Lord of Hawkfell Island (Viking Era 2)

“There,” he said, sat back again and looked at her as he would a platter of boar steaks. “I have missed seeing you. You please me.”

Entti stared up at this golden man who had helped sack and destroy her town, his skills and enthusiasm well suited for such an endeavor. He was staring down at her, not at her breasts or her belly, but into her face. He was silent, just looking down at her. Then he began to frown.

Finally, he said, “What is wrong with you?”

She said nothing, merely turned her face away.

“Entti!”

He grabbed her face between his palms and jerked her back. “Don’t you look away from me, damn you!”

She closed her eyes.

“All right, if this how you wish things to be between us I care not.”

She heard him rise, heard the rustle of his clothing. She felt his body come down over hers, felt him hard against her, felt the hair of his chest rubbing against her skin, felt his hot breath on her cheek.

He moaned and moved over her. He kissed her ear, her jaw where he had struck her, her nose. “You’re crying,” he said suddenly, rearing back. “No, don’t do that, Entti. You never cry. You are too mean to cry.”

“There is nothing else to do,” she whispered.

He cursed, then cursed again.

23

“IHAVE BROUGHT you some mutton broth and some warm bread with butter and honey.”

“Thank you, Utta,” Mirana said, took the wooden plate and laid it on her lap.

“Lord Rorik said you shouldn’t yet have the mutton itself or the mushrooms or the cabbage. He said it was still too much for your belly. He said the broth was only for you and the rest of us weren’t to touch it. He even told the men to keep away from the broth, but they were laughing and all were trying to tip some into their bowls, trying to annoy him.”

“And they succeeded?”

“They annoyed him, aye,” Utta said. “My father said Rorik has become too protective and that you, of all men or women, have little need of protection. I thought Lord Rorik would hit my father, but at the last moment he held back.”

Mirana smiled.

“I think he held back because I w

as there, right beside my father.”

“Aye, you’re right.” She tasted the broth, but it wasn’t to her liking—it tasted of a strange condiment she didn’t recognize—and she ate only a few bites. A pity Rorik couldn’t have tended to his own business and left her to decide about what food she should and shouldn’t eat.

“Who prepared the broth?”

“We were all working about the fire pit. All had a say in its preparation but Amma said we must add some brawly root.”

“Ah,” said Mirana, and ate all the bread, gently shoving the broth to the side of the tray.

When Rorik came into the chamber a few minutes later, she was full and sleepy.

He looked harassed.

“What has happened now?” she said, patting the bed beside her.

He eased down, not really heeding what he was doing, and said, “Hafter wishes to marry Entti. I don’t understand any of this, Mirana. He says he tied her up just as I told him to, then she cried and he couldn’t bear it, he said, and now he will marry her. He has freed her. He didn’t force her, he said he wouldn’t take her until they were man and wife. He has told her that if she wishes to unman him again, she must now consider closely, for he will be her husband and the man to give her babes. To unman him, he said he told her, would hurt her as much as it would him now. They will wed tomorrow.”

She stared at his strong throat, and kept her smile hidden. “What do you think about this now, Rorik?”