“What’s the name of your dentist?” Camelee asked. “Perhaps I’ve heard of him.”

  “Roldan Simeon.”

  “No. That’s a name I would remember.” She sighed. “We’re right back where we started from. Wolf, you still look annoyed at me. Why would you be? Because I want to go home?” she answered before he could. “Do you think yourself so precious that I should be happy to be stranded in your presence?”

  “There are worse places to be,” he answered in seriousness, but with a slight smile. “With worse people.”

  “Leofric,” Alric supplied. “Aethelwold’s brother.” He looked up at Wolf with a dark, pitiful gaze. “He will come for you.”

  “Did he attack my camp?”

  When the boy nodded, Wolf snarled. “I hope he does come for me. He killed many of my men.” When the boy said nothing else, Wolf set his gaze on Camelee again.

  “You really do think I should be grateful?” she asked him.

  He nodded. “The chances of me being someone favorable were slim. Most strangers are not to be trusted.”

  “Some things never change.”

  “Even you admit then that I am not half-bad.”

  She smiled and he felt lightheaded. Was this something ordinary that happened to men when a breathtaking woman was in his presence? He’d never felt anything like it. She made him forget his worst days and the worst things, like was Fin dead?

  When he had seen that Saxon bastard’s hands on her, he’d thought he would go mad with rage. Part of him didn’t like what she made him feel. Another part wanted to explore deeper. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, and make certain no other man ever did.

  “I never said you were half-bad.”

  He laughed softly and unwittingly kissed the top of Hild’s head.

  “What are your plans for me?” Alric questioned, probably thinking this a good time to ask.

  “For now, I would like you to watch over Hild when we stop. I wish to share words alone with Camelee.”

  “Aye, Chief,” Alric replied. “Hild can use as many friends as she can get.”

  “We shall see about friends,” Wolf said, letting him know that he, himself, would decide who Hild’s friends were.

  “I have heard much about you, Chief,” Alric told him. “Most Saxons have.”

  “Oh?” Wolf glanced at him. “What have you heard, Boy?”

  “You speak our native tongue well.”

  “I have been fighting here for a long time.” How long had it been, he thought? Thirteen years? He’d left Denmark the first time when he was sixteen. He went back five years later and began building his longhouse. He became chieftain after defeating three Norwegian raiding parties. King Cnut I had heard about him and drafted him into his army. Danish forces, already used to the bitter cold and wet weather, swept across England like a plague, devasting Mercia and northern England.

  He was almost thirty years old now. He wanted to go home. Soon. He hadn’t been scouting the land this morning. He was supposed to be meeting Cnut and his men, but Cnut had never left Wessex. Wolf met with the king’s emissary, who claimed Cnut was home with his sick wife, Queen Emma. Emma was the widow of Aethelred, the Saxon king before Cnut. Perhaps she was sick of the man who murdered her husband. Still, Cnut had spared her sons with Aethelred. She was grateful.

  The king could not travel but would await Wolf at home for Christmas in Wessex. Nothing had changed, save that Wolf was bone weary. He needed sleep, not a woman and a child, and now a boy in his care. Why was he allowing this? It was his fault. He was taken with a slave! Hild was easy to take under his care. He didn’t even have to think about it. But why Alric? Why another soul in need of a happy home life?

  He glanced at Camelee and then tilted his head to see her more fully. She was speaking, telling the men a humorous story. Her expressions were full of amusement and the others around her laughed. He looked down and even Hild was watching her from his lap.

  He remembered why he’d chosen Camelee. She was full of life and sparks of fire. And like a moth to flame, he was drawn to her. He was a fool. She was a Saxon…or something, but not a Dane. His captive, a servant. And if all that weren’t bad enough, she was mad. Wasn’t she?

  “Some say you are immortal,” Alric said from beside him. Wolf had forgotten he was there. “But no one is. Leofric said he was going to prove it by cutting out your heart.”

  “I do not have a heart,” Wolf let him know. “He will find that out.”

  “Look!”

