MacAuliffe Vikings Trilogy 3 - Lord of the wolves Read Online Free PDF Page A

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    Tall enough that she wouldn"t have to look up very far to meet his eyes. She was blessed with a glorious head of ebony hair. As rich as a moonless night, as sleek and burnished as the wing of a bird, it swept and waved and cascaded down the length of her back. In contrast, her face was as fair as fine ivory, tinged at the cheeks with a beautiful, natural shade of rose. Her lips, too, were wondrously shaded, beautifully defined, and tinted to a dusky beauty. Surely no goddess or Christian angel had ever been more glorious.
    A goddess, perhaps, for such creatures were known to have tempers and whims. But she certainly could not be an angel, not from his understanding of the creatures. Despite her great beauty, there was nothing forgiving about her, nothing that hinted of surrender.
    No, this beauty was no angel, not with that look in her eyes.
    And not with the pride that stiffened her spine. But then again, he knew well, humility was not among her virtues.
    She hadn"t changed. She was not so very different from the child he had met here so long ago. That day she had been so victorious!

    Because of him, he reminded himself with an inward grin.
    Ah, but that had been a different day. Then they had joined forces, and she had gained her victory.
    Today she had taken his help—and then closed the gates on him!
    But he had broken the wall, and she had been beaten.
    She would never escape him again, he thought suddenly. Never use guile, strength, or anger against him, never twist or wriggle her way out of anything!
    He smiled, determined to see the color of her eyes. He knew it well. As he knew her.
    He lifted the visor of his helmet, wanting her to see his face and wondering if the defiance would at all leave her gaze. It did not.
    He dismounted smoothly from his trusted stallion and took the first step. He had not realized that he still held his sword in his hand until he felt its weight. It didn"t matter. She had shed the mail she"d worn on the battlefield, but she still held her elegant blade. He paid it no heed as he took one step and then the next, coming closer and closer to her.
    She shifted her stance slightly so that she could watch him come. Her gown was a soft mauve, a shade that enhanced the luster of her hair.
    She had shed the mail she had been wearing when she had been out with her troops, he thought with some amusement. Had she imagined that he had not noticed her there?
    It would not happen again.
    But that she would be made to understand. There was quite a lot she was going to have to be made to understand this time.
    He studied her gown again and the way it looked upon her. It seemed created of a liquid fabric, one that shimmered and swayed with her each subtle movement. She swirled just enough to keep him easily within her view as he approached her. He leapt from one step to another, then faced her across a few feet of broken stonework.
    Her chin arched higher.
    She was a creation of even greater glory than he had remembered. She had matured extremely well. Her bones were fine. Her face was a perfect oval, the cheekbones high, her chin delicately and exquisitely molded—even if it was set irritatingly firmly. Her lips, so beautiful a rose, were as cleanly drawn and defined as her bones, yet they were generous, even taut as they now were.
    Everything about her was beautiful. And yet more stunning still than her bones or her coloring or even the perfect proportions of her face was the startling loveliness of her eyes.
    They were large, set apart within the fine lines of her face. Ah, he could see them so clearly now!

    He"d never seen eyes quite like them. They surpassed blue. They were not the mauve of her gown, but something deeper. A violet that now seemed as wild as a night sky when the ancient gods would have their way, when storms threatened, when lightning flared and thunder crashed. Indeed, they were eyes to challenge even the mighty Wodin, eyes that knew no threat of mortality, eyes that defied