Chapter Eleven

R ed heard Galiena pacing and murmuring to herself on the other side of the chamber door. The hour was late, but he'd wanted to brief the soldiers accompanying them and be sure all preparations for the morning were done before he took to his own bed. He wasn't going to disturb her, but once he heard she was awake, he tapped on her door.

Which opened almost immediately.

"You should take better care to know who is standing outside your door before opening it wide."

"No need to scowl at me," Galiena responded. "Anyone who wished to do me harm wouldn't have knocked."

Her reasoning was sound, but it still didn't please him. He stepped inside the room and looked down at her. "You have everything you need for the morrow?"

"Lady Alyce and her maids were very accommodating," she said with a nod, turning on her heel and moving to stand in front of the fireplace. She was barefoot, wearing a chemise, and wrapped in a woolen blanket that covered her from shoulders to shins. Her hair hung loosely down to the middle of her back, combed, and shining in the firelight. It was taking all of his concentration to keep from crossing to her, and wrapping the soft tendrils in his fingers so he could tip her head back to expose the creamy skin of her throat. His mouth went dry thinking of inhaling the delicate aroma that would still be lingering on her from the bath and tasting the sweetness of her skin and lips.

"Red?"

"What?"

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"No," he admitted. His lips tugged into a grin as he nudged the door closed and took a step closer to her. "I was distracted."

She put up a hand and shook her head slowly from side to side. "Don't come any closer, Red. I can't keep my focus when you're too near, and now is not the time."

He could feel his grin spread into an enormously satisfied smile. "Glad to know I have that effect on you."

"Don't look so smug," she chided. "This isn't a good thing."

"Mutual attraction is always a good thing."

"We have to stay focused." She was shaking her head again, a deep crease forming as she pinched her eyebrows together, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

He had been about to step closer to remind her of the appeal she was trying to deny, but something in her expression stopped him. He sensed whatever was causing her reluctance had more to do with her than with him. As much as he wanted to pull her to him, he wanted more for her to feel comfortable with him. Lady Alyce had approached him after she'd left Galiena and warned him against overwhelming her, stressing the need to give her emotional and physical space to come to terms with what she was feeling.

"You have settled it all in your mind, that much is clear," Lady Alyce had said to him. "But she may need time to be as certain about you as you are about her."

His first instinct was to protest, to say how Galiena had responded to being held and kissed by him, to explain the certainty he felt when she first looked at him, that they were fated to be together, and that he knew she felt it, too. Before he could say any of that, Hawk had slapped a hand down on his shoulder. "Listen to the lady. You don't realize how intimidating you are. And not just your size, but your tendency to see anything you want as something to conquer."

"Galiena," he said in a low voice. "Look at me."

She did lift her gaze to him then. To his relief, there was no fear on her face, but there was a wariness.

"I am not a man to hide what I want, and I want you. We both know that. But I want you willing and will settle for no less, nor will I force anything more." He thought he saw a measure of tension visibly release from her shoulders. "I may be twice the size of you but be assured you hold all the power in this." He waved a finger between them.

"Only for as long as you give it," she said, tilting her head and slanting her eyes.

"I give it to you freely and inalterably."

"And if I am never willing?" She stood straight as she asked the question, but he could hear the vulnerability in her question. He didn't believe she would never be willing, but he did believe she needed the reassurance that it would not change his conviction that she would never be forced by him.

"Then I will die a lonely and broken man, but I will take solace in the knowledge that I gave you what you desired."

"That is a bit dramatic." A bubble of laughter escaped her lips, but it did not reach her eyes, and she continued to scrutinize him for a long while. Still, he could see her demeanor softening and finally, she said, "I believe you."

"Good." He would not rejoice yet, but it felt like a small victory, like another door being opened.

"I mean I believe that I need not be fearful of you forcing your affections upon me," she said with a sardonic arch to one sleek, dark eyebrow. "But I will never believe that you will die alone, Viggo Algarssen."

Typically, he didn't like being called by his given name. Viggo didn't fit him well, and Algarssen meant nothing to him as he'd never known his father. He believed it to be a name created by his mother, along with the story that the man said to be his sire had married her, then died before he was born.

"When this mission is over, you will turn your charms toward some other woman. You are not the type of man to stay lonely for long."

"That may have been true of the past, but once the Norns pulled the threads of Fate and Urd brought us together, there can be no other for me." Though he didn't really believe in the old gods, and he had even less faith in the new one, he did believe in Fate. His mother had told him some things were preordained, and that you could push back against those things, or you could accept them. When Galiena looked up at him after running out of the inn and into his arms, he had been jolted to the core. If that wasn't Fate telling him Galiena was meant to be his, then there was nothing left to believe. "I was put in that lane at that moment when you needed me for a reason."

She looked leery and he expected he had said too much.

"What are the Norns and Urd? And do you really believe all of that?"

"The old tales say three sisters called the Norns weave the tapestry of Fate and every person has their own thread. Urd is the sister who guides each of us toward our destiny as the threads are sewn. I cannot say if we truly owe our existence and fortune, good or bad, to the gods—or one God as the Christians believe—but I only question Urd when she does not serve my purpose." He laughed then. "And in those times, the single deity I believe in is my sword."

