Page 21 of The Viking’s Captive

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 breasts! By the 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 Norsemen, 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 set your 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!

“I want one night in your bed furs. Dusk to dawn. You, naked. Me, naked. Oh, do not be enraged without hearing the rest. You would not have to touch me, and I would not touch you … unless you asked.”

He saw anger in her fiery eyes, and hurt as well, as if his proposition offended her deeply. “Why?”