Chapter Seven

I t was still dark when Red took Galiena's hand and led her from the goldsmith shop the next morning. There was a bite to the air that chafed her cheeks, but Anora had made sure Galiena was bundled from toes to teeth against the cold before letting her leave. She had on an extra pair of wool socks—which helped make the overly large boots fit more comfortably—thick braies and a second chemise layered under her gown. Her dear friend had stayed up all night hemming an extra cloak to a length that wouldn't trip her when she walked in it. And she'd added a slit up the back of the cloak that reached her upper thighs and could be held closed with a series of ties or left open to drape over each of her legs while in the saddle.

"You are the cleverest, by far. I am grateful to call you friend," Galiena had said to Anora, wrapping her in a huge hug. She clung to Anora for several long breaths. "Am I addlebrained to insist I be included in the journey to bring the news and the missive to the queen and king?"

"Yes," Anora answered with a mirthless laugh and an affectionate squeeze. "But no more addlebrained than a man would be in the same situation." She pulled back to look Galiena in the eye. "And who better to understand what a child means to a mother than you. I wager you would defy death, if needs be, to get to the queen and her babe, regardless of the perils you may face."

Galiena nodded her head and took in a fortifying breath. "If I'm going to get killed because of this tiny roll of parchment, I'd rather it be while trying to save the little prince than sitting in my cottage waiting for the people who are plotting to come for me." She touched her hand to her inner elbow where Anora had sewn a sleek pouch into the seam of her chemise, just wide enough to tuck the tightly rolled parchment safely away.

"You heard what Tommy said. Quit touching it, or everyone will know you carry something important," Anora scolded.

"Right," Galiena replied, deliberately folding her hands in front of her.

"Now, go save that little prince." Anora had turned Galiena by the shoulders then and pushed her toward the front room where Red awaited her.

With the wind tugging at her braided hair, she studied the huge horse in front of her. "Is that a saddle?" she asked, pointing to the blanket of fur strapped to the horse's back with a leather strap. She'd been expecting a proper saddle with a seat and something to hang onto for dear life. She imagined herself riding behind Red while she clung to…whatever the back of a saddle was called.

"No saddle," he confirmed. "We will be faster this way. Lighter. Just need the stirrups."

Her gaze followed his finger down to the metal loop hanging from a leather strap attached to a belt wrapped over the fur blanket and under the horse's belly. She assumed there was another on the other side. "I won't be able to reach those."

Red let out a low laugh as he twined his fingers together to form a cup and dropped them down in front of her. "Get up there."

Mumbling a reminder to herself that she was doing this for the queen, she placed her foot in his hands and waited for his next instruction. She heard his heavy sigh of frustration, followed by what sounded like a low growl. "The other foot."

"Oh." Thankfully it was still too dark for him to see the heat rise in her cheeks at her blunder.

"Grab my shoulders and swing your other leg over as I lift."

As she landed on the horse's back—none too gracefully—the beast bobbed his head and blew out a breath, sounding very much like his impatient master. Before she could comment on the similarities, Red grabbed the horse by his considerable mane and swung on to the horse behind her in one smooth motion. It was ridiculous to be offended by a horse, but it rankled that the beast didn't even make a sound when the huge Viking straddled his back.

"That was quite rude, Ham," she grumbled to the horse.

"Don't call him that," Red said, picking up the reins and nudging the horse to walk. "It's Hammer."

"You never shorten it to Ham ?"

"That's insulting." As if on cue, Hammer nodded his head up and down.

"Did you make him do that?" she asked while she carefully wriggled forward to put space between her back and Red's chest.

"He's very astute," he said quietly.

Because it was still dark, and because Red couldn't see her face, she allowed herself an amused smile at his wry response and noticed some of the tension leaving her shoulders as his big frame protected her from the wind. She was about to say something about the benefit of a clever horse but stopped when Red leaned close to her ear to say in a low voice, "No more talking until we are away from the village."

A tingle of fear shivered down her spine at the reminder of the danger that may be lying in wait for them. It definitely wasn't the warmth of Red's breath on the sensitive skin behind her ear that brought up the goose flesh on her neck. She didn't resist when Red pulled her hood up over her head to hang low over her eyes, effectively hiding her from anyone who might be in the lanes.

