’t know.  But now she cursed her stupid trusting heart.  She’d been right from the beginning.  She should never have trusted a Viking.

“Make him come back, Mama,” Kimbery pleaded as she wrapped her arms around Avril’s neck, tears streaming down her face.

Avril’s heart felt like a lump of lead.  Brandr must have tricked her the entire time, making her believe he was decent, gentle, civil.  It made her sick to think she’d ever imagined he was in love with her.  It made her even more nauseous to remember what she’d let him do to her.

She’d believed him.  Kimbery had believed him.  He’d pretended that he was different from the berserkers who’d come before, that he was noble and honorable.  Yet he was no less a marauder, doing his damage and running off like a coward.

The brute had broken poor Kimbery’s heart.

“I want Da!” Kimmie wailed.

Avril gave her a comforting squeeze as tears welled in her own eyes.

But as she held her weeping daughter and tried to soothe her own frayed emotions, it wasn’t long before her hurt turned into anger and her anger into action.

Damn the Viking!  Who did he think he was to steal away like a thief in the night?  He owed her an explanation.  He owed Kimbery an explanation.  He’d been a father.  He knew how sensitive children were.  How dared he slink off out of Kimbery’s life without so much as a word of farewell?

By God, one way or another, she’d make him answer to her.

She gently swept Kimmie’s hair back from her sad little face and used her thumbs to wipe away the tears.

“Listen, Kimmie,” she said, “I’m going to go after him.  I need you to stay.  Do you understand?”

She nodded.

But the moment Avril went for her sword, Kimmie panicked.  “Nay, Mama, don’t hurt him!”

She frowned.  “I won’t.”  At least, she
hoped
she wouldn’t, though at the moment, the idea of running him through had its appeal.

“You promise?”

Avril didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep, but she knew Kimbery would be unmanageable if she didn’t.  “I promise…if you promise not to set foot outside the cottage.”

“I promise.”  Avril nodded in approval, and as she whirled to go, Kimmie added plaintively, “Bring him back home, Mama.”

Home.
  This wasn’t his home.  But she couldn’t deny, even after so few days, she too had begun to think of Brandr as part of her little family.

Without a word, she swept out the door and raced down to the water’s edge to catch up with her quarry.

Brandr didn’t realize he’d been followed until he felt something sharp jab him in the back.

“Hold it right there.”

He froze.  That was the point of her jeweled sword, no doubt.  He knew he should have taken it.  But how had she managed to find him?  He was a good mile down the shore from her cottage.

Glancing down, he realized the waves rushing over the sand had only partially covered his footprints.  They’d also completely covered the sound of her pursuit.

His shoulders sank.  He’d hoped to avoid a confrontation.  He’d hoped to escape quietly, letting Avril think he was a harmless coward like Loki—a knave who’d deserted her but wasn’t worth hunting down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Away.”

“Without a word?” she asked, clearly vexed.  “Without even saying goodbye?”  She poked him with the sword, and he flinched.  “How could you do that to…to a sweet little girl like Kimbery?”

Brandr could tell that Kimbery wasn’t the only one hurt by his desertion.  But he didn’t dare let Avril know how he really felt.  “She’ll get over it.”

His cold words hung on the air as a wave crashed on the rocks and hissed over the sand.

“Get over it?” she bit out.  “You.  Bloody.  Bastard.”

He clenched his jaw against a surge of guilt.

“She called you Da,” she said.

He closed his eyes against the pain.

“Damn you, Viking,” she muttered.  “I would have set you free.”

“I know.”

Behind him, she gasped.  “If you knew, then why did you sneak off like a robber?  Kimbery trusted you.”  Her voice broke.  “She…cared for you.”

He furrowed his brow.  He cared for Kimbery.  She’d brought a welcome light back into his life, a light that had been extinguished when his own children had been taken from him.  As for Avril…  He was afraid his feelings for Avril went far beyond merely caring for her.

Clenching his fists, he spoke with a flippancy he didn’t feel.  “She’s a child.  She’ll forget me.”

He heard her sob, but she covered her hurt quickly with a jab of her sword that made him wince.  “Why would you do such a hurtful thing?  Why would you desert her?”

“It’s for her own good,” he growled.

