Page 23 of The Bewitched Viking

The harsh sentiments smarted, and she could not keep her face from heating up.

“Tykir! I’m disappointed in you,” Eadyth remonstrated. “Surely you above all others know to look beneath the surface. Remember the lecture you gave your own brother at our wedding feast about good Viking men knowing how to judge a woman fairly?”

“Det er ikke gull alt som glimmer,” Eirik added, nodding his head in agreement. “All that glitters is not gold. And some of the glitter you have been sniffing after of late has the lackluster of brass, if you ask me.”

“I do not recall asking you,” Tykir said huffily. “And ’tis unfair of Eadyth to remind me of things I said seven years ago.”

Alinor cringed and felt like putting her face on the table. She abhorred the idea that these people were discussing her as if she was not there…as if she was of no significance.

“All I said was that I had seen the witch naked,” Tykir objected. “And it was a surprise. A big surprise.” He rolled his eyes in emphasis.

“Oh! I am beginning to understand, Tykir. Did you finally see the tail?” Rurik said those last words in a whisper…the inference being that if he spoke aloud she might do something witchly, like levitate and ride out of the Norse castle on a broom or a black cat.

Dumber than dung, the whole lot of them!

Just then, an older Viking nobleman could be seen approaching their table. He was accompanied by a finely garbed woman—a Saxon would be her guess, by her mode of dress—and a daughter of no more than fifteen years…a girl of passing fair appearance, buxom and pretty.

“Oh-ho, you are truly snared now, Tykir,” his brother teased. “Earl Orm and his lady have been trying to contrive a marriage betwixt you and his youngest daughter, Eneda, for the past two years.”

“You could have warned me,” Tykir mumbled but stood as a courtesy when the nobleman stepped closer with his family.

He must have forgotten that his left hand was bound to Alinor’s right because he raised his arm in greeting, which caused her arm to raise as well, like a puppet. And as he gesticulated while talking with a wave here and a wave there, Alinor’s arm was forced to follow suit. In the end, she grumbled with disgust, tugged on his wrist in reminder and stood beside him.

Tykir had the nerve to wink at her. Apparently, he had remembered their bound hands the whole time and chosen to embarrass her. The troll!

She saw the lips of Lord Orm’s wife flatten with disdain as she noted their tied wrists.

The young girl, though, twittered shyly with a hand fluttering coyly to her face. Clearly, she would favor this union, if it could be arranged. Her mother was not so predisposed, if her clenched fists were any indication.

And Alinor noticed something else. The woman was as condescending in her demeanor to Eadyth as she was to her. Eadyth caught Alinor’s eye and pulled a face to show her opinion of the haughty lady.

Alinor startled herself by feeling an unaccustomed roil of annoyance at the fuss Tykir was making now over the young girl. Could it be jealousy?

Nay. Never.

Mayhap.

I’m losing my mind.

When the couple and their marriageable daughter walked away, finally, with Tykir’s promise of a visit to their Northumbrian estate sometime soon, Tykir sat down with a long sigh, dragging Alinor with him. “Whew,” he said.

His family and friends were grinning at his discomfort.

“So, would you like my help in finding a bride gift for the fair Eneda?” Eadyth inquired cheerily.

“Not bloody likely,” Tykir responded, taking a long gulp from his cup of mead.

“Tell me,” Alinor deliberately paused, “would you be taking a wet nurse with you to the bridal bed?”

Everyone laughed at that, except Tykir.

“Are you saying I’m too old for the maid?”

Alinor gave him a look that said, “What do you think?” But then she had to concede, “Actually, I was her age when I was first wed. And my husband was a bit older than you.”

“How much older?”

“He was five and sixty.”