Page 19 of The Viking’s Captive

“Nay, master, but I see the way the warrior princess looks at you. Methought you would have charmed her into releasing us by now.”

“The only way I see her looking at me is with disgust. In fact, she said I stink.”

“You do. I mean, you did,” Rashid commented bluntly, “until we bathed this evening.”

“And I have no idea where you got the notion that I have the ability to charm anything, let alone a thickheaded Viking woman who can’t decide whether she wants to be a man or a woman.”

“I got the notion from watching you take one woman after another into your bed over the years. Isobel. Sari. Katlyn. The Princess Neferi. Ester. Magdalene. I could go on and on. That was afore we came to Britain, though. Now your male parts must have dried up from lack of use.”

“My male parts are just fine, thank you very much.”

“Then why have you not seduced the warrior woman? Alrek says she has shown more interest in you than any man before.”

“That’s because she wants me to heal her father so she can be disowned and go off somewhere and be free to lop off heads and other gruesome things, without the burden of a husband. No doubt my head will be the first one to be lopped once my healing talents are no longer needed.”

“Huh?” Rashid said to this long-winded discourse.

“Never mind. Speaking of Alrek, look over there.”

Alrek was running through the clearing where the tents were pitched, dodging tent poles and campfires, his skinny legs pumping madly as he panted like a warhorse. Adam looked at Rashid, and Rashid looked at him; then they both shrugged, indicating their confusion over why Alrek was on the run.

Soon they discovered the answer. His pursuer was about to pass them, stomping doggedly in Alrek’s path. She didn’t bother to swagger now, so angry did she appear to be. But that wasn’t the most amazing thing.

“Oh, Mistress Viking!” Adam called out.

Reluctantly, Tyra stopped and glared at him. “What?” she snapped.

“Did you know you have an arrow sticking out of your backside?”

Her hands fisted, her face went rigid, and a sound came from her throat that sounded very much like a growl. “Yea, you lunkhead, I know there is an arrow in my backside. Why did you think I was chasing after Alrek? And wipe that grin off your face, man, or I will do it for you.”

“Would you like me to remove it?” he asked sweetly.

“What? The grin?”

“The arrow.”

“Nay, I do not want you touching any part of my body, and certainly not that part. Besides, I thought you had given up medicine.”

“For this, I would be willing to make an exception.” He was still grinning, but he meant it. For a view of her naked backside, he would do just about anything.

Tyra told him to do something that he was fairly certain was physically impossible and continued on her pursuit of Alrek.

God, he was beginning to develop a taste for sharp-tongued women. That surprised him mightily. He’d always preferred gentle, soft-spoken women in the past.

“Well, so much for your seduction skills,” Rashid opined dolefully.

A short silence ensued before Adam turned to stare at his friend. “Why are your eyes closed? Why are your lips moving without making a sound?”

“I decided the best course is to join Alrek in praying for a miracle.”

Some deals are sweeter than others…

“We have to talk.”

Oooh, lady, talk is not what I have in mind. My arms and legs ache from being in the same position so long. My buttocks feel like they have no flesh on them from sitting on this hard ground. Come closer, you irksome, infuriating daughter of the Devil, and see what kind of talk I have for you.

It was dusk, more light than dark yet, and Adam had been resting. He opened his eyes now … just a crack to look at Tyra, who was easing herself down to the ground beside him. He noticed that she lowered herself to her knees, not her backside, and that she winced at one point from stretching the skin surrounding the wound, which had apparently been stitched up an hour ago by the sometimes blacksmith, sometimes berserker, Bjorn.