  He followed Alric’s finger, looking west toward the camp. Dark smoke rose to the clouds. Fire!

  He rode to Camelee and handed Hild to her. “Stay here!” he ordered them and then sped away with his men thundering behind him.

  Fin! Was his brother alive? The rest of his men? Aethelwold had done this. Wolf was glad he’d killed the Saxon. He would find Leofric and end him.

  He rode hard, reaching the smoky outskirts of the camp, turning on his mount to his men. He pointed right to some, left to the rest. They were too late though. Dead men littered the ground. His men. Some were Saxon, but most were his men. He moved slowly on his horse, gazing through tendrils of smoke at the massacre. The Saxons must have come upon them unaware. Still, the men could have taken the Saxons after gaining their wits. There were more men with Leofric. They had left with him. He would find them.

  For now, it looked as if all of them were dead. Was his brother among them? Wolf had left him in charge. He was to lead the men. If he wasn’t here among the dead, what did it mean?

  “Find anyone alive. If they are ours, bring me to them. Go!” he barked his orders, and his twenty men did as he commanded. He heard a woman’s voice. He raked his burning eyes over the bodies. No women.

  “Chief!” she called out to him.

  “Chief!” one of his men called. “There’s a woman—”

  “I know. Bring her to—”

  “Oh, Chief, I never thought I would say this, but thank God you are here.”

  Genevra! “Genevra!” He rode his horse to her and dismounted when he reached her. “What happened here?”

  “Like I told your commander—”

  “Fin? Blond? Nasty?”

  She smiled, then coughed, holding her hand over her mouth. “That would be him.”

  “Then he is alive?”

  “Aye. He was not here when the Saxons attacked.”

  “Not here?” A chill pierced Wolf’s heart at the news. “Where was he and where is he now?”

  “He was with her.” She pointed to a pretty girl with sooty cheeks. She was going through the fallen men’s clothes.

  Wolf’s blood boiled. He released his bow from over his furry shoulder and pulled an arrow from his quiver. “You!” he shouted, nocking the arrow. She looked up from the burned coat of one of his men. “Move away from my men or I will put this arrow through your neck.”

  She paled and rubbed her throat and stepped away.

  “Where were you while this was happening?”

  “In my bed. Why? Do you think I had something to do with this?”

  “I had not considered you a suspect,” he told her with his voice practiced and as sharp as the finest blade. “You protest before I accuse. Come around this way. I have some questions to put to you.”

  “He was anguished,” Genevra told him about Fin. It was a bit shocking to hear. “He left to go find Camelee.” Fresh tears filled her eyes. Wolf could see that she’d been weeping by the stripes down her dirty face.

  “I found her, Genevra,” he reassured her while he looked around. “She and Hild are safe.”

  “Oh!” She clutched his arm, stopping him. “Thank God! That is pleasing news to my ears, my lord.”

  He nodded and gave her a half-smile. Did she care for Camelee and Hild? Well…good. He was glad.

  He gave her hand a pat and moved on to the other woman who, it turned out, swore she was with Fin for a better part of the night, though she smiled at Wolf like a hungry feline and licked her lips. She shrugged when he shook his head at her. “He saw the smoke this morn and ran here. He even left me alone.”

  “I spoke to him after that,” said Genevra. “He said to tell you that he went to find her and bring her back. He also said you would not forgive him for this, and he did not want to see that in your eyes.”

  Wolf stared at her. What? That did not sound like his brother. Maybe the young Fin would have said it, but Fin no longer cared what his brother thought of him. Wolf thought he could be trusted to lead the men. But Fin had been too hard at work in the bed of a woman who robbed the dead to concern himself with the men who were being ambushed and killed.

  “Is anyone else alive here?” When Genevra shook her head, he beckoned her to his horse. “Come then, we will return to Camelee and Hild.”

  “What about your commander? Do you not want to know which way he went, which was obviously the wrong way if he did not find her and you did.”

