She could feel the panic rising in her chest. It was quiet, too quiet. The mist that surrounded her felt cool against her skin. The cotton of her nightdress swished about her as she pivoted on the large rock. She could hear the sea, and she could feel the rough gritty dusting of sand between her toes. However, it did not bring her the comfort it usually did. Instead, the usual gentle crashing of the waves droned on in her ears.
She could hear the faint crackling of her father's burning barn in the distance, but other than that and the sea, she could hear nothing. She didn't know what scared her more. The fact that she was alone out here on the beach, or that she was half-tempted to believe that none of the Norwegian Viking men had followed her. Deep down she knew that was far too easy. She felt horribly selfish for running when she didn't know what was happening to her stepmother or sister. She knew she had to go back but she was terrified of being caught.
Every time she closed her eyes, she came face to face with the Viking that had stood beside her bed. Moreover, she wouldn't have woken if it hadn't have been for one of his men tripping over the chest by the door. He had met her eyes when he had cursed at the larger man who fought to catch himself, and Harriot had watched on in horror. She couldn't forget his expression of frustration and amusement as she bolted from the bed. He had chased her, and from what she had gathered, he had enjoyed it too.
The image of him alone sent shivers coursing through her spine. On the other hand, maybe it was just the cold. She couldn't tell any more. There was a light out to sea. It glowed bright and orange. She squinted through the mist but she could not see enough of it to tell to whom it belonged. She hoped it was her father and his men, but she couldn't rely on that hope completely. She had to light the signal fire somehow, and then maybe someone from a neighboring farm would come to help them. Or, if it were her father that he would see it and know, they were desperately in need of help and return to them as fast as he could.
She gathered her nightdress in her hands and lifted it away from the rocks. Heading back towards the house was not something she felt ecstatic about. But then, she didn't know why her feet had carried her towards the sea. Up on the hill behind the house would have been a far safer option, because there would have been more places for her to hide. If she had just gone there, instead she wouldn't be faced with having to avoid the Viking men all over again.
The pads of her feet burned as she stepped from one rock to another. Then her toes touched sand and its texture was heaven against the bottom of her feet. She could just make out the gentle hill back toward the gardens of her parents' home. The stone wall, all jagged from the loose rocks glowed orange from the fire that tore through the barn. The scent of the burning wood was a powerful assault upon her nose. It stung rather than tickled her senses. The warmth of it touched her cheeks, as she got closer to the wall. She crouched low and peeked over it at the Vikings that lingered just outside the door to her family home. They were chattering as though destroying a family was something they did every day. It made the blood boil in her veins.
She took a moment to steady her breath. In order to get through the garden and up the hill she would have to sneak past these men. That wasn't about to be easy considering not one of them turned their backs, not even for a second. She shifted her weight and huddled closer to the wall. She would have to move as far as she could toward the shadows, and then try to climb the wall there instead.
A sharp noise caught her attention. She ducked her head and stared at her nightdress in case it had caused the snapping sound. She half expected to find her dress torn from where it had caught in a bramble growing along the wall. When she realized it was not her dress that made the noise, her heart sank with fear. She risked a glance upwards towards the sky. Not even the mist could hold the powerful shadow he cast.
He grabbed a fistful of the cotton at her shoulders and yanked her up from the ground. She tried to scream, but the air in her lungs and her throat, pulsed around the ball that had thickened at the back of her tongue. The flames lit up the harsh contours of his face, he was all sinewy and rough to the touch. Her feet became rooted to the ground as she looked past the corded arms that drew her into the air. His eyes were piercing and blue. As blue as any eyes could get. They stared into her soul and smiled down at her. Their turned up edges, sparkling with life, did not move with the rest of his features. His eyes lied. He did not smile. His lips were a taut thin line, though they were soft and not cracked like the Viking that had stood beside her bed.
She yelped in surprise as his arm encircled her waist and dragged her closer to him. He was hurting her. He held her so tightly that the pain forced her back into reality. She fought against the straining pressure of his hand and the warmth of him pressed up against her. He was strong, so very strong that he lifted her from the ground without so much as a grunt. She kicked him, mostly because she could. And, because she hated that, it was so easy for him.
He hissed in reaction, but his arms only tightened about her. He crushed the air from her lungs. She kicked out again, not because she wanted to hurt him but because she couldn't breathe. He must have known, because despite his frustration with her, his arms loosened and he lowered her feet back towards the ground. He continued to hold onto her, but she felt his body tip forward towards her. Then she felt the warm tickle of his breath against her ear.
