Page 38 of The Viking’s Captive

CHAPTER SEVEN

And so the new phase of his life began …

A “Psssssttt!”

Adam was about to step down the steep wooden stairs leading from the ramparts when he heard the hissing sound. Was it Tyra, having second thoughts about the kiss? Had she decided to give it to him now, rather than later? He smiled to himself, liking the idea of all this privacy for a kiss that he guaranteed would melt her bones.

His smile immediately faded when he saw that it was Rashid, not Tyra, who stood waiting around the bend.

“What are you doing, skulking about?” he snapped.

“Master!” Rashid exclaimed, clearly offended by his charge. “I have come to warn you—”

“Warn me? Of what? Has the king worsened?”

“Nay, nay, nay!” Rashid denied. “‘Tis another, uh, event I come to … hmmm, uh … warn you of.”

“Well?” he said testily. ‘Twas hard to go from thoughts of hot kisses, to a possible medical disaster, to whatever it was Rashid was hmmming and uhing about.

“Look over here,” Rashid said, leading him to a rampart wall that overlooked one of the courtyards below.

Rashid looked and saw a large group of people lined up outside the great hall doors. They were simple folk—cotters, soldiers, their families. He frowned his confusion at Rashid, who was grinning brightly at him. That bright grin caused Adam’s frown to deepen.

“What do those people have to do with your warning me?”

“ ‘Tis a miracle, my lord.”

Oh, God! We are back to the lord nonsense. And I am sick to the soul of the miracle nonsense, too.“Speak plainly, man.”

“News has spread already of your great medical talents, Master Adam. These people suffer various ailments that they want you to treat.”

Adam bowed his head. He had made much progress today, but he was not ready for this.

“Do not be afeared. I will tell them that you are overtired today from your work with the king, whom you must still watch closely. But may I be so bold as to suggest that in the morn you might begin seeing the sick?”

Adam raised his head, his nostrils flaring with anger. Rashid was pushing him.

“Just a few,” Rashid was quick to insert.

Sometimes Adam had to remind himself that Rashid, overbearing and annoying as he could be, was his friend. Rashid had his best interests at heart.

“A few,” he agreed.

And so, the next stage of his life began.

There are kisses and then there are KISSES!…

Adam trapped Tyra that evening.

She had been avoiding him all day, the threat of a kiss hovering in her mind. In fact, she had not even gone to the great hall for the nightly meal, no doubt an extraspecial production on Ingrith’s part to mark their father’s operation, even though they did not yet know what the outcome would be. He had not died; to the Viking mind, that was cause to celebrate.

Adam had spent much of the day in her father’s chamber, watching over him. Still, she had managed to avoid meeting up with him, there or elsewhere. Till now.

She’d been ambling from the scullery through the kitchen gardens to the outer back steps leading to the second floor and her bedchamber. On the way, she’d grabbed a hunk of flatbread and a stuffed pigeon. Then she’d stopped at the well for a ladle of water. She’d been sitting on the wide well bench, eating her tasty fare, interspersed with sips of the frigid water.

That was when the rogue had sprung his trap, coming up on her unexpectedly.

He dusted off the bench with a hand, then sat down beside her. An understandable action, considering the fine Saxon apparel he wore tonight. A tunic of wool in a shade of midnight blue … which matched his eyes, she could not fail to note. The tunic, embroidered at the edges with silver thread, was belted at the waist over black braies that hugged his form. His half-boots were of butter-soft calfskin.