Page 73 of The Viking’s Captive

CHAPTER TWELVE

Oh, the games lovers play!…

“Go right ahead, Tyra. Quaff down another horn of ale. But do not come to me later for an ale-head remedy.”

She made the most ridiculous yet enchanting face at him, which involved deep inhaling and exhaling and puffing out her cheeks … and drank some more.

“And whilst you are at it, take another deep breath like that, and you will be giving me and the rest of the world a full-blown view of your bare breasts.”

For some reason, Adam had taken a proprietary interest in Tyra’s breasts. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he did not like other men gazing upon what he considered his. In truth, jealousy was the least confusing of the emotions assailing Adam at the moment. Inner conflicts battered him at every turn.

He was repulsed by the idea of a woman who spilled blood for her life’s work. But he was attracted beyond all reason to Tyra, despite her being a warrior … or mayhap even because she was a warrior. Who could explain his splintering mind?

He wanted no lasting relationship with any woman. That would mean staying in one place, having children, responsibilities, a firm idea of where his future lay. Whereas he could scarce take care of himself these days, let alone a bothersome female and even more bothersome children, like Alrek and his siblings.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to engage in the healing arts anymore, and yet here he was, seeing patients left and right. The decision seemed to have been taken out of his hands.

And that was the whole problem. He had lost control of his life. An untenable situation! A man should steer his own destiny … not a dying king, an interfering uncle, an outrageous warrior princess, an Arab insistent on giving him a harem, or a brood of bothersome bratlings.

“You certainly are in a grumbly mood,” Tyra responded to his tirade.

By now he’d forgotten what he’d said to make her think he was in a bad mood. Or was he just frowning overmuch?

“I thought you liked this gown.”

Oh, that bad mood. “I adore your gown. I especially adore what is nigh hanging out of it. Must you show it to one and all?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Then she did what he should have expected … the exact opposite of what he’d suggested. She put both hands on the fabric at her waist and tugged downward.

“Bloody … damn … hell!”

Now the neckline of her crimson, wanton gown barely—just barely—covered the nipples and areolas of her breasts. He could not bring himself to glance out at the hall, but it was his guess that wagers were being placed all over the place: Would she or wouldn’t she? Pop out of the gown, that is.

“So, have you taken Drifa out to the stables yet to practice your wicked wiles?”

“What?” he practically squawked. Where did that question come from? I did not even know I had wicked wiles in my repertoire. Well, mayhap I did know, but I hardly expected others to notice.

“You heard me, Saxon. I saw the two of you with your heads together, exchanging simpering smiles.”

Simpering? I do not simper when I smile. I definitely do not simper. Except mayhap when I look at you. Oh, I hope I do not simper when I look at you.He set a very serious expression on his face and looked at Tyra.

“What were you and Drifa talking about? Kisses? Bed furs? Her beauty?”

“Herbs.” He grinned at her, finally understanding Tyra’s seemingly irrelevant questions. The warrior princess was jealous of his conversation with Drifa.

“Herbs?”

“Yea, she wants me to read my herb journals to her so that she can try transplanting some wild plants into her gardens for medicinal purposes. We arranged to meet tomorrow morn for just that purpose. You could join us, but I expect you will be off doing warlike things. Lopping off heads and such.” He flashed another grin her way, just to irritate her. A grin, not a simper.

“Adam, would you care to try a new delicacy I have invented … pig’s gizzards in dill sauce?” Ingrith had just come up and was holding out a small tray toward him, which held a hollow manchet loaf containing the concoction.

Tyra took the small knife from the shield at her waist and was about to spear one for herself when Ingrith smacked her hand. “They are not for you, sister. They are for Adam to try.” She smiled coyly at him. “I made some honey and walnut cakes for you, too, which are still cooling. They are a favorite of yours, are they not?”

“Huh?” he and Tyra said at the same time.

If he didn’t know better, he would think Ingrith was flirting with him.

“Why are you flirting with him?” Tyra asked.