Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Cadet,” I filled in as I looked down at the floor.
“Ah, Cherine Cadet. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. And don’t you want to know who I am?” he asked, and I caught an edge to his voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. He pushed my chin up and forced me to meet his eyes again. They sparked with unpredictability.
“You are Rolf,” I answered.
“I am Rolf the Walker, son of Rongvald, the Earl of Møre,” he announced, louder now, as if he was also reminding his men. “Do you know why they call me Rolf the Walker?”
I shook my head. His fingers traced the edge of my chin.
“I am so large, very few horses can carry me. I used to walk instead of ride. Do you think you’d break if I rode you?”
I jerked away from his touch at that comment and felt a wash of fear spill down my back.
He grinned, pleased at my discomfort. “I am saying this in jest, my beauty.” He turned his smile to Erik. “I bet the longer she spends with you, the more she’ll develop your sense of humor, Erik.”
With a brief shake of his head, he turned away from us and faced the Vikings. He began yelling at them in Norse, commands I couldn’t understand, except that the men looked very happy and excited at them. No, excited was the wrong word. They looked crazy, with leering smiles and wild eyes, cheers roaring out of their throats. The noise in the room rose to uncomfortable levels.
Rolf then barked something else, and every one of them took off, running in different directions. I watched them, feeling like a panicked bird in a cage. Rolf said a few more things to Erik and stormed off into the rest of the manor, his black hair flowing behind him.
Erik’s grip loosened, and I turned to face him, a knot of worry on his brow slowly disappearing.
“What is happening?”
“He told them of our plans for Saint Martin. We’ll be on the move very shortly.”
“Are you…are you going to kill everyone in that village too?” I asked with wide eyes.
He smiled grimly. “Not everyone.”
“And you can’t just leave me here?”
He licked his lips quickly and avoided my pleading look. “No, I cannot. It is too late for that now. Rolf likes you. And so you’re one of us.”
“I’ll never be one of you.”
“Oh, Cherine, I do hope you’re right.” He tugged me forward. “Come along. We must find our horse for the journey.”
Sometime later, Erik was hoisting me on top of a massive dapple-grey Percheron and mounting right behind me. Though I protested that I knew how to get on a horse, I was still weak from the days spent underground, and Erik wouldn’t have any of it.
He placed me right in front of him, his crotch pressed hard against the swell of my buttocks. I held onto the gelding’s thick mane to steady myself while Erik wrapped one strong arm around my middle.
His mouth was right at my ear, and he murmured into it, “Are you comfortable?”
I was a little too comfortable. I swallowed and nodded, my fingers entwined further into the mane.
Erik clucked to the magnificent horse and steered it out of the Lord’s livery to the lane where the Vikings had gathered. There looked to be about fifty of them in total. There hadn’t been enough horses at the estate to carry all the men, so some were walking, while others were perched on the edges of carts loaded with stolen paintings, priceless artifacts, heavy jewels, and a generous helping of food and wine. The Vikings had robbed the port village of Criolium bare, only leaving behind a handful of men who promised to watch the boats and keep the manor under their command.
“Come ride with me,” Rolf boomed, waving at Erik and me to join him at the very front of the cavalcade. This time, he wasn’t walking, as Rolf had found himself a large Shire horse tall and broad enough to carry his build, even though he had to ride it bareback.
Together, we rode down the country lane with the procession of warriors behind us. Rolf sat like an emperor on his steed, his eyes focused straight ahead. I thought he would have been watching the hills or the dusty bushes that lined the road for any rogue Frenchmen, but Rolf seemed completely confident that we wouldn’t be attacked.
I tried to look behind me to see if maybe the men closest to us were at the ready, but I forgot Erik’s face was right there, and his lips accidentally brushed against my cheek.
I blushed and turned away. When I realized how silly I was to blush, the heat in my cheeks increased even more.
The three of us lapsed into silence while the men behind us rattled on in Norse. There were occasional cheers, and every now and then, someone would laugh, but because it was all in a language I didn’t understand, it faded into the background. After a while, I let go of the mane and settled back into Erik’s firm chest, secure in my position. He kept his arm tight across my middle, giving me just enough room to breathe as we rocked against each other with each hoof-beat.