Lord of Fire and Ice by Connie Mason with Mia Marlowe Page B

to feel some trepidation, both for her precarious perch above the surf and for the man who literally held her life in his hands.
    But despite their wrangling for control, she trusted him. He’d given her his oath to obey her and not to try to escape his fate. In the few days she’d known him, he’d proved his honor was important to him. She felt safer when he dogged her steps. Her life was spent caring for others. For the first time in a long while, someone was looking after her.
    And it felt wonderful.
    She reveled in the sense of lightness, in the ease with which she danced along the rock face. When she pushed away from the cliff and swooped to a new spot, it was almost as if she sprouted wings.
    She was nearing the top, only another few spans of a man’s arm, when her rigging began to loosen. The knot on the upper part of the harness unraveled, and the piece at her waist gave way. With the next leap, her bottom slipped forward off the thick leather strap.
    Katla screamed and grasped at the rigging, catching it with one hand. She spun in midair. Her body slammed against the rocks, but she clutched the leather strap in a death grip.
    Every muscle in her body clenched tight. She was dimly aware that the basket with their provisions tipped and all her carefully harvested eggs had fallen into the sea below. But she didn’t dare look down.
    If she fell, she’d be dashed to pieces on the rocks. Panic froze her. She could only cling to the rigging, unable to even think what to do to help herself.
    “Katla! Grab on with your other hand!” Brandr shouted down to her, leaning so far over the ledge she feared he might topple off.
    His words cut through her stunned rigor. She sucked in a quick breath and heaved her other arm up. She managed to wrap her fingers around the rope and gripped it with all her might.
    “Hang on.”
    She didn’t think she could release her grip even if she wanted to.
    Brandr pulled her up, hand over hand. When she was near enough for him to reach her wrists, he dropped to his knees and then flat on his belly. He grasped her so hard his nails bit into her flesh.
    She found a toehold and pushed herself up. Brandr’s eyes were wide, his mouth drawn into a hard line. She saw herself mirrored in his darkening pupils, her face a mask of terror. He gave a mighty heave and tugged her over the rugged lip of the cliff.
    He rocked on his knees and fell backward, dragging her body on top of his. His arms clamped tight around her, as if he’d never let go, and together, they rolled away from the cliff’s edge onto a bed of spongy moss and salt grass.
    Both of them panted for breath. Katla could feel his heart galloping beneath hers. She tried to control the shiver of delayed terror that wracked her body but couldn’t quite manage it. Brandr stroked her hair and down her back, his touch gentle and full of comfort.
    “Oh gods, Katla,” he said, when the worst of her trembling stopped. He cradled the back of her head in his palm, pressing her cheek to his. “I thought I’d lost you.”
    She’d thought so too, for a moment.
    While she dangled over the precipice, the Great Dark had loomed before her, a daunting and unknown place. She knew all the stories of Valhalla. She’d heard skalds weave the tales of Freya’s hall for unhappy lovers, and how they lived in the land beyond death, reveling in the bliss Fate had denied them here. She’d even listened politely while visiting priests described the Christians’ blissful heaven and their fiery hell.
    Who was to say what really bided on the other side of that dark portal?
    Her body hummed with life. And a new awareness of just how close Brandr was pressed against her.
    Katla looked down at the man who had saved her life. She’d enthralled him, and yet he hadn’t let her drop to her death. Then she said the two words she’d promised herself she’d never say.
    “Kiss me.”

Chapter 11
    He didn’t need to be told twice.
    Brandr captured her face, palms on