The Shielded Heart Read online

  Holding her hand up at the ready, she backed away as Swen began to stalk her across the snowy ground.

  “You won’t throw it,” he teased, grinning. “Even if you do, you’ll miss.”

  Anna darted to the side and threw the snowball at him, hitting him square in the chest.

  With a moan, he clutched his chest and fell to his knees. “Straight through the heart.” He groaned. “I’m doomed.” He looked up through his lashes at her as though testing her reaction. “There’s only one thing can save me,” he whispered as he fell backward in the snow. “A—” He mumbled the rest of the words; she understood not a one.

  Swen lay flat on his back, eyes closed, his hands still upon his chest.

  “Swen?” She crept closer when he didn’t reply. “Siwardson, what did you say?” she demanded, her voice tart with exasperation.

  He muttered again, his voice so faint she could barely hear it.

  She dropped to her knees beside him and leaned closer. “What—did—you—say?” Sitting back on her heels, she added, “If you don’t either answer me, or get up, I’ve got the weapon right here to make you talk.”

  He opened his eyes. A smile on her face, she brandished a large lump of snow. “All right,” he muttered. “If you insist.” Lying back down and closing his eyes, he said clearly, “I fear the only thing can save me is a maiden’s kiss.”

  Did he really want her to? she wondered, hesitating to kiss him if he wasn’t serious, and thus ruin the night.

  He opened one eye and looked up at her. “Aren’t there any maidens here?” he asked in a plaintive voice before resuming his pose.

  Anna let the snow fall from her hand and leaned closer to him. “Aye. But this maiden isn’t certain you truly wish her to kiss you.”

  Swen’s eyes opened, their blue washed away by the moonlight. But the pale light couldn’t disguise the yearning hidden within their depths. “In this alone, my heart, I yield.”

  When she leaned closer, he rose to meet her. His lips touched hers as gently as a breeze, brushing over her mouth as though it were a delicate flower. His hands crept around her waist beneath her cloak, tightening about her as she echoed his embrace.

  He spread a path of kisses along her jaw, the warmth of his mouth a startling contrast to her cold cheek. “Thanks to you I am saved, fair maiden,” he whispered next to her ear. His breath on the sensitive flesh of her neck sent a chill down her spine that owed nothing to the cold and everything to the man who held her so tenderly.

  She thought she felt him withdraw, so she eased herself from his hold before he should be forced to push her away. If all they could have were these brief moments of sharing, she didn’t know if she could bear it.

  But she’d not deny him, for if this was all they had, she’d savor every bit of the experience. Memories of Swen’s kisses were far better than no memories at all.

  “As a boon for saving you, milord, I will spare you,” she said, hoping to regain the pleasant jesting they’d shared.

  Swen stood and helped her to his feet, then brushed away the snow that clung to their cloaks. “Are you willing to stay here longer?” he asked. The hesitancy in his expression surprised her; perhaps he was as uncertain as she of what to do next.

  Her feet were cold already, and her gown damp, but she refused to give up this opportunity. Her earlier aches and pains forgotten, she nodded. “You promised me a celebration. Will you show me what you meant?”

  If it gave her more time with him, she’d ask him to teach her to toss knives, if necessary—anything to remain by his side.

  “We’ve already started,” he said with a wry smile. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

  “Aye.” She pulled her cloak more tightly about her. “But I thought that it involved—”

  “It involves doing whatever pleases you, what makes you happy.” He took her hand. “It pleases me to be with you, whether we’re in your workshop, or out here, enjoying this beautiful night.” He stepped closer and slipped his arm about her waist. “Even getting snow down my back is a pleasure, if it earns me another maiden’s kiss,” he added, the soft, deep rumble of his voice heating her blood.

  She couldn’t imagine any better way to celebrate. “All you need do is ask,” she murmured. But a chill struck her then, a welcome jolt to her senses; if they kept this up, who knew where it might lead.

  There was more than one way to warm the blood, she reminded herself, some far safer than the other activities preying upon her mind.

