Chapter 2

2

E rik was sincere about the danger in this area. They’d already encountered thieves on the way to her da’s castle, whom they had dispatched, but he worried about Accalia’s safety now that she was with them. Everyone was keeping a lookout for trouble, including the lass.

As they journeyed to his home, he was pleased to see the lass had spirit. He could not abide a woman who was meek and mild-tempered, who would faint at the first sign of danger and could not ride for days without constant complaint. He’d been amused when she’d stood up on her own after having a break, annoyed with him, not wanting his help, but then couldn’t mount her horse and he had to help her.

She seemed to have a warrior’s fierce determination. She was a pretty woman with a stubborn chin and flashing green eyes. Though it was a plus, he had more important reasons to take her as his mate.

Her golden hair was braided and pinned up, a wool hood covering most of it. He would like to see it down, hanging about her shoulders, to touch its silkiness, to smell her fragrance, her wolf and woman’s sweetness and spiciness. The breeze had been blowing in his direction, carrying her scent to him when he first saw her, of lavender and thyme, and he’d wanted to press his nose against her hair and take a deeper, closer whiff.

“Do you know how to use the sword?” He motioned to the sword belted at her waist.

“Aye, of course. We have many barbarians roaming the land.”

“But only one tyrant chief?”

She cast him a hint of a smile.

He chuckled, glad she seemed to have a sense of humor, but then got quiet. They needed to be silent through this area. Brigands looking for whatever treasure they could take would attack an unsuspecting party. One such as his, maybe not so much. Except for the prize they escorted through the land.

He wanted to know if Accalia was the right one for him who would carry on if anything bad should befall him. And who would bear his children to increase their clan numbers and be the mother to his three young sons.

They’d traveled for a couple of miles, surprised they hadn’t discovered anyone. Maybe they had cleared out all brigands in the area the first time through here.

Then a scout came riding back to them. “We have seen movement in the woods ahead,” his scout warned. He spoke in her language so that she would understand the threat.

“Are they wolves?” she asked.

“Humans, thieves,” the scout said.

That’s when they saw them watching from the woods. Seven brigands who looked to be thieves, dressed in motley garments, and judging from their ages, around twenty to thirty years old, but they must have thought Erik’s party wasn’t as large or armed as it was at first.

Erik’s wolves growled at the men hiding in the woods.

“That’s Norwulf,” they heard one of the thieves say. “And his vicious wolves.”

Erik had never hidden the fact that wolves were part of his chiefdom. People would think what they would. Most believed that instead of having trained hounds, he had wolves.

He drew his sword. Logan and Erik readied their bows.

Accalia unsheathed her sword, ready for a fight.

“He killed Olson and the others,” a thief said. Then the thieves slipped back into the woods like mist and vanished.

Erik glanced at her sword in hand. “These thieves learned of us killing the ones who attacked us on the way to your castle.”

She was glad that they hadn’t had to fight. On the other hand, if they had eliminated the threat, they could have safeguarded other travelers coming into this area who were not as well-armed. “I guess they willna follow us and try to attack anyone isolated from the others.”

“They would have a pack of wolves on them in an instant. They wouldna be successful in any case.”

The damp chilly air made Accalia shiver as they stopped to set up camp. And she realized her wool brat to wrap herself in was all she had to withstand the cold night air. At her da’s insistence, she’d worn a gown more for showing her off than wearing something for riding long distances and through the night. Now she had no other clothes to wear for the week she was at Whitehaven.

She shivered, unable to control the tremors running through her body. If she’d had a tent, she could transform into her wolf in private. She was usually comfortable doing so in front of her people, but in front of Erik and his men, she hated to admit she felt bashful and hesitant. Typically, she would retreat to her chamber to undress and shift in private.

Erik and his men were conversing quietly with his brothers. Erik looked back at her. He motioned to one of his men, spoke with him, and said, “Take my fur blanket to the lass.”

