Page 21 of To Find a Viking Treasure (Norse #2)

“ Y ou claimed the treasure was lost,” she said, hiking her skirts above her knees. “Today you think you’ll find it?”

“There’s a chance,” Brandr called back. His long legs ate up the island path, leaving fern fronds swinging in his wake.

“But you were so sure.”

Water slapped the shoreline ahead. Brandr jogged to the break in the trees.

When his booted feet hit the sand, he never lost his stride.

Nor did he respond as he veered to the right across the beach.

Near the mouth of the stream, he set his leather bag on a rock and pulled out balled cloth.

Linen corners fell away, revealing dried apple rings and part of a barley loaf.

“Eat. Your stomach hasn’t stopped rumbling.” He broke off a piece of bread. “I’m sure it’s why you’re asking foolish questions.”

“You mean about running away with you?” Holding hair off her face, she took three dried apple pieces. “Or the wisdom of coming back here?”

“Both,” he said wryly before he took a bite.

“I’m trying to understand. Last night, you were so convinced the treasure was gone.

” She nibbled on the dried fruit, its sour-sweetness exploding on her tongue.

A quick swallow and she finished, “And why wouldn’t I think you meant running away?

You’ve talked about my freedom more in one day than I have in all my life. ”

“Running away is foolish.”

His teeth ripped off another bite of bread.

Wind blew black hair across his jaw as he chewed.

The elements were stronger on this side of the island, the wind harsher, the sun sharper, the water rougher.

Brandr slipped warm fingers along the side of her neck.

He stroked the ridged scar hidden in her hairline, his black brows arching.

The mark of her slave collar when she ran away years ago.

“But you’d protect me.”

“For how long? Once Uppsala’s turmoil ends, Sven Henrikkson would hunt you down. Is that how you want to live? Always looking over your shoulder?”

“It was a thought,” she said weakly.

“Not a smart one.” His thumb teased her ear lobe, softening the insult. “Better to gain your freedom.”

A spangle of pleasure trailed down her neck from the tiny bit of flesh he stroked.

Brandr might prefer to rut like a hardened beast, but his tender touches were sweet bread crumbs, leading a woman to abandon herself in his lair.

His kisses devastated her the way his mouth hovered over her lips as if her breath alone sustained him.

“And if I buy my freedom, I go with you?” she whispered.

“You can’t.” He turned abruptly and stalked off to the stream’s edge.

Brandr stood wide-legged, his broad back as forbidding as the scowl etched on his profile.

He ate his bread in silence, the water dribbling over the toes of his boots.

Food lost its flavor as she chewed. This was his way…

an insult, a rare show of heart-aching tenderness, and this.

Silence. Or she suspected disappearing altogether such as he did at Lithsablot.

She’d have better luck finding the silver coins today than wrenching words from the Viking scout.

Beyond the shore, a seagull dove at the open water.

Wings flapping fast, the bird’s claws dipped below the surface.

A battle of perseverance went on between the bird and an unseen creature, and the seagull swooped down on the other side of the shallow stream facing Brandr, a squirming fish its reward.

The gull’s yellow beak tore into fish flesh, its small eyes on Brandr. The bird dared to squawk at him until other seagulls invaded the feast.

The Viking lobbed his crust and the winged interlopers dashed for the morsel. “Enjoy your prize while you can,” he said to the bird devouring the fish.

Brandr ranged across the sand, his head bent in deep thought. This sudden remoteness was a cold blanket. It was a mistake to boldly ask pointed question to a private man. She’d pushed him more than drew him out. Deeper questions about his purpose in coming here would simmer unanswered.

He took three mint leaves from a small leather pouch, and stuffed them in his mouth. Without a word, he offered two leaves to her on his outstretched hand.

She accepted the gift and put them to her nose, inhaling the freshness. “How are we going to do this?”

“We wade upstream. See if we can recover anything from the water.” Brandr put his things back in the modest leather bag. “We need to get a palm’s for you and another palm for those who’ve suffered.”

Her gaze shot to the water. He said we. Nor did he speak of getting a palm for himself. “Yesterday you couldn’t wait to get out of there. The treasure didn’t seem worthwhile to you.”

“Because it was dark and your safety was more important,” he said knotting the leather ties.

She broke off a piece of dried apple, nodding sagely. “Ah, your vow to Lord Hakan.”

The food could be leather in her mouth. Niggling doubts about his explanation ate at her, but like all lies, what he said held a ring of truth. She couldn’t dispute him.

Brandr worked around her, stiff-shouldered, not looking her in the eye. Wind stirred soft black curls on his nape. After last night, she could claim knowledge of another soft part of him—his lips. How was it the same mouth that taunted without mercy could cover her with the finest kisses?

Facing the upstream, he spoke over his shoulder, “I didn’t think the smaller hoard was worth it.”

“But today it is.”

He turned around, his silver eyes pinning her. “Today it is.”

“You’re doing this for me.”

