Erskine scurried to his feet when one of the men came hurrying toward him.
“Torches spotted on the sea. Two boats head this way.”
“He arrives at night. What a fool.” Erskine laughed and the man joined in with him.
“Ruddock is a sly one, be careful,” Wilda warned.
“I know what I’m doing,” Erskine snapped.
Wilda scowled. “You better. This is our last chance.”
“Prepare the men and no torchlights to welcome them. I’ll not reveal the strength of my men until it’s too late,” Erskine ordered and the man ran off.
Wilda stood and grabbed Sorrell by the arm, squeezing it so tight she winced.
“Keep a good hold on her. I don’t want her running to her husband,” Erskine ordered.
“You’re not going to let them have a last good-bye?” Wilda asked with a laugh.
“How sad that your father taught you only hatred and you never got a chance to know love,” Sorrell said and let out a sharp cry of pain, Wilda digging her fingers into her arm.
“Our father loved us,” Wilda said. “He was proud of us.”
“Aye, his last words to you,” Sorrell said, recalling what Erskine had told her on the boat. “Proud that you would risk death to avenge him, but not a word of how proud he was of you otherwise.”
That got her another painful squeeze to her arm and kept her tongue quiet. She was weak as it was from lack of enough food. She didn’t need her arm sore in case she got a chance to grab a weapon, even a rock.
Sorrell’s stomach roiled when she saw the amount of barbarians waiting on the shore. There were too many. They would slaughter Ruddock’s men. What was Ruddock thinking, bringing only two boatloads of warriors to fight barbarians?
He wouldn’t.
He would bring barbarians. Sorrell watched the boats approach and prayed she was right.
“The boats are stopping,” one of the men called out.
“What do you mean they’re stopping?” Erskine asked and stepped closer to the shoreline.
“The torchlights haven’t moved. They bob in place,” the man said.
Sorrell stared out at the torchlights and saw that he was right. They didn’t move forward or back, though they did bob up and down with the boat.
“I don’t need them… yet.”
The deep powerful voice had the barbarians scurrying to turn around and eyes turned wide when they saw nothing, until…
Ruddock stepped out of the darkness.
Chapter 33
Sorrell almost didn’t recognize her husband.
He was a barbarian. Furs hugged his shins while his upper thighs were naked and a swatch of cloth rode low on his hips, covering his manhood and backside. A large animal fur was draped over his shoulders, the head of the wolf it was taken from still attached, the beast’s teeth bared, looking as vicious as the look on her husband’s face. His face was painted with blue and white stripes, and his eyes raged with an anger so hot, she thought fire would burst from them. And at his side, clutched in his hand, hung a two-sided battle axe.
“I’ve come for my wife,” Ruddock said, though made no move to go to her.
Erskine stepped past his men and laughed. “And I should turn her over to you? One lone barbarian whose men fear to bring your boats any closer?”
“Do you really think I’d be foolish enough to come alone?”
Sorrell didn’t understand the word Ruddock cried out, but she got its meaning when suddenly torch after torch lit behind Ruddock, appearing as if they went on forever.
Ruddock had brought a bigger army of barbarians with him.
Erskine was quick to yank Sorrell away from his sister and plant her in front of him. “She’ll die,” he threatened with a dagger to Sorrell’s throat.
“Kill her and I will slaughter you piece by piece for your men to watch so they know what awaits each and every one of them,” Ruddock said. “Fight me and your men go free.”
Erskine’s men answered for him. They walked away from him to stand to the side to watch.
“Release her… now!” Ruddock ordered. “Or are you too much of coward to fight me without help?”
Erskine pushed Sorrell away from him and she stumbled, one knee scraping the ground.
Ruddock didn’t make a move to go to her. He stretched his hand out to her. “Come to me, wife.”
Sorrell had already gotten to her feet and hurried as fast as she could to her husband. She was surprised when his hand reached up not to pull her into his arms, but to cup her face tightly in his large hand.
“Are you unharmed? Did he hurt you?”
She knew what he was asking. “He didn’t touch me.”
“Vera,” he called out and a tall, blonde woman stepped forward, an axe in hand, and her face also painted with blue and white stripes. “Go with her, wife.”
Sorrell realized that he was showing strength in front of the barbarians and while she ached for him to hold her, if only for a moment, she bowed her head and said, “Aye, my husband, as you command.” Though she whispered as she walked off, “Don’t count on ever hearing that again.”