Timeless (37 page)

He shut his eyes, rested his cheek against hers. “I know.”

She was right.

And that was the very thought that had kept him awake.

For a long moment, they held each other, silent.

“B-but... mayhap if you could... if you could take me to the coast on your ship, and return to Asgard,” she said, as if thinking through the idea even as she voiced it, “I could bring Giselle to the coast and you could come back for us.”

He lifted his head. For a moment, disbelief stole his voice. “You would bring your daughter here to live all the rest of her life? Knowing she would never again be allowed to set foot in the outside world?”

Avril looked as if her heart were being torn in two. “Hauk—”

“And how would you explain to your family where you have been?” he asked roughly. “How would you persuade them simply to let you ride away with your daughter, with no explanation as to where you were going? How would you ensure that no one followed you when you left?”

She shook her head. “I... I do not... “

“And your family—this powerful
duc
who lives in the Artois, who holds favor with the French king—would they merely accept that you and your daughter had gone? Or would they use all the influence at their command to have you followed and found?”

She shivered as if suddenly realizing how it could all go terribly wrong, how she might unwittingly lead French men-at-arms to Hauk, to Asgard.

Tears slid down her cheeks. “My
beau-frère
, Gaston, the
duc
... if Giselle and I disappeared, he would never relent in trying to find us,” she admitted.

Hauk brushed her tears away with his fingertips. “Avril,” he said more gently, “you told me once that you did not want your daughter made a captive here with you.” He tilted her head up. “Has that changed? Would you willingly, happily give up your freedom—and hers?”

Her answer seemed to be wrenched from her, scarcely a whisper. “Nay.”

He gathered her close, buried his face in her hair. Her plan—her impulsive, reckless, impossible plan—would never work.

But his would.

And ironically, it was the strength of her feelings for him, and for Josette and the people of Asgard, that assured him it would be safe to let her go.

Let her leave. Take her back to Antwerp. Set her free.

He knew he could trust her to keep their secret. She would protect everyone on Asgard with the same fierce devotion she showed all her loved ones.

He did not know what the
eldrer
would do to him for daring to break the very laws he was sworn to uphold.

But he would willingly pay that price, for Avril—and for her little girl.

“What is she like, your Giselle?” he asked softly. “Strong-willed and clever and determined like her mother?”

Wiping at her tears, Avril smiled. “All of that and much more,” she informed him, her voice warm with love and pride. “She asks at least a hundred ‘why?’ questions every day. And she skips wherever she goes, as if she is so full of happiness that merely walking will not do. And this Christmas past, the only gift she wished for was a baby sister—not a brother, she said, because boys are loud and bothersome.”

Hauk chuckled, picturing her in his mind, a daughter any man would be fortunate and proud to call his own.

“I never wanted her to grow up alone, as I did,” Avril continued, her voice wavering. “I wanted to have many children.”

Hauk shut his eyes, the longing behind her words making his heart thud against his ribs. If the two of them continued as they had tonight, there was every chance she would be carrying his child soon—mayhap very soon. And if their child were born here, on Asgard, their son or daughter would be
innfodt
. Native-born. Unable to leave the island.

And Avril’s heart would be torn apart for the rest of her life, divided between one child on Asgard and one in France.

He could not do that to her.

He loved her too much to do that to her.

“God’s breath.” She pulled away from him, blinking rapidly. “I have not admitted that aloud to anyone, not since I lost Gerard. I have tried so hard not to...”

“Not to want,” he murmured. “Not to dream.”

Nodding, she reached up to brush her fingertips over his stubbled jaw. “I did not believe God could ever bring another man so special into my life.” Her voice was edged with wonder and sorrow. “I thought no one could ever take Gerard’s place.”

“No one ever will take his place,” he assured her quietly. “You are only afraid—”

“I am not afraid.” A familiar, mutinous spark came into her eyes. “I am not—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “You are not afraid of wolves, or sailing dangerous waters alone, or even rather large Norsemen who carry you off across the sea.” He reached down to take her hand. Her left hand. “But you are afraid to let him go.”

Her gaze settled on the gold band she wore. “That is not... I am not...” Her voice wavered as if the possibility had never occurred to her. “It is only that... I lost him so suddenly.” She fell silent for a long moment. “I never even... had a chance to say farewell to him,” she explained haltingly. “When he rode off that morn, I did not know it would be the last time I ever saw him.”

Hauk kept his touch and his voice gentle as he asked the question. “How did it happen?”

She looked up at the night sky. “He and his father were going to a tournament.” She said the word as if she hated it. “Only a tournament. I had not even told him yet that I thought I might be with child. It was too soon to be certain...” A low sound of hurt escaped her. “So he never knew about the baby. He died without ever knowing that he was to become a father.”

Hauk clenched his jaw, pained more than ever that he had taken the little girl’s mother away from her. He threaded his fingers through Avril’s, holding on to her.

Knowing he would soon have to let her go.

“On the day he left,” Avril continued, her voice hollow, “that morn, he had been hunting in the woods, and he came in covered in mud, and I chastised him for tracking dirt everywhere. Then much later, after his squire came to tell me...” She swallowed hard. “To tell me that he was dead, that both he and his father had been killed by an enemy’s treachery, I ran to our bedchamber. I was on the floor, crying, and I looked up and saw a handprint, a muddy handprint on the wall beside the door. His handprint.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “For weeks I would not let the servants clean it away, because it was... as if he were still there with me.”

Hauk shut his eyes, thinking of the sketch of Maeve he had made in one of his journals. He had once believed that he could hold on to her by holding onto some part of her, some symbol.

“You do not need a handprint to remember him, Avril. Or a ring. You need not fear that you will forget him. You will never forget him.”

