Page 39 of The Outlaw Viking

“Oh, really, close your mouth, Selik. It’s quite unbecoming.”

He snapped his slack lips together in chagrin at being caught gawking. “Those words you were chanting—are they a charm?” he asked, still unconvinced.

At first, her brows furrowed in puzzlement. Then she laughed—a clear, surprisingly pleasant sound that carried across the clearing. He saw Ubbi look up hopefully from his work with the horses, as if thankful that he had not yet lopped off her head. Bloody hell.

“I was saying some prayers, Selik,” she finally explained gently. “Christian prayers for burial.”

“You would pray for the salvation of my enemies?” he asked icily.

“I would pray for anyone, Selik. Even you. Especially you.”

“Save your prayers. You had no right to take what belongs to me. Or bury it without my permission.” Holy Thor! The woman must have the mettle of a seasoned warrior to have handled the bloody objects. And to face his fearsome fury.

“I did what I had to do. Will you punish me?”

“Do you want to be punished?”

“Of course not. But I’ve had plenty of time to think this all through while you snored the night away—”

“I do not snore.” Do I? No one ever remarked on it afore.

Her beautiful lips twitched at the edges as she tried unsuccessfully to suppress a grin. “Like a bear.”

Moving away from the odd grave, Rain motioned Selik to follow her. Amazed that she would order him about, he was equally incredulous that he followed like a meek puppy. Next he would be licking her face. Aaah! Now that conjures up some interesting possibilities. He grinned, despite his annoyance. Next I will be wagging my tail. He burst out with a chuckle of self-derision at that prospect.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. Me. My life.”

Rain tilted her head questioningly and dropped down to the ground near the small pond. She pulled up her long legs—seductively outlined in all their glorious length by his braies—so that her chin rested on her knees and her arms were wrapped around her calves.

He had difficulty swallowing past his dry throat.

Sliding down beside her, he rested his back against a tree. Not too close. Her nearness disarmed him mightily and he must remain alert with the wily wench.

“Selik, I seem to have no choice about being here with you, but we have to come to an agreement.”

He waited for her to explain.

She licked her lips with the tip of her tongue as if to gather her thoughts, and he remembered how it had felt inside his mouth yestereve. Involuntarily, his traitorous body jolted to immediate awareness.

“I want you to promise to never, never scalp another person again.”

He sat straighter. “You have no right to make demands on me.”

“I wasn’t demanding,” she corrected him. “Notice that I asked. Rather nicely, I thought.”

“Why should I stop?”

“Well, I wish you would stop just because I asked you to, but it’s obvious that my opinion isn’t important enough to you.”

She blushed when he failed to correct that impression. In truth, she was becoming much too important.

“Selik, did you practice such barbarism when Astrid was alive?”

He shot immediately to his feel, hovering over her. She did not flinch a speck. “Nay, I did not, but I was a different man then. I had a soul. And a heart. I have neither now. Nor do I want them.”

She looked wounded at his words. Bloody hell! Why would she care so much?