  Anna stepped away from Swen, bent to scoop up a handful of snow and tossed it at him, heading for the forest before he could retaliate. “Come on, Siwardson—you don’t expect the maiden to stand about in the cold, do you?” she called as she darted among the trees. “Aren’t you supposed to capture her first?”

  Swen chuckled and followed her into the shadowy forest, his feet silent on the snow-covered ground, his teasing comments as he sought to lure her to him making her clutch her side to keep from laughing.

  She paused behind a stout fir to shake the snow from her skirts and catch her breath. Swen had stopped talking so often, and she lost track of his direction, so that when he spoke from a short distance away, she couldn’t hold back a shriek of surprise before she lunged in the opposite direction.

  Swen fought back a smile when Anna cried out and raced away. He doubted she had any idea how easy she was to follow through the trees—especially since she’d slipped and tumbled into the snow several times as she sought to evade him—but he had no intention of cutting short her fun by catching her too easily.

  But she cried out again as she hastened away from him, then tripped and tumbled down the rocky slope of a hill.

  She didn’t get up.

  “Anna!” He hurried over to where she lay and knelt beside her.

  She had her eyes shut tight, as though she were in pain, but she opened them and attempted to smile when he touched her. “How do you feel about carrying me?”

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked. Hands frantic, he pushed aside her cloak and flipped up the hem of her tunic to check her ankles.

  “Swen!” She slapped at his arms. “Stop—there’s no need.”

  He tugged her skirts down and wrapped her cloak about her. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” she said, grimacing.

  “Did you hit the rocks?” he asked, glancing up the uneven slope.

  She squirmed within his grasp. “Would you please let me up?” Once he’d done as she asked, she sat up with her back propped against a tree. “No—I hurt because I’m cold, I’m wet, my back ached before we came out here—and I’ve got a cramp in my leg so I can’t stand on it.” Her litany of woes finished, she shifted against the rough bark and reached down to massage her leg.

  He moved her hands out of the way and laid his own on her thigh. “May I?” At her nod, he set to work.

  The muscles of her leg were taut as bowstrings, resistant to the soothing motion of his fingers. Not wishing to hurt her, he watched her face as he rubbed the tense flesh, but the only signs of pain he saw were her closed eyes and the way she caught her lower lip between her teeth. How could she remain silent? he wondered. He’d have been howling like a babe by now.

  When he first felt something wet land on the back of his neck, he thought it was snow falling from the trees. But when he glanced away from Anna, he realized his mistake.

  It had begun to snow again—huge, wet flakes falling thick and fast. He looked up through the trees, but he couldn’t see the sky. At some point while he trailed Anna through the woods, clouds had rolled in. Now they almost completely obscured the moon, dimming its glow to a faint aura that cast no illumination upon them.

  Damnation, how could he not have noticed it getting darker? The trees had cut off some of the brightness—but the clouds must have gradually rolled in while he focused his attention on Anna.

  He sat back on his heels and glanced around, continuing to massage Anna’s leg while he pondered w
hat to do. He could scarcely see more than a few paces away. They’d traveled quite a distance into the forest; it would be difficult to find their way in the heavy, cloaking snow. Anna most likely couldn’t walk—he could carry her easily enough, but that would hamper his ability to search for the trail.

  They’d better find somewhere to take shelter until the storm passed.

  The muscles beneath his hands had softened somewhat, though Anna’s leg still seemed to be cramping. No matter. He sat back and smoothed her cloak over her.

  Anna opened her eyes and grabbed him by the arm. “Swen—what will we do?” Her voice carried a trace of panic, as did her grip upon him.

  “Do you know these woods?” The visibility had faded even more in the brief time since he’d noticed the snow. Without leaving Anna’s side, Swen groped along the ground nearby. If he could find some branches or small trees, he might be able to fashion some sort of shelter. His hand brushed against a stout branch an arm’s length away; he tugged it close.

