had trouble believing what he had been told as well. Someone had brought him north? For that to be so, days must have passed that he had no memory of—honey-gold hair sprinkled with cinnamon—the hollow ache in his belly was turning him fanciful, but, this wench was truly lovely, and he didn’t need to see her clearly now, as she stood in front of him, to still picture her in his mind. She wasn’t as tall as Kristen, mayhap a few inches shorter, and much slimmer, though no thin wisp. There were ample breasts there for his hands—spying? Odin help him, that was a grand jest.
He was a man blessed, smiled on by the Norse gods, tolerated by the Christian god, healthy, strong, and pleasing to the eye, with a wonderful family, a fine home he had helped build with his own hands, his own ship to aid in making his fortune—and all the women a man could ask for. He could not possibly be in this predicament. And with a woman accusing him, no less. She should have had him released immediately, should be fussing over him, should drown him in tender care. His head should be resting comfortably between her breasts. Nay, not hers.
He shook his head again, though the pain stabbed at him. He couldn’t keep it straight that she was the lady here, was accusing him, was apparently his judge, when all he wanted to do was entice her, she was so fetching.
Her voice reached his ears through the haze. “If you are a spy, there was naught for you to learn here other than we prosper, are well settled and well defended, a good thing for your King Alfred to know.”
The blurring cleared, but now he saw two of her pacing before him. “I doubt he would care,” he managed to say. “He defends, he does not invade.”
She ignored that to add, “My brother would simply have you killed, but he is not here and I am more practical. If you have ken or a lord who would pay Danegeld for your release, name him now, and I will send word to him.”
“I can pay for my own release.”
“Show me your coin, or do you think me stupid enough to have you taken to it?”
He would not involve Kristen in this absurd dilemma. It was a woman he had to deal with—lush, inviting lips, a stubborn chin, a contradiction—how hard could it be to charm her into letting him go?
He smiled at her, the smile that had won him so many hearts. “You want the truth, sweetling? I was indeed on King Alfred’s business. There were five others with me, including a bishop who held contracts to set before your king, offering three Saxon damsels, fair of face and richly dowered, to be given to whichever high-ranking Danes Guthrum chose to favor. But we were attacked by Saxon thieves before we even left Wessex, the others all killed as far as I know, and myself…I cannot say how I came to be here. My last memory was of the attack, yet I woke this morn just north of here.”
She didn’t look appeased. She stood still now, those azure eyes glaring at him. “And I am to believe that? And you would also have me believe you are a Norse Viking? A Viking doing a Saxon king’s bidding? By Odin—!”
“By Odin, I swear ’tis so,” he cut in before she worked herself into a lather. “That I associate with Saxons is due to circumstance, in that my sister has wed one, no small feat, since she had been his captive slave first, and my father had already rescued her.”
Erika was ready to scream with frustration.His other tales were bad enough, utter nonsense, but this last? Slaves marrying their captors? Did he think her a complete idiot?
She refrained from commenting on what he had just told her, too vexed to do so without losing her temper completely, strained as it was. “If you will not give me a name, mayhap I will send word to your King Alfred.”
“Nay, you will not, for your king, newly made Christian that he is, would not like it when Alfred lodges his complaint, that one of his emissaries has been falsely accused and treated so.”
“ Falsely accused?” she
He was a man blessed, smiled on by the Norse gods, tolerated by the Christian god, healthy, strong, and pleasing to the eye, with a wonderful family, a fine home he had helped build with his own hands, his own ship to aid in making his fortune—and all the women a man could ask for. He could not possibly be in this predicament. And with a woman accusing him, no less. She should have had him released immediately, should be fussing over him, should drown him in tender care. His head should be resting comfortably between her breasts. Nay, not hers.
He shook his head again, though the pain stabbed at him. He couldn’t keep it straight that she was the lady here, was accusing him, was apparently his judge, when all he wanted to do was entice her, she was so fetching.
Her voice reached his ears through the haze. “If you are a spy, there was naught for you to learn here other than we prosper, are well settled and well defended, a good thing for your King Alfred to know.”
The blurring cleared, but now he saw two of her pacing before him. “I doubt he would care,” he managed to say. “He defends, he does not invade.”
She ignored that to add, “My brother would simply have you killed, but he is not here and I am more practical. If you have ken or a lord who would pay Danegeld for your release, name him now, and I will send word to him.”
“I can pay for my own release.”
“Show me your coin, or do you think me stupid enough to have you taken to it?”
He would not involve Kristen in this absurd dilemma. It was a woman he had to deal with—lush, inviting lips, a stubborn chin, a contradiction—how hard could it be to charm her into letting him go?
He smiled at her, the smile that had won him so many hearts. “You want the truth, sweetling? I was indeed on King Alfred’s business. There were five others with me, including a bishop who held contracts to set before your king, offering three Saxon damsels, fair of face and richly dowered, to be given to whichever high-ranking Danes Guthrum chose to favor. But we were attacked by Saxon thieves before we even left Wessex, the others all killed as far as I know, and myself…I cannot say how I came to be here. My last memory was of the attack, yet I woke this morn just north of here.”
She didn’t look appeased. She stood still now, those azure eyes glaring at him. “And I am to believe that? And you would also have me believe you are a Norse Viking? A Viking doing a Saxon king’s bidding? By Odin—!”
“By Odin, I swear ’tis so,” he cut in before she worked herself into a lather. “That I associate with Saxons is due to circumstance, in that my sister has wed one, no small feat, since she had been his captive slave first, and my father had already rescued her.”
Erika was ready to scream with frustration.His other tales were bad enough, utter nonsense, but this last? Slaves marrying their captors? Did he think her a complete idiot?
She refrained from commenting on what he had just told her, too vexed to do so without losing her temper completely, strained as it was. “If you will not give me a name, mayhap I will send word to your King Alfred.”
“Nay, you will not, for your king, newly made Christian that he is, would not like it when Alfred lodges his complaint, that one of his emissaries has been falsely accused and treated so.”
“ Falsely accused?” she
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