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left naked to the kiss of the wind and the lecherous, leering eyes of her captors.

Chapter Four
     
    She closed her eyes, praying to whatever deities might be listening that something would happen to spare her this. Even so, when rescue did come, she barely believed it.
    She felt the thunder of hoofbeats through the ground before she saw or heard anything else. Her captors were so fascinated by her naked body, they failed to notice even when the sound of approaching horses became audible. By the time they looked up and prepared to fight, it was too late.
    The leader of the group of horsemen surveyed the scene quickly and gave them all a disdainful glare. He didn’t even bother to draw the sword strapped to his side. Fianna pulled the remains of her clothes back over her body as soon as the men released her hands, but she still colored when Henrik stared at her.
    “I regret that I interrupt your recreation,” he said to her tormentors. “But I have need of the lady’s services.”
    Fianna couldn’t help staring at him. In sunlight, the man’s handsome face, straight carriage and a natural air of command made him even more striking. His expression, though, was tight and hard, promising no kindness, very different from the way he’d looked the last time she’d seen him. What had happened to rouse that fierce glare? A frisson of unease crawled up her spine, and she shook despite her efforts to remain still.
    The three men who’d been her late captors stirred.
    “She’s no lady,” Jerrod said. “She’s a witch.”
    “We have need of her services, as well,” Artur protested at the same time. “And were about to avail ourselves of them. You’ve had your time with her. Give us an hour and then come back and get her.”
    Henrik’s expression showed no change. “I know what she is. I cannot wait for you to finish this business.” He turned to her. “I need you to come with me,” the man stated.
    “Why?” Fianna asked. Was it possible that he did want her—enough to take her this way? The Norse raiders were notorious for their sexual appetites and for taking what they wanted whenever they wanted. Still, Hjalmar and his son Henrik had been restrained and had even intervened in a case where a woman had been forcibly taken from her family by one of his men. And he would surely know that even now he had only to ask to get her to come to him.
    Artur protested, “The lady doesn’t want to go with you.”
    He had read her hesitancy correctly, but he misjudged the strength of her hatred for them and what they’d tried to do.
    Henrik threw Artur another disdainful look and then ignored him, focusing his attention on Fianna . He watched her struggle to hold her dress together for a minute then reached up, removed his own cloak and tossed it to her. Fianna wrapped it around herself, grateful for both the coverage and the warmth. She’d begun to shiver with reaction as much as the chill. The garment bore the remembered scent of the man.
    “Come with me,” Henrik repeated, and it wasn’t an invitation.
    Fianna shrugged, trying not to let the hope rouse. “Why do you want me?”
    “We need a healer.”
    She wasn’t disappointed. No reason she should have expected anything else. It was a struggle to keep her emotions in check and her face blank. She nodded. “Then it would be wise to let me collect some things before we go.”
    Henrik considered that for a moment. “So be it.”
    She nodded. Her late tormentors stood watching the interchange. Artur still held her dagger. He didn’t protest or resist when she walked over to him, took it out of his hand and replaced it in the sheath at her side.
    Two of Henrik’s men dismounted and came to her. She turned away and started to lead the way on foot, but one of them put a hand on her shoulder. “Ride,” he said, firmly. “Come.”
    Sensing that they would brook no refusal, Fianna went with them to the group, looking for a riderless horse. She was shocked when the