Redeeming Her Viking Warrior

‘No. It’s time now.’

To his dismay, she reached for his arm again, unravelling the bandage and peering at the wound for so long that he wondered if time itself had stopped. His whole body was rigid with tension and his heartbeat was pounding like a drum in his ears, so loudly he was certain she must be able to hear it—which was all right just as long as that was the only thing she noticed and she kept her gaze on the upper part of his body...

‘Much better,’ she said finally, running a finger over the line of the cut in a way that made his breath catch and then hiss sharply between his teeth. The sound of it made her head tip to one side. ‘Are you all right, Danr?’

Danr? He swallowed another moan. Of course she used his name now! The sound of it on her lips was almost enough to undo him.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t look fine.’

‘It’s nothing.’

‘Did it hurt when I touched you?’

He almost laughed at the question. It was close to torture, but he could hardly say that. ‘No.’

‘Good. Come with me.’

She took hold of his arm before he could object, leading him towards the pool’s edge. He went, grinding his teeth against a powerful urge to catch her up over his shoulder and carry her off to some soft patch of ground instead. In his current condition it would probably mean wrenching his arm from its socket, but it might still be worth it.

‘You needn’t worry about getting it wet now,’ she murmured, scooping some water up and letting it trickle between her fingers over his injury. ‘Just don’t rub it.’

‘I won’t.’ He wasn’t sure what had happened to his voice. It sounded deeper than he’d ever heard it, more like his brother Brandt’s than his own.

She looked as if she were about to go, then frowned and lifted a hand to his forehead. ‘You look feverish.’

‘I’m not.’ He clutched at her hand and tore it away from his face, feeling as though he’d just been scolded. Suddenly he was more than eager to plunge himself into a pool of frigid cold water.

‘Are you certain?’

‘Very.’ He attempted to let go of her hand and found himself rubbing his thumb over the insides of her fingers instead. The calluses there made him want to caress her even more. Damn it, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to fall on her like a thirsty man might fall on a barrel of mead. If she touched him just one more time, then she might find out just how much... But he was determined to do the right thing, to hold to his oath. It was the thought of that which helped him to release her.

‘I’ll see you back in the clearing.’ He turned and took a few steps away, tearing his tunic off to distract himself with activity. The feeling of cold air on his skin was a relief, cooling his blood and helping his pulse return to normal. He took a deep breath, waiting for her to leave before removing his trousers, but there was no sound of movement. At last he risked turning his head, only to find their positions reversed. She was the one staring at him now, a swathe of colour across her cheeks and throat.

‘As you wish,’ she said finally, seeming to come back to herself with a jolt before spinning on her heel and walking away.

* * *

Sissa glared at her feet as she tripped over a rock on her way back to the roundhouse, almost falling flat on her face. How was that possible? She walked along this path every morning. She knew every rock and pebble and even plant along the way. How was it possible for her to forget and stumble?

It was all his fault, the man, Danr’s. The way he’d stared at her—first when she’d stood dripping wet in the water and then afterwards when she’d been drying—had only reminded her of the evening before and the strange, almost visceral reaction she’d experienced at his touch—a reaction she’d spent half the night convincing herself she’d imagined.

Now just his expression had unsettled her. At first, she’d supposed it was simply surprise at her nakedness, but surely he couldn’t have been that surprised? Or maybe it was because she’d made no attempt to cover herself? But why would she have? Nakedness was only natural. Animals never worried about showing their bodies. It was only people who acted strangely about them, although she had to admit, his presence had made her feel somewhat self-conscious. She wasn’t used to being looked at and even if she had been, Birger had once told her that she had a long face and a skinny body, which was as true now as it had been five years ago. She might have grown taller, but her body had remained as thin as a sapling. Doubtless the Norseman had been thinking the same thing, although his gaze hadn’t seemed critical. On the contrary, there had been a definite warmth behind it—heat, even. The same heat she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes the evening before. She hadn’t known what to think about that, let alone how to react, but the more she’d tried to act naturally, to concentrate on practicalities like inspecting his wound, the stranger his behaviour had become. When she’d touched his arm, his body had gone pos

itively rigid with tension, as if he’d thought she might actually hurt him—as if she’d already been hurting him somehow.

The sight of his chest when he’d started undressing had discomposed her even further. He’d looked even broader and more sculpted than he had when she’d been nursing him, his stomach knotted with muscles that looked solid as a tree trunk—strong and powerful—with a line of hair that drew her eye downwards like an arrow towards... A pulse of excitement coursed through her veins at the memory, almost causing her to stumble again. Enough! she scolded herself. No matter how impressive or powerful he’d looked, there was no reason for her to still be thinking about him, especially when she had far more important things to be doing. She hadn’t been to the edge of the forest since the last new moon and if she left it any longer then the people in the village would start to wonder where she was.

She was pleased to feel a new sense of resolve by the time she reached the roundhouse. She’d go to the edge of the forest today, which meant that she needed to prepare herself for being around people again. First she crouched down by the fire pit, trailing her forefingers through the ashes and then across her cheeks to leave two lines of grey powder. Then she collected a few of the twigs left behind from their game the previous evening and wound them into her still-wet hair, twisting the rest into unruly tendrils. Then she sat back on her haunches, trying to put all thoughts of Danr Sigurdsson out of her mind. It wasn’t easy. Even apart from his chest, after just a few short days in his company she’d become almost used to talking again. For her own safety, however, she needed to put all of that aside and go back to being inscrutable. That was what the villagers expected of her, which meant that she’d have to guard her eyes and her tongue even more than usual. The slightest sign of emotion could damage her position and make her vulnerable again.

* * *

She was busy loading her basket with herbs when Danr arrived back in the clearing, his eyes widening at the sight of her tangled hair and smeared cheeks, though he didn’t make any comment, casually draping his linen cloth over the drying cord instead. She didn’t speak to or acknowledge him either, concentrating on her basket, though she could feel his eyes on her lowered head and sense the tension in him, too, as if her silence bothered him. From the sound of it, he was pacing up and down the clearing, moving things that didn’t need moving, obviously struggling with holding his tongue.

‘I’m sorry,’ he burst out at last, dropping down on to his haunches in front of her. ‘I behaved badly. You’ve every right to be furious with me for staring. I was caught by surprise, but it won’t happen again. From now on, I’ll call ahead or whistle to let you know when I’m coming.’

‘You mean some kind of warning?’ She looked up at him, her lips twitching at the idea.