He glanced back to where Ceanna stood perched on a rock, about a third of the way across the river, right before the makeshift log bridge. She’d gone a slightly different route and her pathway to the log was completely cut off. The fierce warrior woman of earlier seemed suddenly hugely vulnerable. Droplets of water sparkled on her cheeks—from the river spray or tears? He refused to speculate. His heart, the one several women in Constantinople had accused him of not having, squeezed tight.
‘Problem?’ he called over the rushing water.
‘Maybe we should make for the bridge and the pass.’
Sandulf frowned. ‘Vanora made it over. You can do it.’
‘Can I really?’
‘You were the one who said she liked to take risks,’ he said, trying to be encouraging.
‘About that... I may have exaggerated a little bit.’
‘You’ll have to explain after you cross.’
Ceanna concentrated on the swirling water. It was far worse than she had imagined on the shore. It had seemed simple when Sandulf did it and then Vanora had barely got her paws wet. Going forward was not an option and backwards seemed impossible as well. Struggling to get air into her lungs, she knew she should never have misled him about her level of confidence. She should have told him the truth—that she was actually one of those simpering maids who was more at home with her tapestry on her knee than out in the wilderness, that she liked her routine and disliked...well...everything that was uncomfortable and unplanned.
‘I’m not sure I can. Oh, help, I beg you!’
Her arms wheeled in the air and she knew in another heartbeat, three at the most, she would be in that river. She closed her eyes and whispered prayers.
Strong arms came about her waist as she felt herself slipping into the churning water. He’d got hold of her before she fell. Her hands clawed at his shoulders. ‘Don’t let me go. Don’t you dare.’
‘I’ve no intention of dropping you.’ He tightened his grip on her and started to make his way across the river. His arms were like protective iron bands about her body, holding her against his solid chest. His heart thumped in her ear. The panic which had threatened to overcome her subsided.
She was surprised how easily he crossed the log. She craned her neck to get a better look at the river swirling beneath them. Somehow, with Sandulf holding her against his chest, the raging water was far less terrifying.
‘Hold still. Wriggling will only make things difficult. Allow me to keep you safe.’
‘Promise?’ she whispered, screwing up her eyes tight.
‘I promise.’ His breath tickled her ear. Warm pulses thrummed through her body.
‘I believe you.’
His hands shifted and her feet met with solid ground. ‘You’re safe, Skadi. Away from the river.’
Her tongue wet her parched lips. She was aware of how his chest rose and fell. If she put out her hand, she’d encounter it. ‘Was I? Am I?’
‘Yes, you are.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners, but he remained next to her. ‘Now, tell me what that was all about, Skadi.’
‘I’ve never been good at crossing rivers or any sort of moving water since my mother and brother died,’ she said, running her tongue over her dry lips again. ‘I should have said earlier but I didn’t want you to think the worst of me. I didn’t want to be one of those simpering ladies who do little more than bat their lashes while they weave golden ribbons for their dresses.’
‘Being afraid of something like that isn’t shameful. It is natural. You should have told me.’
‘I was afraid you’d laugh at me.’
‘How did your mother and brother drown?’
‘They were washed away in a ford which was supposed to be safe. It had been raining and the waters came up very quickly. He was in her arms.’ She shivered slightly and wrapped her own arms about her waist. ‘It was all I could think of when I was on that rock, that the river was rising and you were going to forge ahead without me.’
‘Next time just explain instead of trying to be brave when there is no need. We’re a team, Skadi, and we go at the pace of the slowest. No one seeks to have sport with the other’s fears.’ His eyes turned serious. ‘You are safe with me.’
Safe with him. She glanced up at his face. He was so close that she could see the faint scarring on his cheeks and the slight cleft in his chin. And his eyes had depth. She wondered that anyone thought them cold.
Without giving herself time to think, she raised up on her toes and brushed his cheek with her lips. ‘Thank you. For everything.’
Sandulf swore softly and then lowered his mouth to hers, and his arms drew her against his hard body.
Ceanna started as his warm lips touched her cold ones, giving them life. She’d never known kisses felt like this. She wanted to open her mouth and drink from his lips. She had intended to brush his cheek in thanks, but this had happened. And she wanted more. She wanted to sink into the kiss. She wanted to feel his hands moving up and down her back.
The thought was like the icy river water which had swirled about her ankles a few heartbeats earlier. Kissing him enthusiastically was all wrong for someone whose destiny was to be a holy maid. It demonstrated her lack of pure intent. And she knew her aunt would closely question her on such things.
She forced her feet to move away from him and concentrated on tucking her hair back into the couvre-chef. All the while, her cheeks burned. ‘I can see Ben Cruachan peeking through the clouds. We’ve far to go to reach the pass. The sooner we start, the sooner we will get to Nrurim and you can go your own way.’
‘Should I beg your pardon, Skadi?’ he enquired.
She quickly shook her
