The Bewitching Twin (2 page)

A
wolf’s soulful howl ripped through the night. Aliss finally shook her hands free of the ties and broke into a run. She doubted she could outrun a wolf but then she was not sure who stalked her.

She jolted to a halt when her captors burst out of the woods and surrounded her. They circled her with their arms extended, keeping her caged, allowing her no avenue of escape.

“We have her, Wolf,” the cleric cried.

Dread hit her like a mighty wave. Wolf was the leader of the barbarian Wolf clan from the north. He had attacked the clan Hellewyk on two occasions, causing much damage yet taking no lives. It had been surmised that he had been searching for someone within the clan.

Had that someone been her?

The men moved away from her, leaving her unguarded and alone to face the Wolf. Fear made every limb tremble and wiped away what courage she had managed to maintain. A brief thought to drop to her knees in a show of submission to the terrifying Wolf crossed her mind. However, pride interceded, along with her sister’s firm reminder that strength was a shield that deflected the mightiest of weapons.

The clouds shifted apart and drifted off, releasing the moonlight to penetrate the darkness.

He emerged from the darkness with the sleek grace of an animal confident in his skills and potency and with no fear of any foe. He was of a towering height, made even more intimidating by the black wolf head draped over his shoulder, the tail of the beast hanging at his side. A black leather tunic, leggings, and boots almost succeeded in obscuring him in the darkness.

Moonlight danced off reddish golden streaks that raged through chest-length dark blond hair, while harsh lines and solid curves of muscle, which would seem hard to some, ran smoothly together, startling the senses. Blazing green eyes that matched her own pinned her to where she already stood frozen.

He made his way to her and without a word grabbed her, flung her over his shoulder, and took off into the night like an animal all too familiar with the shadowy landscape.

It was not long before they reached the end of the woods and entered the stretch of rocky and ragged land that preceded the coastline. She knew that when they set foot on open ground there would be no options left to her.

Her fate was sealed.

Sunrise greeted them as they approached the rowboats that waited at the water’s edge. In the distance, Aliss could see the outline of a large boat, Viking in style though different enough to make one wonder about its origins.

The Wolf dumped her into the rowboat, and when she attempted to scramble out in one last try for freedom, he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She fell against him, hitting hard muscle. He held her firm, her face plastered to his solid chest and the wolf’s face staring her right in the eyes.

It surprised her that he carried no dirk or sword at his side, but then the strength of his hands warned her that they were weapons enough to do severe damage to a man let alone a woman.

The rowboat rolled with the waves as it left the shore and Aliss cast sorrowful eyes on the Scottish coastline, fearing she might never set foot on her homeland again. She grew ill at the thought, and that, combined with the rough roll of the boat, made her feel ready to heave.

She raised pleading eyes to him, and before she could say a word, he turned her quickly, bending her over the side of the boat. With an arm around her waist, he held her head as she retched repeatedly.

When she finished, her body and determination spent, he cradled her against him but spoke not a word. She felt confused. Why was the Wolf being so considerate?

They were soon at the ship, and she was tossed over his shoulder, carried up a rope ladder, and deposited on the top of a barrel. He walked off, stopped, grabbed a fur cloak from a chest and tossed it to her. She caught it, gratefully wrapping herself in its warmth. Whether she shivered because of concern for her plight or the morning chill she was not certain; she only knew that the cold had seeped into her bones and she could not stop trembling.

The Wolf took quick charge of his men and soon the numerous oars cut the water like sharp knives and the striped sail caught a good wind. Before long, the shore became a small dot in the distance until with a blink of an eye it vanished.

“We will be home by nightfall, Rogan,” the man who led the oarsmen called out, and the Wolf leader nodded.

Rogan.

Aliss now knew his given name and that they were returning to their home. If she remembered correctly, the Wolf clan inhabited an isolated island off the north coast of Scotland. A place that neither the Scotsmen nor the Norsemen claimed as home. As far as she knew, the Wolf clan was made up of nomads with allegiance to no one but themselves. They were in fact barbarians and the thought made her tremble. She burrowed deeper into the fur cloak, hoping to ease her worrisome chills.

