Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

17

Could it be the gods sending him proof that he and Elsie were destined to be together? It had to be. Every moment spent in her company heightened his craving to see, be near, and touch her.

Her throat muscles worked over a swallow, and her heartbeat quickened beneath his grasp.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she whispered, huskier than usual.

He leaned into her touch, the rumbling purr in his chest growing louder with each caress of her fingers. "Like what?"

Her brows creased, creating two delicate, parallel lines over her nose. A breath caught in her throat, and her frown lifted. Four more seconds ticked by before she was able to speak. "As though you think I'm beautiful."

His heart thudded against his ribs hard enough that he was sure she could feel its desperate pounding. He couldn't have held back his answer if he'd wanted to, "Because you are."

"You clearly have poor vision; however, I won't complain."

He laughed. "Or maybe I'm the first to see you for who you really are."

Elsie's eyes darkened as she ran her thumb across his left cheek, "You have a dimple right...here."

She'd said it as though she were divulging the secret location of an enemy camp. Usually, he would have flashed his customary dimpled grin and really shown the devilish indentation off, but it was taking all the self-control he possessed to refrain from kissing her—a battle he would lose if she kept looking at him that way. "I do?"

Elsie nodded and licked her lips, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth. "I think you're beautiful too."

"For heaven's sake," Ulric grumbled good-naturedly. "Would you two kiss already so we can escape Death Mountain?"

Esmund clenched his jaw and tried to ignore his rude brother, but the moment was gone. Elsie pressed against his shoulder, silently begging him to let her stand. The second her feet touched solid ground, she sprang from his arms and hurried over to Piper and Nora.

Ulric came to stand beside Esmund, grinning from ear to ear as he rested a hand upon Esmund's shoulder, "I apologize...poor timing."

Poor timing indeed. Esmund muttered several curses under his breath, not fooled for a second. Ulric seemed to have an innate sense of when to interrupt for maximum effect.

He never would have suspected it if he hadn't witnessed Ulric use the same tactics to divert Gunnar from claiming Nora a few months ago. "You better sleep with one eye open for the next fifty years."

Ulric released a low whistle as a comical look of alarm settled upon his face, "Now that's a fierce little threat, Princess."

Esmund smiled, "Need I remind you of what happened the last time you crossed me?"

The asinine expression left Ulric's face, replaced with a genuinely worried frown, "You wouldn't."

Esmund lifted his shoulders in a long, drawn-out shrug. "I'm a man of mystery, Ulric; who knows what I'll do."

"What happened back there?" Nora asked with concern, evident in her expression and tone. "Why aren't Gunnar and your father with you?"

Ulric locked his gaze on Esmund and didn't spare her a glance as he replied, "They're fine—should be here any minute."

Esmund's gaze darted between Ulric and Piper's wounded shoulder, waiting to see if any of the spilled blood would cause him to berserk, and wondered if Ulric had the same fear. He stood ten feet from the women, his body rigid with tension and fists clenched at his sides.

Nora finished bandaging Piper and carefully helped her to stand. "You still haven't answered my first question." She braced Piper when all the blood drained from her face, and she swayed where she stood, but after a minute, Piper took a trembling breath and gave a weak smile.

Ulric shrugged and ran a hand over his bald head, keeping a wary eye on Esmund. "Because it isn't something women should hear."

"Oh, I see—you're trying to protect our delicate sensibilities...is that it?"

"Nora, you haven't known me for very long; therefore, you might not understand," He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed. "I'm nothing if not chivalrous."

Nora scoffed and settled her hands on her hips, but whatever she'd been about to say died on her lips when Gunnar and Vernon galloped into view. Gunnar led a mangy-looking horse that carried three corpses wrapped in bloodied tarps.

Vernon reined to a stop. Anger filled his eyes, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. It was a look Esmund and his brothers were extremely familiar with and referred to as 'the floating head of death.' Whenever father deployed the expression, tears, and secrets soon followed, despite any attempt to suppress them, and it was clear, as Esmund snuck a look at all faces present, none were immune to its power.

Without even realizing he'd done so, Esmund stood protectively before Elsie. When had he moved, and why had he even felt the need? It wasn't as though Elsie was in danger of being hurt. His father, although a Berserker, wasn't what Esmund would consider a violent man; unless it pertained to his occupation as a US Marshal.

"After what happened last night, I was willing to wait, but..." Fury filled Vernon's voice when he looked over Esmund's shoulder at Elsie and demanded, "I want answers, and I want them now."

A low, warning growl clawed its way free from Esmund's throat. He widened his stance, his muscles tensing as he prepared to protect his mate.

Elsie rested her hand upon Esmund's left shoulder blade and stepped around him. Her heart pounded, and her voice shook, but she squared her shoulders and nodded. "What do you want to know?"