  Yes, Wolf thought, unless he had escaped and left Genevra alive to tell him of the noble thing he was doing. Wolf would have scoffed if it didn’t prick his heart so much.

  “I will find him,” he assured her. And he would. But not now. He didn’t know what to believe about his brother. Not anymore, and not just recently, but for the last few months. They had grown apart and things had become harder. They had fought about it just last month. Fin knew his brother wanted to return to the north and finish his life there. He was angry about it because he wasn’t ready to do the same. But it was time Fin grew up and survived on his own.

  If he’d betrayed Wolf in any way, he had better pray to whatever god or gods he prayed to that Wolf did not find him.

  The reunion between the women, young and old—or well—older, was pleasing to watch.

  At least young Alric thought so—about him.

  “What?” Wolf demanded, trying to sound firm but quiet after being caught watching her like a lost dog.

  “You have a heart, after all.” Alric grinned as if he’d just discovered the cure for love. It most certainly felt like an illness.

  “The child needs them. It is good to—I like—” It all sounded as if his heart were involved in some way. He was Chief Wolf Kristiansen. He’d just told the brat, Alric, that he didn’t have a heart. He—he stopped and ground his teeth, tightening his jaw. “Why am I answering you? Go away before I run you through.”

  Alric shook his head. “She likes me, and so does Hild, so you will not do that.”

  Wolf curled his mouth into a snarl. The cold, polished edge of the same blade that killed Aethelwold pressed against the boy’s neck before Alric could speak again. Wolf stepped closer, without moving the blade and looked into Alric’s eyes. “You risk your life on the belief that I care what either of them thinks.”

  The boy who thought to stand against him trembled, but his eyes remained steady. “Aye.”

  Wolf glared at him, but…he was correct. So Wolf left him alone and ordered that they prepare to move out. He didn’t let Alric see any trace that he was correct in his assumption. Of course, he wouldn’t kill a boy. Threaten him, yes, but not kill him. It showed Wolf, though, how easy it was to recognize that Camelee meant more to him than anything else.

  Still, pride could not be allowed to fester. No one was indestructible. He thought of his brother. No matter how much they would disagree, they were still brothers.

  Chapter Ten

  “You didn’t run away when you had the chance, like the others did,” Camelee told Genevra a half-hour later, when they were back on the road behind a small army of men. She thanked God for the millionth time that her friend was safe and alive.

  “Where would I go? Who would I care for?” Genevra smiled and looked down at Hild, pressed close to her bosom.

  Camelee wasn’t jealous. At least the girl’s preference for Genevra was a little more understandable. Genevra was motherly. Alric smelled like milk. Maybe that was it.

  “I hope our destinies are intertwined,” Genevra said, her smile lingering as she set her gaze on Camelee’s.

  “I don’t know if I believe that kind of stuff,” Camelee told her, “but if it’s possible to be connected to people then I wouldn’t mind sharing a destiny with you.”

  They laughed and then smiled at each other.

  What about with Wolf? Would she be willing to share her destiny with him? She let her gaze slip to him riding along the men’s flanks. He must have heard them laughing because he looked back.

  Their gazes met. She offered him a smile, intact and warmed from someplace deep in her heart. She spared him her glances because there was something different about him compared to the other men she’d met so far. Or from anyone she’d met in the past. Alric was right. He clearly liked her. She knew why he denied it. It didn’t make the reason any easier to take. It was because she was a slave.

  Ha! He was foolish as well as stubborn if he believed that. She didn’t belong to anyone. She didn’t care what century she was in, she…her thoughts brought her back to Aethelwold and how dangerous he was. If she hadn’t had Wolf in her life, she could have easily been reduced to servitude after he broke her will. She wasn’t certain how long she could have lived with him.

  It made her see Wolf in a different light. She recognized that she was a psychiatrist’s dream, but she didn’t care. She would never have given Wolf the chance to see any good in him if she hadn’t seen the bad in others. That’s just the way it was. She was pampered and spoiled. She might not have ever appreciated this type of guy. Even if this living arrangement wasn’t permanent, living in—in the eleventh century—she was happy to have learned from it. Maybe this was all she needed to do in order to go home. Learn something. Well, she did. She closed her eyes and held on to her reins. She was ready.

