Chapter Four

R ed wanted to throttle Galiena. "Who is Tommy, and why is he in danger?"

He knew in his gut she lied to him when she said she stole coins from the man and that was his reason for chasing her. She might be flippant with him about her situation, but this was proof she was in more danger than she was telling him.

She looked up at him with those silver-gray eyes that shimmered like the snowscapes under a full moon he so loved from his childhood, and he lost his breath for a moment. He tried to believe the sudden ache in his heart was longing for his homeland, but he knew it had more to do with the woman standing before him with desperation and suspicion etched clearly in the set of her jaw and the crease between her brows.

"I can see it on your face," he said to her in a gentle voice, "you need me, but you don't know if you can trust me."

She hesitated a moment, her lips parted as if to respond, and he knew whatever she said next would be another lie.

"I do not need you," she said, her voice strained.

He lowered his face down until he could feel the warmth of her breath, locking his gaze with hers. "I think you do."

He couldn't stop the triumphant grin he felt curling his lips when she turned away from him and he saw her mouth press into a straight line as she swallowed hard. He also couldn't stop from letting his gaze skim down the seductive curve of her throat, cursing silently at the high neck of her tunic which hid the rest of her from his sight. The curves and swells beneath the material hadn't escaped his notice, but it was the smooth skin below her ear that was captivating him at this moment.

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Then she turned her head back to meet his gaze. "How do I know you can be trusted?"

"What does your gut tell you?" he asked her. He'd noticed the way she looked at him, how she seemed more at ease when he was near, and he was confident she would conclude that he was trustworthy. Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the old man standing in the doorway to the front of the shop.

"Do you want this man to leave, Galiena?" the old man said from the doorway. Red turned his attention toward him and noticed for the first time that even though Frode's gaze was directed at him, his eyes remained unfocused.

As much as it galled Red that the old man thought he could force him to leave, he stayed civil, remembering that he was standing in the man's shop. "I am at a disadvantage, sir. You know my name, but I do not know yours."

"I am Frode, and this is my goldsmith shop." Frode's voice was strong and his words resolute as he stepped closer to Red—close enough for him to see the man's milky pupils. Frode did not let his failing vision stop him from taking a stance on behalf of Galiena, and for that Red admired him. "You've met my daughter, Anora."

"Indeed, I have," Red said with a sidelong glance at Galiena's bold friend. "Pleased to meet you both," Red said, but before he could say anything more Frode continued speaking with an air of authority that could not be denied.

"Galiena is like family to us. I've known her since she was a child traveling with her merchant father. In the absence of her father and husband, it is I you will have to contend with if you do not behave with decorum toward her."

Red's attention shot to Galiena. "You are married ?" he heard himself bark, his hackles raised in agitation.

Galiena didn't seem to hear Red's outburst. She was looking at Frode wide-eyed and with her mouth open in astonishment. "I did not think you remembered me as a child."

He was about to repeat his question, frantic to know if his she-wolf was already married to another man, but a gentle touch stopped him. He looked down at Anora's hand resting reassuringly on his arm. He tried to calm himself, realizing he probably looked like a snarling beast ready to pounce.

"Widowed," Anora whispered.

The anger receded and his shoulders slumped in relief. He knew it was absurd to feel this possessive about a woman he'd known for an hour at most, but he reminded himself of how his mother had told him as a boy that when he met the woman destined to be his, he would feel it in the marrow of his bones, just as she had.

And today, there was no doubt that he had felt something in the marrow of his bones. When she'd flung herself into his arms looking for protection, the instinct to kill anyone who would dare harm her overwhelmed him, and then he'd been jolted to the core when he'd kissed the little raven-haired vixen.

Widowed he could accept. Married? Absolutely not. Because then she couldn't be his—and she needed to be. It was destiny.

"When Anora brought me to your home not so many months ago," Galiena said, "I thought I recognized you, but it was too difficult to explain that when we first met, when I was a child, that my father had dressed me as a boy for my safety. But you knew, somehow, that I was the boy you once knew. Is that why you were so kind to me? Because you knew my father?"

"Aye. Your father and I did a lot of business together and he was a good man."

"You remind me of him in many ways." Galiena leaned closer to Frode and whispered something for his ears only. Red didn't like not knowing what was being said, but it was Hunter who stopped him from going to her this time with a hand on his shoulder.

The affection between the older man and Galiena was evident. Red never knew his own father, but a fleeting memory of his mother flashed through his mind, his guilt over the loss of her still a sharp stab of pain in his heart.

"I do not mean interrupt," Anora said in a small voice, "but you said Tommy is in danger. Should we not do something about that?"

Galiena jumped, her hands flying to her face as though she'd just been startled. "Yes, Tommy!"

"I assume you mean the boy with a talent for lifting pouches," Hunter said. Red thought he heard a hint of admiration in his tone.

Galiena nodded. "He's a sweet boy despite his…talents. I don't want to see him hurt."

"I'll find him." Hunter was already striding toward the door.

"Do you need my assistance?" Red called after him.

"No," Hunter said, reaching for the door. "The lady is right. You are far too conspicuous."

*

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

The stubborn Viking was pulling the fur cloak from his shoulders as he spoke, obviously intent on staying to question Galiena further.