They did not pass by the church or her cottage on the edge of the church yard. Instead, they took the lane that circled the western side of the village before passing by the last of the tradesmen's huts and riding away from town. She had been unsettled by Red's nearness, the way his thighs cradled hers and his chest pressed against her back. But she was grateful for the support of his body as the horse trotted faster and faster down the road. She just wished she knew how to keep from bouncing uncomfortably with each step.

Red snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her near until her back was snug against his chest. "Relax and let your body follow the rhythm of the horse." She didn't like to admit that it was easier to settle into the cadence of the horse's stride with Red's body as a guide to the movement and tempo.

Her father had explained to her that horses could see better than their riders at night because their eyes were so much bigger. This bit of knowledge, paired with evidence of the imminent sunrise in the graying horizon visible over the tops of the trees assuaged her fear that Hammer would misstep and launch them headfirst onto the hard ground, breaking their necks.

As they approached the first crossroads, Hammer broke into a rolling canter that made Galiena's stomach lurch with the rocking motion. Red tightened his hold on her but did not ease Hammer's pace. After what seemed an eternity, the horse turned sharply into the woods, forcing Galiena to jerk to the side so that Red's arm pressed forcefully against her belly as he tried to hold her in place. She felt the contents of her stomach, which was minimal considering they had yet to break their fast, rising into her throat.

"Please, stop," she begged, concentrating to fight a wave of nausea. The horse slowed and then came to a stop. Galiena opened her eyes to see they had ridden deeper into the woods and away from the road. "Please, let me down."

"No," Red said in a low voice. "Not until I am certain we are safe."

Galiena grabbed Red's arm with both hands to push it down, then leaned over the side of the horse and, to her complete and utter mortification, vomited. She let her head hang down for a long moment while she tried to gain control of her body.

"Slow, deep breaths," Red said with what sounded like sympathy as he lifted his arm high on her chest to support her. At the same time, he hooked a hand on her opposite shoulder so she could lean her weight into it. After a few breaths, he asked, "Are you done?"

"I think so," she mumbled, sitting up slowly. Red guided her until she was settled with her back against him.

"Rinse." She felt him moving around behind her and then he moved a stiff leather drinking pouch around to her front and held it up for her to take a drink. "Why are you ill?"

She obediently took the pouch and swished water in her mouth, then leaned over the side of the horse again to spit it out onto the ground. It was humiliatingly crude, but worth it to get the horrid taste from her mouth. "The rolling of the horse made my stomach queasy."

"I've seen people get sick riding a ship on the sea, but never have I witnessed someone get sick riding a horse."

"Don't sound so incredulous," she said irritably. "It was your fault. Your arm dug into my stomach when you turned."

"Drink," he said, holding the pouch up to her again.

She obeyed, then leaned back into him again, feeling depleted.

"This is going to be a long journey."

It wasn't Red who said the last, though she recognized the droll voice. Galiena slit her eyes open enough to see Hunter directly in front of them on his own horse.

"I'll take her back," Hunter said, unenthusiastically.

"No!"

"Not so loud," Red warned her.

"No," she repeated in a loud whisper. "I'll be fine. I just wasn't expecting him to turn so suddenly."

Hunter's expression remained bland as his gaze moved from her to Red, but she had the distinct feeling he did not believe her. And he obviously did not think it wise for Red to allow her to continue. "Were we followed?" Red asked, changing the topic.

"No." It was the answer they wanted, but Galiena sensed there was more he wished to say.

"What news have you?" Red asked, his voice laced with the same suspicion Galiena felt. When Hunter hesitated, Red added, "You may speak freely in front of her. She is as much a part of this as we are now."

"Your pursuer is nowhere to be found."

"And…" Red coaxed.

"And the man he met in the alley is dead."

Galiena could feel the huff of breath that Red released at that bit of news against the back of her neck.

"How?" The tone of Red's voice as he bit out the one word sent a chill down Galiena's spine.

Hunter made the motion of a knife to the throat.

"Is that him?"

Galiena hadn't noticed the bundle strapped to the back of Hunter's horse until now. She fought another wave of nausea, knowing that Hunter, at least, would see it as final confirmation she wasn't to be allowed to continue. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat and looked away from the wrapped form behind Hunter. Think of the queen, she told herself. Think of the queen.

