Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 04] Read Online Free PDF Page A

Hah! That was a deliberate tactic on her part. Her prosperous farms and sheep pastures were in sharp contrast to the starkness of her keep, which was well-maintained and stocked with provisions, but with no embellishments or luxurious furbelows, like wall tapestries or silver tableware. If ever Alinor enlarged her timber and stone manor house into a fine castle, Egbert and Hebert would take it from her in a trice. The same was true of her hird of soldiers under Gerald’s leadership.Strong fighting men would just draw her brothers’ attention.
    “Look at it this way, you have no children here that demand your presence,” the Viking said.
    Huh? She’d been half-attending while the insensitive clod prattled on.
    “You are free to leave your estate in the care of minions. Actually, you could consider this a pleasure trip to the Norse lands.” He folded his arms and puffed out his chest then, well pleased with himself for coming up with that ludicrous justification for his actions.
    “A pleasure trip?” She could scarce keep her voice down to a low shriek. “Wouldst that be comparable to plucking out a person’s fingernails and calling it good grooming?”
    “Probably,” he said unabashedly.
    She thought a moment. “How do you know whether I have children?”
    “Your castellan told me so.”
    She was going to have a serious talk with Gerald about his loose tongue. In the meantime, if he could bring up children, then so could she. “What will your children think of you hauling an unwilling woman halfway ’round the world?”
    His face turned a rosy shade of red under his deeply tanned skin. “I have no children…that I know of.”
    She arched an eyebrow at his wording. “That you know of?”
    “My family or lack of one is none of your affair,” he said icily and put up a hand to bar any further words. “I have been kind to you thus far, Lady Alinor. We can do this nicely, or not. It matters not to me.”
    “But—”
    “Gather your belongings, I beseech you. Or I will. Oneway or another, we must be on our way if we are to make camp at Aynsley afore nightfall.”
    “But—”
    He refused to allow further argument. “Know this, my lady: I promised to deliver a witch to Anlaf, and a witch I will deliver.”
    “I…am… not …a…witch,” she said in evenly spaced words, so the halfwit would understand.
    “Prove…it,” he said, mimicking her pacing.
    She bristled. Say nothing, Alinor. Keep your wits about you. A clear head has gotten you out of worse situations than this.
    “Everyone knows a witch has a tail,” the lout continued.
    “Everyone?” she scoffed.
    “Thus I’ve been told,” he said defensively. His wonderfully thick, brown lashes fluttered with uncertainty.
    “By whom, pray tell?”
    Tykir’s whisker-stubbled face reddened as he pointed ruefully to the side where the one-eyed giant, Bolthor—the world’s most unlikely skald—was imbibing great draughts of mead, mumbling something about, “Hear one and all, this is the saga of Tykir the Great, who met a flame-haired witch-shepherdess…”
    “Tykir the Great?” Alinor asked, unable to stifle a chuckle.
    “To straighten a king’s tail
    Did the brave warrior come.
    To lose her tail
    Did the bold witch aspire.
    Which tail will win
    In this battle of the tails?”
    Tykir shrugged sheepishly and shared a chuckle with her at his own expense. She liked that in a man—or woman—the ability to laugh at oneself.
    “But you must recognize that this whole situation is absurd. I’m no more a witch than you’re a…a troll.” Her lips twitched with amusement at that remark. “On the other hand…”
    “Why, you impudent wench! Are you implying that I’m a troll?” He squeezed her forearm as punishment, but not very hard. “In truth, I must needs be honest with you, I cannot help but admire your bravery, though it passes all bounds of recklessness. Has no one ever warned you about tweaking the wolf’s tail?”
    “Don’t you