Page 98 of The Blue Viking

“Young boys are sent away to foster all the time.”

“Not my boy!”

“Perchance this is a decision best left to the boy. Ask him, Maire. Ask him what he wants.”

“This is my decision to make, and mine only.”

“Nay, you are wrong. ’Tis my decision, too. I am his father.”

“You told Cailleach that you are incapable of love.”

“Cailleach has a big mouth.”

“That is neither here nor there. Jamie is only five years old. He needs love.”

“He has it,” Rurik said flatly.

“You love him? Already?” Oh, this was worse than Maire had envisioned. If Rurik loved him so soon, he would never abandon the boy to her sole care. Never. “Rurik,” she pleaded, “it would kill me to lose my son.”

He pushed away from the tree and brushed past her as he returned to the path leading back to the keep. Over his shoulder, he informed her in a voice so muted she could scarce hear, “Just as you are killing me.”

“Seduce him.”

“Wh-what?” Maire shrieked, jumping with fright. Cailleach had come up behind her where she stood on a small knoll overlooking an inlet on the loch behind the keep at Beinne Breagha. Rurik was alone, swimming … swimming hard … the kind of energetic exercise a person engaged in when he had a demon riding on his back … or a witch.

“Ye heard me. Seduce the Viking. It won’t be the first time.”

Maire’s face warmed with embarrassment at the idea that Cailleach might be aware of exactly what she’d done to seduce Rurik the last time they’d been together. But she couldn’t know that. Could she? “What good would that do? It will take a lot more than a bout of lovemaking to solve our problems.”

Cailleach rolled her eyes. “For a witch, betimes ye are mighty dumb. It might open the door a crack, girlie, and that’s all ye need. A crack can be as great an opening as a wide-open door in some circumstances.”

Maire knew Cailleach had only her best interests at heart, but could she really seduce Rurik again? That business with the chain mail had been an inspiration. She had no more tricks up her sleeve.

“You need no tricks, Maire,” Cailleach said, as if reading her mind. “Just you.”

Maire was about to question her old friend some more, but the witch was gone in a whirl of dust. So, Maire turned back to her study of the loch, and the swimming Rurik, and already she was walking downward, murmuring to herself, “I… can’t… believe … I’m … going … to … do … this. I… can’t … believe … I’m … going … to … do … this. I… can’t… believe …”

Rurik couldn’t believe his eyes.

Maire was walking gingerly into the lapping waters of the loch … naked as the day she was born … except for the amber necklet. Her hair was plaited off her face into a single braid down her back. She shivered, then dove into the cool water. When she came up out of the water, like a red-haired sea nymph, she didn’t even glance at him. She just began swimming toward him with firm overhead strokes that propelled her swiftly to his side.

If Rurik could have run, or swum away, he would have. But there was nowhere to go, except toward the shore… and her. He stood his ground in abdomen-high water and waited. She arrived moments later, splashing water around her like a puppy just learning to swim.

He was not going to be amused.

“What are you doing here, Maire?” he growled.

She stood wobbily and brushed some loose strands of wet, red hair off her face. As she panted for breath, her breasts heaved where they were barely covered by the blue water. Droplets of water rolled down in a mesmerizing path from the amber pendant toward the enticing cleavage between her breasts.

He was not going to be mesmerized by her breasts.

“I came to seduce you,” she informed him, finally answering his question … not that he recalled precisely what his question had been.

He was not going to be seduced.

“Why?” he asked, and his question sounded lackwitted even to himself.

She blinked at him, the wet clumps of her lashes oddly endearing. Her lips quivered slightly, as if she were unsure what to reply. And the water continued to lap about her breasts.