Page 55 of The Outlaw Viking

Bertha nodded, no longer protesting Rain’s every bit of medical advice since she witnessed the daily improvement in her health.

“Do you want me to help you cut that up?” she asked, gulping distastefully at the prospect of handling the bloody carcass. She was not a vegetarian, but as many times as she’d performed surgery on human bodies, she was oddly reluctant to touch raw animal flesh. Probably childhood associations with Bambi, she decided.

“Nay, go off and wear down the planks on the ramparts sum more, pinin’ fer yer lover to come back,” Bertha snapped with gentle sarcasm. Blanche just smiled at the brash servant.

“Selik is not my lover.”

“Not fer lack of tryin’, I wager. Nor fer lack of yer wantin’ the beddin’,” Bertha quipped sagely.

“You are so coarse!”

“Do not be takin’ that tone with me, m’lady,” the impertinent captive asserted. “I may be jist a lowly servant, but ’tis plain as the wart on a witch’s nose, yer like a mare in heat. And The Outlaw—well, he be the stallion circlin’ you, waitin’ fer the right moment to pounce.”

“Bertha!” both Rain and Blanche exclaimed.

Rain couldn’t help but laugh then at the image. “Is that really how I appear to people—a mare in heat? Good Lord!”

“Nay,” Bertha answered, more gently. “’Tis jist that I be more world-wise in the ways of men and wimmen and their lustful natures. I see the signs better than most, I warrant.”

Rain shook her head from side to side in disbelief that she was actually standing there listening to a short, dumpy woman with rotting teeth give her advice on love.

“Leastways, I cannot see why ye do not just flap yer wings and fly off to help yer lover if ye be so worried,” Bertha added, guffawing loudly at her own joke.

Blanche smiled mockingly, adding, “Oh, and could you ask God if he would send a milk cow and laying hens so I can make a pudding for dinner?”

Apparently, Ubbi was spreading his angel stories again, but no one else was buying them.

Rain left the kitchen in a huff, knowing her dubious culinary skills were unwanted. She did, indeed, head for the ramparts, where she scanned the horizon. “Oh, Selik where are you? Dear God, please send him back to me safely. I promise to try harder to help him.”

Her prayer was answered immediately with the thunder of distant hooves, followed by the blurry outline of riders on the horizon of a hill about one mile from the keep. Rain rolled her eyes heavenward, saying a silent thank-you as she practically flew down the wooden steps to the bailey.

Selik saw the wench standing on the ramparts, watching for him, then dart away when she recognized his standard. His heart lurched and expanded in his chest, causing him to inhale sharply to catch his breath. Bloody hell! He had spent the past four sennights steeling himself to the siren’s lure, trying to maintain his single-minded resolve to focus his life on one goal only—death to the Saxons, but, in particular, death to his most hated enemy, Steven of Gravely.

But all his efforts were for naught. Oh, he had killed more than enough Saxons to satisfy his bloodthirsty quest for revenge since he had left Ravenshire, but still Selik could not deny the rush of pleasure as he drew closer on seeing the welcome expression on Rain’s face. She awaited him eagerly on the bailey steps leading up to the great hall.

Selik flipped the noseguard down on his helmet to hide any softening in his features. He must sort out these dangerous emotions in private. Mayhap he should just turn Fury around and head back northward.

Did he truly think he could have a life with the wench? Nay, he admitted immediately. ’Twas impossible.

Was it what he wanted, though? Yea, Selik realized with alarm. He had allowed himself to yield to her attraction, and that led down a path he must not, could not, travel.

Selik saw Rain’s honey eyes search his saddle, then shift away guiltily. Searching for the behaettie, she was. Damn her revealing eyes! Despite his promise not to scalp again, the wench did not trust him. For some reason he could not fathom, the injustice of her gesture cut him deeply.

Selik truly hardened his heart then. There was naught here for him in Ravenshire. There was naught anywhere, for that matter, except destruction and death. His death, ultimately. ’Twas his fate. Well, he would rest the night at Ravenshire, then depart in the morn. He would take no one with him, not even Ubbi. ’Twas best that way.

With that resolve, Selik steered Fury past Rain and Tykir and Ubbi and the soldiers he had left behind. Selik alighted from his horse at the other side of the courtyard and led the panting animal toward the outbuilding that housed the horses. Steeling himself to the look of hurt that misted Rain’s golden eyes, he ignored her shy wave of welcome.

He had removed the saddle and was providing water and fresh hay for Fury when he heard Rain’s soft tread come up behind him.

“Selik, what’s wrong?”

“What is right?”

She made a low sound of exasperation. “You know what I mean—why are you avoiding me?”

Selik turned and looked at her then, forcing his face to remain impassive and unmoved by her pleading eyes and softly parted lips. “Avoid? Nay. Mayhap you no longer strike my fancy. I am not interested in you anymore.” God’s bones! Do I add lying to my sins now?

Rain whimpered, her open face clearly showing the pain of his insult, like a slap. “I’ve been worried about you.”