Acting with the instinct of a jungle cat, Erik pounced on the two young men who had spoken unwisely. One he caught under the chin with a right fist. The cowboy flew out of his chair under an impact like Thor’s hammer and landed unceremoniously on the floor in an undignified heap. The other young man had stood up in hopes of making a show of self-defense, but his belly was plowed into with an iron fist, and then, as he leaned over in agony, he, too, knew the rocketing pain of Erik’s punch to his jaw.
Bleary-eyed, they stared in fear up at Erik from their humiliating positions. “Have one on me to cool off a little, boys,” Erik said cheerfully. He flung a five-dollar bill onto the table. Then, with the dignity of a monarch, he met Kathleen at the door and escorted her out of the silent room.
When they had mounted the staircase and were crossing the lobby toward the front door, she asked shakily, “Erik, are you all right?”
“Sure. Why shouldn’t I be? They deserved to be knocked on their cans for what they said about you.” He smiled down at her and squeezed her arm reassuringly. “They’ll live. I promise. I didn’t hurt them near as much as I could have.”
That was what worried her. For an instant, when he had turned on the two young men, she had seen an expression on Erik’s face that caused a prickle of fear to chill her spine. His teeth were bared in a feral grimace and his hands were clenched into fists that hung loosely at his sides as he crouched in the menacing position.
He had spoken of his father’s fierce temper. Apparently, his Viking blood, which felt each emotion strongly, wasn’t immune to anger.
* * *
“Can you please point me in the right direction? The streets in this town are like a maze,” Erik said once they were in the truck and he was backing it out of the parking lot.
Was this affable man the same one who had attacked the two cowboys in the lounge only a few moments ago? Kathleen laughed nervously as she said, “Straight ahead for the next few blocks.”
“Straight? You’ve gotta be kidding!” Erik said as he took the first sharp curve.
Indeed, most of the streets in Eureka Springs were unique. Each wound around the hills, seemingly wi
thout destination but somehow managing eventually to converge on the wider and more uniform thoroughfares.
The narrow, twisting streets were lined with historic houses decorated with “gingerbread” trim, jeweled with dormer windows and flanked by beds of geraniums, petunias, periwinkles and marigolds. Most of the century-old houses had been fully restored and painted in gaily contrasting colors that made the neighborhoods look more like Disneyland than a small community in the Ozarks of Arkansas.
“Would you like to stop someplace else?” Erik asked when they reached the highway that led back to Mountain View.
“No. It’s been lovely to get away for a few hours, but the grind starts again tomorrow, and then, the day after, we’re taking a busload of the older kids to the Buffalo River for a day of tubing on the rapids.”
“Hey, now, that sounds great. Can I come along?”
“Of course.” She smiled across the dark interior of the truck.
Erik must have read the invitation in her eyes, and there was no masking the desire in his voice when he commanded her huskily, “Get over here.”
She moved as close to him as possible considering the console between them. Their thighs touched. “That’s better,” he said, smiling down at her and risking kissing her fleetingly on the mouth.
When his eyes returned to the road, he lifted her hand to his mouth and planted a hot, moist kiss in the palm. Not releasing her hand, he placed it high on his thigh. Her fingers trembled, but his own imprisoned hers where they were.
Having reached the main highway, Erik knew his way back to the encampment. Kathleen was lulled by the humming of the car’s motor, her full stomach and the soft music emanating from the dimly lighted dashboard. Her head fell back against the seat. Her eyelids gave up the struggle to remain open.
Slipping under her skirt, his hand stroked her thigh, caressing the smooth skin. When he found the softest spot, his hand stilled and rested. Only occasionally did she feel his fingertips brushing her.
Drowsily, she could smell the intoxicating fragrance of his cologne—potent, but not overwhelming or cloyingly sweet. It was brisk and clean and sharp, conjuring up thoughts of sea air or autumn breezes. The image of a Viking sailing his warship into a fjord was projected onto her mind. The Viking had Erik’s face, and the girl wildly waving at him from shore looked like her.
The dream grew even more pleasant as the returning warrior bounded off the ship onto shore and gathered the girl into his brawny arms, raiding her mouth, tickling her ear with his mustache. She, giggling, clutched at his back and drew him to her.
Kathleen was still smiling at her fantasy when the truck pulled to a stop outside her cabin. She lacked the energy to move. “Are you awake?” Erik’s breath ghosted over her neck as he whispered to her.
“No,” she answered sleepily.
He chuckled. “That’s what I thought. We’re home. Come on.”
Before she realized what was happening, he had opened the passenger door and was reaching inside, catching her under the knees and around the shoulders, lifting her out of the front seat and carrying her to her cabin.
He opened the squeaky screen door and caught it with his back as it closed, not wanting it to slam shut. Then he moved through the moonlit room toward the bed.
He laid her gently on the pillows and kissed her forehead. Leaving her for a moment, he went back to the electric panel next to the door and switched on the overhead fan, but left off the lights. He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it onto a chair.