“You son of a…”  She suddenly gave his arse a punishing whack with the flat of her blade.  He jerked and raised his hands in surrender.  “What the hell is
that
supposed to mean?” she demanded.  “You wash up on my beach, sleep under my roof, eat my food, befriend my daughter, and you suddenly decide to walk out of her life…for her own good?”

Brandr decided not to remind her that those were things over which he’d had no choice.  After all, she was upset, and she had a sword in her hand.  “It
is
for her own good.  You said it yourself.  I’m a bad man.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”  It was best if she went on thinking he was a heartless brute.  Leaving her would be twice as hard if she begged him to stay.  “I’m a Viking, a marauder, an invader.”

“She liked you.  She…she loved you.”

Brandr squeezed his eyes shut.  He knew Avril was no longer talking about Kimbery now.

He could hear the hurt in her vexed murmur.  “Damn you, did you care nothing for her?  Was it all a ruse?  How could you make her believe you had feelings for her and then…and then abandon her?”

Brandr didn’t mean to respond.  It would be better for everyone if he let it go.  But the words spilled forth.  “Do you think it was easy?” he choked out over his shoulder.  “To walk away like that?  To leave her, knowing she trusted me?  Do you think it was easy abandoning her, knowing I was breaking her heart?”

“Why then?” she sobbed.  “Why did you run away?”

“I had to.”

“You’re a coward,” she said bitterly, “just like all the men I’ve known.”

“Nay!” he insisted, unwilling to let her believe that.  “The man who raped you was a coward.  The man who killed your father was a coward.  The men who stole your land were cowards.”

“And you’re not?”

“Nay!  I’m trying to protect you.”

“I can protect myself.”

“Not from me.”

“That makes no—“

“I’m cursed, Avril,” he ground out.  “I’m…cursed.  Everyone I care about has been taken from me.  My wife.  My children.  My village.  My men.”  His throat closed, but he forced the words out.  “I won’t let that happen to Kimbery.  And I won’t let that happen to you.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hushed whisper of the incoming tide and a single gull squawking softly overhead.

Then Avril responded with surprise to his confession.  “You…care about me?”

He hung his head and sighed.  Was it not written all over his face?  He gave her a rueful chuckle.  “Oh, my Pictish temptress,” he said, shaking his head, “it’s far worse than that.  I fear I’m in love with you.”

Avril was struck speechless.  She lowered the blade from his back as his words sank in.  No one had ever said that to her before.  She didn’t know how to respond.  She’d fantasized about being Brandr’s wife, about making a family with him.  She’d never imagined he might already have feelings for her.

She stared in wonder at the enemy she’d discovered only days before on this very shore.  His long Viking-blond hair tangled over his wide invader’s shoulders and fell down his broad marauding back.  But though he was definitely still a stranger, he no longer seemed a foe.

Now she saw the possibility of a bright future…for Kimbery, for herself, for the shipwrecked Northman.  They
could
make a life together.  They
could
find a place in the world.  All she had to do was persuade Brandr of that.

He glanced over his shoulder.  Misunderstanding her silence and her lowered weapon, he asked somberly, “Will you let me go now?”

She whipped the point of her blade back up so swiftly it startled him.  “Not so fast, Viking.”  A thrill of hope suffused her even as her eyes filled with happy tears.  One way or another, she’d convince the Northman to stay…even if she had to keep him leashed in her cottage for a year.  “I thought you said you weren’t a coward.”

He didn’t answer.

She continued.  “You’re a damned Northman!  You flex your muscle, rattle your battleaxe, and speak of glorious war.  And yet you’d run away from a
curse
?”

He clenched his fists, but remained silent.

“Well,” she said, “I don’t believe in curses.  Do you think you alone are fortune’s foe?  I’ve lost everything, too.  I’ve had bad times when I wanted to surrender.  I’ve had moments of weakness when I wondered why I went on living.  But I never gave up.  Not once did I let despair get the better of me.  Not once did I—“

“Mama!” Kimbery called out suddenly behind her.

Avril started in surprise.

“Kimbery!” she snapped, whipping around to give her daughter the scolding of her life.  “I told you to stay at…”

But when she saw Kimmie hadn’t come alone, Avril’s heart plummeted, her knees buckled, and she nearly lost her grip on the sword.  Her little girl was riding merrily atop the shoulders of one of dozens of Viking savages that now occupied her beach.