  Wait. Her eyes opened. Was she? What was she going back to? What was the hurry?

  She almost laughed out loud. Was she nuts? The hurry was that there were Vikings and Saxons everywhere. She wasn’t sure who was more dangerous. Nuts because there were slaves here, no electricity, no phones, nothing!

  “Is something wrong?” Wolf’s deep voice stole across her ears as he rode closer. “You look troubled.”

  But the future didn’t have him in it.

  “No. No. I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t know why I was sent here.” She sounded ridiculous. But she didn’t want him to ride away. She liked his company. Maybe she even liked him a little.

  “Perhaps,” he said with a smile that brightened his compelling eyes and made her want to win his warrior heart. “I am a part of your destiny.”

  Was it the fathomless, sultry tone of his voice or the possibility that his words were true that made her feel faint? Maybe it was just the way he smiled at her while his hair lifted softly off his shoulders.

  “You mean,” she managed, fighting his effect on her, “my destiny is to be a slave?”

  He didn’t take offense at her words or the scathing way she delivered them. He didn’t seem to care at all. “You could use some—what is the word the Saxons use?” His smile hadn’t changed but what she thought of it did. He was infuriatingly annoying.

  “Humility,” he said with a wink.

  “You are telling me I could use some humility? You? An arrogant marauder?”

  “Do I not treat you better than the others?” he asked with incredulousness tainting his smile. “I let you sleep beside my bed and gave you my tent—”

  “I sound like your pet dog.”

  “What would you prefer from me?”

  They both seemed to realize what he was saying at the same time. She watched him blink and swallow, as if the truth of him was as unexpected as a summer rain. He’d offered himself up. What would she prefer from him? The possibilities were endless. Umm, how about he appreciate her as a woman, try to see her as an equal? Release all his “slaves”? Help her find her way home and maybe come with her? She wanted to smile thinking of him in New York City. After the initial shock of it, he would like it.

  “I would prefer you not speak to me so often.”

  All traces of humor vanished from his face. “Yes, I would prefer that as well.”

  He kicked his horse’s flanks and flicked his reins. He was gone before she could get out another sentence. What was there left to say? What if she could never return to her life in the twenty-first century? What if this was it? She needed him! But she didn’t want to be his servant. Better his than a man like Aethelwold or Leofric, but still a servant.

  “You are perplexed about him.”

  Camelee looked to her left and blushed at Genevra. She had forgotten that she was there, on the other side of him.

  “Yes. He does perplex me,” she confessed. “He’s a nice guy…for a murdering Viking. But I really need to concentrate on finding a way to get home.”

  “To your future?” the older woman asked, her silvery-blue eyes wide with curiosity and apprehension.

  “Yes,” Camelee said. “Who told you?”

  Genevra’s deepening smile radiated with affection. “Alric. But do not be angry with him. It is not easy to keep something like this a secret. He believes you wholeheartedly.”

  Camelee didn’t understand why knowing that comforted her. It was important to be believed. These people had nothing to go on about her. She was different, more likely not to be trusted. But Alric…and Wolf believed her.

  She wouldn’t ask Genevra if she believed her.

  “Tell me of it,” Genevra said as they rode.

  She would be easy to convince. “I live on an island called Manhattan,” Camelee began. “It’s not too big but almost two million people live on it.”

  “What is million?”

  Camelee smiled and explained the number.

  “How do they all fit?” Genevra wanted to know, leaning in toward her in the saddle.

  “Their dwellings are all piled atop one another in neat, sometimes quite beautiful buildings reaching toward the clouds.”

  “How can that be?”

  The wonder and amazement in Genevra’s expressions made Camelee want to tell her everything.

  And she did, for the next four hours, until they reached their destination, a large, fortified fort. There were Danes watching them from their posts on the wooden battlements surrounding the fort.