Enthralled: Viking Lore, Book 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Grimar said triumphantly.
    But the breaking dawn
illuminated something else on the girl’s face. She was utterly paralyzed with
terror, her eyes wide, her limbs shaking, and her breath shallow.
    Eirik moved to the
tiller uneasily, barking out orders to unfurl the sail. What had Grimar gotten
them into?

Chapter Four
     
     
     
    The ship rocked upward
on a sea swell again, and Laurel had to swallow hard not to lose the meager
contents of her stomach. Nausea warred with fear as she clung to the ship’s
mast, which was the farthest point from the water she could find. Even still,
she was only a few feet away on either side from the churning ocean.
    But mayhap the sea’s
suffocating embrace would be a better alternative to staying on this ship
surrounded by Viking barbarians. Risking taking her eyes from the horizon for a
moment, she glanced around. Blessedly, the savage who’d been manhandling her
was occupied with some ropes around the sail. The other one, the one who’d
stepped between her and the Viking who’d struck her, was at the back of the
ship, yet his eyes kept tugging toward her.
    Laurel swiveled her
head around to refocus on the horizon, yet even that small movement sent
another wave of nausea through her. It was all too much. In less than a day,
she’d been attacked by Brother Egbert, dunked in the chair, beset upon by a
Viking seige, and now she was their captive—how could she possibly make sense
of any of it?
    And of course now she
sat in a wooden vessel, no more than forty feet long and only ten feet wide,
tossed like a toy at the mercy of the fathomless waters all around. She
squeezed her eyes shut, but then immediately regretted it as the ship rolled
lazily again.
    “Try to eat something.”
    Despite her fatigue and
numbness, she jumped at the deep voice right behind her. The barbarian from the
ship’s stern stepped in front of her, and despite her desire to cling to the
mast, she felt herself cower away from him.
    “It might help settle
your stomach,” he said, extending a chunk of flatbread toward her.
    “You—you speak my
language,” she said cautiously. She eyed him, not taking the offered bread. She
wouldn’t have recognized him as the same man who’d stormed the Abbey last
night, except for his bright blue eyes, which seemed to bore into her.
    Of course, he was still
enormous and foreboding, but he had removed the chainmail shirt he’d worn last
night to reveal a simple belted tunic. And while his nasal helm had obscured
most of his face and head when he’d burst into the chapel, now she saw that he
had a mane of golden hair, held back on each side of his face with small
braids.
    His bronzed skin spoke
of a life outdoors and on the open seas. He didn’t sport the thick beards that
some of the other Viking men onboard did, yet the lower half of his face was
covered in thick stubble slightly darker than his hair. His eyes, which had
been fierce and unyielding last night, were now penetrating and—could a Viking
barbarian be curious?
    “Ya, I’ve learned a bit
of it,” he replied, but from what she’d already heard, he knew more than he was
letting on.
    He nudged the bread
toward her once again. “Eat,” he said, but this time it was more of a command.
    Cautiously, she
unwrapped one hand from the wooden mast and accepted the chunk of bread from
him. She took a small bit e and was surprised
to find that it had the flavor of oats and honey, far more luxurious than
anything they ate regularly at the Abbey.
    “I have a few questions
for you,” he said, his eyes following the bread as she brought it to her mouth
again for another bit e .
    She halted mid-chew.
What could the barbarian possibly want to know from her? Did he expect her to
cooperate with him in her own captivity? To betray her homeland and help him
commit more raids?
    His eyes narrowed
slightly, and she realized her suspicion and wariness must be written on her
face.
    “Will you refuse to
talk with me? For if you do,