Viking Series - My Fair Viking Part 5

free to lop off heads and other gruesome things, without the burden of a husband. No doubt my head will be the first one to be lopped once my healing talents are no longer needed."

"Huh?" Rashid said to this long-winded discourse.

"Never mind. Speaking of Alrek, look over there."

Alrek was running through the clearing where the tents were pitched, dodging tent poles and campfires,

his skinny legs pumping madly as he panted like a warhorse. Adam looked at Rashid, and Rashid looked

at him; then they both shrugged, indicating their confusion over why Alrek was on the run.

Soon they discovered the answer. His pursuer was about to pa.s.s them, stomping doggedly in Alrek's path. She didn't bother to swagger now, so angry did she appear to be. But that wasn't the most amazing thing.

"Oh, Mistress Viking!" Adam called out.

Reluctantly, Tyra stopped and glared at him. "What?" she snapped.

"Did you know you have an arrow sticking out of your backside?"

Her hands fisted, her face went rigid, and a sound came from her throat that sounded very much like a

growl. "Yea, you lunkhead, I know there is an arrow in my backside. Why did you think I was chasing after Alrek? And wipe that grin off your face, man, or I will do it for you."

"Would you like me to remove it?" he asked sweetly.

"What? The grin?"

"The arrow."

"Nay, I do not want you touching any part of my body, and certainly not that part. Besides, I thought you had given up medicine."

"For this, I would be willing to make an exception." He was still grinning, but he meant it. For a view of

her naked backside, he would do just about anything.

Tyra told him to do something that he was fairly certain was physically impossible and continued on her pursuit of Alrek.

G.o.d, he was beginning to develop a taste for sharp-tongued women. That surprised him mightily. He'd

always preferred gentle, soft-spoken women in the past.

"Well, so much for your seduction skills," Rashid opined dolefully.

A short silence ensued before Adam turned to stare at his friend. "Why are your eyes closed? Why are your lips moving without making a sound?"

"I decided the best course is to join Alrek in praying for a miracle."

"We have to talk."

Oooh, lady, talk is not what I have in mind. My arms and legs ache from being in the same position so long. My b.u.t.tocks feel like they have no flesh on them from sitting on this hard ground. Come closer, you irksome, infuriating daughter of the Devil, and see what kind of talk I have for you.

It was dusk, more light than dark yet, and Adam had been resting. He opened his eyes now... just a crack to look at Tyra, who was easing herself down to the ground beside him. He noticed that she lowered herself to her knees, not her backside, and that she winced at one point from stretching the skin surrounding the wound, which had apparently been st.i.tched up an hour ago by the sometimes blacksmith, sometimes berserker, Bjorn.

"Lackbrain lad!" she murmured as she rubbed one nether cheek. Obviously, she was referring to Alrek, and not Bjorn. He wondered if Alrek was suffering a sore backside as well... sore from the whip of a birch branch which he'd seen Tyra brandishing a short time ago. Once settled on her knees, she groaned softly.

Good! I hope your a.r.s.e pains you mightily, wench, because you have been more than a pain in the a.r.s.e to me. He decided not to share those opinions with her now, but he surely would later.

Instead, he said, "I'm not talking to you till you release these bonds. You need a lesson in diplomacy, my lady,"amongst other things . "One should not maltreat the person from whom one seeks favors. And, believe you me, asking a physician to treat a man unconscious for sennights is a big favor, especially when he will no doubt be surrounded by a horde of bloodthirsty Vikings who would as soon lop off the physician's head at the first sign of death pallor in the patient." He pressed his lips together in an exaggerated fashion, indicating that his talking time was over.

From inside the tent where Rashid had already gone for the night, following a meal of venison and venison... and more venison-but at least notgammelost-he heard his busybody Arab friend add to the conversation, uninvited, "The wise man treads softly amongst tigers."

"What does that mean?" Tyra asked him.

He refused to respond, but what he thought was,Who says Rashid's proverbs have to mean anything?

"The whisper of a pretty girl can be heard farther than the roar of the tiger," Rashid added.

He sent Rashid a mental message;Shut your teeth .

"Listen. I will admit that I was perhaps less than tactful in convincing you to come with us. If I had had more time, my men and I could have partaken of your hospitality, and..."

Hah! No hospitality was offered by me. He felt a twinge of guilt at that reminder... atiny twinge. Could it be that the warrior-wench would have acted differently if he'd acted hospitably?Nay, nay, nay! I will not allow her to turn the tables on me here. She is the guilty party. She will be the one to pay. Not me !

"... and mayhap I would not have acted so... um, rashly."

Rashly? Rashly? I would hardly call whacking a man over the head with the flat side of a broadsword merely rash. More like brash. Yea, a brash act, not a rash act. He smiled inwardly at his own wit.

"So, what I wanted to say was... hmmm... well... you see... I didn't come to your keepintending to harm you in any way. Nor did Iplan to take you by... uh, force." Her face bloomed pink as she stuttered to get the words out... hard words for a prideful woman.

Is this your sorry excuse for an apology? Hah! You will have to do much better than that. Much!

"When you think on it, I am certain you will realize that you have not been treated so badly." She waved a hand dismissively as if antic.i.p.ating his disagreement. "I know you resent the ropes, but other than that, you are a guest. Really."

Adam bit his tongue to keep from speaking his grievances aloud, but he couldn't keep his eyes from widening with indignation. Guest? Guest?Do you tie your guests like a harvest-fat hog? Do youtoss your guests over your shoulder like a sack of barley ? He scowled his fiercest scowl and made sure that his tongue was firmly in place, so tempted was he to reply.

