Timeless (30 page)

“Aye, and left you alone at the bottom of the hill even longer.”

The branches swayed as Avril pulled herself up the last few inches, breathing hard. She claimed a perch on a thick tree limb just above and to the right of the one he occupied.

Brushing needles from her tunic, she looked at him with an annoyed expression. “This was the tallest tree I could find that had branches low enough to climb and strong enough to hold us. And at the time, I was concerned with avoiding fangs—not with providing us luxurious accommodations.” Grabbing a bough to steady herself, she glanced at the ground more than twenty feet below them. “If you are unhappy here, mayhap you would prefer to go and play with our new friends down there.”

Hauk subdued any further complaint, wiping sweat from his brow, the tree bark rubbing his back raw. It was almost impossible to find a comfortable position on the branch, though it was as wide as the span of two hands. He settled for straddling it as if he were on horseback, resting one foot on another nearby bough.

They were likely to be here awhile, he thought with a grimace, following Avril’s gaze to the dark shapes milling around the trunk. He counted nine, their shaggy coats dappled by the sunlight.

Drawn by the dying howls of the first wolf, the rest of the pack had quickly found its way to the clearing—and followed his and Avril’s scent straight to their chosen place of refuge: at the top of the next hill in one of the rugged, ancient black pines common on Asgard.

They would be safe here, if not comfortable. The trunk had to be at least four feet wide, the limbs more than sturdy enough to support them. All they had to do was avoid the annoying clusters of sharp-pointed needles.

“Go away,” Avril called down to the wolves. “Begone. We are not good to eat.”

“I do not think reasoning with them is going to help,” Hauk said dryly.

One of the wolves leaped up the trunk, claws scrabbling at the bark, jaws closing on air with a powerful snap.

Avril flinched and had to grab her bough with both hands to keep from tumbling. “They... they do not look very pleased with us.”

“You,” he corrected lightly. “They do not look very pleased with you. I did not kill the wolf.”

“Pardon me for saving your life.” She frowned at him. “And by the way, you are welcome.”

Hauk could not hide the grin that played around his lips. Not only was he enjoying Avril’s company, he was actually teasing her.

He, Hauk Valbrand, the
vokter
, renowned for his reserved and solitary ways, was teasing his wife.

While she worriedly observed the predators below, he studied her in the glimmering sunlight that managed to pierce the evergreen. She had indeed saved his life, placed herself between him and that onrushing wolf, and left him stunned.

She had been pale with terror—still looked pale with terror—but instead of running as most women would have done, as he had told her to do, she had stood her ground. Kept her wits about her. And brought down a charging, snarling wolf with one well-aimed shot.

And instead of feeling angry with her for disobeying him, he found himself fighting the strange, unbidden grin that curled one corner of his mouth. Avril was like no other woman he had known: fiercely independent, as bold as any warrior, indifferent to what anyone else wanted her to do or be. And while those qualities exasperated him, they also fascinated him in some inexplicable way.

He had to disagree with what she said earlier: Though it had happened entirely by accident, or by some mischievous trick of the gods, he
had
chosen well in Antwerp.

“Mayhap if you shot two or three more, little Valkyrie, our new friends would leave us in peace.”

Avril glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “Little what?”

“Valkyrie. The fierce warrior-women of our religion, who swoop down from the sky to rescue fallen warriors and escort them to Valhalla—what you would call heaven.”

“I suppose that is better than ‘wife.’” Her expression tense, she slid the crossbow from her shoulder and counted the small, steel-tipped arrows lashed to its stock. “But I do not have many bolts left, and I am not sure it is wise to waste what I have.” She whispered an oath.

Hauk sighed in frustration, as anxious as she was to reach the cove and help Josette and Keldan. “Then we shall have to wait until the wolves give up and leave. My ankle will heal in a few hours, and we can walk the rest of the way.” He let himself rest back against the tree trunk. Turning his head, he looked west, toward the sea. “Mayhap we will even find Ildfast somewhere along the—” He sat up straighter. “Avril, I can see it from here.”

