Dream of Me/Believe in Me

know of this.” At the look he gave her, she amended,
“Not
for the reason you think. Only that no damage be done to the friendship that should exist between you.”
    Her brother had no comment on that beyond an eloquent raising of his brow. He pulled the concealing cloak over his head once again and handed her a second, equally voluminous cape that he drew from beneath his own. “Put this on then and let us make haste.”
    They joined the stream of traders heading through the gates. Hawk drew her between two heavily laden wagons that offered them further concealment. Almost before Cymbra knew it, they were beyond the berm but she could not relax until they reached the bottom of the hill and veered away from the main road that led into town. Instead, they followed a narrow path of trodden-down grass and dirt that wound around the hill and vanished out of sight of the watchtowers.
    Only then did she catch her breath and feel her heart slow a little. A swift and largely silent walk brought them several miles north of the town to an area where Cymbra had not been. There, in a secluded cove, she saw her brother's ship riding at anchor.
    With a worried glance at the sky where the sun wasarching earthward, she hung back a little. “Surely this is far enough? You can see I am under no duress. Won't you believe me now when I say I never have been?”
    “I will believe you when you stand on the deck of my ship,” he said stubbornly.
    A sudden, terrible thought occurred to her. She dug her heels into the soft ground and stared at him, refusing to move. “Hawk … you meant what you said, didn't you? That when I have convinced you, you will let me go? You would not just … sail off even knowing that I want to stay?”
    He looked surprised at the very thought, as though her fear that she would be forced to leave made him realize for the first time that she might well and truly wish to remain.
    “I will respect your decision,” he said with gruff reassurance, “once I am certain of it.”
    Convinced that she had no choice but to do whatever was necessary to satisfy his concern, Cymbra followed her brother down the verdant hillside fragrant with late-blooming wildflowers and into the secluded cove.
    His men greeted them with eager relief. No doubt they had not been pleased by their lord's insistence on going alone into what they regarded as an enemy stronghold.
    The sail was unfurled for a quick sprint to open water and the anchor was being raised as Hawk and Cymbra reached the shingle beach. He was just about to lift her onto the deck when the thunder of pounding hooves froze them both.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

    T HE NORSE WOLF CAME OFF HIS HORSE LIKE a vast, turbulent storm rolling down a mountain. Before his feet touched the ground, his sword sang from its sheath. He advanced on Cymbra and Hawk, his features set in a rigid mask of rage from which all reason and control were banished. His eyes glittered like the cold, hard steel he wielded. His mouth was drawn in a hard, taut line. Corded tendons pulsed in his neck and rippled down his mighty arms.
    Cymbra gasped at the sight of him. In that moment, she truly understood how terrifying he could be and why men quaked at the mere thought of challenging him. His transformation into a being of raw emotion and instinct stunned her, and filled her with primitive fear. Yet nothing could change her deep and abiding love for him. Though her throat closed so tightly she could scarcely breathe, she still tried to reach out a hand, driven by the desperate need to comfort and reassure him.
“Wolf…don't—!”
Hawk, too, was driven by his instincts, and theyscreamed to protect at all cost. Ignoring Cymbra's protest, he pushed her behind him and drew his weapon. He spared a glance for the men pouring down the hillside behind their leader, then concentrated all his attention on the deadly foe who continued to come straight at him without pause.
    “Hold, Viking!
Or the peace you claim to seek ends now!”
    Wolf's mouth twisted in a sneer that revealed the depth of betrayal tearing at him. “Peace is for deluded fools! There is only war … only this—”
    He attacked without hesitation and so swiftly that Hawk's superb reflexes alone saved him from instant death. Silence descended over the beach, broken only by the savage clash of steel as two mighty warriors battled without quarter.
    On both sides, Norse and Saxon looked on. No one moved to intervene or to join the fray. Locked in