Page 23 of The Outlaw Viking

“I do not believe in eternity,” he said, running the knuckles of his right hand along the edge of her jawline in a light caress, “but I do still cherish the odd moment of pleasure. Now that I see your merit as a healer, mayhap I will keep you at my side for a bit longer. And perchance we will share one of those moments. Or two. In truth, it has been a long time since I have felt such…urges.”

A sweet thrill rushed through Rain at Selik’s arrogant words. Anticipation. Imagination. Fantasy. All warred with her usual self-control, and logic won out. “No way am I going to be your momentary pleasure, babe.” Especially with a wife in the background. “Best you curb your urges.”

Selik just laughed, then had the effrontery to pat her on the rump in a just-you-wait-and-see fashion.

Indignant at his familiarity, she tried to slap his vulgar hand away, but he was already beyond her reach. Taking the reins Ubbi handed him, Selik put his left foot in the stirrup and leapt into the saddle with the grace of an athlete.

“Here is Wrath,” Ubbi said, handing him an awesome sword, the same one Selik had wielded on the battlefield. “I sharpened it for you.”

“Wrath! You name your stupid sword? Criminey! That would be like me naming my scalpel. Actually, I kind of like that idea,” she rambled on, trying to understand her turbulent emotions. “Healer would be nice, don’t you think?”

Selik ignored her completely. “Thank you, Ubbi, for honing the blade. You are my right hand.”

Ubbi beamed as if Selik had handed him the world with those few words of praise, and Rain began to think there might still be a softer side to this fierce Viking.

“Keep my bed furs warm for me, wench,” he called down to Rain then, jarring her from any complimentary thoughts she had been harboring toward him. Then he caught her eye and winked wickedly.

Rain said a very vulgar word, one she never used in her own time, but which somehow seemed appropriate now. Apparently, it was an Anglo-Saxon term that had descended through the centuries because Selik’s eyes widened in surprise and perfect understanding, and Ubbi exclaimed in shock, “My lady!”

Selik chuckled while he donned his leather helmet. “I will remember that sentiment, Sweetling,”

Sweetling!

Rain watched sullenly as Selik rode off, laughing, with his men. Despite her annoyance and the fact that the wretched, teasing warrior had a wife, the sound of his touching endearment, “Sweetling,” echoed for a long time in her lonely heart.

For the rest of the day, Rain worked closely with Tykir and the dozen other wounded soldiers left behind. Work details had buried dozens of dead men before the armies had left that morning. They’d carried their wounded with them on sledges and crude slings. It soon became obvious why the Scots and Norsemen had failed to take these last of their disabled warriors with them. None had any hope of survival.

Nevertheless, Rain worked desperately to ease their passing, finally turning to her acupuncture needles as a last resort when the Darvon and aspirin ran out. Three of them died before nightfall. A fourth would not make it to morning.

Darkness had already fallen when Rain left the tent, knowing Tykir would sleep through the night. She had placed several acupuncture needles in strategic places on his body to relieve the pain, and as a precaution had ordered one of Selik’s remaining soldiers to tie Tykir securely to the table so he would not jar them accidentally in his sleep.

When she dropped wearily to the ground near the cooking fire, Ubbi handed her a bowl of the stew that remained from the morning and a hunk of dry brown bread. They tasted wonderful to Rain, and she had to restrain herself from licking the wooden bowl.

“Do you want more?”

She shook her head. “No, save the rest for Selik and his men when they return.” She suddenly realized how long they had been gone and looked worriedly around the campsite. Two other small fires burned brightly where men lay about on sleeping furs, and some soldiers stood guard at strategic spots in the distance. But no Selik.

“Shouldn’t Selik be back by now?”

Ubbi shrugged.

What would she do if Selik didn’t return? Rain wondered, realizing that, despite his vulgar, violent nature, Selik was her anchor in this bungee jump through time. Without him, she would surely plunge to—what? Death? Limbo? Reincarnation? Of all the choices, not once did Rain consider the possibility that she would return to the future. Somehow, she sensed that she had been sent back in time for a purpose.

To save him.

Rain groaned aloud at the inner voice in her head, still unsure whether it was her own subconscious speaking or something else. Oh, Lord!

I hear you.

Rain jerked upright and her eyes darted around the fire where Ubbi still worked busily, banking the coals and cleaning up the utensils.

“I don’t think you’re funny, Ubbi. Not one bit.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, don’t give me that innocent look. I know you were pretending to be God, speaking in that deep voice.”

“God?” Ubbi said with a gasp. “What did I—uh, God—say to you?”