Page 36 of The Viking’s Captive

“Humble healer?” he snorted, apparently not liking that description of himself. Tyra’s heart went out to the man. He looked exhausted, despite his teasing, and why not? He’d spent two hours working on her father, and another two hours watching over him afterward. No doubt he would return to his vigil after this respite. “I did it because of our pact, Tyra. Do not be attributing fine motives to me. You made me a promise, and I intend to collect on it sometime soon.”

Her face warmed despite her resolution to stop this blushing business that had started when she met this rogue. “I do not for one minute believe that you performed your surgery on my father because of me. You did it because you saw a man in need of your help. You did it because you are a doctor.”

He shrugged. “Perchance it was all of those things, including you and the prize I intend to collect. So, exactly how thankful are you?”

Uh-oh!“What do you mean?” She was fairly certain she knew exactly what he meant. It would be something involving bed furs.

“Will you be slipping into my bed furs this night?”

“Nay!” she said far too quickly. “That was not our agreement.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you intend to renege on our deal now? Your word is your bond, or so I presumed. Has that changed?”

“My word is everything. If you heal my father … that was what I agreed to. Then, and only then.”

“I suppose you are correct. I just thought you might want to show some small token of your … thankfulness. In advance.”

“Small token?” she asked skeptically. “Like a gift? A gold coin? An etched silver arm ring? A jewel-encrusted goblet?”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” The twinkle in his eye was most beguiling.

Tyra had no idea how to handle this man. A rogue, pure and simple, that’s what he was. First he pricked her pride by questioning her honor. In the next instant, he twinkled his sinful eyes at her. How was a woman to know when he was serious? “What, then?” she inquired in a surprisingly cool voice.

“Oooh, let me think.” He tapped his lips with a forefinger, thoughtfully. “A kiss would be nice.”

“A kiss?” she practically squealed. “When I am willing to give you some priceless object, you would settle for a mere kiss?”

“It would not be mere, I assure you. And, frankly, I have more treasures than I can use. You may find this hard to believe, but I have been a knight as well as a healer these past fifteen years. Many a battle and many a prize have there been.”

“Now, there’s a conflict of interests,” she commented with a laugh. “Did you thrust a sword in your enemy, then later sew up his wounds?”

“That very thing did happen on occasion. Eventually, I declined to serve as a soldier anymore, unless absolutely needed to defend the position of one king or another. And they did not mind. ‘Twould seem my services as a healer were needed more than my sword arm. Either way, the rewards were great. I do not need your material tokens.”

It was she who put a finger to her chin and tapped thoughtfully now. There was more to this man than she’d originally thought.

He stared at her hotly, waiting for an answer. “Well?” he prodded finally when she refused to respond to his request for a kiss. A kiss that would be more than a mere kiss. She was afraid to imagine exactly what that might entail, but for a certainty it was bound to prove dangerous to her equilibrium.

When she still declined to answer, he moved on to another subject. “In all honesty, I must thank you, as well.”

“Me? For what?”

“You are correct in saying that I am a physician. I am also a man … as I intend to show you someday. I was a brother … at one time. I am a stepson. And I am a friend. But most of all, I am a physician. Somehow … God only knows how … I forgot that for a while. Some say that God is the Supreme Healer. Mayhap He arranged events so that I would separate myself from society and medicine for those two years … something I needed to do so that my wounds would mend. Mayhap it was also God who arranged for me to be kidnapped by a warrior-wench who brought me to this lost land.”

That was the most backhanded compliment she’d ever been given. But she was well pleased, more so than if he’d given her false praise about her beauty, as men were inclined to do when in the company of women. His comment relieved her guilt somewhat, too. But, really, he used the most tangled logic she’d ever encountered. “Methinks you give your God too much credit.”

“Methinks I have not given Him enough, and that has been my problem.”

Religion? From this rascal? He is ever confusing me. Does he do it a purpose? Probably.“You are a good doctor, aren’t you?”

“Yea, I am,” he answered without humility.

She expected no less from him.

“And you, my fair Viking. Are you a good soldier?” he asked, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. She tried to pull away, shamed by the size of her hands and the less-than-feminine calluses on her palms, but he would not allow that. Instead, he freed only his thumb and began to caress her wrist, back and forth. What a glorious, glorious sensation centered there where her pulse began to beat wildly! You would have thought he was doing something intimate, or scandalous, but all he was doing was caressing her wrist with a thumb, whilst he watched her, waiting for an answer.

An answer? Blessed Thor! I forget the question. Oh, he asked if I was a good soldier.“Yea, I am a good soldier … the best a woman could be … or most men for that matter.”

“I could give you an ointment for that itch.”