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)
My thoughts could only focus on Erik for so long, for I was soon out of the chamber and being led up the narrow stone steps to the rest of the manor. I heard voices and clattering from up top, and with each step I took, my chest squeezed in anticipation. Everything Erik had told me about the Vikings, everything I had seen, was larger than life. I was nothing but completely afraid.
Erik tightened his grip on me as we came to the door at the top of the stairs. I watched him, waiting for some sign of reassurance, some remark that would prepare me for what lay beyond the door, but there was nothing in his eyes except the dark grey that flickered in the torchlight like ocean waves on a cloudy day.
He pushed the door open, and I found myself first blinded by the brightness of natural light and then face-to-face with about twenty Viking warriors. Each one of them, from the stocky, drooling man with the red braided beard to the horrible one-eyed aberration that was Ross—the vile man who had killed my sister—was staring at me with such malicious and depraved intent, I felt my insides shrivel up. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to run back downstairs and lock myself in the dungeon.
Sensing this, Erik kept his hold on me and walked me forward out of the stairway. I didn’t know whether to keep my eyes on the polished floors, look the Vikings in the eye, or take in the sights around me. This was the first time I had been in Lord Bouchon’s manor, and curiosity was nipping at me. Still, I couldn’t quite take a look when I was the object of everyone’s attention.
The men had started to say things in Norse to Erik, and from their tone, dripping with lust and animosity, I had a feeling I knew what those things were. I was no stranger to male attention; every time I had gone into the village alone, I was often pinched or grabbed by the less respectable villagers. Still, never had I been in a large room full of men who had murdered their way to get where they were.
I started to wonder whether Erik was going to say something to his comrades, anything at all, when I heard a deep voice soar above their heads.
I craned my neck to the right and saw a large man step out from behind the crowd. Perhaps large was an understatement. I decided he was the biggest man I had ever seen in my life, and he was walking toward me with all the confidence of a king. The Vikings parted around him like Moses parting the Red Sea.
The man stopped right in front of Erik and me, and though part of me was afraid to meet this giant’s eye, I couldn’t help it. He was, no doubt, the Rolf Erik had mentioned. His power seemed to leak through his tanned skin as he commanded everyone’s attention with his presence alone.
“You must be Cherine,” Rolf addressed me in fluent French that rolled easily off his tongue. He gave me a smile that made my knees go weak. Rolf was a stunning man, with captivating dark eyes that twinkled playfully and a broad mouth that bordered on a perpetual smirk. He looked like he was always in on some joke, and it contrasted against the deep red scar that carved down the side of his golden face. He was all male, from his dark beard and exceptionally broad chest to the size of his hands as they clasped around mine.
He lifted my bound hands to his mouth and planted a firm kiss on both my knuckles. While Erik had a fire burning in the back of his soul, I could see Rolf was smoldering in every way possible.
“It is a pleasure to have you here,” he said, lowering my hands but still holding on. “I trust Erik has been taking great care of you.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that the only reason Erik was taking care of me was because this man had ordered his Vikings to slaughter my family. I gave Rolf only a faint smile and attempted to compose myself.
There was a gleam in Rolf’s eye as he studied my change in posture.
“Is my French too hard for you to understand?” he asked, finally letting go of me. My hands tingled without his warm fingers, and I snatched them back to the front of my dress.
I raised my head proudly. “It is acceptable. However, the fact that I am being kept prisoner here is not.”
Erik’s hands sank further into my arm. Rolf eyed him in amusement before bringing his penetrating gaze back to me. “You’ll learn to love it, Cherine…”