Seize The Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page B

more arrogant regarding their strength than any sense of logic would allow." He was tempted to reach out and duck her back under the water. He'd killed in battle time and time again. It was, no matter what the call to glory, honor, or freedom, the taking of a human life. But random murder lay beyond reason, sanity, and Christianity. The water was very, very cold. He seemed to taste nothing but salt as the waves slapped around them and the rain pelted them. They should be thinking of survival. But still, he could not allow her the last word.
    "The Scots have bested a greater force many a time, lass." Her chin inched up out of the water. "I'm not a lass, and I'm an excellent swimmer." "Excellent—just not quite fast enough." "Brendan!"
    He turned at the call of his name. The small boat, manned by Eric and Collum, was nearly upon them. It was Eric calling out to them. In the growing squall, he and Eleanor were difficult to see, Brendan realized. "Here!" he called. As he turned, she started to swim again. Luckily, his reach was long. He caught an ankle again, jerking her back. She went under and came up coughing and gurgling. By then, Eric had brought the rocking boat up beside them. Strong hands reached down; he delivered her to them, then hiked himself over the edge, and landed, breathing hard, upon the bottom.
    "Cold?" Eric inquired, grinning. He looked up at his Norse kin's light blue eyes. "Aye, as a witch's tit!" he muttered, then remembered that they were carrying none other than the Lady Eleanor of Clarin with them, and she was convinced that they were uneducated peasants, ignorant, illiterate, and scarcely aware of the existence of books. He pulled himself up, hiking himself carefully into a seat. It was bitter, when a man was wet. Beyond cold. Eleanor was seated next to Collum at the aft. He turned to see her as Eric again took up the oars, shooting them back toward the ship. In their absence, the crews had already begun dislodging the grappling hooks.
    Their reluctant passenger had her arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself against the cold. She stared out over the water without expression. Yet she appeared rather blue, and her teeth were chattering ferociously. "Lady," Collum murmured, offering her the long swathe of tartan he had unwound to wear as cape and hook. He was a big, muscle-bound, red-headed man with an eye to aim better than any other he had ever met, and his voice was low and courteous. She seemed not to hear him, looking out over the water. Brendan turned to her. "Lady Eleanor, Collum is offering you the warmth of his wool." "It is a garment, sir, I would much rather freeze, than wear," she said simply. She flashed Collum a glance, and he thought that she would apologize—except that he was a Scot.
    Eric was about to take the fur cloak from his shoulders to offer her; Brendan stopped him, raising a hand. "Then, lady, you must freeze. Ah! Eric would offer you fur—but though he is Norse by the majority of his blood, and his inclination, he is my kinsman, and the Norse lands where he resides are extensions of my country. We understand how you would rather freeze." Her teeth were gritted and chattering. Still, she cast him one withering glare and sat dead still, staring into the night. Eric rowed them to the Wasp. He didn't help her from the small boat, but crawled the rope ladder first himself, and was glad of the fur coat quickly cast over his shoulders by Ian Dyerson, Eric's first mate at sea, right-hand man on land. He flashed him a quick smile of gratitude, then stood back, watching while Eleanor came aboard. She did so without help— preferring to climb by her own power rather than be assisted. She couldn't have been accustomed to such a climb, and he leaned over the rail as she slipped. "I'd aid you, my lady, but I don't want to distress you with the touch of these barbaric hands."
    "You're quite right; I will do fine on my own," she told him. And she did, coming aboard deftly, dripping as