SNEAK PEEK
A BEND IN TIME

A sudden rumbling of the earth beneath his feet gave Dane pause. He spun where he stood, his breath exhaling in white plumes on the frigid air. With a thunder of heavy hooves, hundreds of horses suddenly crested the nearest ridge, racing toward him. He recognized Nyan in the center, flanked by a riderless horse and Ilsa. His men rode behind them. Nyan came to a stop, his horses' hooves kicking up snow.

"Stranger, you go to save the girl," Nyan said, his gaze focused on Dane. It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes." Dane still gripped the sword in his hand, wondering what the chieftain was up to.

"Because you love her?"

Love her? Dane thought. "No," he quickly corrected. "Because I swore to protect her."

He didn't love Skye. True, he thought she was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. True, he felt this inherent and inexplicable need to keep her safe, to defend her from harm, to see her home once again. True, she had a mouth on her sometimes he could just as soon slap as kiss, but did that mean he loved her? Surely not.

"I offer you a truce, then," Nyan said. "Join us. We can help each other."

Dane's gaze flickered between Nyan and his mother. She gave him a nod of approval, her expression urging him to mount the horse.

"We must stop Sovold before he reaches the temple," Nyan said and pointed to the building on top of the mountain.

"If I help you, then you have to agree to free us," Dane said, trying to bargain. "Me and the girl―both of us. We go free when it's over."

"Agreed," Nyan said quickly. He offered Dane the reins of the riderless horse beside him. "Now come."

***

Sovold shoved Skye to the snowy ground again. She panted, her lungs burning as she tried to catch her breath. He had been dragging her for what seemed like hours. Her legs ached from the exertion.

"Rest," he ordered. He paced back and forth in front of her, carving a rut in the snow. She could see the brown earth emerging beneath the heavy treads of his boots.

"It will do you no good to try and run from me," he told her, just as she'd started to entertain the thought of doing precisely this, of bolting to her feet and scampering back down the hillside in the direction they had just come. Sovold turned, waggling the dagger at her demonstratively. "And I will not hesitate to kill you if you try. There is no escape for you, girl. No rescue. Not even the healer―your precious love―can save you."

"My precious…?" Skye said, and she nearly laughed aloud, despite the circumstances and her shortness of breath. He thinks Dane and I are in love? Oh, Jesus!

True, she had thought Dane was quite possibly the sexiest, most attractive man she'd ever seen from the moment she'd first set eyes on him. True, she had grown to trust him―albeit reluctantly―and depend on him, to feel compassion and camaraderie for him. And true, he had an arrogant, chauvinistic attitude that she could simultaneously loathe and appreciate, but did that mean she loved him? Surely not.

"I don't understand why you just won't let me go," she said, her voice weak and weary. She was so very cold. Her teeth chattered. She folded her arms in front of her trying to ward off the frigid air. It was useless, though. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you are the Pure One." He paused, looking at her with a wicked smile and a frightful gleam in his eyes.

What? she thought, bewildered. Oh, boy, does this guy not realize what a bottle of Jagermeister will do to me! "What does that mean?" She breathed the words between her teeth, her breath exhaling on a white plume.

Sovold squatted down in front of her. "I knew it the moment I saw you, when I brought you and your companion to our camp. It was the color of your hair and your eyes that confirmed it." His hand slipped under her hairline, caressing the nape of her neck. "The prophecy spoke of a copper-haired woman with indigo eyes who would drop from the sky. I sensed something ancient about you. I sensed your pureness."

She flushed. Her skin tingled where he touched her and she didn't like it one bit.

"The temple, you see, is where the power lies." He pointed to the building on the mountain. "The prophecy states the Pure One will harness the power for the one who would proclaim himself leader. That is why we must join together in an ancient ritual at the temple. I had thought to control you with the elixir. It would have been easier for us both. However, you insisted on kicking it from my hand."

His hand traveled to the nape of her neck. Repulsed by his touch, she felt bile rising in her throat, but she forced it down. He gripped her hair, tilted her head back with a yank and hovered over her. She could see his stumps of yellow teeth as his lips parted and his acrid breath pressed against her face.

Oh, my God, he's going to kiss me, she thought, and nothing she'd suffered to that point―not running away from an armed hit man, traveling through time or finding herself in the middle of not one, but numerous major, bloody battles in the span of little more than a week―horrified her more than this sudden realization.

Panic seized her. Her hand fumbled against the snowy ground, her fingertips curling about the jagged curve of a loose rock. She swung it in her hand, smashing it into the side of his head.