Page 15 of Unspoken
The wind held a metallic trace, all her sensesalert to the deadly stillness of the forest permeated only by the sound of theleaves.
Breaking from a line of trees, she couldn’t holdback a cry of dismay at the staggering carnage that lay before her. Pantingfrantically, she cringed at the scent of blood invading her nostrils and mouth.
Sheknewwhat had happened here. Notbecause of any ability of hers, but because of what she’d told the man withwhom she’d shared a bed the previous night. Hundreds of slaughtered knights laystrewn about the clearing; their limbs sprawled at incomprehensible angles, ifthey even remained attached.
Not even the horses were spared. Just like in herdream.
Frantically searching for black armor among the blood-stainedtunics, she skirted the clearing, swallowing convulsively against the bile crawlingup the back of her throat. She let out a trembling breath. He wasn’t there.
Horrific sounds of violence filtered through themorning. He would be at the battlefield, but it seemed foolhardy to followthere.
It didn’t matter, did it? She had to findRoderick. Warn him.Savehim.
Her legs threatened to buckle as she forged ontoward the battlefield. Uncertain of what she could do to reach him, butdesperate to change his fate.
* * *
Sometimesberserkergangmade him mindless,and he barely registered the destruction he wrought. Today Roderick waspleased to perceive the pained astonishment on the faces of the Mackay as theyturned on their kinsman and signaled for mercenary reinforcements which neverappeared. As he plunged into the fray, already streaked in the blood of hisenemies, Roderick cut a gruesome path through Donald clansmen, a singular focuscausing his peripheral to haze.
The beast and the man, in union, wanted at thebastard who dare threaten his mate. Typically, the foes that fell before hissword remained a part of the faceless masses, but today he roared with pleasureas he severed the head of Angus Mackay from his body.
Roderick and the ferocious Stewart not only heldthe Donald at bay, but systematically drove them back. As afternoon settledupon the valley, the victorious sounds of triumph rippled through the Stewartclans and kin.
Even after the worst of the berserkergang passed,soldiers still gave Roderick a wide berth as they knew he might sever a limbfor a congratulatory pat on the back.
“Wait until his eyes return to normal,” the oldones murmured while some younger men made signs of the cross against him andregarded him with both awe and antagonism.
Growling with unspent aggression, Roderick pacedthe battlefield.
He felt danger lurking nearby. Something lethal,familiar, tinged with—
His heightened senses perked as honey and vanillanotes caressed him over the repugnant odors of battle.
Evelyn. His mate. She drew near.
Someone would have been dispatched to the town totell of their victory. ‘The lands of Ross are safe.’ ‘Come and collectyour dead and wounded.’ She’d come for him.
He knew it.
Feeling like an expectant boy, he wiped hisbloodied sword on the grass and sheathed it. Her scent drifted from the safetyof the woods, beckoning him. Feeling encouraged that she’d come out to meethim, he looked down at his blood-streaked armor and frowned. How would seeinghim like this affect her? For once a Berserker chose his mate, he still had towait for her to accept him. Often, he was called upon to deal death in thename of Freya and the fates. It would take a rare and exceptional lass tounderstand his role in the world. Could she?
Roderick long ago accepted that his inability tocommunicate with women, in addition to his menacing appearance and paganreputation, would prevent him from being accepted by a mate.
How am I going to get her to understand whatshe is to me?
He faltered in his path, gripped by sheerindecision. It hadn’t been easy to get a woman into his bed in the last yearshe’d spent without a voice. How could he possibly get a woman to share hislife with him?
Perhaps he should write her a letter.He wondered if she could read. More scholars littered hisbloodlines than berserkers. If it weren't for his beast, he'd be contentdeciphering a scroll from ancient Rome or Greece. If she couldn't, he'd teachher to love the written word as much as he did. The irony didn't escape him; aman who loved language whose voice had been stolen from him.
Oncethey married, she would have the responsibilities of a Baroness and unofficialstewardess of the MacLauchlan clan until his brother Connor, also a berserkerand the laird of the MacLauchlans, took a wife.
So, likely always. He rolled his eyes. That manwas infinitely more hopeless than he. And Connor had no speech impediment.
Roderick crested the hill and plunged into thetree line. He should probably just abscond with the lass no matter herobjections and lay siege to her body, spending his every night fulfilling herwildest fantasies. And creating a few that she’d never thought of.
Of course, he would spend his days satisfying herevery other corporeal need whilst introducing her to the many wonders of hishomeland. Her life would become so full that she couldn’tconsiderneedingaught else.
Breaking into a jog, he tallied a list of plausibleenjoyments for her: tending the extensive herb and spice garden, riding horses togetherfrom his family stables, archery, mayhap even the stag hunt if she were the out-of-doorsort. Surely, other more genteel pastimes might interest her; perhapsneedlework or musical instruments, or um… beading hairnets and the like.
