Dream of Me/Believe in Me

heat take him. With it came memories. It was in this very sauna that his brother-in-law, the aptly named Wolf, had put forward the idea that Hawk should also make a marriage to strengthen the alliance between Norse and Saxon. Wolf had come to Hawkforte as an invader backed by a mighty Viking army to reclaim his bride, Hawk's own sister, the Lady Cymbra. Hawk still felt a twinge of guilt for having taken her from Wolf's stronghold at Sciringesheal, to which she had been brought a captive but where she had become a beloved wife. Not understanding that, Hawk had taken her by stealth …some might even say by trickery. That thought made his brow crease. His situation wasn't the same at all. He'd had every good reason to believe he should bring his sister home. What possible reason could Krysta have for what she had done?
    No doubt she had some excuse prepared by now, perhaps a whole host of excuses, but he wanted her actual reason even though he suspected he had little hope of getting it. He was still mulling that over when his stomach growled, reminding him that he had eaten nothing since morning. Reminding him, too, that the day was aging and he could not remain in the sauna forever. Steeling himself, he plucked up the fresh clothes left for him, walked down the short track to a deep pond, and plunged into its refreshing waters. When he emerged, he felt invigorated and ready to face whatever might come … or so he hoped.
    Entering his hall, Hawk took a cautious look around. The servants were at work preparing for the evening meal. They glanced his way before returning to their duties with great diligence. Daria was making herself scarce, for which he was grateful. He hesitated, half hoping Edvard would appear with some matter that required Hawk's immediate attention. When there was no sign of the steward, Hawk mounted the stairs to his tower. He went rather more slowly than usual, mindful of the servants' eyes on him and not as eager as he might have been to discover what awaited him above.
    He found his door ajar and eased it open with the same care he might have used to gain entry to a Danish stronghold. It swung soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. The room was as he had left it but tidier, the tub and all traces of it gone. The bare wooden table, the one where he sat going over the endless tallies of his estates, the correspondence from Winchester, and the tide of petitions that came to him from all directions, the table where heoccasionally snatched a few precious hours to read his beloved books … There was a book open on that table now and it was being read but not by himself. His bedraggled, dye-stained betrothed had been snatched away and in her place sat a creature spun of sunlight and sea foam, surely not human and yet seemingly so, if the blush that overcame her when she glimpsed him was any indication.
    Slowly, she set aside the book—with care, he noted. She rose as though preferring to face him on her feet. She tried to smile, but the effort wobbled. “My lord …”
    She sounded the same, her voice soft and faintly husky. Looking more closely, he saw that she appeared much the same. Her eyes were still a hue of green he had never seen before. And her nose was still splattered with freckles. For all that, he was most grateful, elsewise he truly doubted he would have recognized her.
    She was not, even now, precisely beautiful if judged by the standard of his sister, who was said to be the most beautiful woman in all Christendom. But what she lacked in classical perfection, she made up for in her uniqueness. He caught himself staring at her and tried to look away but had no success. She was, after all, his almost-wife and he supposed he could be pardoned for being curious about her.
    “What are you doing?”
    His voice sounded gruff to Krysta and he looked gruffer yet, frowning down at her from his considerable height. He seemed to have brought the outside in with him, filling the chamber with the power of wind, sea, and earth. She wasn't afraid … precisely … but she did take a step back before catching herself. It was absurd to retreat when there was nowhere to go. She gestured to the book now lying closed on the table. “I was very careful.”
    He followed the direction of her gaze, his frown deepening. “You read?”
    It was not a foolish question for there were many whowere pleased enough merely to gaze upon the intricate designs that decorated the vellum pages without any understanding of the