“With their pitiful boats the Hellewyk clan will not be following us any time soon,” laughed one of the men.

“You call those splints of wood boats?” chided another.

The men continued to poke fun at her clan as they sped through the water at an astonishing speed. Sadly, they were right about the boats. They were much too small to brave the ocean waters, or to carry a sufficient fighting force.

“Winter freeze will be the first we hear of them,” joked another.

Aliss listened and digested the news like a bad piece of meat. It would be winter before Fiona and Tarr could reach her. She was on her own.

She needed a plan but her thoughts were scattered, her fear so great that her mind was too jumbled to think cohesively. Fiona would know what to do but she was not Fiona. Aliss was a learned healer; she defended lives against illnesses. She abhorred the fighting that senselessly took lives and left endless suffering in its wake.

She glanced at the leader of the Wolf clan talking with one of the men at the bow of the ship. He stood with confidence, his sturdy legs holding firm as the ship fought the choppy waters. His arms lay crossed over his wide chest and his head was held high, demanding respect. He would surely frighten his enemy to death before they could draw a sword, but perhaps she gave too much credence to his arresting appearance.

No matter how strong a man, he could be struck down with a single blow or by a sickness. No man was impervious, though Rogan certainly gave the appearance of infallibility. He stood at the ship’s bow with a confident arrogance. He was the master, the ship his mistress who obeyed his every command.

How did she deal with such a man?

He turned his head and his glance caught her stare. She quickly turned away and chided herself for letting him intimidate her. She would need to deal with this man sooner or later, but how?

How did she not let him frighten her?

Her adversaries were usually illnesses. After determining the cause, she could then supply the means with which to conquer it. If she knew why he had abducted her, perhaps then she could conquer her fright and he would appear less intimidating.

She jumped when another fur was dropped across her lap and Rogan squatted down on his haunches beside her.

She was caught by the dark green of his eyes. A faint scar fanned the corner of his right eye and she thought he must have been very young when he had received it. Faint lines around his mouth and weathered bronze skin had her wondering about his age.

“Many questions must run through your mind.”

“As you would expect of someone who has just been abducted,” she said, “and does not know why.”

“I have need of you.”

“Define this need,” she said sharply, before losing confidence.

“Your skills. They are necessary to my clan.”

“Tell me more,” she said hesitantly, daring to hope that was all he wanted of her.

“Illness has ravaged my clan. Old and young alike are dying and some are not affected at all. It is as if the heavens pick and choose who will be spared. Your skill as a healer is known and I need it to help save my people.”

“Then I wish to make a trade,” Aliss said, knowing full well she would never deny the ill the benefit of her knowledge.

He smirked. “You think to bargain with me when you sit here on my ship, as my prisoner?”

The reason for her abduction could also be the solution. Excited, she spoke with haste. “I have something you want, my skills; you have something I want, my freedom. I will trade you one for the other. As soon as I heal your people, you will return me home. It is a fair and reasonable bargain.”

“You must heal my people,” he said as if confirming his acquiescence.

She nodded and repeated, “Then you will take me home.”

He gave a quick nod and moved closer.

His imposing size and the fierce wolf head made her wish that she could fade into the corner behind her, but then that would be retreating, and she could almost hear her sister scolding her for cowering. Fiona’s rebuke would be clear: show the enemy a weakness and you give him a weapon.

“Then we have a bargain,” she said with bravado.

A glint surfaced in his eyes and for a moment, Aliss expected him to smile, but he did not. “How do you know you can trust me?”

“I can ask the same of you.”

His icy stare froze her.

“Do not think to play games with my peoples’ lives.”

The mere suggestion that she would use her healing skills to do harm turned her fiery hot and melted away her fear. “How dare you even suggest that!”

He nearly plastered his nose to hers. “I dare anything when it comes to the protection of my people.”

“Like kidnapping a helpless healer.”

He glared at her. “You are far from helpless.”

His compliment startled her.

“You will heal my people,” he said sternly and stood.

“You will return me home.” Her words were meant to seal their bargain and she could only pray that he was a warrior true to his word.