"All right, I can see that the guest appellation does not go down smoothly... that it sticks in your craw..."

How about indigestible?

"... but what can I do to make things better? I mean, how can we start over?"

Is the woman lackwitted? Or deliberately obtuse? She knows exactly what she must do. Adam craned his neck to look pointedly over his shoulder at his hands tied behind his back and around the tent pole. Then he gave an equally pointed glance at his restrained ankles.

She got the message.

Her shoulders sagged. Then she seemed to come to a decision and braced both palms on her thighs and leaned forward to address him... which was a big mistake. Ahuge mistake !

For the first time, he noticed her attire. She must have bathed sometime after the evening meal because her hair, in long braids, was still damp. Her face was shiny clean, and clear as new cream, except for the dotting of a few freckles on her nose. Instead of chain mail, she now wore a hip-length, faded blue linen shert over her usual tight woolbraies and half-boots. Th.e.s.h.ert was belted at the waist.

She was a big woman, Adam observed, not for the first time. Her height was immense for a woman, due to her exceedingly long legs. Her hips were ample, as were her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, though both were offset by a comparatively narrow waist.

Oddly, her bigness was not unattractive. On the contrary. Overall, she was well proportioned so that all her bigness just contributed to a picture of woman in all her glory. She was almost more than a man could take in.

He forced his eyes to move higher, and the picture was the same. Her lips were full. Her teeth were big. Her eyes were wide, thick-lashed, and crystal clear as blue lagoons. Even her blond hair would be big when loose, he would imagine.

And he was imagining.

But that wasn't what had caused his chin to drop to his chest. It was her posture, leaning forward on muscled thighs, which resulted in hershert gaping open at the laced vee-neckline, giving him an enticing view of an ocean of skin and the top swells of two very curvaceous b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Adam had a weakness for curvaceous b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Well, actually, he had a fondness for all kinds of b.r.e.a.s.t.s- small, big, round, pointed, flat, whatever. Leastways, he had in the old days when he'd jumped from one lady's bedchamber to another like a randy rabbit.

"So, what do you think?" Tyra said.

Huh? He hadn't realized that she'd been talking all this time.

He arched a brow in question. He hoped he appeared more mature than he felt.Thinking about b.r.e.a.s.t.s! Bythe rood! I'm behaving worse than an untried youthling .

"Did you hear one word I said? Stop looking at me like that."

He shrugged to indicate confusion, but he knew exactly how he'd been looking at her. The shrug just covered all grounds. To his mind, shrugging was a man's best tool.

"Some men feel they must pretend to flatter me, just because I am a woman. Well, forget about that. I am a soldier first and foremost, and I know better than most how unattractive I am to men. Frankly speaking, I am stronger and larger in size than many men... not Nors.e.m.e.n, who are better endowed than normal men, but other males. Like Saxons. So save your ogling eyes and drooling lips for mush-headed maids who would appreciate the effort."

Is the woman daft? Unattractive? If I were any more attracted, my male parts would set themselves afire. And I am very well endowed, thank you very much, even if I am only Viking by adoption, not birth. Furthermore, I most certainly did not drool. He licked his lips all around, just to make sure.

"Back to what I was saying afore-what would you say to a truce?"

He might be interested. Truth to tell, he was bored to death with sitting about, rope-bound, all the time. He tilted his head to indicate she should continue.

"I would set you free... under guard, of course... or two guards." She added that last after giving his body a quick head-to-toe scrutiny.

Aha! She is probably noticing my... endowments.

"I have no fear of your doing harm to me, or my men..."

Mayhap not.

"... but you might find a way to escape, and I am honor bound to deliver you to my father's bedside." Honor, hmmm? He could understand that-the need to fulfill a pledge. But there was something missing from this truce offering. She had told him of what she would give. What did she expect in return? The answer was forthcoming. "Your uncle Tykir claims you to be a trustworthy man... one whose word, once given, is solid as ice on a winter fjord. If you would give your vow not to attempt escape till you have examined my father and done whatever you can to help him, then I will cut your ropes myself right now."

He considered her offer for a long time. The occasional snort of Rashid's snoring was the only thing

breaking the silence between them. Their eyes held the entire time as each weighed the other and wondered if trust could be given.

Finally he nodded.

She smiled widely-a big spontaneous expression of joy-and a hard core of something he could not name began to melt inside him. "I hoped you would agree," she said, standing with a groan and pulling a long knife out of a scabbard at her belt. She was about to cut his ropes.

"Wait!"

Surprise flared on her face, and her smile faded. Odd how that latter affected him adversely! Her

short-lived trust was replaced with suspicion. "A truce goes both ways. You setyour conditions, to which I agreed. Now I set mine." She still stared at him suspiciously, the knife poised in her hands. "I'm listening." Since she was standing tall over him, he had to crane his neck to look up at her. Shifting slightly, she adopted a legs-spread stance.

He hated that arrogant posture. Unfortunately, a familiar part of his body... one that had not been in use for an aeon or so... liked that arrogant legs-spread stance very much.

"If I am unable to help your father... if I try my best and 'tis not enough"-he paused to quell memories

of a time when his best had most definitely not been enough-"if he dies under my care, I want your promise that you will shield me with your own life. Rashid, too."

She nodded. " 'Tis a fair request you make. I agree." She started to relax.

"There's more."

She went stiff again, but kept her legs spread. Blessed Lord, if she only knew what her pose did to him!