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“Where do I find those?”
“There is a völva—a witch, a seeress—in Jorvik.”
“Jorvik.” Cathy frowned, her mind recognized the word and translated it. “York?”
“The Anglo-Saxons call it Eoforwic. We conquered the city when we started the invasion twelve years ago. Now it is our capital here, one of the three largest cities in Bretland.”
Cathy nodded. “All right. Then that’s where I’ll go. Is it far?”
“That is where I shall go. On foot, I imagine it might take two weeks. My men and I sailed from there.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Then we should go together.”
“If you must indulge your fantasies then do so, woman. Without me.”
Cathy swallowed. “You need me. You can’t make it through enemy territory without speaking the language. Pretending you’re a mute will only get you so far. I’ll be your interpreter. I’ll help conceal that you’re a Viking. And you seem to know the way.”
“I do not know the way, only the direction. And I told you I shall not connect my destiny with you. I will go alone.”
Cathy would have backed down under normal circumstances. But right now, she needed to use every method possible to get to Brad.
“Alone, huh?” she said. “Without your sword?”
His face fell. “You said you hid it. Where?”
“I’ll take you there if you promise to take me with you.”
“No.”
“If you don’t want my help, I won’t lift a finger anymore.”
He scowled and shook his head. “That sword was a present from my wife.”
Cathy straightened. “Are you married?”
“My dead wife.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
He put the bowl aside and turned to her, his eyes burning like two blue fires. “If I allow you to come with me, I am not going to protect you. You are not going to be my responsibility. If you die or get injured or kidnapped, that will be on you. I will not save you.”
The blood drained from Cathy’s face. This man could not be more like her fiancé, the love of her life, on the outside, and yet he was the complete opposite on the inside. Where Brad was an angel, this man was a devil.
But Cathy had no choice. She would do anything to get back to Brad—even go on a medieval road trip with an angry Viking.
“Deal,” she said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
January 12, 878 AD
“Will you stop shaking every time I stumble?” Andor grumbled.
The beautiful, crazy blonde walked beside him on the pebbled beach. He felt Cathy’s sideways glances on him as though she physically touched his skin.
“I don’t!” she said and took a step away from him. “Fall if you like, I don’t care.”
He winced a little as he avoided a large stone. “You are like a hen. I do not remember that even my mother fussed like you do.”