There was more bitterness in his laugh than he intended, but it was true. He could believe that Galiena was meant to be his, but he refused to believe that his mother and uncle were meant to die cruelly at the hands of The Executioner. And he would fight Fate, Urd, the Christian God, or anyone else until his last dying breath if they tried to take Galiena from him.

She was staring blankly at his boots, and he wondered if she was horrified by all that he'd said. "If you believe me to be a heathen, or if I have offended you, it was not my intent to upset you."

"No," she said, jerking her head up to face him again. "I heard stories of many different gods as a child and take no offense to your beliefs."

He hadn't expected the vehemence in her response. Even more to his surprise was the intent expression she turned toward him, as though she not only understood what he was saying, but also felt understood.

"I direct my prayers to the Christian God because it is what is accepted here, and I can perform the rituals of the Church without hesitation. But if there is one thing that I cannot accept, it is that God—or any gods—would take the lives of others who have done nothing wrong because of some divine plan for me." She smiled sheepishly and whispered, "When the pain is too much, I choose to believe God isn't real…because if He is, He has forsaken me."

He did go to her then, and wrapped his arms around her before he even realized what he was doing. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and so dejected that his stomach clenched with the need to make everything right for her. But he knew too well that some things could not be made right, only endured.

She leaned her forehead against his chest and didn't resist his embrace. Though, to be fair, her arms were wrapped inside the blanket around her shoulders, and she likely couldn't use them to push him away if she wanted to with the way he was crushing her to him.

"Do you want me to let you go?" he asked, caressing his cheek against her silken hair.

"No. Just please don't try to kiss me right now." The words were muffled against his chest, but he heard them.

He grinned and resisted the urge to plant a kiss on the top of her head. "If it is your command, then it will be. But know this."

"What?" she asked suspiciously, pulling her head back to look up at him and narrowing her eyes even as her lips quirked into a hesitant grin to match his own.

"I will kiss you again." He said it with laughter in his voice, leveling a steady gaze at her as he spoke. "I am trusting Urd in this."

She laughed at him then and shook her head, but a wide smile lit up her face.

Another small victory.

*

Galiena shifted and stepped away from Red while she still had her head about her. Before she could lose herself in the comfort of his arms. Or the appeal of the low, soothing tone of his voice. Or the way she could feel the laughter rumbling in his chest when she was pressed against him.

She moved to the chest where her clothes were stacked and picked up the little roll of parchment she'd tucked under her tunic upon Red's arrival. Bringing it back to where Red stood by the fire, she held it so that the markings were visible in the light from the hearth.

"I have been studying this and I have a theory."

"Tell me."

She half-expected he might laugh, or say something about it being too complicated, and not to concern herself with it, but he didn't and for that she was grateful. Pointing to the bottom of the message, she said, "I think this is a date. See how the dots are different than the others on the page? And the way they are clustered together, it looks like there are two different, distinct numbers, then a word, and then another set of numbers. If this is a date, and the word is a month, knowing which month could help to decode the letter swapping being used."

When she looked up at him, he was staring down at her, one brow cocked. "I am duly impressed."

She felt her cheeks redden at the compliment, feeling immensely gratified with his approval. And embarrassed that his appreciation should mean so much to her. She shrugged, trying to hide how much his words affected her. "To be of use to my father, I had to learn several different languages, or at least enough in each language to write inventories and tally numbers. I found it easier to learn if I looked for the patterns in each language."

He tipped his head and gave her a knowing look. "And this is just another language."

She nodded.

"I gathered from things you've said that your father was a merchant. Was that all, or like everyone else I've met in the last couple of days, do you have a past that is better kept secret?" He asked the question with a mock look of fright on his face.

She laughed sheepishly. "Until yesterday, I would have said there were no secrets, only disapproval from others. I only knew my father to be a merchant. I thought everything we did was an adventure, and the people we traveled with were fascinating. And I assumed the reason for not discussing with anyone the details of where we'd been or who we'd seen was to not raise suspicions about the contents of our cart. Typically, it was textiles and trinkets, but at times he was able to bargain for finer goods." She inhaled a deep breath of resignation. "And it appears he was also dealing in information."

"A very unusual childhood, indeed," he said. She looked at him warily, as though expecting him to judge her harshly but his only concern was for a woman traveling alone with her father. There were dangers enough for women, even when living in a village surrounded by familiar faces. A woman traveler was far more vulnerable. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, needing to reassure her with his touch. "It's an adventurous life, but also full of peril. Were you safe?"

"Oh, yes." She nodded vigorously. "Papa was very careful. We traveled with groups whenever possible, and he often served as a guide and sponsor to trustworthy men who wanted to make the journey to England from Turkey, Morocco, Spain, or other countries along the way. He only allowed men to travel with us who were vouched for and recommended by other merchants he trusted."

"Like Sumayl."

"Yes. And others, but I really don't recall much about any of them."

