Page 35 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
He buried his face in her hair, sweeping her up in his arms. “I followed the tracks. And when my scout said Bjork had ye go off into the woods, I separated from my men to head ye off.”
“Thank God ye came for me.” Her eyes stung with tears. He was so warm. So solid. So strong. Elle pressed her face to his chest and breathed in his familiar scent, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he was there and the storm of emotions that flooded her entire being.
“I swore to protect ye.”
“An oath ye didna have to keep.”
Beiste tipped her chin, connecting his gaze with hers. “Aye. I did. I wanted to.”
He stared into her eyes and she wanted nothing more than to beg him to kiss her, drown against his lips, his embrace. But the sounds of a battle raged behind them and her heart hammered with fear and trepidation.
“I have to help my men. Come, my horse is over here.” He put a hand on her lower back, guiding her to the left. “I want ye to wait for me, hidden. Ride hard if I dinna come back.”
“Nay.” She jerked to a stop. “I want to help.”
“Please, Elle, for me. Stay hidden. I have news.”
“News?”
“Go. My mount is that way.” He whistled and a neighing reply sounded.
Before she could beg him to answer, he was running through the woods, back toward Bjork and his men.
Picking up her knife, Elle made her way the few dozen yards to Beiste’s horse which was also headed toward her. The horse stilled for her to climb onto his broad back and she sat there for perhaps a minute or two before she decided she couldn’t simply wait. If there was going to be a battle with Bjork, and Beiste, who she’d enlisted, was going to be a part of it, she couldn’t simply sit back and wait. She had to help in any way she could. To prove her own bravery, to show him how much she loved him, how grateful she was.
If only she had a sword. Damn Bjork for taking hers.
She felt beneath the saddle blanket and smiled. Just as any true warrior would, Beiste had a second sword stashed there. Withdrawing the sword, she urged his horse to head back toward Bjork. The sounds of battle grew louder the closer she got. Shouts, clangs, cries.
By the time she broke through the trees, many of the Vikings lay on the ground and so did a few of the Scots. The rest were in hard combat. Slicing, blocking, hacking. Shouts of anger, bellows of pain. It left her speechless with fear and angst. She stared through the throngs of fighting men searching for Beiste and Bjork. Why she didn’t spot them right away was a mystery.
They two were the largest of men. The fiercest. The most angry. Each of them was splattered with blood, teeth barred.
Her grip faltered on the sword. Thinking she could somehow aide in this fight had been a mistake. Why couldn’t she stick with her original plan of running? Of letting Beiste handle Bjork on his own? Why did she have to be so stupid?
Aye, she’d practiced fencing at Castle Gloom, but never had she seen a true battle until her parents had been taken from her. If she were to get in Beiste’s way, he could be harmed. The horse sensed her agitation, worry, and instead of backing up as she commanded, the animal surged forward into the battle.
Elle let out an ear-piercing scream, grappling with the reins, trying to pull back as hard as she could, but it was hard with a sword in one hand. And she didn’t want to drop it. As it was, men took the opportunity to rush her and she swiped one away. She was grateful to Gunnar who grappled another. Even her horse got in on the action, raising up on his hind legs and bopping a man with his thick head and forelegs.
Beiste caught sight of her, momentarily distracted. She screamed as Bjork raised his sword, prepared to levy a death stroke on her beloved.
Aye, she loved him. Intensely.
“Beiste! Watch out!”
He turned in time, raising his sword to block the blow. Seeing her seemed to give him a renewed sense of strength, a supernatural power. He intensified his assault, tackling Bjork to the ground with a piercing battle cry. All around her, men fought to the death. One by one, the Vikings fell, either dead or too injured to continue. Beiste’s men seemed to possess a sense of honor, not bothering with killing off the wounded, but taking down those who continued to fight.
Gaze fastened on Beiste, fear pummeling her insides, Elle watched him crush Bjork beneath his fists. He used no weapons. He continued to pound away until the man who’d killed her parents, killed Beiste’s father, no longer breathed, his face a mush of blood and bone.
As soon as Beiste stood, his eyes turned toward her. She felt dizzy with relief, affection, and something so strong, she couldn’t even name it.
He charged toward her, nearly ripping her from the horse, his mouth claiming hers for all to see.
Elle clung to him, arms around his neck, body pressed tightly to his, she wished they were one. That she’d never leave his side, that they could be together forever.
“I didna think…” She started peppering his face with kisses and he threaded his hands in her hair and breathed her in. “God, I was terrified. If he’d have…” She couldn’t even say the wordkilled, it was too painful to contemplate.
“Ye should have remained hidden,” he growled, his fingers digging into her back as he crushed his mouth to hers again. “Ye should have listened. Ye could have been killed.” He spoke between kisses, leaving her breathless and speechless all at once.
“I couldn’t. I… I needed to help. Needed to see that ye lived! I love ye. Did ye hear me? Ilove ye!” Love! She’d confessed to him her feelings, split open her heart and shared it.
At her words, Beiste pushed her to arm’s length, dark clouds storming in his eyes. He shook his head. Didn’t say anything.
She waited, heart wide open, tears stinging her eyes as he denied her feelings with that subtle shake of his head.
“Ye shouldna.” Then he turned his back and walked away.
