Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 02] (17 page)

“But we could have left with him,” Rain protested. “Why didn’t he give us a choice?”

Tykir shook his head sadly. “I wanted him to stay. I told him so. Do you think I care aught for a piece of crumbling stone and a parcel of land? But Selik is set in his ways.”

“And I considered him a beast, brutal and uncaring in all his violence!” Rain was beginning to think she had a lot to learn about right and wrong. Perhaps these primitive people could teach her, with all her advanced education, a few lessons she’d somehow missed in her modern life.

“He is brutal, my sister. Never think otherwise. The truth of his berserk behavior cannot be honey-coated, but he is a good man at heart.”

“Why is he like this, Tykir? Please tell me what happened to him to change him from the carefree youth my mother described to this tormented shell of a man?”

Tykir stiffened and his face closed over. “Nay, I will not discuss Selik’s past. ’Tis for him to disclose—or hold in his soul, if he so chooses.”

“But if I don’t stop him—if someone doesn’t help him soon, he will surely die.”

“Yea, he will. For a long time, Selik has traveled the fast road to Valhalla, uncaring of his own mortality, wishing only to take as many Saxons as he can with him.”

“How sad to have violence as a life goal!”

Tykir shrugged and stood, leaning on his staff. “Know this, to the Saxons Selik may be naught more than a berserker. A demon gone mad from the bloodbath that has washed over Northumbria as they try to wipe all Norsemen from their soil.
But to many a Norseman, Selik is a brave knight on a quest for noble vengeance. You would do well to remember that.”

“But—”

Tykir raised a hand to halt her next words. “Nay, that is all I will say on the subject. Ask Selik when he returns.”

But would he return? Rain wondered worriedly as the days, then weeks, went by with no word from her primitive soulmate. More and more, as she and the captives and Selik’s remaining soldiers worked to clean up the crumbling keep—a losing battle with their meager resources—Rain relived in her mind their last night together. If he died—
Oh, please, God, don’t let that happen!
—Rain knew she would forever regret not having had that one night of love with him.

When a month had passed and there was still no sign of Selik, panic set in. Rain had starting biting her fingernails, a nervous habit she thought she’d long ago conquered. Fighting a queasy stomach, she lost her appetite and at least ten pounds. Tykir and Ubbi, even Blanche and Bertha, avoided her company because they were sick over her endless questions about Selik’s safety and return.

“Gawd! I think I will empty me stomach if I hear ye ask one more time when the bloody outlaw will return,” Bertha complained in a whining voice as she helped Blanche dress the carcass of a fresh-killed deer. Gorm, one of Blanche’s most ardent suitors, had brought the doe back from his daily hunt and laid it at Blanche’s feet in the courtyard as if it were a dozen roses. Woman-wise, the wily Blanche had acted duly impressed and batted her eyelashes at Gorm in unspoken promise.

When Rain had shot a disapproving look at Blanche, knowing she preferred to cast her net in Selik’s direction, the maid had shrugged, without
guilt, and commented, “A woman must cover all her options. Best you think of that, too, my lady, in the event The Outlaw does not return.”

Rain studied Bertha then, much pleased with her improving skin color, thanks to the special diet she had prescribed. Thank heavens it was only a Vitamin K deficiency and not a tumor or liver disease that had caused her yellowish skin tone.

“Make sure you save some of the liver for yourself. You still need lots of iron.”

Bertha nodded, no longer protesting Rain’s every bit of medical advice since she witnessed the daily improvement in her health.

“Do you want me to help you cut that up?” she asked, gulping distastefully at the prospect of handling the bloody carcass. She was not a vegetarian, but as many times as she’d performed surgery on human bodies, she was oddly reluctant to touch raw animal flesh. Probably childhood associations with Bambi, she decided.

“Nay, go off and wear down the planks on the ramparts sum more, pinin’ fer yer lover to come back,” Bertha snapped with gentle sarcasm. Blanche just smiled at the brash servant.

“Selik is not my lover.”

“Not fer lack of tryin’, I wager. Nor fer lack of yer wantin’ the beddin’,” Bertha quipped sagely.

“You are so coarse!”

