chafed wrists.
The Viking knelt before her, golden hair flowing thick and shaggy to his huge shoulders. He slipped the knife beneath the rope that bound her ankles. His fingers whispered against the upper arch of her foot—and her ankles were free. He raised the knife, the steel glinting, and slid it between her knees, slicing the rope there, his knuckles making brief and burning contact with the inside of her leg. When he pulled the knife away, he gave it a flick. The blade disappeared. Swiftly he gathered the bits of rope and the soggy gag.
The knife went into his boot and he stood. He backed away without once looking up, got a black bag from behind the easy chair and stowed the cut ropes and the gag in it. Then he sat in the chair once more.
Only then did he look at her, his eyelids low, his gaze brooding. “Go, Princess. Feed your animals.”
She stood slowly, expecting a little dizziness from the drug he’d used on her—and some stiffness from being tied up so tightly. But it wasn’t bad. Her head swam at first, and her stomach lurched, but both sensations passed quickly.
Her cats jumped up and followed her as she went past, Doodles meowing at her to hurry it up, Diablo a silent shadow, taking up the rear. She dished up the food, covered the half-used can and put it back in the refrigerator. Then she rinsed the spoon and stuck it in the dishwasher.
Her apartment, in a four-building complex, was at one end of her building. She had a window over her kitchen sink. She lingered for a moment, looking across at the next building over, and down at the slopes of grass and the concrete walkway below. She saw no one right then, but she couldn’t help wondering…
If she were to signal a passing neighbor, would that count as trying to escape?
“Princess.”
She let out a cry—actually a guilty-sounding squeak—and jumped back from the window. The Viking was standing about eight feet away, by her table with her bags of groceries still waiting on it. Damn him. How did he do it, appear out of nowhere like that without making a sound?
Slowly, he shook that gold head at her. As if he knew exactly the question she’d been asking herself and had materialized in her kitchen to let her know that he still had a few lengths of rope handy for any naughty princess who insisted on breaking her word.
“Look,” she snarled. “Do you mind if I at least put my groceries away?”
“As you wish.”
Hah, she thought. None of this—none—was as she wished.
But she’d already made that point painfully clear to him. And he was still here and still planning to take her to Gullandria with him as soon as it got dark.
With a sigh, she went to the table and began unloading the bags. He stepped out of the way, but he didn’t go back to his chair in the living room. Instead, he stood a few feet from the table, arms crossed over his chest, watching her put the lettuce and the Clearly Canadians in the refrigerator, the Grey Poupon in the cupboard.
Once she had everything put away, they returned to their respective seats in the living room.
The silence descended once more. He watched, she waited—or maybe it was the other way around. Doodles and Diablo jumped up beside her and settled in, purring. She petted them—the thick white coat, the velvety black one. There was some comfort in touching them, in feeling the soft roar of their purrs vibrating against her palm.
The phone rang, startling her. She’d been avoiding looking at him, but when she heard the shrill, insistent sound, her gaze tracked immediately to his.
“Leave it.”
“But—” Before she could devise some really good reason why he had to let her answer it, it stopped—on the second ring. She wanted to shout at it, at whoever had called and given up too soon, Damn you, can’t you see I need a little help here? What’s holding on for a few more rings going to cost you?
Outside, it was still light. But it wouldn’t be that long until night fell. When that happened, he’d be dragging her out of here by the hair—figuratively speaking.
Was she ready for that? Not. There had to be a better way.
She made herself look at him again—and then she forced her voice to a friendly tone. “Hauk… May I call you Hauk?”
He cleared his throat. “Call me what you will. I am—”
She waved a hand. “At my service. Got that. But Hauk?”
“Your Highness?”
Oh, this was all so way, way weird. “Look. Could you just call me Elli?”
The silver-blue gaze slid away. “That would not be appropriate.”
Elli stared at his profile for a count of ten. Then she sighed. “Please. I think we have to talk.” He turned those eyes on her again—but he didn’t speak. When the silence had stretched out too long, she suggested, “What if I were to go with you willingly?”
His gaze was unblinking, his face a carved mask. “Then you would make the inevitable easier on everyone.”
She added hopefully, “There would be conditions.”
And that brought on another of those never-ending silences. Surprise, surprise, she thought. He’s not interested in my conditions.
Gamely, she prompted, “Let me explain.”
For that, she got one gold eyebrow lifted. “I need no explanations. I have my orders and I will carry them out.”
“But—”
“Your Highness, all your clever words will get you nowhere.”
“Clever?” She had that dangerous feeling again, the one that told her she was about to throw back her head and scream the house down. “You think I’m clever?”
“Don’t,” he said softly, and then again, in a whisper, “Don’t.”
She pressed her lips together hard and folded her hands in her lap, bending her head, as if in prayer.
And in a way, she was praying—praying that she’d figure out how to get through to the Viking in the easy chair before he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the door.
Elli sat up straight. “Why does my father suddenly just have to see me?”
He frowned. “As I said earlier, he will explain that himself.”
“But what did he tell you—or did he even bother to give you the order himself?”
That eyebrow inched upward again. “Are you trying to goad me, Princess?”
She opened her mouth to deny that—and then shut it before she spoke. She had a sense that to lie to this man was to lose all hope of getting anywhere with him. She said, quietly, “Yes. I was goading you.” She swallowed and then made herself add, “I apologize.”
He gave her an infinitesimal shrug.