“Look!” Kimbery crowed, oblivious to her horror.  “I’m a Frost Giant!”

All of Avril’s warrior instincts told her not to show weakness, not to waver, not to beg.  Five years ago, standing over her father’s grave, bruised from a brutal rape, she’d vowed never to cower before a Viking again.

But five years ago, she hadn’t had a daughter she’d die for.

“Nay,” she choked out, “please.  Don’t hurt her.”  She prayed they could understand her words.  Oh, God, she thought, what if they meant to steal Kimbery?  What if they sailed away with her to the North?  What if Avril never saw her again?

Quaking with fear, she moved her sword away from Brandr and set the weapon gently on the ground.  “Take him.  Take Brandr.  Just give my daughter back to me.”

B
randr wheeled around with his fists raised and his face in a fierce scowl, ready to fight whoever was threatening the women he loved.  He lowered his arms immediately when he saw who it was.

“Halfdan?” he asked in disbelief.  “Ragnarr?”  Relief and joy coursed through him.  Behind Avril stood his brothers—whole, healthy, and grinning.  By the grace of Odin, they’d come through the storm, untouched, and they were surrounded by their men.  “You’re alive!”

There was a rumble of celebration as he rushed forward to catch his brothers in a one-armed embrace.

“What happened to you?” Ragnarr asked, indicating his splinted forearm.

His injury was the least of Brandr’s concerns.  “A scratch,” he said with a shrug.  “But how did you find me?”

Halfdan frowned.  “We followed the wreckage of your ship.”

Brandr nodded.  There was a long moment of reflective silence as everyone thought about those who’d been lost.  Then Ragnarr cleared his throat and announced, “Your men are no doubt feasting in Valhalla.”

There were cheers of agreement all around.

“But it’s been days,” Brandr said.  “The wreckage must have drifted.  How did you know to look for me here?”

Halfdan gave him a half-smile.  “It might have something to do with the little girl standing in her cottage door, yelling ‘Brandr!  Brandr!’ at the top of her lungs.”

Brandr had to smile at that.  Kimbery perched happily atop ferocious Axlan’s shoulders as if he were her favorite uncle.

“So tell me,” Ragnarr asked, crossing his arms and cocking a brow toward Avril, “how did my big warrior brother end up at the pointed end of a Pictish wench’s sword?”

Brandr was so grateful to see his brothers that he didn’t mind the taunt.  There would be time to salvage his pride later.  But when he looked back at Avril, he saw she’d gone white with fear.  She didn’t understand their language.  She didn’t know who they were or what they intended.  And her gaze was fixed on Kimbery.

He switched back to Pictish.  “Avril, it’s all right.  They won’t hurt you.”

Of course, he knew she had no reason to trust him.  He’d manipulated her.  He’d betrayed her.  He’d abandoned her.

“Please, Brandr,” she said almost inaudibly.  “Please don’t take her.  Don’t take Kimbery.”

He furrowed his brows.  He wouldn’t dream of taking a child from her mother.  None of his men would.  That she could even think him capable of such cruelty made him want to strangle the berserkers who’d so badly damaged her.

But as he looked at her, a spark of desperate courage flashed in her eyes, and before he could see what she intended, she dove for her blade.  In an instant, she swept up the weapon and trained the point at his throat.

“Put her down!” she yelled at the men.  “Put her down right now!”

“Nay!” Kimmie wailed in protest.

“Put her down, or I’ll cut his throat!”

Brandr froze.  He probably could have knocked aside the sword with a swing of his splinted arm, but it was risky.  He knew better than to come between a mother and her child.

“Avril,” he said, “they mean her no—“

“Quiet!” she barked.

“Woman,” Halfdan said in broken Pictish, “you are one.  We are many.  Put down your sword.”

Avril was trembling, but her blade didn’t waver an inch.  “Nay.”

Ragnarr frowned.  “Nay?”

“Nay,” she said.  “Put her down, or I’ll kill him.”

Brandr tensed as several of the men clapped hands on their weapons in challenge.

“I mean it,” she bit out.  “Put her down, get back on your ship, and sail away from here, or I swear I’ll cut his throat.”