Chapter Three

R ed took in his surroundings. The other woman who worked in the shop didn't seem concerned. She'd settled a hip against a work bench and was watching them with interest as an amused grin curved her lips. He liked her already. And her delight with the situation suggested she probably wasn't going to pick up any of the sharp tools he saw to use on him. There were fine chisels and hammers, pitch pots, sheets of silver and gold, brushes, and a small forge—the tools of a goldsmith. Besides the back door, there was a stairwell on the side of the room, and another door leading into the front of the shop. He heard a rustling in the other room and braced himself for a new confrontation, even as he turned his attention back to the woman in front of him.

"Who was the man? Why was he following you?" he persisted.

"Spurned lover," she said flatly, arching one fine, dark eyebrow. An unexpected surge of irrational rage gripped him at the thought of any man having touched her. Jealousy? He supposed he couldn't blame himself for that. Even as she taunted him, he found her eyebrow arch and her cocky attitude quite alluring. The little vixen lied to him. He wasn't surprised. This situation just became more and more intriguing.

Knowing he'd get nowhere by forcing her to give him the information he sought, he decided to play along. "Your lover? I'll kill him," he growled.

She huffed a disgruntled sigh. Definitely not the response of a woman regarding a lover, spurned or otherwise. "Kill him? For what reason?"

"As your husband, I must kill any man who dares touch you." He meant it as a jest to irritate his she-wolf. He had no claim over her, but he nudged good sense aside and let himself pretend for the time being that she was his to protect.

His wife —he'd yet to find out her name—planted her hands on her hips, drawing his gaze to the curves of her body and making him swallow hard at the indecent visions that were filling his head.

"Do you plan to kill every man who came before you, Husband ?"

He dragged his gaze up to her face when she called him "Husband" in a sarcastic drawl. His she-wolf had a bite to her that he found completely delightful. And—unexpectedly, again—arousing.

The other woman pushed herself away from the work bench to step to her friend's side, her mouth wide in astonishment. " Husband ?"

His she-wolf glanced at her friend, making an it's-of-no-consequence motion with her hand.

"Aye. And Wife ," Red growled, fully aware that he was being unreasonable, but unwilling to do anything about it. "As such, I will gladly kill every man who has ever touched you."

She glared at him for a long moment with those incredible silvery eyes snapping. Then she shook her head and appeared to shrink, bluster gone. "This is a preposterous argument, considering we are not married," she muttered.

"Where I'm from, it merely takes a declaration to be married. You already declared me your husband. And I now declare you as my wife." If he wished to be an utter brute about the matter, there were many who would support the claim—they had said the words to bind them, even if hers were said in desperation and his in jest.

He heard a door in the front of the shop open and the rhythm of heavy footsteps headed in the direction of the back room. Despite the oncoming threat, he kept his focus on the most enchanting face he'd ever had the privilege to look upon, though his hand shifted to the heavy axe hanging from the back of the belt at his waist.

A tall, dark man with a leather apron and formidable forearms stopped in the doorway between the front and the back of the shop, clutching a hammer in one hand. The head of a shorter man was barely visible over his shoulder.

"Wife? Husband?" His new wife's friend gasped, all amusement gone from her voice. He gazed down at two women staring up at him, one with eyes wide in astonishment and the other—his she-wolf—with the fire back in her level gaze. Since neither woman appeared concerned about the newcomers who were obviously known to them and likely here as protection, Red relaxed his stance, but only slightly.

"Anora," the man in the doorway growled to the other woman, "does this man need to be shown the door?"

The words were heavily accented and, from his time journeying through Spain and into northern Africa, Red guessed the man to be from somewhere in the region of Morocco.

"I honestly cannot say, Sumayl!" The woman's response was tinged with laughter. "Galiena? What say you?"

" Galiena …" Red exhaled and arched a triumphant eyebrow at the little vixen. "'Tis a beautiful name for my bride."

"Bride?" The woman and the two men in the shop all exclaimed simultaneously.

"I am not your bride!" Galiena snapped.

"What is your name, good sir?" Anora asked, a broad, eager grin lighting up her face.

