MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves Read Online Free Page B
Author: Heather Graham
she would not consider what was to come.
Impossible. He was here. Memory was flooding the length of her as if her blood had become molten steel.
She inhaled deeply, mentally straightening, seeking strength. She was the countess. She had become so upon her father"s death. The land was hers. The fortress was hers.
And, so help her God, she would keep them!
“Jesu, lady! How many has he with him?” Philippe demanded at her side.
Mounted, the men were as striking as they had been in their dragon-prowed ships. They were men trained by Satan himself, so it seemed. Huge fellows, trained with axes and maces, knotted with muscle, reckless, fearless, dangerous.
They had saved her once. She knew how they fought!
And at the head of them … him!
“I must take you to the tower,” Philippe murmured, watching the action. It was evident that Geoffrey"s men must surrender or die, but there was still fighting in the yard. It did seem the safest course for her to be out of harm"s way now that she was no longer needed to rally her men.
“I can take care of myself, Philippe,” she assured him. “Hurry, see to our men.”
Philippe did not look comfortable with her decision, but Melisande did not give him time to argue. She hurried to the steps leading to her tower and began running up them as swiftly as she could with the weight of her mail upon her.
She desperately needed some time. How did she greet him? Did she actually have to greet him? Wasn"t there any possibility at all that she could just run away?
Did she really want to? Maybe their time had finally come.
Some of the steps were broken. A battle-ax had fallen against the stone with such strength that it had cracked and broken. Melisande leapt across the gap and hurried onward to her tower room.
She paused, then ripped the mail quickly from her body.
It was a cowardly thing to do. But she thought that perhaps he hadn"t seen her on the battlefield and then wouldn"t think that she had intentionally closed the gates against him.
Fool! she charged herself. Coward! She was countess here! He was just a younger son of a king, seeking his fortune, and trying to make it from her rightful inheritance! She need show him no fear, and certainly no humility!
She had dropped her sword with her mail. Now she clutched it again and looked uneasily about the room. Her eyes fell upon her bed with its cool, clean linen sheets and bear fur rug. A shaking seized her and she swallowed hard.
She didn"t want to be caught here! She hurried back out to the parapets and looked to the yard below.
Her heart seemed to stop completely. The shivers took hold of her again, hot and cold, fire and ice. She stood dead still and met his gaze.
Chapter Two
Melisande …
Mounted upon his huge war-horse, Conar MacAuliffe returned her scrutiny.
Ah, he thought, at last!
There she was, the little vixen, in all her fantastic glory.
He couldn"t wait to get his hands on her!
In the midst of the melee that was dying around him at long last, he could finally set his eyes upon her. Smoke from burning oil and fiery arrows was lifting now, and she appeared on a high step to the parapets, staring down at him. He had never seen anyone look upon him with such contempt, and he wondered that she would dare do so now, when the stone of the castle had come to mean nothing, when he had proven his right to the fortress, and when it seemed that he must be the victor.
She did not tremble. Perhaps she thought that the distance between them was her safety, though he could have reached her easily with just a few steps. All he had to do was dismount from his stallion and leap upon the stoneway leading to the tower.
But it seemed that his proximity did not matter to her. She continued to cast that superior stare down upon him, and he found himself studying her. It had been some time since he had seen her. She was an extraordinary woman. He knew that if he were on a level with her, she would still be tall for her
Impossible. He was here. Memory was flooding the length of her as if her blood had become molten steel.
She inhaled deeply, mentally straightening, seeking strength. She was the countess. She had become so upon her father"s death. The land was hers. The fortress was hers.
And, so help her God, she would keep them!
“Jesu, lady! How many has he with him?” Philippe demanded at her side.
Mounted, the men were as striking as they had been in their dragon-prowed ships. They were men trained by Satan himself, so it seemed. Huge fellows, trained with axes and maces, knotted with muscle, reckless, fearless, dangerous.
They had saved her once. She knew how they fought!
And at the head of them … him!
“I must take you to the tower,” Philippe murmured, watching the action. It was evident that Geoffrey"s men must surrender or die, but there was still fighting in the yard. It did seem the safest course for her to be out of harm"s way now that she was no longer needed to rally her men.
“I can take care of myself, Philippe,” she assured him. “Hurry, see to our men.”
Philippe did not look comfortable with her decision, but Melisande did not give him time to argue. She hurried to the steps leading to her tower and began running up them as swiftly as she could with the weight of her mail upon her.
She desperately needed some time. How did she greet him? Did she actually have to greet him? Wasn"t there any possibility at all that she could just run away?
Did she really want to? Maybe their time had finally come.
Some of the steps were broken. A battle-ax had fallen against the stone with such strength that it had cracked and broken. Melisande leapt across the gap and hurried onward to her tower room.
She paused, then ripped the mail quickly from her body.
It was a cowardly thing to do. But she thought that perhaps he hadn"t seen her on the battlefield and then wouldn"t think that she had intentionally closed the gates against him.
Fool! she charged herself. Coward! She was countess here! He was just a younger son of a king, seeking his fortune, and trying to make it from her rightful inheritance! She need show him no fear, and certainly no humility!
She had dropped her sword with her mail. Now she clutched it again and looked uneasily about the room. Her eyes fell upon her bed with its cool, clean linen sheets and bear fur rug. A shaking seized her and she swallowed hard.
She didn"t want to be caught here! She hurried back out to the parapets and looked to the yard below.
Her heart seemed to stop completely. The shivers took hold of her again, hot and cold, fire and ice. She stood dead still and met his gaze.
Chapter Two
Melisande …
Mounted upon his huge war-horse, Conar MacAuliffe returned her scrutiny.
Ah, he thought, at last!
There she was, the little vixen, in all her fantastic glory.
He couldn"t wait to get his hands on her!
In the midst of the melee that was dying around him at long last, he could finally set his eyes upon her. Smoke from burning oil and fiery arrows was lifting now, and she appeared on a high step to the parapets, staring down at him. He had never seen anyone look upon him with such contempt, and he wondered that she would dare do so now, when the stone of the castle had come to mean nothing, when he had proven his right to the fortress, and when it seemed that he must be the victor.
She did not tremble. Perhaps she thought that the distance between them was her safety, though he could have reached her easily with just a few steps. All he had to do was dismount from his stallion and leap upon the stoneway leading to the tower.
But it seemed that his proximity did not matter to her. She continued to cast that superior stare down upon him, and he found himself studying her. It had been some time since he had seen her. She was an extraordinary woman. He knew that if he were on a level with her, she would still be tall for her