"None of them took a liking to you?" Red asked, struggling to keep his voice calm. Galiena had loved her father, which was apparent, but he wanted to throttle the man for putting his daughter in danger. She would not go unnoticed with her luxurious hair, pert nose, and curved lips. One look at her body, even as a maturing girl, and too many men would think about taking liberties and following through with their lascivious thoughts.

"No," she said with an impatient roll of her eyes and a smirk. "I dressed as a boy for nearly the whole of my childhood. It wasn't until my father was getting ill and began to worry about my prospects of finding a husband that I started to wear gowns."

Red leaned an arm on the mantel of the fireplace and crossed one foot over the other as he peered down at her. "There is so much more I want to hear about you as a lad," he drawled, enjoying the way her lips quirked in an involuntary smile and her cheeks colored.

"Another time, perhaps," she said, reaching for the parchment in his hand, giving him a glimpse of the thin, white chemise beneath the blanket covering her. "Tonight, this is more important."

"Tonight," he said, putting a finger under her chin to lift her face, "rest is more important." Before she could protest, he added, "On the morrow, we leave before the sun rises. Getting to the king before anything happens to the little prince is our priority. Decoding must wait until after we reach our destination."

"You are right," she conceded with a sigh as she rolled the parchment back into the small, tight scroll.

He watched her cross to the pile of clothing on a large wooden chest along the opposite wall, the breath catching in his throat. Her bare feet padded across the floor as the blanket trailed behind her, her hair loose, and her manner easy. For a moment, he imagined this was a shared room and the comfortable familiarity was something they shared every night, with her in her chemise and him appreciating her graceful calm. She would tell him stories from her childhood, and he would pull her onto his lap to inhale her scent.

The blanket slipped from one shoulder as she picked up an undertunic folded on the chest, and Red instinctively moved toward her to assist. He pulled the blanket up to cover her again, his fingers brushing against the smooth skin over her collarbones. The sharp intake of her breath was audible when he touched her, and he leaned closer to her, his own breath drawing deep when she leaned into his chest as it pressed to her back.

He crossed his arms over her, one hand wrapping around her waist, the other across the top of her chest, holding her to him as he drank in the clean, sweet scent of her hair. She let the garment and parchment in her hands fall back onto the chest, then her hands came up to his forearm where it rested beneath her chin, and she dropped her head back, as though surrendering to his protection.

And he would protect her. Satan's stones, but if The Executioner came anywhere near her, he would rip his beating heart from his chest and feed it back to him.

"Red," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You should leave now."

She didn't loosen her grip on his arm, but he released his hold of her, slowly unfolding her from his embrace. He stepped to her side and picked up the parchment and undertunic. "What did you want done?"

She didn't look at him as she answered. "In the left sleeve, near the top but where the seam runs under the arm, there is an extra fold sewn in that the parchment will fit into."

He handed the parchment to her while he fumbled with the undertunic until he found the little hiding place in the material. Taking the parchment to fit it into the fold, he said, "Clever."

"Anora is the clever one," she said, watching intently as his fingers worked the little scroll into the material until it was hidden from sight. He shook out the garment, confirmed it had not been dislodged by the motion, then attempted to fold the material into a neat pile and set it back on the chest.

"Get some sleep," he said, his voice gruffer than he'd intended as he moved toward the door.

"Red."

The word was barely perceptible, but he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Thank you." Every time she tried to steel herself, as she did now, with her back straight and her chin lifted, he wanted to go to her, stand at her side, and let her know that whatever in this world she faced, she didn't have to face it alone.

Instead, he nodded once. "If you need anything, just call for me. I'll hear you."

She turned and looked skeptically at the stone wall that separated her room from his.

He pulled the door open. "I'll hear you," he said again, then closed the door behind him before retreating to his own chamber immediately next to Galiena's.

He closed his own door and leaned against it. Hawkspur Castle was one of the safest places he could imagine with its fortified walls, the finest trained soldiers in the Marches garrisoned in the barracks, and Hawk to oversee it all with Lady Alyce at his side. Red knew that it was nearly impossible for anyone to get through the gates, into the keep, through the hall where several trusted and armed men slept on pallets, and up the winding staircase to the top floor. It always felt so good to sink into the huge, stuffed mattress covered in fine linen sheets, blankets, and warm furs, and he had looked forward to getting a good night of sleep without having to be on the alert even in his slumber. The fire was already lit in his room, and fresh water and a pitcher of wine were set on the sideboard near where his sword leaned against the wall.

None of that mattered to him.

He grabbed his sword, a blanket, and a fur from the bed, and walked back out into the passageway. He spread the fur on the floor outside of Galiena's door, reclined on it with his sword next to him, and then wadded up the blanket to prop up his head.

There was much to learn about Galiena's past, but what he did know was that her husband and her father were dead, and she had no one else. Galiena needed a champion, and he would be that for her. And he'd be damned if he was going to trust anyone else to protect her but him. He'd learned the hard way there was diligence required to protect those who were important to him. He would not let anyone else be taken from him.

She was his.

She may not have admitted it to herself yet, but he knew she was beginning to trust him. It was evident in the way she leaned into him and clung to his arm without hesitation.

He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, a triumphant grin on his face.

Mine.