“Your witless horse?”

“Nay—”

“The cove?”

“The ship. My ship. We are so high in this tree, I can see the top of the mast.”

“Thanks be to God,” Avril exclaimed, her voice full of relief and hope. “If it is still there, that means—sweet Mary, mayhap Josette is already safe. Mayhap Keldan and the others captured Thorolf and prevented him from reaching it.”

“Aye.” Hauk tried to sound confident.

For a moment, they both fell silent, the yapping and growling of the wolves filling the warm air, the wind making the upper branches sway and clatter.

“Or,” Avril said more quietly, “Thorolf simply has not reached it yet. Or he has taken Josette elsewhere, they are not even in these woods, and we have been going in the wrong direction all day.”

Hauk settled back against the tree trunk, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “There is no way to know. But even if he has taken her elsewhere, he will be found, Avril. Everyone on Asgard is searching, and they will not rest until Josette is safe.”

She shut her eyes as if in pain, her hands clenching around the crossbow. “But what if he... if he has already...”

“Thorolf knows we will be hunting him,” Hauk said gently. “And I do not believe he would harm her, not until he was safely beyond the reach of Asgard.”

He still wondered
what
Thorolf could possibly be planning. Leaving the island even for a short time meant risking the ire of the elders, and he doubted Thorolf would do that on a whim or a quest for trade goods.

Avril blinked hard, then met his gaze, looking grateful for his reassurance. “I hope you are right—”

A bird flew out of the branches behind her, startling her. She whirled, lost her hold on the crossbow, and instinctively lunged for the weapon as it fell.

The sudden movement sent her tumbling from her perch.

For one horrified second, Hauk saw her falling, heard her scream, heard the wolves snarling below. Her hands grasped wildly, her fingers closing on empty air.

He lunged down and grabbed her, caught her forearm, fastened his hand around it. The crossbow clattered through the branches and hit the ground, the pack yelping and snarling as they attacked it.

A panicked cry escaped her. She clung to him with both hands, dangling, kicking with her feet.

“
Avril!
” Holding onto the branch with one hand, Hauk started to haul her up—but felt her slipping from his grasp, the sleeve of her linen tunic so smooth it slid through his fingers. Clenching his jaw, he locked his hand around her wrist.

The wolves became frenzied, howling and leaping up the trunk.

“Mercy of God!”
she cried, eyes white with fear. “God, nay,
please
.”

Her panic tore at his heart. With brute strength and sheer will, Hauk pulled her up, one agonizing inch at a time, until she could reach for the branch, for him. He caught her close and she fell forward into his embrace, clinging to him, trembling.

His back flattened against the rough bark, he locked both arms around her, shaking almost as hard as she was. “You are all right,” he choked out between rapid, unsteady breaths. “I have you.”

The wolves continued growling and jumping at the tree, as if frustrated that he had snatched their prize from their jaws.

He shut his eyes and held on to her, his heart beating hard and fast. He could have lost her. Quickly, suddenly. Forever.

“Avril, do you think you could stay out of danger for mayhap five minutes at a time?” he demanded gruffly.

“It was not my fault!” She lifted her head. “The bird—”

A gust of wind made the branches sway and she buried her face against his neck, her fingers digging into his biceps.

Hauk did not chastise her further. He simply held her tight. They would have to get her back to her own branch safely, but at the moment, she did not seem willing to go anywhere, shivering as if the combined dangers she had faced today had all become too much for her. Breathing rapidly, she remained pressed against him.

And he could feel each breath, warm against his neck.

Could feel her breasts pillowed against his chest through her soft linen tunic. The belt she wore dug into his waist. And the way she was sitting, with her legs across his lap, her soft thigh rested against a most sensitive part of his anatomy. The fact that she was wearing masculine leggings only made it feel more provocative.

“Avril?” His own breathing deepened, his heart thudding as she wriggled against him. “What are you doing?”

