The Shipwreck Read Online Free PDF Page A

fire-tending.  Her face glowed golden as she gazed into the flames, and her hair shone with reflected firelight.  “You said you had a daughter.”  She asked casually, “What happened to her?”
    It had been almost a year, but the wound still felt new and raw.  “She died,” he said flatly.  Just speaking the words aloud hurt.
    The air grew still.  For a long while, she didn’t speak.
    Finally she asked, “How?”
    He swallowed down the knot of pain in his throat.  He didn’t want to talk about it.  He didn’t know this woman.  She was his enemy.  Why should he tell her anything?  And yet something compelled him to speak.  Maybe it was the soft encouragement in her voice.  Maybe it was the dewy compassion in her eyes.  Maybe it was the fact that he had nothing more to lose.  “Plague.”
    Her forehead creased, and she propped the poker against the hearth.  “And her mother?”
    His cruel mind conjured up Inga’s precious face.  “Dead,” he told her woodenly.  “My daughter.  My wife.  My son.  All dead.”
    He heard the woman’s soft gasp, but she had no words of comfort for him.  There weren’t any.  There was nothing anyone could say to bring back his family.
    After a bit, she murmured, “But you survived.”
    “Oh, aye.”  Bitter regret twisted his mouth as he sneered, “I was lucky.  I was at sea.”
    The woman’s brow furrowed.  She leaned forward almost imperceptibly.  For a curious instant, as she looked at him with liquid brown eyes full of empathy, he imagined she meant to touch his hand in solace.
    But he’d never be sure, because at that moment, the little girl peered around the doorway.  “Mama,” she sang out cheerfully, “I’m finished sleeping.”
    “Kimbery!” the woman cried, coloring and rising briskly.
     
     
    Avril felt the way she had when her father had caught her kissing the stable boy.  Which was ridiculous.  After all, she’d done nothing to be ashamed of.  But a strange guilt lingered in the air.  She’d almost reached out to comfort the Northman.  And she didn’t know why.
    Flustered, she scooped up the empty bowl and turned to face Kimbery.
    “I’m all better now, Mama,” the wee lass said, using her sweetest, most cunning voice.
    Avril sighed and shook her head, then carried the bowl into the kitchen.
    Kimbery’s wiles left Avril with a dilemma.  Avril needed to search the beach to see if any more Northmen had made landfall.  But it was too risky taking Kimbery with her.  If there were shipwreck survivors, she didn’t want to put her daughter in harm’s way.  And if there weren’t, she didn’t need her little girl seeing a dozen half-eaten corpses washing up on her shore.
    She needed Kimbery to stay in the cottage.  But she didn’t trust the wee lass with the man she kept insisting was her da.  He might very well talk her into setting him free.
    She had a choice then.  She could either tie up her daughter, or she could drug the Northman.
    The decision took an instant.
    “You must be thirsty,” she called to him.
    She needn’t have worried he’d taste the opium powder she put in his mead.  He gulped it down eagerly and wanted more.  While she kept Kimbery occupied churning sheep’s milk into butter, he began to get drowsy.  By the time his suspicions were aroused, it was too late.
    “What’d y’ put…in th’ drink?” he asked, slurring the words.
    “Nothing poisonous,” she told him.  “Don’t fret.  You’ll just sleep for a while.”
    With his last bit of strength, he growled at her in impotent anger, and then he slumped against the beam.
    “G’night, Da,” Kimbery called merrily as she plunged the dasher up and down in the wooden churn.
    Avril swirled her cloak over her shoulders.  “Kimmie, I’m going down to the beach.  I need you to stay here and keep churning.”
    She nodded.
    “Stay away from the man.  I’ll be back soon.”
    “Shh,” she whispered.  “Da’s sleeping.