Galiena held Red's ice-blue gaze as she decided whether she should take Frode's advice and trust him. She felt her resolve to push him away slipping as good sense prevailed. Her father had been a traveling merchant when she was a child, and together, they'd had more adventures than she could count. She had faced danger before, but this felt different. And more than she could face alone.

The men from the alley spoke of killing the heir—a baby—and mentioned the queen, but now she questioned if that was really what she heard. Only a fool wishing for a painful death would think of harming the heir of the king of England. A shiver slithered down her spine at the thought that if they were desperate enough to risk suffering the gruesome and agonizingly slow execution reserved for traitors to the crown, then they would not hesitate to kill anyone who jeopardized their sinister mission.

She slipped her hand under the flap of her long tunic, pressing her fingers to the pouches tied to her belt. The missive in her possession could be the key to stopping a traitorous plot and saving the queen from the pain of losing another child.

"Galiena, I asked if you were ready to tell me what happened," Red said, brushing a knuckle over her cheek in a soothing gesture.

"Aye," she nodded, her gaze transfixed on the floor in front of her as she thought about all that had happened and what to do next. Whatever it was, it would be dangerous. There was no doubt that she would need assistance. Perhaps the giant Viking, though she didn't know him, had been placed in her path by Providence. And if that was the situation, then really, how could she be in doubt of his trustworthiness?

She lifted her head to look at Anora and Frode. "But telling you what happened, showing you what I have, could put you in danger. I could not live with myself if either of you were harmed because of me."

"This old man needs to sit," Frode said, moving to a bench by the worktable, but he seemed more excited than worried.

Galiena looked at the large table where he sat, strewn with the tools of his trade, evidence of the business he'd built over his lifetime.

"You have so much to lose, and you have already been too kind to me. I cannot ask you to risk losing all this," Galiena said, sweeping her hand around the room. To her surprise, neither Anora nor her father looked the least bit unsettled by her words.

"If what you have to say proves to be that dangerous, then you will need our help," Frode said, almost echoing her thoughts, his tone as easy as if she had asked him to repair a buckle on her belt.

"If she stumbled into something treasonous, then it's better you know nothing about it," Red warned. She noticed he hadn't included himself in his warning, another revelation he was no ordinary man.

Galiena looked up at him; he was unblinking and calm as she met his intent gaze, a signal that he had correctly guessed the nature of the danger. She could tell by the way his lips tightened and his beard twitched with the flexing of his jaw that he understood she was admitting the situation was as dangerous as he'd thought even though she didn't say a word.

"If you will excuse my rudeness," Red said, turning back to Anora and Frode, "I would like to speak with Galiena in private and gauge the danger before she reveals it to you."

Again, she was struck by how this revealed the type of man Red was—a protector not only of women he'd unexpectedly kissed but of old men. Frode shook his head to protest, and Red's face tensed at his response, but then Anora's father held up a hand before the Viking could argue.

"I have seen much in my lifetime, Red, and I am not afraid for myself. But if Galiena is in danger, then she will need all the help she can get."

Red arched an eyebrow at the older man as he studied him for a long moment. "My apologies, Frode. I believe I have underestimated you."

"Accepted," Frode said before turning to her. "Galiena, tell us what this is about so we may help you."

Galiena looked at the faces in the room, two of them comprising the only friends and allies left to her. Nay, they were family. And Red… well . "I believe the hooded man is part of a plot to kill the queen's babe." She said the words in the barest of whispers. Saying it out loud, even if quietly, made bile churn in her stomach. "The child needs to be saved."

She had seen the much-loved queen a twelvemonth or more ago when the king and his army had passed through Oswestry on their journey to Wales. The king and queen had graced the local priest by stopping to pay their respects, and the queen, her belly rounded with pregnancy, had taken a walk with her attending ladies, a cadre of watchful soldiers in their wake. Her nursemaids followed her, carrying her baby daughter, a child not yet able to walk unassisted, while a little fair-haired cherub of a girl skipped along behind.

It had been nearly her undoing to see that little girl so much like her own. Now and again, Queen Eleanor would look over her shoulder at her daughter and give her a broad smile. The queen looked genuinely happy, and Galiena had wondered how she managed after losing so many of her precious babies. Galiena had lost one child, her only child, and it had irretrievably broken her.

Since then, the queen had given birth to a boy named after his father. By autumn, the new babe was the only surviving male heir to the king after their older son had died at the age of ten. He was the third male heir to die, and prayers were being said regularly that the new baby, Edward, would remain hale and grow to manhood to succeed his father.

"They must be warned to protect the boy," she continued as she removed the pouch from her belt and set it on the table, then carefully removed a small, rolled parchment and laid it gingerly next to the pouch. "And if what I have will help find the men responsible, then I must bring it to the king."

Nothing would ever bring back her own sweet child. She would never hold her again in her arms, and she would never forgive herself for failing to save her. But if she could save the queen from the despair of losing another child, of having her son's life cruelly taken by the hand of a monster before he had a chance to grow into a man, then she would do everything in her power to do so.

Even if it meant risking her own life.

A life she would have gladly given in exchange for her daughter's.

A life she would willingly give now to save another mother's child.