Page 41 of The Outlaw Viking

He inhaled sharply and could not break contact with her luminous eyes, which showed too clearly that she was equally affected.

Quickly dropping her hand, as if his flesh had suddenly caught fire, he muttered under his breath, “The witch has cast a spell on me.”

But Rain heard his softly spoken words. “If there is a spell, then I’m in its thrall too,” she replied huskily.

Wonderful! We can both stagger through this nightmare life I lead under the curse of that troublemaker god Loki. Or Rain’s own Christian God. Or the devil, for all I know. Bloody hell!

Feeling very pleased with herself the rest of the day, Rain hummed as she worked with the patients in the hospital tent. She wasn’t deluding herself that Selik had made any giant leaps toward sudden reformation. It was a small victory, but every journey begins with the first step, she reminded herself.

“Why are you smiling?” Tykir asked from where he lay propped up in his hospital pallet. He had been conscious the entire day and his health improved by the minute, to Rain’s delight. She would have so much to tell Dr. Lee on her return.

“I’m smiling because I won a small battle with Selik today. Actually, that’s not quite true. It was a compromise. We were both winners in this particular skirmish.”

Tykir raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Selik? I can hardly credit that he would bend to anyone’s will.” Then he winked lewdly. “The enticement must have been powerfully tempting.”

Rain slapped Tykir playfully on the arm. “Behave yourself, little brother. You are still weak, and I am in a position to make life very uncomfortable for you.”

“Ah ha, now the pacifist discloses her true colors.”

Rain smiled, knowing Tykir referred to the pacifism lectures she’d been delivering to him all day. “Oh, there are nonviolent means of punishment for an imaginative person. For instance, I could have Ubbi prepare all your meals.”

Tykir groaned in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, please, not that. Better the water torture.”

Rain laughed at Tykir’s lighthearted attitude. It was so good to see him feeling better, acting much the same as his modern clone, her brother Dave.

“How soon ’til I can travel?” he asked, suddenly serious. “I must get back to Ravenshire afore the Saxons try to confiscate the property.”

“One week,” Selik said before Rain could answer. He had come up behind her without her noticing and stood watching the easy interchange between her and her brother with a bemused expression on his face.

“Oh, no, he’ll never be well enough by then,” Rain protested. “At least two weeks more. Maybe even three.”

“We will be leaving in seven days, even if we have to carry Tykir on a sledge.”

“I will not be dragged about like an old man,” Tykir complained indignantly. “Starting on the morrow, I will exercise my leg every day. T will ride in one week if it kills me.”

“It just may do that,” Rain commented with worry, slanting a look of condemnation at Selik.

“Every day we delay, so close to Brunanburh, brings the danger closer,” Selik explained. “Even now, the Saxons could be gathering forces to come after us. Tykir understands why we cannot wait any longer.”

“Yea, I do, Selik, and I am grateful that you have stayed with me so long.” He cast a gentle look at Rain and squeezed her hand in reassurance, “I come from strong stock. I intend to survive for a good long time. Mayhap I will even dance at your wedding.” He jiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

“My wedding!” Rain exclaimed, dumbfounded. “What would make you think I intend to get married—ever?”

Tykir rolled his eyes heavenward. “A little angel told me.”

Selik looked as if he were going to be sick.

That evening Rain sat cross-legged on the floor of Selik’s tent, a fur under her bottom and another thrown over her shoulders to protect her from the cold. She worried about the captives sleeping outside on the ground. Even though Selik had somehow found clean clothing and furs for them all—and heaven only knew where he had purloined them, probably off dead bodies somewhere—the autumn night had turned markedly cold.

She wanted to ask him if he could find tents for them as well, but his face went infuriatingly stubborn every time she brought up the subject of the captives. She determined to pick her battles carefully and wear him down with kindness.

Rain dumped the contents of her carryall on the ground in front of her, deciding it was time for a little inventory of all she had brought from the present on her unexpected trip.

Aside from her small emergency medical kit, she carried a meager amount of cosmetics—a mirrored compact, mascara, blush, and a tube of strawberry-flavored lip gloss, which would present some interesting possibilities if she ever kissed Selik again. Which, of course, she would not do, she told herself stubbornly, then immediately amended, Who are you kidding?

Other than a comb and brush, her wallet and checkbook, a really handy thing to have in the tenth century—ten thousand dollars in the bank and not a dime to spend—all Rain had was a Rubik’s Cube, which she often used to release tension during breaks between surgery, and two packs of Lifesavers—assorted flavors and Tropical Fruits. She popped a green candy in her mouth and put her belongings back in the bag.

She was fiddling with the Rubik’s Cube, the tip of her tongue pressed between her lips in concentration, when Selik came in a short time later, rubbing his bare arms briskly against the cold.