She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “And you need not fear that letting another man into your heart means you must banish him. That you could never do. But you should not be alone, little Valkyrie.
You
were not meant to be alone.” His voice became hoarse. “You need someone to share your life, and keep you safe, and tease you until you smile. And hold your hand.”

But he would not be that man.

“You are wrong, Hauk Valbrand,” she whispered, reaching up with her other hand to caress his cheek. “I do not need
someone
, I need—”

A movement in the cove made Hauk glance out over the water—and freeze in shock. Avril gasped as she saw what he did.

His ship, gliding straight past them toward the open end of the cove.

Hauk leaped to his feet, swearing as he ran to the water’s edge, Avril just behind him. From here, in the scant moonlight, he could just make out a lone figure at the oars. A dark-haired man. “By Thor’s chariot, what does Keldan think he is—”

“Why would he take your boat?” Avril cried.

The man aboard the ship stood up, reaching for a line that bound the tiller in place, and the size and shape of the silhouette made Hauk curse. “That is not Keldan,” he growled, icy fury pouring through him. “It is Thorolf.”

“T
horolf?” Avril gaped at the ship, her heart pounding. The single-masted vessel had to be more than twenty paces long, but with Thorolf at the oars, it cut swiftly through the waves. “But I thought the others were taking him to—”

“He must have broken free somehow and escaped.” Hauk swore.

Avril glanced toward the opposite end of the cove, near the forest, drenched by fear. “Sweet Mary, what if he hurt Josette and Keldan?”

“Go and check on them, Avril.” Hauk was already grabbing his belt from the sand, unsheathing his knife.

“But what are you—”

“I have to stop him.”

“Nay! Hauk, where could he possibly be going? If he can only survive for six days—”

“He is either insane, terrified of facing the elders, or angry enough to reveal our secret to the outside world. Mayhap all three. Whatever he is planning, I cannot let him leave.”

Avril shook her head, alarmed at the idea of him going off to face Thorolf alone. “Hauk, you cannot—”

“It is my duty, Avril. He could endanger everyone on Asgard. If I run, I can cut him off before he reaches the mouth of the cove.” He paused just long enough to give her a quick, hard kiss. “Do not argue with me. Go and see if Keldan and Josette are all right.”

He turned and raced up the shoreline, into the darkness. Avril watched him, feeling helpless. If Thorolf was so determined to leave, he would be more dangerous than ever. And he might have weapons.

Hauk was armed only with the knife in his hand. They had left his sword and her crossbow lashed to Ildfast’s saddle.

She glanced back the way they had come. They had walked such a distance to the waterfall, it would take her twenty minutes to reach Keldan and Josette. By then Hauk could be hurt. Or worse.

There are some things even an
innfodt
cannot survive
, he had said.

Swallowing hard, she turned to look at the ship. It was nearing the mouth of the cove. She could just make out Hauk’s silhouette as he reached the end of the shoreline and dove into the water, swimming straight for the boat. Terrifying memories of almost dying in those cold, night-black waves rushed over her.

But she could not leave Hauk alone when he needed help.

She snatched up her belt from where it lay discarded in the sand and fastened it around her waist. Gripping the hilt of her own small knife, she ran after him.

~ ~ ~

Drenched and shuddering with cold, Hauk grabbed onto the ship’s rudder, grateful for the concealing darkness and the noise of the surf. He treaded water as the light, shallow-keeled
knorr
bobbed up and down on the waves. He had to disable the ship. Quickly. His boat was meant to carry cargo in the space beneath its smooth deck. Empty, it would sail over the waves as fast as a seabird.

With a fair wind, Thorolf could escape in a matter of minutes.

Hauk placed his knife between his teeth. He could hear the scrape of wood against metal—the oars being pulled in through the oarlocks. Thorolf was preparing to unfurl the sail.

Gritting back a curse, Hauk reached up to grab the low railing. Then he took the knife and slashed through the leather thongs that held the rudder to the sternpost. It fell into the water, dangling uselessly by the ropes Thorolf had used to lash the tiller to the rail and keep the ship on course.

Almost at once, the boat began to drift. Gripping his knife, Hauk pulled himself up over the side, landing nimbly on the deck. “
God kveld
, Thorolf. Good evening,” he said coolly as he helped himself to a sword Thorolf had left in the stern.

Standing amidships, Thorolf whirled with a startled oath. “Valbrand!”

“You have just lost your rudder,” Hauk informed him. “I am afraid you will not be leaving Asgard.”

Thorolf’s gaze darted to the stern, and his face darkened with fury. “
Nei
, damn you!” He snarled. “You will not stop me,
vokter
, Not this time!”

“I already have.” Not taking his gaze from Thorolf, Hauk crouched to pick up a length of rope. “I am taking you back to face the
eldrer
—”

“Never! I will never again set foot on that accursed rock. I am free now! And you will not keep me here.” Thorolf yanked a line that dangled near his hand as he grabbed onto the railing.

The square sail unfurled with a sudden snap, caught the wind, and sent the ship heeling onto its side. Hauk lost his balance, tumbling to the deck, his weapons knocked from his grasp. Even as the ship righted itself, he scrambled to his feet—but could not dodge fast enough as Thorolf flung a dagger at him. Hauk dove sideways but the blade struck him in the right arm. Grunting in pain, he landed hard on the polished wooden planking.

Thorolf snatched up one of the discarded oars, lifting it over his head like a club.

But before he could strike, a knife came flying through the darkness from behind him, a silver flash in the moonlight that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It caught Thorolf in the shoulder and he stumbled, dropping the oar, roaring in surprise and pain.