"Viggo Algarssen, loyal servant of Sir Grogan of Hawkspur, at your service," he said with a formal bow of his head in the direction of Anora and the men standing in the doorway—his small effort to make up for his previous rude behavior of ignoring them in his quest to get a straight answer from Galiena. "But you may call me ‘Red'."

"Viggo Algarssen," Galiena drawled. "Calling you ‘Husband' was nothing more than a ruse, and you know that. You've served your purpose and may leave now."

" Red ," he reminded her. He shouldn't provoke her, but he enjoyed the way her gray eyes frosted with anger almost as much as he'd enjoyed the glint of bewilderment that had lingered in them after he'd kissed her. "Ruse or not, you declared me your husband and I now declare you my wife. We are legally wed." He winked at her for good measure as he said the last.

"That is not how it works." She flicked her hands at him the same way she would if shooing a goat. "Be gone. Be on your way."

Besides his instinct to ensure her safety from the man pursuing her, Red was having far too much fun to be on his way. This woman was beguiling, intriguing, and completely intoxicating. It had been a long while since he'd felt this exhilarated for any reason other than going into battle. Never before had a woman made him feel this invigorated, especially while still clothed! It matched the rush he felt when he faced death, and it confirmed one thing: this tiny, enchanting creature with silver-gray eyes, silky black hair, the face of an angel, and a tongue as sharp as a dagger was most definitely his she-wolf.

*

This man was pure frustration! He had a certain charm that in a different place and time she may have found appealing, but in this situation and in this moment, he was a huge, red-headed nuisance.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked the man staring down at her with ice-blue eyes. "Why will you not leave? If it is from some overly chivalrous sense of duty to see to my protection, you have done that. As you can see, I am safe now." She gestured toward the large blacksmith and Anora's father, barely visible behind him.

At that moment the front door of the shop opened. Galiena startled, and she felt the color drain from her face. She said a silent prayer it was not the hooded man come to find her as the blacksmith pivoted in the doorway, hammer still in hand.

"Good day, sir. How can we help you?" Anora's father, Frode, asked. Galiena still could not see the older man, nor the person who entered due to Sumayl blocking the doorway. Tamping down the fear rising in her throat, she scooted to a corner of the room away from the doorway and pressed herself to the wall where she was out of the line of vision of anyone peering around the blacksmith. The Viking—who suddenly seemed so much less annoying and far more welcomed than she would have imagined—was in front of her, shielding her with his body as soon as she squeezed herself into the corner.

"You should get out of sight, too," she hissed at him. "The man saw more of you than he did of me."

"I want him to find me," Red said, keeping his face turned toward the door. His tone was far less worried than she felt. As if he was confronting a fly and not a threat. "So, I can kill him for threatening you."

"Greetings, Sumayl," the newcomer said, then called in a louder voice, "Do you need my assistance, Red?"

Galiena did not recognize the voice, but she was positive it was neither of the men from the alley. Whoever it was obviously knew the blacksmith from next door since he'd addressed him by name. She let out a breath of relief and slumped her forehead against Red's protective back before she realized what she had done. Then she jerked her head up when she realized the man had also addressed Red by name.

"Is all good here, Anora?" she heard Sumayl ask from the doorway.

"I don't know, Sumayl," Anora said, her voice entirely too gleeful. "I believe Galiena needs to answer that question."

Red slowly turned, as though trying to keep her from startling like a scared chickadee, then put his hands on either side of her shoulders. "Are we good here?" he said to her in a low voice, all traces of mischief gone from his expression.

She was staring back at Red, unsure of what to say. She didn't really know anything about the man, or his true intentions. She'd wanted him gone, but when it seemed the hooded man may have found them, she'd been happy to have his protection.

"I can vouch for him, Sumayl," the newcomer said.

"And you are?" Anora asked in her characteristically bold manner.

"He is called Hunter," the blacksmith answered.

Galiena stepped out from behind Red to see the other man. Sumayl had stepped fully into the work room and no longer blocked the view into the front of the shop where Frode stood with the other man. He was taller than average, but not as big as Red or the blacksmith, and he had wavy brown hair. He looked nothing like the men she'd seen in the alley. "You know him, Sumayl?"

"Aye. Hunter has purchased my wares and I've done work for him on several occasions."