“Aye, my lord.” The man grabbed a fur blanket from Erik’s saddle and brought it to her, then inclined his head to her.

“Thank you.” Grateful for the warmth, she smelled Erik’s male wolf scent on it, of horse and the piney woods where the fur had rested on the ground at some point. She laid it out and then wrapped herself in it on a cushion of pine needles.

The air was brisk and chilled her. She was glad that the fur cloak helped to warm her considerably. She closed her eyes to try and sleep, but she couldn’t stop her mind from conjuring up all kinds of concerns—his people wouldn’t like her, he wouldn’t either, and she’d be faced with mating some other wolf who could be much worse than this one.

She touched the sword at her waist and unsheathed it, prepared to fight any brigand who might come in the night to attack them.

“Do you think she is sturdy enough?” Erik’s quadruplet brother Logan asked, drinking ale from his flask.

Erik studied her, knowing she wasn’t asleep, drifting off, mayhap, but listening to the conversation most likely.

He hadn’t thought of how she would need something warmer to wear on the journey, mostly because he had decided at the last minute to take her with him—a slight mistake on his part. Though he was certain his men would believe he was testing her in this. But he was not. He didn’t want her to fall ill.

Then again, one thing about being a wolf, if she wasn’t averse to stripping naked in camp, she could have called on her wolf. Then she would have been warm.

“We will see.” Erik hoped she would be and could bear his children without difficulty. He wouldn’t want to lose her at any rate. His concern was to ally with a wolf pack that could expand their numbers. But his wee lads needed a woman’s motherly touch, and he hoped she would manage them fine. Better than his late mate who hadn’t cared anything about them.

He realized he would have to have some of his dressmakers make Accalia some gowns for the time she would be with them. Maybe he should have told her da that he was taking her with him to prepare her for the journey and then stay with his people.

Erik pulled another fur blanket off his horse and laid it gently next to her so as not to wake her. She appeared to be asleep.

“You could warm her, brother,” Logan said.

“I am. As a wolf.” Erik pulled off his fur cloak, shirt, and tartan. Then he shifted.

“If it were me, she would be mine, sturdy or no’.” Logan stalked off.

Erik was sure that if Logan were the chief, he would do the same as him. Logan was as honorable as he and their brother Finlay were. Their brother, Leifson, who had remained behind to rule the rest of their people, was a different story.

As a wolf, Erik curled up next to the lass’s feet. She shivered slightly, and he snuggled closer to share his body heat with her as a wolf.

Several of his men smiled at him and he ignored them. This didn’t mean he was soft where the woman was concerned. Not only were they sharing warmth in a perfectly honorable way, but he was providing her protection, should anyone be foolish enough to attempt to overrun their camp in the middle of the night.

At one point, she drew closer to him, woke, stared at him, smiled a wee bit, and fell back to sleep. He snuggled closer to her, smiling in his wolf way, and then noticed the sword she grasped.

The darkness of the night enveloped the camp. The faint glow of embers from the campfire provided a faint light when rustling noises near the camp alerted Erik. He lifted his head from next to Accalia’s sleeping form, his furry ears twisting back and forth, and listened. Non-wolves couldn't move near the camp without being detected by the pack. With his wolf’s night vision, Erik made out the shapes of his men as they moved toward the source of the noise. Two wore thick, wolf fur coats while the others gripped their swords.

Staying in wolf form, Erik left Accalia's side to join his men while others moved in to guard her. It didn't take long for them to track down the group of five bandits who had planned to raid their camp.

One of the thieves lunged at Erik with a dagger, but he swiftly dodged it. He danced around the red-bearded man, keeping out of the dagger’s reach. His focus remained on the man, his gaze taking the wiry man in, the way he moved with agility and sure-footedness even in the dense bracken.

The man charged him as if he could take on a wolf shifter and win. Angered, Erik raced around him and bit him in the calf. The man fell to his knees. Erik took advantage and grabbed his throat and tore at it. The coppery smell and taste of blood filled his senses.