"I believe so," Hunter said. "But she got the best look at him. If it's not him, she'll know if it's someone from the village."

"I don't want her to see that," Red said more forcefully than Galiena thought necessary, even though the thought of looking at the dead man made her feel lightheaded as the blood drained from her face, but she steeled herself. The queen. The infant prince. This was no time to be squeamish. "I'll do it."

Hunter was already nudging his horse closer to them. He reached back and pulled the wool blanket from the dead man's upper body, then reached down to turn his head so she could see his face.

His hair was cropped short, and his face was colorless, but his neck was a mangled mess of dried blood and torn flesh. She forced herself to not look directly at his throat and concentrated instead on his face. When she'd seen the man, he was being choked, his features bulging with exertion. Now, his face was an ashen gray, making it difficult to tell if it was the same man. Pointing to the left side of the man's face, she said, "Can you turn his head so I can see above his ear on that side?"

Hunter easily swiveled the man's head so the left side was visible; Galiena could easily see the scar above his ear and the bald spot.

"That's him," she said, then averted her gaze. "He's not from the village and I've never seen him before."

Hunter let go of the man's head; she heard a thud and then another as, from the corner of her eye, she could see him pulling the blanket back over the dead man's head again. Bile rose unbidden to her throat once more but this time she couldn't stop herself from leaning to the side to retch a second time.

Oh, God, not again! She held out her hand for the pouch, which was promptly supplied, rinsed her mouth, and crudely spit it out, then took another drink.

"Are you sure?" She was certain Hunter meant the flat-toned question for Red.

"No," she bit out through gritted teeth as she sucked in a deep breath. "I'll not go back."

"She'll be safe at Frode's shop with Sumayl," Hunter argued, addressing Red as though he had been the one to protest.

"You're certain the other one is not still in the village?" Red asked.

"I couldn't find any sign of him," Hunter responded with a shrug as Galiena stiffened her spine. "She'll be safer there than anywhere else."

She clutched the arm he had wrapped around her middle and peered at him over her shoulder. "I can do this."

He stared back at her for a long moment. "If we stop every time you get sick, it will take us a sennight to get to the king. By then it may be too late."

"I'll get better at this," she said, trying not to cringe at the desperation in her voice.

"And if you don't?" His dark red eyebrows twitched upward with the question.

"Then I'll learn to retch without Hammer breaking stride," she said, letting her irritation make her remark ring with sarcasm.

His lips quirked into a lopsided smirk. "You'll leave a trail, which will make my job that much more difficult."

"You'll figure it out and deal with it," she said with more confidence than she felt, but she knew she had won when he rolled his eyes heavenward with a slight shake of his head.

"Aye, Wife ," Red conceded, "I'll deal with it."

She couldn't hide her own triumphant grin as she turned to face forward again, pointedly ignoring that he was back to calling her "wife" again. Or maybe, she conceded, she was starting to enjoy it. It had been a long time since she'd had a man flirt with her in a way that didn't involve him trying to immediately drag her to a corner for what he'd consider a dalliance and she'd consider something far worse.

"Please keep all of them safe," Galiena said to Hunter in a low voice, feeling self-conscious of his belief that she was not capable of completing the journey, and likely thought her a hindrance in getting to the king and queen before The Executioner. A small voice in the back of her mind suggested he might be right, but she refused to listen to it.

"I will," Hunter stated. "I will not let anything happen to Frode or Anora."

"Nor Thomas or Sumayl," she reminded him.

Hunter grunted and nodded once. "Sumayl is capable of protecting all of them, but I will stay until I am certain the danger has passed."

"Be careful," Red said, the warning earning him a peevish glare from Hunter. "The Executioner is a dangerous man."

"More dangerous than me?" Hunter asked in a growly voice.

"No," Red conceded. "But he's as close as anyone will ever come to being as lethal as you. You know that. You've been following him."

"He is proving elusive. I've yet to determine who he works for," Hunter said, setting his jaw in a hardline.

"How will we know… The Executioner ? Is that what we are calling him?" Galiena asked. She hadn't seen his face and knew him only as a cloaked figure in a hood. She hoped she'd recognize his voice if she heard it. But if he was close enough for her to hear him, then he was close enough to kill them.

