Dream of Me/Believe in Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

odd sensation of having seen them before, somewhere, sometime. In a dream, perhaps.
    So softly as barely to stir the air, Cymbra murmured, “Who are you?”
    He rose, standing very tall and powerful above her, cast in shadow and stone. She felt those silvery eyestouching all along the length of her body. In the still darkness, broken only by the lapping of deep water against the hull of the dragon ship, his voice was like velvet drawn over granite. “Wolf Hakonson.”
    Cymbra gasped. Her senses reeled. Surely God could not be so cruel? Yet, even as she struggled not to believe, she knew the truth of it. Indeed, it all made a strange kind of sense. Who else could he be?
    Who but the most feared Viking ever to come out of the northlands? The man before whom even the Danes trembled. The mighty warlord known the length and breadth of England by the name he had earned in blood and fire—the Scourge of the Saxons.
    And she was his prisoner. Wrapped in ermine and still oddly unhurt, at that moment Cymbra knew herself truly to be beyond hope. She could think of only one more question to ask before fate closed around her.
    “Why?”

Chapter THREE

    T HE LADY CYMBRAS REACTION TO HIS NAME was most satisfying. Yet Wolf was disappointed all the same, wishing she wouldn't indulge in the ploy of pretended innocence. Somehow he'd expected better of her. But then, he had to remember that she was only a woman.
    He went down on his haunches beside her and, without thinking, reached out a hand to brush a stray tendril of hair away from her face. Incredibly soft hair. It went with the incredibly soft rest of her. Thoughts for another time.
    “Why have I done this?”
    She nodded, her gaze locked on his. “Yes, why?”
    He would be patient. She would learn soon enough that her woman's games would not work with him. “Why did you reject an honorable offer of marriage that would bring peace between our peoples and aide in our mutual defense against the Danes?”
    Her mouth dropped open. He really didn't want to think how those lips would feel yielding beneath his own, admitting the hard thrust of his tongue, but he thought of it all the same and it had the predictable effect.
    “I did what?”
    “You heard me.” He spoke more sharply than he'd intended but there was a limit to his tolerance. Best she learn that, too. “You said that you would never consider marriage to a filthy Viking savage.”
    She blinked slowly long lashes lying against her pale cheeks. When they lifted again, her eyes were steady. “I never said that.” She seemed genuinely offended.
    “What did you say then?”
    “I said nothing. I never heard of any offer of marriage.”
    He frowned. She sounded utterly sincere. It was possible, just possible, that she was telling the truth. Wolf shrugged. “Then your brother said it. He replied on your behalf.”
    “No.” There was no artfulness to that, no strategy. She just blurted it out. “Hawk wouldn't do such a thing.”
    He sat back, regarding her with undisguised skepticism. “Really?”
    “Yes, really. First, he would have discussed any such offer with me and he did not. Second, even if he decided that such a marriage was not advisable, he would never have answered you in such terms. My brother wants peace.”
    It was good that she trusted her brother, even if such trust was sadly misplaced. Regretting the need to disillusion her, but determined all the same, Wolf drew a parchment from beneath his tunic. “Can you read?”
    She gave a short, jerky nod. “Yes, can you?”
    “I certainly had no difficulty reading this.” He handed over the parchment, then rose and used flint to light an oil lamp in a small, stone-lined recess near the pallet. “Promise me you won't try to set fire to the ship,” he said as pale, flickering light cast a circle over them both.
    Her mouth tightened. She held the parchment up and scanned it quickly.
    “Do you recognize the hand?” Wolf asked.
    “It isn't Hawk's.”
    “He