The Viking's Captive by Ingrid Hahn

Author:Ingrid Hahn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical British Fiction; Historical Romance; British Humor & Satire Literature; Ancient World Historical Romance; Historical Literary Fiction; Viking Historical Romance; Women's Historical Fiction; Kidnapping Romance; Mistaken Identity Romance; Bodyguard Romance; Protector Romance; Entangled Publishing; Ingrid Hahn; Viking Romance; Forced Proximity romance; adventure historical romance; moody historical romance; viking ship; fjords; servant; fake princess; scandanavian hero; warrior hero; moody hero; sexy historical romance;
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Amara)
Published: 2019-11-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mourning

Alodie stood outside the house where they’d bathed her. Down the hill, upon the rocky shore, sticks and small logs had been heaped together and set ablaze. Waves of heat pouring from the flames made the air gently wave like the surface of water. A mass of bodies formed a crescent around two figures who stood where the sea gently lapped the edge of the land. One of them was unmistakable, even at such a distance. The demon. His shape framed by the last vestiges of daylight.

Upon the water, he set a small object on what appeared to be a wide plank of wood, then pushed it out upon the still surface, walking out until he was waist deep. The other figure, a woman, followed, carrying a torch. She lowered the flame, resting it gently on the surface of the floating wood. Together, they pushed it away, watching as slowly, very slowly, the unseen currents carried it farther and farther away.

It made sense now, what they were doing. The demons didn’t simply feel the loss of one of their own. They came together to express their collective grief. To remember him, their lost brother, son, friend, and place him in the hands of…whatever strange, false gods they believed in.

The sun vanished and stars began to appear. Little by little, people began to disperse. A dog barking in the distance sharpened her awareness of the previous silence.

Alodie lifted her skirts and made her way down the rain-softened path. Nobody paid her any mind as she passed the last stragglers just now leaving.

She waited at the water’s edge, beside the blaze.

He must have sensed her there watching, for he turned. He’d changed his storm-tattered clothing. Leaving his companion where she stood, staring at the little flame diminishing in the distance, he waded back.

The fuel of her desire for revenge had burned past the active part of anger—the part so recently ready to tear him to pieces handing her over. It couldn’t sustain itself after seeing him publicly mourn his brother of the milk.

But the anger remained, no mistake.

…

Anger poured from her like smoke from the flames beside her, dancing and crackling over the wet wood.

Thorvald stood his ground. She didn’t know. None of them did. That was the price of his secret—having to face those who didn’t understand.

Neither spoke. Without blinking, she stripped the cloak from her shoulders and tossed it into the fire beside which she stood. The wool was damp and the swathe of fabric wide. At first it seemed the cloak would smother the flames. Then the wool caught. A smell like burning hair assaulted his nostrils and stuck to the back of his throat.

Her actions needed no explanation. Thorvald didn’t have one grain of pride left, but he didn’t avert his eyes. He would stand by his actions, no matter how loathsome. “I did what I had to do.”

“And for that, I should spit in your face.”

“I make no apologies.”

“Good. I want none. Neither have I any intention of pardoning you for what you’ve done to me.

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