“Do not be takin’ that tone with me, m’lady,” the impertinent captive asserted. “I may be jist a lowly servant, but ’tis plain as the wart on a witch’s nose, yer like a mare in heat. And The Outlaw—well, he be the stallion circlin’ you, waitin’ fer the right moment to pounce.”

“Bertha!” both Rain and Blanche exclaimed.

Rain couldn’t help but laugh then at the image. “Is that really how I appear to people—a mare in heat? Good Lord!”

“Nay,” Bertha answered, more gently. “’Tis jist that I be more world-wise in the ways of men and wimmen and their lustful natures. I see the signs better than most, I warrant.”

Rain shook her head from side to side in disbelief that she was actually standing there listening to a short, dumpy woman with rotting teeth give her advice on love.

“Leastways, I cannot see why ye do not just flap yer wings and fly off to help yer lover if ye be so worried,” Bertha added, guffawing loudly at her own joke.

Blanche smiled mockingly, adding, “Oh, and could you ask God if he would send a milk cow and laying hens so I can make a pudding for dinner?”

Apparently, Ubbi was spreading his angel stories again, but no one else was buying them.

Rain left the kitchen in a huff, knowing her dubious culinary skills were unwanted. She did, indeed, head for the ramparts, where she scanned the horizon. “Oh, Selik where are you? Dear God, please send him back to me safely. I promise to try harder to help him.”

Her prayer was answered immediately with the thunder of distant hooves, followed by the blurry outline of riders on the horizon of a hill about one mile from the keep. Rain rolled her eyes heavenward, saying a silent thank-you as she practically flew down the wooden steps to the bailey.

Selik saw the wench standing on the ramparts, watching for him, then dart away when she recognized his standard. His heart lurched and expanded in his chest, causing him to inhale sharply to catch his breath.
Bloody hell!
He had spent the past four sennights steeling himself to the siren’s lure, trying to maintain his single-minded resolve to focus his life on one goal only—death to the Saxons, but, in
particular, death to his most hated enemy, Steven of Gravely.

But all his efforts were for naught. Oh, he had killed more than enough Saxons to satisfy his bloodthirsty quest for revenge since he had left Ravenshire, but still Selik could not deny the rush of pleasure as he drew closer on seeing the welcome expression on Rain’s face. She awaited him eagerly on the bailey steps leading up to the great hall.

Selik flipped the noseguard down on his helmet to hide any softening in his features. He must sort out these dangerous emotions in private. Mayhap he should just turn Fury around and head back northward.

Did he truly think he could have a life with the wench? Nay, he admitted immediately. ’Twas impossible.

Was it what he wanted, though? Yea, Selik realized with alarm. He had allowed himself to yield to her attraction, and that led down a path he must not,
could not
, travel.

Selik saw Rain’s honey eyes search his saddle, then shift away guiltily. Searching for the
behaettie
, she was. Damn her revealing eyes! Despite his promise not to scalp again, the wench did not trust him. For some reason he could not fathom, the injustice of her gesture cut him deeply.

Selik truly hardened his heart then. There was naught here for him in Ravenshire. There was naught anywhere, for that matter, except destruction and death. His death, ultimately. ’Twas his fate. Well, he would rest the night at Ravenshire, then depart in the morn. He would take no one with him, not even Ubbi. ’Twas best that way.

With that resolve, Selik steered Fury past Rain and Tykir and Ubbi and the soldiers he had left behind. Selik alighted from his horse at the other side of the courtyard and led the panting animal
toward the outbuilding that housed the horses. Steeling himself to the look of hurt that misted Rain’s golden eyes, he ignored her shy wave of welcome.

He had removed the saddle and was providing water and fresh hay for Fury when he heard Rain’s soft tread come up behind him.

“Selik, what’s wrong?”

“What is right?”

She made a low sound of exasperation. “You know what I mean—why are you avoiding me?”

Selik turned and looked at her then, forcing his face to remain impassive and unmoved by her pleading eyes and softly parted lips. “Avoid? Nay. Mayhap you no longer strike my fancy. I am not interested in you anymore.”
God’s bones! Do I add lying to my sins now?

Rain whimpered, her open face clearly showing the pain of his insult, like a slap. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“My lady, I have survived these ten years past without the worrisome fretting of a bothersome female. Do not think I welcome your meddling concern now.”

