In Bed With The Viking Warrior. Harper George St.

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СКАЧАТЬ clenched his jaw and she had no doubt that vein in his temple that she was so well acquainted with throbbed as he set his eyes on her. She swallowed against the sudden dryness of her mouth and moved forward a few steps.

      ‘I—Is that necessary, Wulfric? I never called the debt due. Can’t the wool be returned to its owner and this all forgotten?’

      ‘It wasn’t your debt to call, my dear.’ The momentary shock that had crossed his face at her daring to interrupt was gone, replaced by a sneer.

      ‘It was owed to Godric, so it’s now mine.’ Her voice grew stronger and she tightened her fists at her sides.

      ‘Not everything that was my son’s is yours.’ A distinct thread of bitterness laced his words. ‘I was listed on the debt, it reverted to me. I called it due.’

      ‘They are indebted to you, yet you are the one with the power to level punishment on them for the debt?’ It seemed an unfair advantage.

      ‘Aye. I have that power. Is there something you are trying to say, Aisly?’

      She sucked in a deep breath while her heart tried to beat its way from her chest. Wulfric had made it clear from the very first that he didn’t approve of his son’s marriage to a mere servant. He’d also made it known to others that he didn’t want her to stay in his son’s home. Now wasn’t the time to provoke him, but there was something blatantly unfair about what was happening before her.

      ‘Nay, Wulfric. I am only asking for you to be merciful. His wife is with child and I’ve never heard of either of them stealing. Perhaps it was one instance of poor judgement. If they return the wool, then nothing has been lost.’

      Wulfric gave a short bark of laughter. ‘The sheep is still gone. It’s not only wool they took. And even if it were returned, the theft happened. It won’t erase the crime or the need for the punishment. Actions done, Aisly, cannot be undone.’ He gave her a vicious look that made her think those words were somehow meant for her and a chill crept down her spine. Then he dismissed her with a glance and turned his attention to the man kneeling before him.

      ‘Perhaps I could pay the debt,’ she insisted. ‘How much is due? As I recall, it’s fairly low.’

      The amount he stated was so absurdly high she wondered if he’d made it up. She wouldn’t have had that much coin had the Danes from the settlement not raided her coffers. Correctly assuming she couldn’t pay, Wulfric turned his attention back to the man kneeling before him. He raised his hands high and wide as he made a show of it, delighting in the audience.

      Aisly searched the room again for someone to help, but it was a fruitless search. No one save Cuthbert or Arte would dare to oppose him. Turning on her heel, she hurried from the room. The foreigner needed help and Cuthbert was the only one she’d trust to see to him. She’d also mention Beorn’s dilemma. The older man was kind and fair, where Wulfric was cold and deceitful. Perhaps he’d intervene. She rushed back out to the gates and almost ran into Cuthbert as he made his way towards the village from the fields.

      * * *

      ‘We’ll take him to my hall. I’ll have Edyth look him over.’ Cuthbert stared down at the fallen warrior as if he was afraid to touch him. Two of his warriors had come with them back to the tree where she’d left the foreigner, but judging from the disparity in their size and the fact that the stranger would be a dead weight, she didn’t think they’d be enough to carry him inside.

      As their chieftain, she’d always found Cuthbert to be wise and just, but she didn’t trust the others. The thought of leaving her foreigner at the mercy of the warriors who slept in Cuthbert’s hall made her stomach turn. ‘I’d prefer to take care of him myself.’ She kept her voice strong and full of confidence, though a quiver of doubt moved through her. The foreigner was big. A glance confirmed that his thigh, clearly bulging against the confines of his trouser leg, was as large as both of hers put together. He’d easily overpower her if he so chose.

      Cuthbert gave a quick shake of his head. ‘We cannot trust this man.’

      ‘Nay, we can’t, but I saw him kill that rebel Dane with my own eyes. He’s not one of them.’ She’d relayed the story to Cuthbert and the warriors as they’d walked back into the forest. Though she’d left out how long she’d sat with him and the strangely gentle way he’d treated her. ‘He had plenty of opportunity to harm me if that was his intention.’

      ‘He appears too wounded to try to harm you,’ one of the warriors said.

      They hadn’t seen him. They hadn’t seen how easily he’d moved to fight the rebel. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve killed her as well. There’d been no malice in his eyes, nothing to make her think he would harm her. She was intimately familiar with that look. The first time she’d seen it was two months after marrying Godric. She’d been busy with a commission and hadn’t noticed how late the day had become. He’d come home with a friend expecting to find roasted meat, only to get pottage. He’d not struck her...not that time...but the desire had been there in his eyes.

      ‘He’ll need constant care and rest. The hall isn’t the appropriate environment for that.’ The warriors distrusted all foreigners and the simple truth was she didn’t trust his care to them. For some reason, she felt a sense of ownership where he was concerned. Perhaps it was because she’d found him, or that he’d saved her. She really didn’t want to examine it too closely.

      Cuthbert cut a glance at her before staring back down at the warrior. ‘I’d have to leave a warrior to guard you. I can’t spare the men, not after the massacre.’ It had been mere weeks since the confrontation that had killed Godric and his warriors, but a retaliation was always a possibility.

      ‘But we need him to recover. That’s a mercenary’s tunic. He could prove useful.’ Aisly was grasping at anything to make him important to them, though she wasn’t sure why that was so important to her. She hadn’t even known this man when she awakened that morning. But he had saved her life.

      The warrior who had spoken before leaned down to examine the embroidered figure on the stranger’s tunic. ‘Aye, it’s a mercenary tunic. But it’s possible he’s a Dane. He has their look.’

      ‘We’ll need to question him,’ Cuthbert said. ‘The fact remains that he killed the rebel Dane, so he very well could be useful to us. Dane or not, if we could buy his loyalty, he’ll prove useful.’

      Aisly didn’t bother pointing out again that the man hadn’t any memories. She’d already mentioned it more than once. Perhaps they’d return once he awakened. ‘Whoever he turns out to be, he needs rest and I’m in no danger.’

      ‘Nay, not yet, but when he awakens, he could have his strength back,’ Cuthbert argued.

      She couldn’t argue that. ‘Then leave him with me bound. He’s already injured. If he’s bound as well, what harm could he be?’

      Cuthbert gave a deep sigh, but he relented. Aisly imagined that he didn’t want a wounded warrior lurking around his hall anyway.

      * * *

      He huddled back into the limbs of the fir tree, hiding himself from the buffeting wind coming in across the water and the people stirring in the small village below. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his thin right arm around them and tried not to shiver too hard. His left arm he kept cradled against his ribs. It was the only way he’d found to ease the near constant pain in them.

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