“I want you to have your freedom.”

No finer words had a man ever said. Gorm, the coming berserkers, even the good people of Uppsala she hoped to help, all paled.

Her life, her wants, mattered to Brandr. His warrior’s sense would have them stay by the boat, but he risked all for one more attempt to get the treasure—the much diminished treasure and her best chance at freedom.

But why his sudden coldness? That among other questions sprang to mind.

“You didn’t buy me, did you?” she asked quietly

“No. I don’t know who did, but this gives you the chance to claim your future.” One hand fisted at his side. “No running away.”

Her shoulders rounded forward. Well, that settled that.

He’d already slammed the door on a possible future.

By the aching touches he gave, she had an inkling he harbored some feelings for her, but not enough to reach beyond the island.

Yet, he cared plenty to try again for the treasure.

It meant both of them going into the water if Brandr had his way.

After yesterday’s attack, he wouldn’t leave her on the open beach while he hunted for the remains of the treasure.

She walked to the stream where it fanned out on the sand. Her heart banged as she followed the water line into the island. “What about the boat?”

“I’ll fix it as fast as possible.”

Her skirts swayed, the tattered hem’s russet threads trailing over her pale underdress. “The man you said would return. Didn’t you say he’d come back with others?” She frowned at him. “We’ll be outnumbered.”

“It’s a gamble I’m willing to take,” he said dryly.

Of course he wasn’t bothered. Yesterday, he’d killed two men when she’d been more hindrance than help.

“Not very promising considering your luck with gambling.”

Brandr tensed visibly at the jab. She squashed a sand clod with the toe of her boot. They’d hardly stopped kissing and were already back to old habits.

“We can watch wool soak up resin if you like,” he said with all patience. “Or we can give the treasure one last try.”

“What remains of it in all that… water .” She couldn’t help but shiver.

Brandr rambled over to her, the wind teasing his black hair. Sunlight bounced off his sword hilt. This could be the same as any other day for him, risking life and limb without a second thought.

“You sung a different tune last night. You weren’t going to let water or darkness stop you.” He gave the sun a split-second look. “At least now we have daylight.”

She squinted upstream, her breath thinning. “Last night was different.”

“You mean your warrior’s elation.”

“I felt unstoppable.” Today she landed with a thud.

“At heart you’re a fighter. You’ll face your fears. With me.” Brandr’s gruff voice lulled her, appealing in its roughness. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll walk together. As far as you can, but I need to keep you in my sights.”

Saffron threads from her torn skirt whipped around his legs. Mist billowed in the distance where the waterfall crashed.

“That’s about knee-high for me.”

“Then you know how far you’ll go.” He paused before adding, “It’s only water.”

Broad shoulders blocked out the sun's glare. Holding Brandr’s hand, they were in this together. The fierce Viking had a way of knocking her fears down to size.

“Why is it with you, I feel like I can do anything?”

A bright smile creased the corners of his eyes. “Because you can.”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Let’s go.”

With late morning sun beating overhead, he led her into the stream. Behind her, waves crashed. Before her, water flowed. Beside her, Brandr walked, holding her hand.

Her heart lodged in her throat from willingly striding deeper into the stream.

Gurgling water sped past her ankles and soon inched its way up her calf the more they hiked upstream.

Cliffs began to rise on either side of them.

Silty sand gave way to smooth stones. Rocks jumbled, and each step she took was cautious, her foot testing the rounded stones.

“You know,” she said, bracing a hand on a large rock, “I would think your Odin is making this journey especially difficult for us.”

“The lowest fence is the easiest to cross.”

“More of Odin’s wisdom?” She stumbled on a wobbly rock but strong arms steadied her.

Water nosed its way around her knees.

“You’ll value your freedom more because you’re fighting hard for it.” Brandr’s long legs sliced through the rushing stream, sure-footed and constant.

A few more careful steps and icy water crept up mid-thigh. A fine vapor welcomed them. Smooth river rocks carpeted the crystal clear stream, making steps easier. When she raised her head, the dead Viking’s body bobbled in the waterfall’s pool ahead.

She glanced over her shoulder, the beach small and distant. “One night, we’ll sit by a fire, and you can share all your Viking lessons with me.”

It was small talk, something said to soothe herself, but Brandr stiffened. Mist coated his face. Without a word, he stopped and started to unbuckle his sword. He’d grown distant again. Was this his warrior’s focus? The same as when he navigated the channels to find their way here?

A vexing idea struck her: he demanded she face challenges with courage, yet Brandr kept to his safe world of stoic silence.

Where was the bravery in that?

She teetered on the awkward edge of knowing the man intimately, yet not knowing him at all.

The Viking’s remote character she understood, but his strange push and pull drove her mad.

The island was becoming a place of reckoning.

Last night she fought for her life on the cliff.

By daylight, she’d fight for the truth. It was hers to claim.

Her wayward mouth blurted, “Why is my freedom so important to you?”