"You won't be going anywhere near him," Red growled.

Galiena looked over her shoulder at Red, shocked to see the hard, straight line of his lips under his beard and the gleam of pure hatred in his eyes. He stared over the top of her head, refusing to meet her gaze, and she found herself feeling very afraid and very alone for the first time since stumbling into the Viking's arms. The man she'd initially thought of as a giant, charming, joking oaf looked cold and deadly. She turned stiffly to face forward again, keeping her back straight so as not to lean into Red, and fought a shiver. She had no desire to get pulled into the storm of his dark mood.

"Both of you know who we are looking for, but I still do not," Galiena reminded them. "Who is this man?" When neither man responded, she added, "If this man is as dangerous as you say, then you put me at a disadvantage by not telling me what you know."

"Best of luck, Viking," Hunter said, then nudged his horse forward and rode into the cover of the trees.

The sun was above the tree line and dawn had become morning some time ago, and in the full light of day, Galiena found Hunter's uncanny ability to disappear unsettling, to say the least. "I don't think I like him." The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

"Most people don't." Red's deep chuckle was unexpected. As was the sudden relief that washed through her body at the rich sound, as though something lost had been found again. "I'll tell you what we know of this man."

She relaxed against him once more as he took up the reins and guided Hammer back to the road to continue the journey.

*

If Red was a sensible man, he would have let Hunter take Galiena back to the goldsmith's shop. If he was a wise man, he would have forced her to stay under Sumayl's watchful eye and never agreed to bring her on this journey.

But when it came to Galiena, he was proving to be neither sensible nor wise.

His commander would understand without him defending his decisions. As much as Hawk used to jibe at him about his romantic tendencies, the man had lost all sense once he'd found Lady Alyce. Red was certain he would understand what it meant to make the wrong decisions for the right woman, so he would not have to explain his reasoning to Hawk.

Red knew his world had shifted in those first moments with Galiena. The challenge was going to be getting her to admit that she felt the same. His she-wolf was a feisty one when she wanted to be, docile and aloof when it suited her, and fiercely independent. He had no desire to tame her, but he had every intention of making her his. He laughed out loud, thinking about the challenge ahead and the merry ride it would be.

"Why do you laugh?" Galiena asked. Her hood had fallen back, and he could smell the scent of her soap in the thick, dark hair so close that he could bury his nose in it if he tipped his head forward. He had fought the urge to nuzzle her and hold her tighter to his chest, just like a kitten, but he knew he needed to censure himself lest he scare her away before he'd gained her trust.

"Nothing of consequence," he responded.

"Tell me of this Executioner so that I can at least know who is trying to kill me."

"He will not get anywhere near you." Red did tighten his hold on her then, and rested his chin on top of her crown, feeling an overwhelming need to protect her and soothe away her fears.

"I thought you said we had to keep our voices down."

Red hadn't realized he'd nearly shouted the words, but he was vehement that he would not allow anyone to harm her. "Are you afraid?"

"Of him? It sounds like I would be foolish not to be, but I will not let that stop me."

"You know I will not let him harm you." He spoke the words as a command and not a question, and in a harsher tone than intended, but he needed her to trust that he would protect her.

She turned to look up at him, studying his face as though searching for an answer to some question in the depths of his eyes. "I believe you."

He felt his chest swell with pride and nearly kissed her for it, but she turned to look straight ahead before he had the chance. A smile spread across his face, and he could do nothing to stop it even if he was sure it was a stupid grin and not at all befitting a warrior. He basked in the small triumph until she interrupted him.

"Now, tell me about this man so I may recognize him if we cross his path."

Red relented, though he hated the idea that she had to be aware of the despicable man. "Last time I saw him, he had a long, narrow face with sharp features and dark hair." Red didn't tell her about the way his lips twisted in a sneer as he watched his victims choke on their own blood, or the cold, evil glint in his eyes that matched the glint of his blade as he stabbed it through their necks. "We don't know yet who he works for, but we believe him to be a hired executioner."

"What is he to you, Red?"

It wasn't the question he expected from her, though he could have deflected it. But he didn't. He wouldn't tell her all of what he knew, but he did give her this: "He tried to kill me once. Would have succeeded if he hadn't been interrupted."

It was more than most people knew about him.

