Page 55

A broad smile spread her lips, and she hid her face. “I’d have fought a whole army for you,” she said without looking at him. Then she bit her lower lip as though she had said too much.

Something thumped hard in Andor’s chest. Maybe it was his heart, or maybe the ghosts were banging at the door because they, too, heard her words.

He knew now that he did not need to worry about protecting her. She had everything she needed to be fine on her own. She was capable of being a help to him, fighting by his side, and even saving him.

If she stayed, he would not need to worry for her life…

“I would have fought a whole army for you, too,” Andor said.

Her eyes met his, and he sank into them as if they were a bottomless sea. The need for her returned and heated his veins, and he fought the urge to touch her, to draw her to him, to kiss her.

And suddenly, Andor wished that those five days until they reached Jorvik would stretch to a lifetime.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

York, January 30, 878 AD

The fires of the watchtowers lit the night sky.

“Jorvik,” Andor said.

The end was almost here. Cathy’s stomach twisted, and she took one step closer to Andor. He walked by her side as he had since they had started this journey together.

Did it have to end? Cathy was torn inside, as though a long, deep chasm formed within her, and it hurt. She needed to think of Brad. He needed her. But how could she leave Andor?

The whitish-gray walls grew ever closer. It didn’t look like a wooden fortress. These were thick city walls, about thirteen feet high. Andor stared at the walls as though they were his personal enemy.

At the gates, he announced: “Jarl Andor Thornsson. This woman accompanies me.”

“It’s Jarl Andor!” the guard yelled. “Jarl, it is me, Anarr. We were worried you were dead. Fridstein wanted to look for you.”

“Just let us in,” Andor said.

The gates opened and they walked in. Cathy’s heart thumped in her ears.

This was it. York.

Three weeks on the road. Fighting with swords, eating meat, washing in icy water, escaping a cult—all for this.

Cathy should find the witch immediately and see if the woman knew how Cathy could get home to Brad. That was what all of this had been about. So why did her legs refuse to take a step away from Andor? Why could she not bring herself to open her mouth? Why were her mind and heart aching to stay?

It was as though some invisible material now connected Cathy and Andor, as though living tissue had grown in the space between them. She could sense his pulse and hear his breath. Separating would be like cutting that flesh.

Inside the walls, York was a big settlement. Some houses were made of stone, but others were built from wattle and timber, with thatched roofs. They stood very close together. The town smelled of animals, food, and wet dirt. Dishes clunked, voices spoke, babies cried, people sang and laughed.

Occasional torches illuminated the streets. They passed by what were clearly the houses of craftsmen, with heavy tools outside, tables and benches where they probably put out goods during the day. Wattled fences separated the longhouses. There were no windows anywhere, and smoke rose from small holes in the roofs. The Anglo-Saxon, Roman, and Viking tangled together here in a strange mixture of styles and history, and—somehow—it worked.

Andor stopped in front of one of the longhouses with a thatched roof, built on timber posts with wattle walls, like many other buildings here. Cathy had thought the house would be empty in his absence, but he bellowed, and men flooded out to greet him, clapping him on the shoulders, hugging him. They glanced curiously at Cathy.

“Guthrum will want to see you tomorrow,” one of them said.

When they were done, Andor turned and looked at her. She expected to see relief on his face—he was finally with his people. Safe.

But his lips were tightly pursed, and his eyes were hard. Haunted. “It is late, Cathy,” he said. “It is best you see the witch tomorrow.”

His voice was husky and low, and there was an edge of vulnerability in it. Cathy’s pulse accelerated. “I can spare a night.”

The truth was, she was not ready to leave even if he had insisted. But was it because she’d leave the living, breathing, talking representation of Brad in order to go back to the shadow of her fiancé?