Page 48 of Come the Morning

She didn’t know what he was telling her, but she could feel her flesh breaking out in chills, her nipples were hardening to little peaks, her limbs quaking. She inched down to sweep up her towel again, so anxious for its cover that she quickly interrupted him, “Sleep, please, I don’t wish to disturb you—”

“You won’t. You may remain here, my lady. We’ll talk later.”

He strode to the door and paused, his back still to her. “Don’t take a weapon against me again, Mellyora. If you do, you had best use it.”

The door opened and closed. She heard the bolt scrape across it. She slipped to the floor, huddled in the towel, shaking. He hated her. Loathed her. Her future seemed more dire than ever. There just had to be some kind of escape! Not just because of her. Because of him. Because of his strength. His eyes. The way he looked at her. Because she could not wield a weapon against him, and because she was still shaking, so cold, and still, on fire …

Sleep was not easy to come by. He was exhausted. He tossed, turned. Dozed. Dreamed.

He allowed himself to dream of Eleanora. Gentle, a balm, a soothing ointment, she wrapped herself around him with her warmth, her whisper, her words. She lay beneath him, she rode him, hair teasing his chest …

Blond hair, golden blond hair. Long, thick, rich, luxurious, sweeping around him, entangling him.

Her hair was dark. Her eyes were sable …

Nay, they were blue. And in his dreams, he no longer lay with the mistress who so entranced him, but with the Viking’s daughter, and she had risen above him, naked, a child of Wodin, her sword raised against him. He seized the weapon from her, struggling with her, and she lay beneath him. Huge, sky-blue eyes upon his, and he wanted to throttle her, take the sword to her throat, and he wanted …

He wanted to touch her.

Wanted … her.

Once again, she haunted his dreams. Only now, he knew her face, and her eyes, and she was tangible within his dreams, far too easy to touch …

CHAPTER9

Daro met Anne as planned. So much was at stake. He meant to share a few words only, but …

In the darkness of the night, his lips touched hers. In the richness of the shadows, he felt her love. He thought of battle, of bloodshed, of the times he had fought, of the king’s anger, his wrath …

And still, he could not let her go.

It was later, several minutes later than he had intended, when they spoke, breathless once again.

“Have you heard anything new?” Daro demanded. “I’ve been told that she remains in Waryk’s chambers, tended by Angus alone.”

“Aye. They say that the king is furious with her.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked her.

“Nay …” she lied.

He smiled. “Are you ready?”

“Aye, but I don’t know my way in this part of the castle, or what it is I’m doing exactly …”

“Trust me. Come then, take my hand, courage!” He drew her with him to the tapestries, looking out on the hallway. No one insight. They started down the corridor. Anne didn’t know where they were headed; Daro did.

“Daro, this might be foolish!” she whispered breathlessly. “It would take an army to change the king’s mind where Mellyora is concerned. Your brother’s holdings were far too rich to be risked in any way. Oh, God, if they are afraid of my wicked ways if I were to marry a Viking, what would they think of Mellyora seeking the aid of her Viking kin? They will hunt you down. Once the king knows, he will want to kill you—”

He paused, pulling her into his arms, kissing her lips. “You are my life, well worth dying for.”

“But I don’t want you to die. I want you to live. I would rather become a novice and know that you lived, even with another woman—”

“We will work this out,” he said, walking again. Then he suddenly pulled her against him, and they lay against the wall as he looked around the corner.

“Angus,” he said softly. “Aye, it’s Angus.”

“You know him well?”