She was quiet for a while, then turned to look at him over her shoulder, her brow pinched with confusion. "Why did he not recognize you when he spoke to you in the lane?"

Looking over her head to avoid the distraction of her mesmerizing gaze, he said. "It was a long time ago. I was very young, didn't even have the first hair of a beard."

He was relieved when she turned to face forward again, not asking any more questions. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her about his mother and uncle and all that had been taken from him the day they were murdered, but he held back. He'd only told two people what happened to his family the day they crossed paths with The Executioner: Hawk and Hunter. Hawk, because he'd saved him from death at the hands of The Executioner, and Hunter because he'd asked for his friend's help to find the man. To Hunter's credit, he didn't ask why before agreeing to help, but he told him anyway.

"Frode said you are alone in the world. Is that true?" He'd asked Frode to tell him what he knew of Galiena, but the old man refused to say anything more than that she had no family, that he'd known her father, and that the rest Red had to discover for himself.

"Aye," she responded, her voice clear and strong in the one succinct word. She had obviously accepted her plight, despite the hurt he sometimes sensed in her expression. He understood what that was like, to be forced to continue living life without the people who mattered the most but who one could never forget.

She didn't say more, and he didn't press her. She settled into the rhythm of Hammer's gait and didn't look back at him again until they stopped to rest the horse and stretch their legs.

"I've never seen a horse like Hammer," Galiena observed as they ate chunks of bread and sharp cheese from the leather bag Red had strapped to his belt. "I've never seen a horse so broad in the back or thick in the shoulder as Hammer. His neck is like a tree trunk."

"I trust him with my life—and he's saved it more than once. He's as valuable to me in a battle as Hunter, or our commander, Hawk."

"Does he wield a weapon and protect your back?" she teased. "Is his aim true with a bow and arrow?"

Red liked seeing her like this, relaxed, and with an easy smile curving her lips and plumping her cheeks. "Like me, he prefers to hammer his enemies."

"Thus, his name," she said approvingly, looking up at him from where they stood side by side, eating their small repast and watching the horse graze.

"Hunter calls him ‘Thunder' because of the way he pounds the ground with his hooves. He openly ridiculed his bulk until he saw what he could do in battle. Those hooves can crush skulls or knock a man farther than I could throw him."

Galiena raised her eyebrows in appreciation. "I suppose a good knocking is better than the head crushing."

"If you don't mind having all of your ribs broken and your breath taken away permanently," Red said with a satirical shrug and a genuine grin of pride.

"But you called him ‘Hammer' even before you knew what he could do in battle?"

"In truth," Red confided, "I was going to name him ‘Thunder' in honor of the god Thor, but after Hunter ridiculed his heavy steps, I decided to call him ‘Hammer', which is Thor's trusted weapon of choice."

"And yours, I noticed," she said, nudging him with her shoulder. Her mouth curved in a broad smile, the white of her teeth dazzling against the pale pink of her lips.

He swallowed hard, drawing in a deep breath to keep himself from claiming those lips with his own. He'd wanted to kiss her again from the moment their lips touched the first time in the lane when she used him as a means of escaping The Executioner—though neither of them knew then who the man was or how dangerous he truly was to her. But he wouldn't kiss her again until she was a willing participant, and he could take his time, lingering on her sweetness.

Instead, he nudged her gently with his elbow in a conspiratorial way. "Don't tell Hunter, but I call him ‘Hammer' because he sounds like Thor creating thunder."

"Not the stealthiest of horses, then?"

"No," Red agreed, giving a short whistle to call Hammer to his side. "But once we are on his back, the only thing that can take us down is an arrow. He will run down anyone who tries to come near, and I've yet to meet another horse powerful enough to knock him off his legs."

"Is The Executioner adept at shooting arrows?" she asked, her brow crinkling with worry.

"He prefers a dagger," Red said to soothe her. He didn't want to tell her that he carried a reminder of The Executioner's ability to hit a target with an arrow in the form of a puckered scar on his left shoulder.

She visibly shuddered, and he decided his attempt at easing her worry failed. Putting a finger under her chin, he tipped her head up until their gazes locked. "He will need to kill me before he can get to you."

