She screamed and a seagull flying above screeched in response.

Those captivating long tresses that the wind had taunted and teased but moments ago now spread about her on the sand, as dark as a starless night. Wispy bangs fell across her forehead, softening the elegant perfection of her face. Her smooth, flawless skin was almost translucent, paled by fright and her big eyes were wide and dilated with terror. Seeing her -- feeling her crushed under him, knowing she was completely at his mercy filled him with remorse.

Guilt? Nay, never let it be! Leif snorted in disgust. It mattered not that she was exquisite, fragile and frightened.

She was a murderess!

Her chin trembled as she struggled to form words.

"Please, get off me, you're hurting me," she pleaded, struggling.

He smiled cruelly, the warrior in him fully engaged. He imagined he could simply keep his weight upon her and watch as his body squeezed the life's breath out of her. Until she lie as eternally still as his brothers and warriors.

"Shed your tears, wench. Agonize over whether I will kill you fast, or prolong your agony." He could almost taste her terror. She had much to answer for.

Her sharp intake of breath at his words was a small reward. Good. Let her ponder her fate until he put an end to her miserable life. The blood of his brothers stained her hands, the blood of his warriors. If she had succeeded in murdering him, he realized with a fresh wave of rage washing over him, she would have been responsible for the death of his father as well. Yes, she would pay for her crimes.

He narrowed his eyes. Before he finished with her, she would answer his questions.

"Why did your father order the ambush of my ship?" he demanded hoarsely. "If he wished me dead, why did you save my life just now? What game do you play, lady?"

She went completely still. She seemed to have stopped breathing. Leif felt a stab of panic. Perhaps he had crushed the life from her small, treacherous body. He resisted the urge to adjust his weight. She deserved to die.

After a moment, and to his illogical relief, she heaved a ragged breath. The mysterious pools of her sea-blue eyes darkened and tears glistened on her long lashes, sparkling like crystals of ice. Such a great actress was she, he thought scornfully. Such a skillful liar even without using words.

Words or no words, it did not matter. He was in control now and she would answer his questions. He pressed his face against her cheek and hissed into her ear. "Answer me."

Her small form jerked under him, her tears spilt and ran in a stream down her pale cheeks. "No, I didn't hurt you!" She shook her head in denial. "Oh god, this just isn't possible," she cried, then pinned him with a desperate, pleading gaze. "I know you think I'm her, but I'm not. I swear! Just look around you. Does this look like where you came from?"

Leif ignored her hollow claims of innocence. He refused to allow her near hysterical sobs to sway him. He closed his ears to her pleas, only to hear his own questions tumble over themselves in his mind.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He could feel it. He glanced towards the ocean. Where were the tips of the icebergs that dotted the waters as far as the eye could see? Where had his ship gone? What had been done with his dead? Had his brothers’ bodies been sent back to Denmark so his father could bury them? Would his father even know the bodies presented before him were those of his sons?

"Dude, get a room."

It was a boy's voice. The comment was followed by gales of female laughter. Looking up, Leif saw a strange looking pair of youthlings walking aimlessly down the otherwise deserted stretch of beach. A stretch of beach, he realized with a knot of dread churning in the pit of his stomach, untouched by snow.

The couple, still laughing, now headed straight toward them. The girl had a spiked collar about her neck like a captive slave from the Far East, while the lanky boy walking next to her wore his hair twisted into spikes. Both their faces were white, as if having been deprived a lifetime of sun. Perhaps they were diseased, Leif thought in alarm, noting that even their lips had an unnatural black cast to them.

He moved the knife at her throat out of sight as, with the other hand, he grasped her hair, a silken haven, as though they were in an impassioned embrace. She wrenched in his grasp and her eyes darted from him to the approaching youths.

Again he hissed into the delicate shell of her ear. "Put your arms about my neck. If you do anything to attract attention to your plight, I will kill them immediately after I kill you."