Ensnared (Knights of Brethren #3)(10)
It caught me off guard, and I couldn’t keep from studying him the way Frans was, noting again the golden sword pin at his clasp signifying him as one of ten elite Knights of Brethren. I could only imagine the adventures he’d experienced, the battles he’d fought, the justice he’d brought to many.
If only I had the means to fight against the evil here in Romsdal. But I felt as if I were the one with my hands and feet bound with a stone weighing me down.
“If marrying you will bring Mikaela happiness,” Gunnar continued, “then I would gladly pay the fee to see it happen. . . .”
Standing but a dozen paces away, Gunnar had the bearing of a man who’d been shaped and changed by all he’d gone through, and I had the sudden, strange longing to sit down with him and hear every detail of his time serving beside the king. Even if I didn’t like Gunnar anymore, I couldn’t deny that we’d always been able to converse with each other about everything.
Not that I couldn’t talk with Frans. I could. But most of the time our conversations centered around simple everyday things and rarely delved into the deeper aspects of living.
Only when Gunnar’s brow inched higher on one side and a smirk began to tug at the corners of his mouth did I realize I was staring at him.
Gunnar stared right back, unabashedly. “There is one condition to the offer.”
“Should have known,” Frans muttered.
“It’s easy enough,” Gunnar added. “All Mikaela has to do is tell me that she loves you and mean it.”
All I had to do. I hadn’t yet told Frans I loved him. He’d whispered the words to me on a couple occasions. But he’d never asked or pushed me to do likewise.
As both men turned their attention upon me, I had the sudden urge to flee, to run somewhere and hide from their probing eyes.
I cared about Frans and could tell him I loved him and mean it, couldn’t I?
Drawing in a breath of cold air, I spun to face Frans. His eyes were filled with hope. The tenderness that softened his features told me he loved me. I needed only whisper it to him. Three little words. That was all.
I opened my mouth.
Gunnar’s gaze bore into my back. I could feel him watching my every move, daring me to speak the words. And oh, how I wanted to say them, wanted to mean them. But in the deepest places of my being, I knew I didn’t love Frans. At least not yet. Not the way he loved me and deserved to be loved in return.
Frans waited, his eyes getting bigger, something within them begging me to say the words, and not for the money we would gain but because he wanted the assurance that I felt about him the same way he did about me.
My mouth fell closed, and my shoulders deflated. Before I could decide how to proceed, Frans was already shaking his head and glaring again at Gunnar. “I don’t want your lousy payment!”
I pinched my eyes shut, disappointed in myself for hurting Frans.
“I don’t need anyone to help me.” Frans heaved a deep breath, one shuddering with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Frans,” I whispered, opening my eyes only to find him looking off into the distance. “I do care about you—”
“Don’t,” he whispered harshly.
I swallowed the rest of my words of admiration. They were flimsy and couldn’t take the place of what he’d wanted to hear.
What was wrong with me that I was so callous? Why couldn’t I conjure up love for this dear man?
“I know what I need to do to get the money.” He backed up several paces. His attention shifted to the north, and a strange determination settled into the crevices of his face.
My heart stuttered its protest at what I guessed he was about to tell me. “No.”
He nodded. “I’m taking up the earl’s challenge.”
The protest took on a life of its own, hacking like an axe at my chest. “You can’t.”
Without replying, he spun and stalked down the trail in the direction of the castle. He wouldn’t dare accept the earl’s challenge, would he?
Each of his steps echoed with resolve.
“No, Frans.”
His stride didn’t falter, but my heartbeat did.
I raced after him, not caring that I was leaving Gunnar behind. Suddenly all that mattered was stopping Frans. I grabbed his arm. “Please stop.”
In spite of my efforts to bring him to a halt, he kept going, dragging me along.
“Let’s forget all about Gunnar’s offer.” My panic was mounting. “What’s important is that we get to have a future together at some point, and that won’t be possible if you go into the forest.”
Everyone knew the earl’s challenge was a death sentence. The three men who’d already gone in had died—or at least that’s what we believed, because none of them had come out of Hardanger Forest.
“What makes you think you can succeed when the others have failed?” I didn’t care that my tone had grown sharp.
We broke into the clearing on the open plateau. The castle stood a short distance away with Hardanger Forest not far beyond, a mass of tangled limbs and thorny shrubs. The new foliage on the hardwoods should have made the forest greener and brighter, but the growth only seemed to add to the darkness and shadows, hiding the madman who lived in the depths.
The jotunn had existed in the woods for as long as people could remember. Most believed he was a troll. Others claimed he was a deformed and deranged man who had been cast out of society.