Page 93 of The Outlaw Viking

“I can’t do that, Selik,” Rain said softly, stepping back from his bed.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it wasn’t Steven of Gravely who drugged you and tied you up.”

“Drugged…?” Selik’s eyes narrowed as his groggy mind began to understand. “Who, pray tell, do I thank for my captivity then?”

“Me,” she whispered.

“Argh!” Selik bucked repeatedly up and down on the bed, causing the frame to shake, while straw from the mattress flew about him. But whoever had tied his ropes knew knots well. His eyes knifed Rain’s frightened ones then, and he declared in a steely voice, “You realize, of course, that I will have to kill you for this.”

“Now, Selik, once you’ve had a chance to calm down, I’m sure that you’ll understand that this was for the best.” Her shaky voice betrayed her uncertainty.

“Where are my men?”

“Still in Jorvik.”

“Where do they think I am?”

“Gyda told them you went to Ravenshire, that you’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“And just how long were you planning to hold me here? And, by the way, where are we?”

“About two weeks, I suppose. Until I know for sure that Gravely has left Wessex,” she said, sitting on the edge of his small bed, near his feet. “And you’re in the loft of the barn at—now, Selik, don’t get mad when I tell you this—we’re in that barn at your old farmstead.”

Selik could feel his eyes bulge with disbelief.

“You just popped a vein in your forehead. I told you before you should be careful about that.”

Intense fury clogged his throat so he could not speak, even if he could find the words to voice his raging fury. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and counted over and over and over until he got his temper under control.

“What are those words you’re muttering under your breath?” Rain asked casually as she picked pieces of straw off his braies.

“I am counting the ways in which I will torture you once I am free. And I want you to know, wench, that I intend to enjoy the sport immensely.”

“You mean, like you punished me by kissing me endlessly?”

He shot her a look that he hoped told her what an utter fool she was to tease him at a time like this. “The only kiss you will feel is that of my knife. First, I think, I will skin you alive—oh, not totally. I would not want you to die afore the other tortures. Perchance, I will pull out your eyelashes next—”

Selik stopped suddenly, cocking his head. “What is that noise?”

A number of shrill, laughing voices rose from below.

Rain looked away guiltily, and Selik wondered what other surprises she had in store for him. “Tell me,” he demanded.

“It’s the children.”

“What…bloody…children?” he asked, spacing his words evenly, trying to control his splintering patience.

“The orphans,” Rain barely squeaked out. When he said nothing, just stared incredulously with his fingernails digging into his palms, she went on. “I decided I would need a cover in case the Saxon soldiers came here looking for you; so, I opened an orphanage.”

“Let me see if I understand, Rain. You decided I did not know what was best for my own future, so you drugged me, carted me out to the homestead that I have ordered closed to one and all, tied me up, and welcomed children onto my property when you know full well I detest the sight of the misbegotten, wet-nosed curs.”

“That’s about it,” she admitted with a weak smile.

“And who, pray tell, helped you carry me here, or did you carry me on your back like a horse?”

“There’s no need to get nasty. Ubbi helped me—”