T
he ship made land just as the sun descended into the horizon. Several men jumped out when they got close to shore, and with thick ropes cast to them, they pulled the vessel onto dry land.

Aliss stood, about to wrap a fur cloak around her to ward off the fine mist beginning to fall, when she was abruptly scooped up into Rogan’s arms.

He walked to the side of the ship and it took a mere second for her to realize that he intended to jump off with her in his arms.

“You cannot mean to—”

He arched a brow and stepped forward.

She flung her arms around his neck and recited a silent prayer.

He leaped off and landed on his feet without staggering. After walking a few feet, he put her down and yelled something to one of his men in a language she did not understand. His hand caught a fur cloak that was thrown to him and he wrapped it around her.

“It is a short walk to the village.”

“Good, then I can see to the ill as soon as we arrive.”

“You will eat first.”

“Afterward.”

“Before. You have eaten nothing all day.”

“Neither have you,” she reminded him.

“Then we will eat together.”

He walked off, leaving her startled. She had not expected that response. She had assumed he would want her to tend to the ill immediately. She had hoped to, for the sooner she healed the ailing the sooner she would be going home.

She was already missing her sister and she could only imagine how Fiona was feeling. There had never been a time when Fiona and she had been separated. They had always depended on each other, had always been there for each other. Now she had only herself to rely on.

Aliss kept pace with Rogan and his men, walking just a short distance behind him. The shoreline faded into rocky terrain that soon turned hilly with a smattering of woods that grew denser as they headed north.

The land appeared harsh and unforgiving, more barren than fertile, and she wondered how Rogan and his people survived here. A sudden thought jolted her and she almost stumbled but righted herself quick enough. Could the Wolf have another reason for abducting her?

The Isle of Non.

Her brother Raynor had laid claim to it but then so had Tarr—and so had Rogan, though unsuccessfully. The isle would certainly provide a better home for the Wolf clan than this place. Was there more to her abduction than healing the ill? She would make certain to uncover the truth and be prepared for whatever befell her.

The village sat at the base of a hill. The dwellings, not a full dozen, looked more like huts than cottages. They were well maintained, however, with the roofs freshly thatched and sodded. Large open spaces divided each plot of farmland, the soil recently tilled and probably seeded.

The people themselves appeared cautious and curious, mumbling among themselves as she passed by. Did they know who she was? Had Rogan informed them of his intention to return with a healer?

The men had drifted off upon entering the village and she was left alone with Rogan. He had not glanced over his shoulder to see if she trailed him. Why should he? There was no fear of her escaping. She was here until he chose to return her and that depended on her fulfilling her part of the bargain.

His dwelling sat at the end of the village, at the foot of the hill. It was long, the turf roof shaped like an overturned boat with two smokestacks at each end. She followed him through the front door and passed down a corridor, the end splitting off to the left and right. Rogan turned right and they entered a large room.

A hearth comprised the back wall with one window covered with animal fur. A large wooden chest sat beneath it. A long table with benches on each side sat in front of the fireplace, wooden bowls were stacked in a neat row in the center, and tankards divided each stack.

The fire’s flames licked a bubbling cauldron and several thick candles provided good lighting to the room.

“Sit, we will eat,” Rogan said, dropping the wolf pelt he wore on the chest.

After leaving the fur cloak on a bench near the doorway, Aliss took the seat closest to the hearth. A pretty young woman entered with a smile and a basket on her arm. “I have food for you and your guest.”

“Thank you, Anna,” Rogan said. “Leave it, we will help ourselves. I am sure you are eager to spend time with John after his lengthy absence.”

Her cheeks turned rosy and she was gone in a flash, but not before Aliss noticed the rash on her neck. “Is a rash one of the symptoms of the illness?”

“No. Anna is the only one afflicted with a rash and she has not been ill.” Rogan moved the basket to the center of the table.

Aliss stood and began to unwrap the items, revealing warm bread, hunks of cheese, and dry salted fish. “Is her husband John the one who posed as a cleric?”