"Don't fight or you will get hurt."
She understood that, but what did he expect her to do? There were a vast number of strange men overwhelming her father's estate. She couldn't stay calm. She was terrified. Promising not to hurt her if she complied would mean nothing, because they were obviously here for a reason. She had no doubt in her mind that if they didn't get what they wanted, people would get hurt.
She pulled her head away from where his lips brushed against her ear. It tickled and felt strangely intimate, and she wanted no part of that. She would rather look up into his cold blue eyes that glinted with unmistakable mischievousness. It hadn't occurred to her straight away how unusual it was for him to speak her language. She stuttered and stammered before the words finally reached her lips.
"H-how do you speak my language?"
"Everything al-right Ivar?"
The loud Norwegian toned drawl made her jump. She felt the muscles in his arms bunch in response and then he turned her with him so they both faced the other man. It was the man who had been in her bedroom, the one that had fallen over the chest by the door. He grinned at the pleasure of seeing her again. No doubt, her capture would get him out of trouble. Especially because he was the reason, she had managed to escape in the first place. Maybe she should thank him for being so clumsy, and curse herself for being caught.
She tipped her body forward and away from the Viking that held her. He was so close to her, and the warmth of him seeped through her thin night-dress. He understood what she was doing because he let her lean forward until she leaned against his hands. He was the only thing steadying her weight, without him she would surely go crashing to the ground. A part of her hoped he would let her go, because when he did, she would run.
"Take her and put her with the others."
She heard the man behind her, Ivar, said to the other man, the man she did not like. Her skin crawled in response to his held out hand. He must have thought she would go to him willingly, but she would not. The minute Ivar's fingers loosened about her waist, she knew she was going to make a break for it. And when it did come, she decided she would have to do something to demobilize him, to give her enough time to flee. Because he was so strong, and probably fast, she just couldn't take the risk of making any mistakes that she would regret later.
She stomped on his foot with every ounce of energy she could muster. Despite his groan, his arms tightened, but she managed to slip through them while she could. He was quick to react though, as he quickly forgot his pain and launched forward in pursuit of her. There was a roar of laughter from his men, which seemed to fuel him more. The glance she risked back at him told her if he caught her, she would be in deep trouble. His eyes glinted from the fire in the barn. Originally, she had thought the tingling sensation building in her stomach had been because of her nerves. Now she realized it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with his eyes.
She headed for the garden. He was tall and lean so she expected he was faster and she would have to slow him down to give herself a real chance at escape. She was a lot smaller than he, she was lucky if her forehead reached his biceps. She was also light with less muscle to weigh her down. She headed for the peas, but even she had to duck to run down the centre of the trellises. He wouldn't be able to fit unless he planned to rip the entire crop out of the ground.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she realized he hadn't followed her. She was in the middle of the long strip of over growing vegetables, so she didn't know if he could see her. She couldn't hear him, and he hadn't struck her as the type to give up so soon. She looked back and forth to either entrance to the trellises he was at neither. The only thing she could hear was the crackling from the barn. She tried to think like him, she didn't expect he would give up so he must be waiting at the end where she would come out.
She doubled back on herself, and made her way back towards the end she had originally entered through. When she reached the end, she hesitated and took a moment to re-think her plan. There was no telling where he was or what he'd do. She felt this was her best chance at escape. She was wrong.
She screamed when a hand caught hold of her and ripped her through the side of the peas. The plants branches snagged on her night-dress as she sputtered passed the pea leaves that swamped her face. She tried to fight back. She dug her nails into his arms and hissed her discomfort. But he did not let her go -- he refused to. Then she was face to face with him all over again.
"Why!" she yelled at him. "Why are you doing this to me and my family?"
She struggled against his arms and frowned up at him. He genuinely seemed to consider his answer before his face re-hardened, and his expression turned blank. She let out a squeaky 'o' of frustration and shoved at him, but he did not budge, he just stood there.
"That is a question you should ask your father."
She froze. Her heart literally missed a beat as it sunk in her chest. His tone of voice had been soft but it had been full of conviction. Her father was a powerful man, and the kind of person you'd rather forget than remember. He had made her life a misery, so she knew he was capable of doing that to other people's lives too.
