Page 16 of The Shipwreck (The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch)

Avril swept through the seagrass toward the bleating ewe, a stool under one arm and her milk bucket bouncing against her thigh. She felt as light as thistledown atop a bubbling stream. She didn’t have all the details worked out, but she knew that sparing Brandr’s life was the right decision.

He was a decent man. Maybe he was a Viking, and maybe he’d come as an invader, but he’d shown her nothing but humanity, courtesy, and kindness, in spite of her hostility.

He’d seen to Kimbery’s cut and kept her from harm by telling her stories.

He’d saved Avril from fire and feared for her welfare when she’d confronted her neighbor.

It was obvious he felt protective of them.

Did he feel something more? Her heart fluttered at the possibility, and she grew slightly giddy, remembering the way he’d looked at her just now, not only with relief and gratitude, but with a sweet sort of devotion.

She couldn’t help but smile as she pushed through the gate and closed it behind her. Plopping the stool down next to Caimbeul, she seated herself. She rested her palm on the animal’s flank and set the bucket under the sheep’s belly. As she milked the ewe, she daydreamed.

What if Brandr stayed here with her, with them? He had nowhere else to go, after all. His men hadn’t shown up. He was a stranger in her land. He was a castaway, stranded here with no means of survival. She could offer him a roof over his head, food, safety…and perhaps something more.

She leaned her brow against the sheep’s woolly side and closed her eyes.

What if the attraction she felt for him grew into genuine love? Could he be a father for Kimbery? And—she dared to imagine—could he be a husband to her?

Three days ago, she would have thought it impossible. Now it seemed not only possible, but right. After all, they were both castoffs, exiled from their people. It seemed natural and fitting to seek comfort in each other’s company.

She squeezed the last milk from the ewe’s udders and retrieved the bucket before giving the sheep a pat to send her trotting across the pasture. Then she sat there for a moment, gazing up at the sky, where low morning clouds made a soft gray blanket that would dissolve away by midday.

Staring into the heavens, she made up her mind. She was going to let him go, set him free. In fact, she’d unleash him right now.

It was risky, she thought as she made her way back to the cottage. Once he was loose, he could physically hurt her, or he could run out of her life forever.

But she didn’t think he’d do either. He’d had ample opportunity to do her and Kimbery harm, and he’d done nothing. Nor did he seem the kind of man to leave women to fend for themselves. There was no question in Avril’s mind that he was a man of conscience, that she could trust him.

Now that she’d made that decision, she couldn’t reach the cottage quickly enough.

When Avril left to milk the ewe, Brandr realized he didn’t have much time. He began working on Kimbery at once.

“How would you like to play Fenrir, Kimmie?” he asked, licking his lips, hoping his ploy would work.

Kimbery played coy. “Maybe.”

“You can be Fenrir. And I’ll be Tyr, Fenrir’s loyal friend.”

The little girl hesitated, swaying indecisively for a moment. Then she dropped to all fours on the floor and began snapping her teeth together, pretending to be a ferocious wolf.

He spoke in the growling voice of Tyr. “You’re so strong, Fenrir, stronger than any other god. I wonder if you’re strong enough to break one of those sticks in two.” He nodded to the kindling near the hearth.

Kimbery snarled and picked up a twig in her jaws, then took it out with her hands and broke it.

He gasped in feigned awe. “I wonder if you’re strong enough to pick up that sword and bring it here all by yourself.”

Kimbery hesitated at that and sat back on her heels. “Mama said wee lasses aren’t supposed to touch her sword.”

Silently cursing in frustration, he said in Tyr’s voice, “Wee lasses? But you’re not a wee lass. You’re Fenrir, son of Loki, son of Odin, the most powerful of all the gods.”

The little girl roared once, but then she came close and whispered in his ear. “Mama doesn’t even want Fenrir to touch her sword.”

Brandr sighed. Avril had her trained well, that was certain. But it didn’t matter. He could get free without the sword.

“Great Fenrir,” he intoned, “I wonder if you’re strong enough to escape this heavy collar.”

Kimbery gave a fierce growl of agreement.

“I’ll take it off my neck,” he said, “and you can put it around yours.” He made a show of trying to break free of the collar, twisting and straining.

She became Kimbery again for a moment, whispering, “I’ll unbuckle it, and then you can put it on me.”

“All right,” he whispered back.

As her tiny fingers worked on the strap, a feeling of misgiving weighed down his heart. He didn’t want to hurt the little girl. He didn’t want to betray her mother. But he saw no other way. He couldn’t endanger them. And he had to leave before Avril returned or she’d tempt him into staying.

The instant his neck was free, he bent forward to untie the ropes about his wrists with his teeth.

“Put it on me!” Kimbery impatiently demanded.

“I can’t until I loose my hands,” he explained.

“Hurry.”

He did. As soon as his wrists were free, he untied the rope around his middle, then moved aside so Kimbery could stand in his place.

He buckled the collar loosely around her neck so she wouldn’t be able to follow him or hurt herself. She bared her teeth in a snarl as he struggled to his feet on legs that had grown weak with sitting.

While Kimbery growled and twisted against the collar, Brandr glanced at the jeweled sword.

In the end, he found he couldn’t bring himself to take it. The blade was Avril’s hard-won prize, a gift from her father, and her only defense.

He straightened slowly, groaning at the strain of his stiff muscles. Kimbery quieted. She was eyeing him uneasily now.

“You’re Tyr,” she said. “You’re supposed to put your hand in my mouth.”

He meant to leave without a word and without a backward glance. It was best if Kimbery remembered him as a bad man.

But his betrayal must have been written on his face. Kimmie’s chin began to tremble. “Nay, Da. Don’t go.”

He gulped as a knot of emotion rose up to choke him. He wanted to kneel before her and take her in his arms one last time, to give her the farewell embrace he’d never been able to give his own daughter. But he couldn’t. He had to leave…now.

The words spilled out of him in a rush. “I have to, Kimmie. But I’ll never forget you. I promise.”

Then, before tears could engulf them both, he slipped out the cottage door, closing it behind him. He headed toward the sea, where Avril would never think to look for him.

Avril froze as she closed the pasture gate and noticed the distant figure limping along the shore. It took three heartbeats for her to recognize who it was and another two to realize the significance.

She dropped the bucket, and milk spilled across the ground.

Kimmie!

Fear sucked all the moisture out of her mouth as she hurtled toward the cottage.

When she threw open the door, she was relieved to find Kimbery relatively unhurt. Still, her hands shook as she rushed forward to unbuckle the collar around the little girl’s neck.

“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.”