member.
Liam, his bright eyes shining wide with fear, stepped in front of the yellow-haired man, his fists in tight little balls as he tried to stand tall and look the man in the eyes. Arienh edged closer, prepared to snatch him away.
"Are you a Viking?" the boy demanded in a squeaky voice.
Bemused, Egil put his hands to his hips. "I'm a Northman, Liam, not a Viking."
"'Tis the same," said Birgit. "Come back here, Liam."
The boy stood his ground, eyes flashing.
"Nay, 'tis not," said Egil. "I am no marauder, nor have I ever been. But my folk come from the North."
"Blood will tell," said Birgit. "He is a Viking."
"I won't let you hurt my Mama."
Solemnly, the man squatted down to Liam's level, placing his large hand on the boy's shoulder. "I am glad you will not, Liam. You are a brave lad, and you will make a fine man someday. And you must always protect your mother. But I give you my word, I will never harm her, nor you, nor your aunt."
"You promise?"
"I do."
"Oh. What do you do in your longship, then?"
"Sometimes we fish."
Arienh noticed the table no longer wobbled. She carved thin slices off the ham hock and laid them out on the board as if she had ham to cut every day.
Gentleness lit the blond one’s eyes, as if he had a liking for the boy. "The ship belongs to my brother, Ronan," Egil added. "He built it himself, and has taken it to many places in the world to trade. Some of the fine things he has brought with us. He has a fur from a great white bear of the Far North."
"Really?" Liam asked, suddenly eager.
"Aye. They are giants, those great white bears. Ronan has real glass, too, made into fine jugs. Have you ever seen glass?"
Liam shook his head.
"Then he must show it to you, for you have helped to take such good care of him."
"Mama, can I please?"
Birgit glared. "They are not staying, Liam. Come away from them. Now."
Liam's eyes flashed to his mother and back to the blond Viking, assessing his chance for defiance. He didn't move.
"Did you go, too?" he asked.
"Nay. I have always lived on the Green Isle, until now. Do as your mother says."
A long pout settled on Liam's face as he returned to his mother's side. Arienh knew what the boy was thinking, for he was at an age to test his mother. These men had openly ignored the demands of the two women, and perhaps he hoped they might support him in doing the same.
With the fever gone, the darker Viking regained his appetite. By the hour, his skin took on a healthier color, and his eyes lost their feverish look. He no longer shook from weakness as he sat, propped against the wall, bantering quietly with his brother in their harsh tongue.
Arienh hid her irritation at their foreign words, and tried to ignore them altogether, yet her eyes homed back to the man who had been her obsession as he hovered so close to death. Again and again her gaze tangled with his, as if he never looked away. She did, often, quickly.
Soon, she slid into the bed beside Birgit and prayed the men would take the hint. She prayed for more than that.
Egil banked the fire and joined his brother in the bed where Arienh usually slept.
For hours, Arienh pretended to sleep, rigid, still, beside her sister.
The storm no longer roared. Its rage had torn at the thatch for most of the night and whipped back that thin rawhide that draped over the cottage's only window. Arienh had twice risen to check the dark Viking for fever and found none. But a simmering darkness in his eyes replaced his usual affable smile. As she touched his brow, he raised his hand to caress across her cheek. She jerked back out of his reach, and hurried back to lie down beside Birgit.
The blond one avoided her gaze, but several times she caught him watching Birgit. And Birgit did nothing but watch the Vikings. Twice had Egil risen to stir and bank the fire, then lay down beside his brother. Each time, he had not taken his eyes off Birgit.
Once more he stood, and this time jerked off the Celtic woolen tunic
Liam, his bright eyes shining wide with fear, stepped in front of the yellow-haired man, his fists in tight little balls as he tried to stand tall and look the man in the eyes. Arienh edged closer, prepared to snatch him away.
"Are you a Viking?" the boy demanded in a squeaky voice.
Bemused, Egil put his hands to his hips. "I'm a Northman, Liam, not a Viking."
"'Tis the same," said Birgit. "Come back here, Liam."
The boy stood his ground, eyes flashing.
"Nay, 'tis not," said Egil. "I am no marauder, nor have I ever been. But my folk come from the North."
"Blood will tell," said Birgit. "He is a Viking."
"I won't let you hurt my Mama."
Solemnly, the man squatted down to Liam's level, placing his large hand on the boy's shoulder. "I am glad you will not, Liam. You are a brave lad, and you will make a fine man someday. And you must always protect your mother. But I give you my word, I will never harm her, nor you, nor your aunt."
"You promise?"
"I do."
"Oh. What do you do in your longship, then?"
"Sometimes we fish."
Arienh noticed the table no longer wobbled. She carved thin slices off the ham hock and laid them out on the board as if she had ham to cut every day.
Gentleness lit the blond one’s eyes, as if he had a liking for the boy. "The ship belongs to my brother, Ronan," Egil added. "He built it himself, and has taken it to many places in the world to trade. Some of the fine things he has brought with us. He has a fur from a great white bear of the Far North."
"Really?" Liam asked, suddenly eager.
"Aye. They are giants, those great white bears. Ronan has real glass, too, made into fine jugs. Have you ever seen glass?"
Liam shook his head.
"Then he must show it to you, for you have helped to take such good care of him."
"Mama, can I please?"
Birgit glared. "They are not staying, Liam. Come away from them. Now."
Liam's eyes flashed to his mother and back to the blond Viking, assessing his chance for defiance. He didn't move.
"Did you go, too?" he asked.
"Nay. I have always lived on the Green Isle, until now. Do as your mother says."
A long pout settled on Liam's face as he returned to his mother's side. Arienh knew what the boy was thinking, for he was at an age to test his mother. These men had openly ignored the demands of the two women, and perhaps he hoped they might support him in doing the same.
With the fever gone, the darker Viking regained his appetite. By the hour, his skin took on a healthier color, and his eyes lost their feverish look. He no longer shook from weakness as he sat, propped against the wall, bantering quietly with his brother in their harsh tongue.
Arienh hid her irritation at their foreign words, and tried to ignore them altogether, yet her eyes homed back to the man who had been her obsession as he hovered so close to death. Again and again her gaze tangled with his, as if he never looked away. She did, often, quickly.
Soon, she slid into the bed beside Birgit and prayed the men would take the hint. She prayed for more than that.
Egil banked the fire and joined his brother in the bed where Arienh usually slept.
For hours, Arienh pretended to sleep, rigid, still, beside her sister.
The storm no longer roared. Its rage had torn at the thatch for most of the night and whipped back that thin rawhide that draped over the cottage's only window. Arienh had twice risen to check the dark Viking for fever and found none. But a simmering darkness in his eyes replaced his usual affable smile. As she touched his brow, he raised his hand to caress across her cheek. She jerked back out of his reach, and hurried back to lie down beside Birgit.
The blond one avoided her gaze, but several times she caught him watching Birgit. And Birgit did nothing but watch the Vikings. Twice had Egil risen to stir and bank the fire, then lay down beside his brother. Each time, he had not taken his eyes off Birgit.
Once more he stood, and this time jerked off the Celtic woolen tunic
Similar Books