Rain tilted her head questioningly. “And who was the woman who fretted over you then?”

Her question startled Selik, and for a moment he knew his face revealed his pain. “Go away, Rain,” he said in a tired voice. “Your concern is misplaced.”

“Tykir told me why you left, Selik, and I just want to say that I’m sorry I called you a beast before. I’m trying to understand you, I really am, but—”

“Tykir had no right to interfere in my life, and I will tell him so. And the last thing I want from you is understanding.”

“What
do
you want from me then?”

He lifted his chin and stared at her impassively. “Not a blessed thing.”

Rain’s face colored, but she persisted. “I’ve had a lot of time to think while you were gone, and I realize now that there is good in every man.”

“And who named you God, to be my judge or any man’s?”

Rain cringed under his punishing assessment of her failings, but still she went on doggedly. “I need to remember that whatever evil things you do must be balanced by the crimes against you in your past.”

“And did Tykir’s blathering tongue reveal those events, as well?” he asked icily.

“No, he told me to ask you.”

Selik leaned against a support beam and eyed Rain contemptuously. The witless wench prodded him and did not recognize the danger of his churning anger. “I took no scalps this time. I know you checked.”

She nodded reluctantly, no doubt recognizing the silky menace in his voice.

“And didst thou think I had suddenly turned pacifist?”

“Of course not. But it has to be a sign—”

“Sign? Looking for signs, are you? Lord, you are dangerous in your lackwittedness!” He grabbed her by the forearms and shook her, as if that motion could knock some sense into her thick head. “How many men do you think I killed these past sennights? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? A hundred?”

With each increasing number, her eyes widened larger and larger with dismay. Tears welled in her honey eyes and spilled over, some dripping onto his bare hands like liquid fire.

“Selik, I think I love you,” she cried out. “God help me, but I love you.”

Selik’s heart lurched at her totally unexpected declaration. It took all his willpower not to pull her into his arms and relish the moment—and the precious, precious words.

I love you
. Nay, it could not be true.

I love you
. Why was she teasing him so? Why did God torment him thus? His senses reeled with rage. He had not felt so strongly since he had found his wife’s body, ravaged and mutilated. Or when he got his first glimpse of his infant son’s skull carried on the pike of a Saxon soldier.

I love you
. Selik pushed her away roughly and banged his fist against the wood partition separating the horse stalls. The rotting wood crumbled on impact, and he kicked it aside angrily. With a growl of frustration, he spun on his heel.

I love you
. Nay, Selik screamed silently. He did not want her love. He could not bear so much pain again.

Holding his hands to his pounding head, Selik rushed through the courtyard, ignoring the calls of concern from Ubbi and Tykir. Without direction, he headed around the keep and off toward the woods and a nearby pond that the Ravenshire inhabitants used for bathing. In a daze, he dropped his garments to the ground and waded into the icy water, continuing past the ledge which led to a steep drop. Seeking the balm of hard exercise, he began to swim back and forth, back and forth across the still waters.

But he could not forget. Not the past. Not the present, with Rain’s unintentionally cruel, heart-stopping words. And, most of all, not his empty, hopeless future.

It had been ten years ago, ten long agonizing years, and yet the images remained frozen in his head as if they had happened only yesterday.

Selik shook his head angrily as he continued his grueling swim, trying to erase the horrendous memories. But the memories of Astrid and his young son haunted him every moment of his life.

Those events ten years ago marked the beginning of Selik’s vendetta against all the Saxons, and he had waged it bloodily. The elusive Gravely still escaped his stalking, but Selik had taken hundreds of Saxon lives on the way to his ultimate goal of destroying the demonic Earl of Gravely.

He could not be detracted from his single-minded goal of vengeance by a peace-loving angel from the future. Nay, Selik could not be moved from his chosen path.

But still Rain’s words hummed in his head.
I love you. I love you. I love you…

Still in the stable, Rain stared, stunned, at the doorway through which Selik had departed, his softly muttered words echoing like cymbals in her brain. She doubted that he even knew he had spoken aloud.

His wife’s body ravaged and mutilated. His infant son’s skull carried on a Saxon pike
.