"From what you know of him ," Anora asked, pointing a finger to indicate Hunter, "would you trust the giant hovering over Galiena?"

Sumayl seemed to contemplate the question for a long time as he studied the big Viking standing at Galiena's side. She looked up to gauge Red's reaction, surprised to see he stared directly at Sumayl with a steady gaze as though unbothered by the blacksmith's scrutiny. Sumayl was a large and powerful man with undeniable strength from years of hard work with heavy tools. There were not many men who would dare challenge him—but apparently Red was one of them.

"Aye," Sumayl finally responded, "if Hunter says he is to be trusted, I will believe him."

Galiena's shoulders relaxed, and she let out a sigh as a measure of tension eased from her body. Red must have heard her reaction because he leaned a little closer to her. She turned to look up at him, only to find him smiling broadly at her in a manner that she decided was both arrogant and mildly charming.

"My deepest gratitude, Sumayl," Anora said. "I believe all is well here."

"If I'm wrong, you know the signal," the blacksmith said, his voice low and menacing. "Give it and I'll be back to crack open their heads."

"I know, and I thank you," Anora responded.

"Thank you, Sumayl," Galiena echoed, appreciative of his protective presence.

Frode and Hunter stepped out of the way to let Sumayl pass by, but then immediately returned to stand in the doorway as though watching a curious spectacle presented by one of the traveling troupes who provided entertainment at fairs.

"As you can see, Viggo," Galiena said in a calm voice, using the Viking's given name as a means of putting some distance between them, "we are well protected, and I do not wish to detain you any longer from your duties."

She tried to sound convincing, but the truth was that the thought of being found by the men from the alley was terrifying. The way she'd hid behind him even a moment ago showed that she was growing accustomed to the Viking serving as her personal guard, but in truth, she didn't know who he really was or if he could be trusted. And trusting the wrong person with what she'd overheard could be deadly.

She looked at him when he didn't immediately respond to her statement.

He tipped his head to the side and arched an eyebrow at her. "You ran into the arms of a stranger, me—asking me to pretend to be your husband. You have a mysterious man chasing you and your face is still pale with fear. I am not going anywhere until I know what makes you so afraid, why you are in danger, and who the man is. What did you get yourself into, Galiena?"

She pondered this for a long moment. What was the best way to answer? And if she involved him even more, would she put him in danger? Was that a risk she was willing to take? No.

"I'm not exactly sure. But it does not concern you." With that, she turned and stepped toward her friend, only to find Anora, Frode, and Hunter watching her and Red with intense interest.

She heard Red step close behind her. "It became my concern the moment you tucked yourself into my cloak and looked at me with those pleading eyes."

"That was my mistake," Galiena said, refusing to turn to look at him. Instead, she was looking at the man next to Anora. "Sumayl said your name is Hunter, but who are you?" she asked, suspicious of him despite Sumayl's assessment that he could be trusted.

"His friend," he responded with a nonchalant tip of his head toward Red. There was something in the way he was standing that reminded Galiena of a cat—quiet and unassuming but with the ability to turn lethal in the blink of an eye. Who were these men she'd unwittingly encountered and brought into her life?

"Why are you here?" Galiena asked the men, looking from one to the other. "Why are you in Oswestry?"

"We are looking for someone," Red responded.

"Who?" she asked, hoping to turn his attention away from her predicament. "Perhaps we know the person and can direct you where to go."

She wanted a moment of quiet, alone with her friend, to get her opinion about what had happened that day. She'd not had any time to process what she'd overheard in the lane, nor to look at the missive tucked in the pouch on her belt.

"At this moment, I'm more interested in the person after you," he said turning to face her again. "You've yet to answer my questions about why he chased you out of the tavern and into the lane."

"It really does not concern you," she said, lifting her chin. If he became any more involved, he could be placed in danger, and she was unwilling to allow that to happen to him. He'd done enough by getting her here. He didn't need to do any more. "I thank you for your assistance, but you can be on your way."

Red crossed his arms over his chest, stood with his feet apart, and slanted his brows until they formed a menacing V over the bridge of his nose as he peered down at her. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but he was about to learn she wasn't so easily daunted.