She did it again, a shifting motion of her hips before she glanced over her shoulder with a small sound of distress. “I think when I slid from that branch, I must have—I have either splinters or pine needles in my... “

He looked down the curve of her back to see a dozen pine needles piercing her shapely derriere. She could not reach them without letting go of him and twisting around.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

“Ouch!” She flinched in his arms. “That—
ouch
—”

He plucked out the offending needles for her, one by one, quickly.

“—stings!”

“My apologies.” He rubbed his hand over the injured spot, gently.

She went still, her head still turned away from him. Which meant that she was watching what he was doing.

“Would you please stop that?” Her voice sounded strained.

“I am trying to make you feel better.”

“That is
not
making me feel better.” She turned an accusing gaze on him.

“Indeed?” he asked innocently. “How does it make you feel?”

“Like pushing you out of this tree!”

He lifted his hand from her bottom.

“Men!” Whispering an oath, she tried to peel herself away from him, but could not get far without risking another fall. Their bodies still touched. Intimately. She planted one hand in the middle of his chest as if to hold him at bay. “How can you even think of
that
at a time like this?”

“A brush with death tends to have a stimulating effect.” He kept his arms looped around her waist. Purely for safety. “And it has been almost a hundred years since I—”

“What?” She blinked at him.

“It feels like it has been almost a hundred years,” he amended smoothly, “since I have shared—”
My time
,
my life
,
anything with an
utlending
woman
“—a bed with a woman of your considerable charms.”

Her face reddened and she glanced away. “This is not a bed, it is a branch.”

“It has been even longer since I shared a branch with a woman.” He arched one brow. “In fact, I do not think I have ever shared a branch with a woman.”

“Well, you mere mortals simply never know where we Valkyries might take you.”

His heart thudded a single, hard stroke.

When he did not speak, she looked at him again. “Since we go swooping about,” she clarified, “rescuing stray, wounded warriors and the like. One is bound to get stuck in a tree on his way to heaven, eventually.”

“Aye,” he managed to choke out. She was only teasing him, had no idea that her words held any other meaning, that what she had just said was incorrect. “Avril, stop moving like that.”

Her efforts to wriggle her lower body away from his were having the opposite effect from what she intended.

And they both felt the result at the same moment.

She went still, shut her eyes with an embarrassed oath. “Now look what you have done.”

“On the contrary, little Valkyrie. It is what you do to me.”

She shifted her weight uncomfortably.

“Misery and torment.” He groaned under his breath. “Avril, if you insist on wriggling like that, we will be sharing more than a branch. At the moment, my desire to stay alive is matched by my desire to be inside you.”

She froze. “Would you please stop saying things like that?”

They stared at each other, listening to the wolves growling and circling the tree below.

“I think I had better return to my own branch,” she said uneasily.

“Mayhap that would be safer.”

He released his arms from around her waist, then helped steady her as she stretched both arms toward a bough above them.

“Careful,” he said.

She grabbed onto the tree limb, and he lifted her as she pulled herself up, managing a somewhat graceful jump back to the perch she had occupied earlier.

“Thank you.” She settled securely against the trunk, holding onto the branch with both hands. She glanced up at the sun, now directly overhead. “I suppose we will have to spend the afternoon up here.”

“Unfortunately, I do not think the wolves intend to offer us a choice. Just be certain that you stay on guard for stray birds this time,” he said sternly.

“I had planned on it.” She sighed. “Wherever would I be without a man to tell me what to do?”

“In endless trouble and danger, evidently.” He slanted her a glance. “You may not wish to believe it, milady, but you are a woman who needs a firm hand, someone to protect you. Watch over you.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “I have managed quite well on my own for three years.”

“I am amazed you have
managed
to reach the age of three and twenty in one piece.”

“God’s breath, you sound almost like”—her words started out as an annoyed complaint, but ended on a note of soft surprise—”Gerard.”

Hauk looked away. He did not have to ask who Gerard was.

He remembered the name quite clearly, from his conversation with Josette, the night of the
althing
ceremony. When she had revealed that Avril was not a wife but a widow, that she had lost her husband three years ago.