“By his own desire.” Rogan frowned as he took bowls and filled one with the hot stew from the cauldron. “Wagging tongues were directed toward Anna when the rash appeared and she did not grow ill. Soon there was talk that she bore the devil’s mark of protection. To prove the gossipers wrong John volunteered to play the roll of the cleric.”

“Did his sacrifice stop wagging tongues?”

“For now.” Rogan set a steaming bowl of rabbit stew in front of her.

Aliss reached to tear a piece of bread from the loaf when Rogan’s hand landed gently on hers.

“You will help us.”

Aliss was stunned by the ferocity of his confidence and the tenderness of his touch. His warm, callused palm tickled her flesh and the strange sensation unnerved her. She was feasting as a guest instead of a captive; but she was here against her will and she would do well to remember that.

She tore at the bread to dislodge his hand. “I will do my best to heal your people.”

Rogan filled his own bowl and sat opposite her at the table.

The meal was relatively quiet. She was hungrier than she had realized, but then she had not given food much thought. Her mind had been too busy.

Now with her stomach filling, the warmth of the fire easing her chill, and the bargain for her release settled, she was curious to know more about the man called the Wolf and to learn what other motives he had in mind.

She found it odd for a leader and warrior, considered harsh and fierce, to serve her food. He had not commanded one of his people to serve him or that she should wait on him. Was this truly his nature or was he attempting to win her confidence?

“You spend much time in your thoughts.”

“I learn much there.”

He braced his elbows on the table and cupped his hands. “What have you learned?”

She was about to admit that he puzzled her, when she thought better of it. “My thoughts are my own.”

“You
fear
to share them?”

“I do not
wish
to share them.”

He broke off a piece of cheese. “You do not trust me.”

“That is not surprising.”

He tore the piece in two and handed her one.

She took it, and the very tips of his fingers brushed hers, raising gooseflesh up her arm. She snatched her hand away. “I will need to see what herbs flourish in this area.”

“I want your trust.”

“Why?” she snapped, annoyed he would not leave the matter alone.

“Because I am all you have at the moment. There is no one but me to protect you.”

“Protect me?” she asked with dubious humor.

“You are under my protection now and I ask that you
trust me.
”

“You have brought me here to tend your people. What does it matter if I trust you or not?”

“When trust is shared, you know that you can always depend on each other—no matter what happens. I want you to know you can depend on me without question.”

“Trust is earned.”

“Are you telling me I must earn your trust?” he asked.

“Do you trust me?”

A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You are a worthy opponent.”

She laughed softly. “You wish my trust, yet you refer to me as your opponent. This matter needs more consideration on your part.”

He tore a piece of bread in half and handed one to her. “I will win your trust.”

This time in accepting the offered morsel was she actually accepting his trust?

She stood abruptly. “It is time for me to tend the ill.”

He pointed to her bowl. “You have not finished eating.”

“I have eaten enough.”

“You have barely touched your food.”

“I am no longer hungry,” she said impatiently.

He stood slowly, the firelight dancing off him and causing his vast shadow to envelop her and devour her in a heartbeat. Aliss almost lost the last ounce of courage she had left. Her first instinct was to cringe and hide in the dark corner, but her sister’s sharp tongue entered her mind and quickly changed that.

“Show him no fear.”

Her shoulders went back and her chin went up and she walked around the table to meet him.

Folding his arms across his chest, he said, “You are a stubborn one.”

She nearly smiled for she felt as if Fiona was there helping to protect her.

“My healing basket?”

His green eyes wandered over her face, lingering for a moment, and she had the sudden feeling that he could read her deepest thoughts. She tore her glance away and looked around as if in search of her basket.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “You can trust that I will keep you safe.” He released her, walked over to the chest beneath the window and opened it. “Your basket is by the doorway.”

Aliss spotted it and quickly snatched it up. She jumped when he unexpectedly draped a dark red wool cape over her shoulders.

His hands grasped her shoulders. “My touch alarms you?”

“Since we first met, which is not even a full day ago, you have hoisted me over your shoulder, scooped me up into your arms, held me to your chest, wrapped me in cloaks, and jumped off a ship with me in your arms. You take liberties and do not expect me to react uncomfortably?” She shook her head. “I think not.” And hurried out the door.