Dream of Me/Believe in Me

their wind-filled sails and the proud emblem emblazoned on them. He cursed again and dug his heels into the stallion's side, urging his mount to a gallop.

Chapter SEVEN

    L ET ME GUESS, HAWK SAID. YOU HAPPENED to be passing by and thought y ou'd drop in for a visit.” The man across from him grinned. He was as large and heavily muscled as Hawk himself, with brown hair shot through with gold brushing his massive shoulders and eyes like flame-lit topaz. He wore a plain tunic of finely spun black wool and polished leather boots, but no adornment to hint at his true rank and power save for a sword of finely crafted steel. Yet was there no mistaking the aura of nobility that clung to him, an aura in no way diminished by the trick of nature that had made him an unusually handsome man.
    So far, no fewer than six serving girls had tripped past on one pretext or another. Hawk found himself wondering if more lustful looks had ever been directed toward any one man in less time but his guest seemed to think nothing of it. He didn't ignore the girls, on the contrary, he bestowed upon each a smile of true friendliness and regard. Hawk sighed, remembering that the Viking genuinely adored women, believing them the best gift thegods could bestow upon mankind. They, in turn, seemed to sense that and returned his affection with what could only be described as unbridled enthusiasm.
    “What sort of a friend would I be if I went by without a word?” his guest asked after a pretty redhead swept past, wiggling her hips fast enough to cause a draft. “Besides, I thought you might want news of your nephew.”
    Hawk looked at the man known from the ice fields of the north to the souks of Byzantium as Dragon and grinned. “And how is the little lion?”
    That his sister had married into a family with the same penchant for bestowing evocative names on their males no longer surprised him. He had come to accept that in the feared Norse Wolf, Cymbra had found her true mate. The birth of their son at Hawkforte just a few months before had brought great joy to all, not least because it dissuaded Wolf from dismantling the stronghold plank by plank and stone by stone, as he had threatened to do in revenge for Hawk's misguided rescue of his sister.
    Amazingly, they had put all that behind them as they forged the alliance of Saxon and Norse to stand against the Dane. Hawk's marriage to Krysta would doubly bind the alliance, which meant that only the man seated across from him would be left unwed, but not for long.
    “The little lion continues to shake the walls of Sciringesheal whenever he bellows. Fortunately, he's a happy sort and doesn't do it too often. Cymbra's a wonderful mother, of course, and an equally wonderful wife. Wolf is disgustingly content. It's hard to believe he used to be known as the Scourge of the Saxons.”
    Hawk shrugged. “You know what they say, reformed scourges make the best husbands. And speaking of which, has your brother found a bride for you yet?”
    Dragon flinched and took a long quaff of his ale. “I told him I wanted a meek little woman who would rub my feet and bear me sons. He said any such would bore me somuch I'd be dead before the bridal flowers wilted. With that much difference between us, I'm counting on a long delay.” He nodded at Hawk. “Besides, he's got you to preoccupy him.” Dragon paused, took another swallow, and eyed his host. “What do you hear from Vestfold?”
    Innocently, Hawk replied, “I had a letter from Cymbra last month. She's hoping to persuade Wolf to pay Hawkforte another visit before too long, just not bring an invading army with him this time.”
    “That's nice but I was referring to your impending marriage.”
    “Oh, that. Your brother kindly rammed through— that is, negotiated—the bridal terms so I really haven't had much to do with it. I gather all is in order regarding … what's her name … Kwirka? Klonka?”
    “Krysta,” Dragon corrected. “Lady Krysta of Vestfold. It might help if you could remember your betrothed's name.”
    Hawk nodded solemnly. “I bow to your expertise in such matters. How long do you think you'll be staying? We can get in some hunting.”
    “Wonderful, but about the Lady Krysta …” Dragon's brow furrowed. He put his goblet down and sighed deeply. “There may be a slight problem.”
    “Problem? What sort of problem could there possibly be? I assume the dear girl is eminently acceptable and all will proceed on course.” He looked