Once he pawed the man's shoulder and ensured he was dead, he heard sword fighting taking place further away, and momentarily, his brother Finlay caught his eye as he was engaged in a sword fight with another thief nearby, steel clanking against steel. Meanwhile, Logan chased after one who tried to flee. They had to kill these men, unlike the others who hadn’t attacked and ran away. These had been sneaking in to catch them unaware and they couldn’t let any of them live and chance them returning. Not with Accalia under his watch.

Erik found the rest of his men surveying the bodies of the thieves they had killed. Five of them. All had been accounted for. All of his men were also unharmed.

Taking the lives of innocent travelers was a task thieves had no qualms about. But when facing fierce wolves and well-armed warriors, their confidence wavered. It became a whole different challenge for them.

Erik shifted. “Bury them in the bog in the morn.” Then he shifted and headed to a stream and waded into it, washing his coat of any remnants of the man’s blood.

His men soon followed him there and cleaned themselves. He left the stream and shook off the excess water. Then he inclined his head to the men and wolves and loped back to camp.

The air was crisp and cold, carrying the scent of pine and wood smoke from the fire. All he could think of was returning to Accalia and keeping her warm while protecting her.

When he saw her, he was surprised she was awake, standing with two of his guards, her sword in her hands ready for a fight.

“What…what happened?” she asked.

He shifted, not meaning to until she’d asked the question. “We had some difficulty. Thieves were trying to enter the camp. They made a mistake in doing so.”

“They’re dead?”

“Aye.”

“Good.” She sighed deeply, lay back down, and pulled his fur around her. She patted the ground next to her. “Guard me.” She closed her eyes.

He shifted and snuggled against her again, knowing he had to tell the lass about his boys, but fearing she might not be happy about the arrangement in the least.

Before dawn’s first light, the men were packing to leave, and Erik shifted and was pulling on his clothes some distance away.

Once he was dressed, he went to wake her, wondering how long it would take her to be ready. But she was boldly watching him.

“Lass.”

She rose from the blanket and stood and stretched.

“Keep the fur cloak as ‘tis nippy out this morning.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped it around her and walked into the woods.

“Keep her in sight, brother,” Erik said.

“Aye,” Logan said.

“But watch the woods at the same time. The vermin we killed last night willna be the last of them.”

“Aye.” Logan hurried after her.

“She is tolerable,” Finlay, their youngest brother, said.

“At least out here.” Erik motioned to the woods. “But I must see that she is good with our people.”

Finlay shrugged. “What if she canna produce an heir?”

“Surely she will be able to.”

“She is an only child. What if that is all she can produce? Or not even that?”

If she was a suitable mother to his lads, maybe her da would see them as an extension of his pack and not feel the need for her to bear her own children.

“I wondered why you were speaking in our native tongue when you have said we must all speak Gaelic,” Finlay said.

Erik shook his head. “Old habits die hard.”

“So you dinna intend for her to learn it?”

“We live here now. We must speak the language of the people who live here.”

Suddenly off in the woods, Accalia screeched. Half the men, including Erik and Finlay, sprinted for the trees.

The dense ground fog and the smell of a coming rain permeated the air. They scoured the area, heard horses galloping off, and ran to camp to get their horses.

“Where is Accalia? Logan!” Erik shouted.

“We killed one of the men. We havena found Logan or Accalia,” Finlay yelled, some distance away.

“Here!” Logan called out, his head dripping with blood, his eyes appearing a little out of focus as he stumbled out of the woods to see Erik. “One of the brigands has her. There were six of them. I killed one of them!”

“Her da’s men or others?” Erik grabbed his brother’s arm to steady him, ready to kill every one of the men who had hurt his brother and taken the lass away.

“Not her da’s men. She was struggling against them, and she cut one with her sgian dubh .”