Dream of Me/Believe in Me

fists. He flung her off with a curse. She struck the floor, pain lancing through her shoulder, and looked up in time to see the blades converging on hapless Magnus. The air left her lungs in a soundless rush as he was slashed first in his sword arm, then in his thigh. Blood poured from bothwounds. He collapsed onto the floor, his eyes locking on hers for a moment before unconsciousness claimed him.
    “Tie him up,” ordered the lanky youth.
    The stocky one made to obey but hesitated. The struggle had stunned them all out of their drunken haze yet left them disoriented. “He's bleeding bad …”
    “Let him,” said the oldest, the one Cymbra had instantly thought cruel. It was he who had been kneeling between Brita's thighs but now he glanced at the Irish girl with scorn. His gaze shifted to Cymbra and with a surge of horror she saw the rapacious fire ignite in his eyes.
    He recognized her fear and his mouth twisted in cold pleasure. “Forget that one.” He jerked his head toward Brita. “This bitch needs lessoning.”
    The other two hesitated only a moment. They stared at Cymbra, disbelief at her beauty dissolving swiftly into mindless lust.
    She managed to scramble to her feet but there was nowhere to go except back against the wall. It took all her courage and pride to refuse to yield to the stomach-churning terror that seized her. She lifted her chin and spoke with forced calm. “I am the Wolf's wife. If you harm me, he will kill you.”
    To her horror, the oldest merely laughed. “He will have to know who did it first. Mayhap we will not leave you alive to tell.”
    Before she could even attempt to reply, he reached out, seized hold of the top of her gown, and tore it from neck to waist. As she clutched at the garment to keep it from falling open, he knocked her backward onto the ground and came down hard on top of her.
    “Grab her legs,” he yelled to the other two. Cymbra made to scream but he clapped a hand over her mouth. When she tried to bite him, he reared back and struck her hard across the face. Lights danced before her eyes again. As though from a great distance, she heard him snarling,“Bitch! Saxon whore! You're not fit for anything but this. Dammit, get her legs open!”
    Someone was pulling at her ankles. She fought with all her strength but a dark cloud seemed to be sucking her down. She smelled the rank stench of ale and sweat mingling with rampant lust. The attacker slammed his hand over her mouth again, his fingers pinching her nostrils closed. She couldn't breathe; her lungs screamed for air. A last thought like a soundless sob welled up in her—
Wolf.

Chapter NINETEEN

    B RIGHT LIGHT MOVED BEFORE CYMBRA'S shuttered eyes, so bright that she flinched from it. She heard voices but they seemed to be far away. A hand touched her brow and she jerked weakly in response.
    “Be easy, my lady. Everything is all right. You are safe now.”
    Ulfrich, very close to her, his voice husky with concern. Slowly, she opened her eyes just enough to peer at him, closed them instantly against the light of flaring torches that seemed to fill the stable, then opened them again.
    “Ulfrich … ?” Was that her voice, so faint and reedy?
    His worn face creased in a smile of profound relief. “It is I, my lady, and glad I am that you know it.” He slipped an arm behind her shoulders. “Here now, I'm going to help you sit up just a little. If it pains your head too much, tell me at once.”
    Her head did throb but not overly so. She held on to him as he lifted her with the utmost gentleness and steadied her. She smelled sweet hay and oats and realized she was still in the stall.
    Her eyes were adjusting to the light. She could make out the shapes of men, some very close, many more just beyond. A torch flared suddenly and she caught a glimpse of Dragon, his face very hard and tight. He looked at her then, met her eyes, and for a moment she thought she saw surprise mingling with the greatest relief. Then he was gone and she tilted her head back against the wall, her eyes beginning to close.
    “Lord …” Ulfrich again, sounding cautious … worried.
    There was movement beside her, a sense of overwhelming strength and power. She reached out a hand and it was caught fast, pressed against a rock-hard chest.
    “Wolf—”
    He said nothing but drew her to him, cradling her in his arms, his big hand stroking her hair so gently as to bring tears to her eyes. Instantly, as she felt his touch, the sweet balm