  “I’m not very familiar with the area,” she said. “Are we near the trail to the abbey, do you know?”

  He thought about where they’d come into the trees. “A bit to the right of it, I think.”

  “Good. There’s a steep hill not too far into the forest—it’s very rocky. Perhaps we might find some shelter there.”

  Swen glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing but snow. Handing Anna the stick, he scooped her into his arms and stood. “Which way?” he asked, and they set off into the cloaking darkness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Despite the security of Swen’s arms about her as he carried her, Anna fought back a rising sense of panic. The still-painful twinges in her thigh were as nothing when she realized the gravity of their situation. She knew the chances of their finding shelter in this blizzard were slim.

  But she had faith in Swen. He would do all he could to save them. From the tales he’d told her of growing up in the north, she knew of his familiarity with this kind of weather, and during his time at Murat, she’d seen firsthand his resourcefulness.

  She couldn’t have chosen a better person to be stranded with, she thought with a wry chuckle.

  “Are you all right?” He paused and shifted her in his arms, then resumed his slow but steady pace.

  Anna leaned her head against his shoulder. “I was thinking that you’re a good person to get lost with.”

  She couldn’t tell if the sound he made was a grunt, or an abortive laugh. “Thank you—I think.”

  “It’s true, Swen. I trust you, and I have faith in you,” she whispered against his throat.

  Surprising how easily the words came in the darkness.

  He pressed his lips to her brow. “I am honored, my heart,” he murmured.

  He plodded on for a few more paces, then stopped. “We’ve reached a hill,” he said. “And the footing’s rough beneath the snow. Could be rocky.” He walked on, pausing often to find his footing.

  It must be the right place, Anna thought, a kernel of hope growing within her, for she could tell how steeply the ground rose now. Before much longer, Swen stopped.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “Aye.”

  Grateful for the support of his arm about her waist, she sought her balance on the uneven ground. She felt ice under the snow as well, adding to the difficulty. Her feet, despite the heavy, hard-soled boots she wore, kept slipping out from under her.

  Here the trees grew sparse, allowing the moon’s dim glow to lend some brightness through the snow—it could not be called light—to ease their way. Swen pointed to a dark mound off to one side.

  Easing his arm from her, he waited until he could see that she wouldn’t fall before heading for the outcropping. He disappeared behind it, then stuck his head back around. She thought he grinned, though she couldn’t see well enough to tell for certain.

  “There’s less snow on the other side,” he called. “And there’s a hollow large enough to protect us. I’ll come back for you soon.” She heard whistling as he moved around the rocks.

  The wind picked up, adding to her discomfort as she stood waiting. Her leg began to cramp again, and she lowered herself carefully onto the lumpy ground before it collapsed from under her.

  She could no longer see the mound of rocks by the time Swen came out of the whirling snow to get her. “I didn’t intend to leave you here so long.” He bent and lifted her into his arms.

  Anna huddled against his chest, grateful for the heat radiating from his body—and his nearly bare arms. “Where’s your cloak? You must be freezing!” She tried to tug loose the front of her cloak to wrap the edges around him, but her body pinned the material between them.

  “Hold still, else we’ll both go tumbling down the hill,” he cautioned, holding her to him more tightly. “I’ll be fine once we’re inside.”

  “Inside? Did you find a cave?”

  He shook his head. “I made one.” He carried her around the rocks. “Your bower, milady.” He dipped his arms and swooped her through the narrow opening with a flourish.

  ’Twas almost pitch-black inside, just a narrow band of gray showing at the mouth of the cavern—such as it was. Swen felt behind her with his hand for the wall, then eased her down to sit leaning against the rough stone. “There’s just about room for the two of us.” He squirmed past her and pulled a flap of cloth—his cloak, she realized—over the opening.

  With the light cut off completely, Anna felt as though she lay nestled in a cocoon. Swen wriggled back to sit beside her. “We’ll have to sit very close—’tis cramped, but the best I could do.” He slid his arm behind her, cushioning her back from the wall.