Galiena matched his stance, crossed her arms in front of her, and drew her own brows together to meet his gaze. "What is your business in Oswestry? And why were you lurking conspicuously in front of the inn?"

Red's lips quirked as though he was holding back a laugh as he shook his head at her. "You tell me first who the man is that chased you from the inn. And—I am not conspicuous."

"Aye, as I said before, you are far too conspicuous. You were conspicuous when you were standing in the middle of the lane in front of the inn, and you were conspicuous when you followed me through the village to here."

"You still haven't told me who the man is," he persisted. She was learning he was a very stubborn man—but she could be just as stubborn.

She jutted her chin out at him and slammed her fists onto her hips in frustration. "I can't tell you who he is because I've never seen him before today."

He raised his eyebrows then. Obviously, he didn't believe her. "Why was he after you?"

She shrugged. "I answered your question, now you tell me why you are here and who you are looking for." She wasn't convinced yet that it was wise to reveal to Red what she'd overheard—for all she knew, he could be an enemy of the king as well.

He furrowed his brow and sucked his upper lip between his teeth. He appeared to be contemplating what to tell her, so she stayed quiet. Beside her, Anora and Hunter were standing completely still and in complete silence, only their heads moving as they swiveled between Red and Galiena. Anora's father still stood near the doorway and watched them just as intently.

After a long moment, Red finally broke the silence. "We're looking for someone who took something from me."

"And you think the hooded man is him?"

It was Red's turn to shrug. "You tell me."

She needed to come up with some kind of lie. Keep it simple, she told herself. "As I said, I've never seen him before today, so I cannot tell you."

"What happened before you came running out of the tavern and into my arms? I wager it was more than a rude proposition that had you running for your life," he said, arching an eyebrow at her.

She wished he would quit referring to her "running into his arms". It sounded far more intimate than it was. But as to his question, it was fortunate she'd seen enough during her time working at the tavern that it wasn't difficult to come up with a story. "He was a drunken idiot who dropped a pouch of coins in the alley behind the tavern while taking a piss. He didn't realize I was there, so I took them after he left. But he returned, likely when he tried to pay for another ale in the tavern."

Red didn't look like he believed her, but she raised her chin defiantly, daring him to call her a liar. He turned to look at his friend, then turned back to her with a sigh, his face taking on a bland expression. No suspicion or skepticism, just neutral indifference from whatever message passed unseen between the two men.

"So, you're telling me that you are nothing but a simple thief?"

Galiena nodded hesitantly. She hated the idea of being thought of as someone who stole from others for no good reason, but it was the only story she could come up with that sounded believable.

And she shouldn't care what he thought of her—he would be gone from her life soon.

Red studied her for a long, uncomfortable breath, but she refused to squirm under his scrutiny even when a slow smile spread across his face. An uneasy feeling started to grow in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know this man well, but in the short while she'd been in his presence, she'd learned that when he grinned in that unsettling and charming way that set his eyes to twinkling, he was up to mischief.

"A wife skilled in the art of thieving can have its advantages." He had the audacity to wink at her after making that proclamation.

"I agree!" Anora interjected before Galiena could respond. "I must know what this is all about." Her voice was tinged with more amusement than Galiena thought appropriate for the situation. "When did you find yourself a husband, Galiena?"

"I did not find a husband!" In any other circumstance, her friend's ability to not let anything rile her was welcome. And her never-ending quest to find as much merriment in every situation as possible was one of the things that Galiena admired most about Anora. It was something she herself struggled to do and she needed more levity in her life. But at this moment, when she was the brunt of Anora's amusement, she was not enjoying the situation at all.

Anora turned to Red's friend, addressing him as though they were lifelong friends. "What do you know about this?" she asked, tipping her head toward Galiena and Red.

Hunter's lips parted as though to speak, but then he said nothing. He simply stared at Anora, seemingly mesmerized. It wasn't an uncommon reaction; Anora had a way of enchanting people. When he continued to stare at her, mouth slightly agape and not responding, Anora turned back to Galiena. "You and I have much to talk about."

"Aye, we do," Galiena agreed. "But first, someone needs to find Tommy."

"The cutpurse?"

She nodded at Anora, keeping her attention directed away from Red. "I fear he may be in danger."