"Is that your way of getting me to include you in my prayers?" she asked, lifting a sleek, black eyebrow at him. It was one of the most alluring things he'd ever seen a woman do and it made him speechless for a long moment. Still holding her chin between his fingers, he dropped his face close to hers until their gazes locked, then said, "My name on your lips as prayer is my most fervent desire."

Her eyes widened, and a blush crept up her cheeks. "I did not think you such a devout man."

He chuckled then. "Oh, kitten, it's not in prayer to your god that I want to hear you saying my name." He moved his lips close to her ear, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair as he placed his hands on her hips. "I want to hear my name on your lips as a prayer for more."

"More?" Much to his satisfaction, her voice was breathy and strained.

"Aye, more," he said nuzzling her hair with his nose. "More of me touching you."

He heard her swallow.

"Pleasuring you."

Her breath came quicker.

"In you."

"Oh, God," she said with a soft gasp.

"No, kitten, you can call me Red." He stepped back and lifted her onto Hammer's back before she could respond. "But in the right situation, ‘Oh, God' will do."

He was enjoying the blush on her cheeks as he set her atop Hammer. And the spark in her eyes as she glared down at him.

"You overstep, sirrah," she chided.

"When I know what I want, it's what I do." He grabbed Hammer's thick mane and swung onto his back behind Galiena. "You will become accustomed to it, Wife ."

"I am not your wife. You may call me ‘Galiena', and nothing else," she retorted, but he was pleased to hear the mirth in her voice. "And I have no plans to become accustomed to your overstepping. Though, I suspect I shall have to learn to tolerate it until we complete this mission."

"Need I remind you that a declaration of being husband and wife is all that is needed to be married?"

"You've said as much, but need I remind you that we are not in your homeland. We are in England and without witnesses to vouch that the words were exchanged, it means nothing." She was getting more exuberant as she defended her argument. "And I did not declare you as my husband, I called you Husband, which is not the same. I might have well called you ‘Hammer'."

It was exhilarating to see her so unafraid to speak her mind. His mother had been the same—bold and enchanting. "You called me ‘Husband' and I called you ‘Wife', and until you can prove otherwise, we are married."

"If that's all it takes to be married, then it should be just as simple to div—"

He kicked Hammer into a gallop before she could finish her sentence. She grabbed the horse's mane to steady herself, but he had her caged in with his arms on either side of her. He let her bounce awkwardly while she found her balance, which didn't take as long as it did earlier in the day. Even with her riding improving, she would still be exhausted by the time they made it to Hawkspur, which he planned to reach by nightfall.

They stopped only two more times along the journey to attend to personal needs and give Hammer a brief rest. A full day of hard riding was tiring for an experienced rider, but for an inexperienced rider, it would make every muscle in the body scream for a reprieve. With each break, he'd noticed Galiena was getting stiffer and finding it harder to keep her legs from wobbling. When finally, they reached Hawkspur, long after the late afternoon sunset, he'd had to hold on to her for quite some time while she found the strength to move her legs. He could feel her quivering as she took her first steps.

"I can carry you in, kitten," he offered, knowing it would raise her hackles and make her more determined to walk into the castle on her own two feet.

"I am not your kitten," she hissed irritably.

"Aye, you are. You're wee and soft and feisty, just like a kitten." Before she could respond, he lifted his hands from her waist and her knees buckled again. "And I suspect you are wanting to scratch my eyes out right at this moment."

Scooping her up, he held her against his chest as the stable boys took Hammer to a stall to be wiped down, brushed, and fed. Normally, he would care for Hammer himself, but the stable master at Hawkspur was the best he'd ever known, and the horse was in very good hands.

Galiena squirmed against his chest, even as her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. "I will have my legs back by the time you get to the doors of the keep. You can put me down there before anyone sees."

As he climbed the staircase leading up to the doors of the castle, he said "Tradition says a bride should be carried over the threshold by her groom."

"Stop with that, Red." She released her hold on him and pushed against his chest as he reached the top step. "Put me down now."

He set her on her feet, and she immediately placed a hand on the door to steady herself. Her legs were only a little less wobbly than before, and he was about to put his arm around her waist so he could help her into the hall when the heavy wooden door was pulled open from the inside. Before he could reach for her, she fell headlong into the arms of the man and woman standing there.

"Hawk," Red drawled, "Lady Alyce. I'd like you to meet my bride."