  “It’s fine,” she murmured. “And I’m sure ‘twill soon be warm.” She burrowed her face against the soft wool of his tunic. “You’re warm.”

  He settled her more comfortably in his arms, then sat up straight when his foot encountered her snowcrusted hem. “Once the chill is gone in here, this will melt and you’ll be soaked.” He reached down and tugged at her skirts, then tossed a handful of snow toward the door. He ran his hands over her. “Your cloak is covered with it as well,” he said with disgust.

  She reached for the clasp at the neck of her cloak and unhooked it, shifting to slide the material out from under her. “Can you shake off the snow?” She handed it over to him, then wrapped her arms about herself. “It’s freezing without it.”

  Rising to his knees, Swen crawled toward the opening. “I can try.” Material flapped heavily; Swen sighed. “I don’t think it’s helping much.”

  Flopping back beside her, he tossed the cloak at their feet. “Is your dress wet, too?” he asked. She felt his hand move gingerly over her feet and up her legs as he spoke. “Damnation. You’re covered with snow.”

  “Once it gets warmer—”

  “You’ll be soaked from head to toe.” He groped for her hand in the darkness. “Here’s what we’ll do—you take off your tunic—”

  “What?” she shrieked. “I think not.”

  “And I’ll give you mine.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice faint. Despite her daydreams about Swen—as lust-filled as her limited knowledge could make them—the thought of disrobing in front of him made her stomach clench with nerves. ’Twas a relief to know he hadn’t meant what she’d thought.

  He squeezed her hand. “’Tis so dark in here, I won’t see a thing,” he assured her.

  “But you’ll be cold.” This plan hardly seemed fair to him.

  He laughed, though she didn’t understand why. “Nay, my heart—I’ll be warm as toast, I assure you.”

  Something in his voice made her want to both go to him and promise to keep him warm in any way she could, and slap the provocative look she knew he wore right off his handsome face.

  Neither action would do any good, so instead Anna clasped her hands in her lap and considered their situation.

  She could see the truth in what he suggested—come morning, or whenever this blizza
rd ended, she’d rather not be soaking wet when they ventured outside. And she’d certainly be more comfortable in his tunic, dry because he hadn’t fallen in the snow as she had, than in her bliaut, which felt damper by the moment. Perhaps if they shook off the snow and spread it out, it wouldn’t be so bad to wear later.

  Peeling off her gloves, she tossed them at Swen. “Since my fingers are numb, you’ll have to help me with the laces,” she told him.

  Her fingers weren’t the only things numb, Swen thought as her words sank into his brain. The mere notion of helping Anna out of her dress seemed to have rendered his tongue useless. Dry-mouthed, fingers shaking, he reached toward her.

  She took his hand and guided it to the knotted string at her nape. He fumbled beneath her hair, then stopped when his fingers tangled in her hair and she winced. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, carefully easing his fingers free. He leaned closer to her, his face beside hers, as he picked at the wet cord.

  This close, he could smell the scent of her, the sweet hint of honeysuckle mixed with something that was woman—nay, that was Anna alone. He bent nearer, his nose buried in her disheveled hair, and filled himself with her essence.

  Anna shivered. “I’m trying,” he muttered, tempted to rip the string apart to speed this process…Tempted to do far more than that, he acknowledged. The knot unraveled suddenly; Swen backed away from Anna so swiftly, he rapped his head against the wall. He cursed, glad she couldn’t understand his native tongue, and moved back to give her more room to undress.

  On one level, he was glad there was no light, for then he might have been tempted to peek, to see the cause of the mysterious rustlings and sounds as Anna removed her wet clothes. But as he sat there in the darkness, his mind created images to go with what he heard, stirring his body into a fine fever of longing regardless of sight.

  The rustlings stopped. “Here.” Anna handed him her tunic—and her underdress. Swen drew in a deep breath and held it as he reminded himself that she was not for him, for any number of reasons.