Page 13 of My Fair Viking

He'd just declared war on his captor.

On her return trip across the decks, she remarked, as if their conversation had not been interrupted, "Your crudity knows no bounds, but what could I expect from a bloody Saxon?"

"My Saxon heritage didn't seem to concern you when you were on a physician hunt. By the by, I meant to ask you afore, how did you hear of me?"

"Tykir of Dragonstead recommended you. I asked for his advice when he came to visit my father. He said you are the best healer in all of Britain, but he said naught about your refusal to practice the healing arts."

"Tykir? My stepuncle betrayed me? I can hardly credit that."

"He did not betray you. All he said was, 'If you want the best healer for your father, go get Adam.' He did laugh in a most peculiar manner afterward when I told him that I would do just that."

"I am not surprised. Tykir always did have a warped sense of humor."

"Don't you want to know about my father's illness… so that you may be prepared to cure him when we arrive at Stoneheim?"

"Why should I inquire about his symptoms when I do not intend to treat him?"

Her face was turning red with frustration. He could tell that she would love nothing more than to punch him in the stomach, but she feared alienating him more than she already had.

"Why won't you treat him? Why have you given up medicine? Why do you disdain the talents your One-God gave you? Tis selfish, if you ask me."

"That is my business, and mine only. 'Tis not for you to know."

"Hmph! Well, I will tell you anyhow… so you can ponder your method of treatment, despite what you say. He was struck down in a minor battle about three sennights ago… a blow to the head from a spiked mace ball. He has been drifting in and out of sleep ever since."

"Did you hit him over the head?"

"Nay, I did not."

"Do not be giving me a look of such affront, as if you'd never struck a man over the head with a deadly weapon. I know better than most that you have, as evidenced by the goose egg on my crown."

The woman did not even have the good sense to look guilty. Instead, she raised her stubborn chin arrogantly.

Suddenly another thought occurred to him. "Your father has been unconscious for three sennights and you expect me to cure him! What happens if I fail? I'm wagering on a head-lopping for such a serious offense. It's an impossible task you ask of me, my lady. Impossible!" He made a grunting sound of incredulity. "Are you demented, woman? I am a healer, not a magician."

"Nay, I am not demented. Just desperate," she said.

Adam could tell that the admission cost her much in pride. He knew too well how it hurt to lose a loved one. In a softer voice, he commented, "You must love your father very much."

To his surprise, she shrugged. "The old sly-boots is even more selfish than you are. Of course, I want him to live, but mostly because once he is well, I can convince him to…" Her words trailed off, and her face turned an even brighter shade of red.

Now this was interesting. "Convince him to what?" he asked when she looked everywhere but at him.

"Never mind," she said and stomped off.

On her next pass by him, she continued the conversation. "If you must know, I have four sisters," she informed him.

"Huh?" He didn't recall asking her.

"Four sisters! And all of them nagging and pulling at me for just one thing."

"And that would be?"

"A husband."

Uh-oh!

"You see, my father's family has a tradition… an ironclad one, passed down through many generations. The daughters in the family can only be married in the order of their birth. The first daughter must wed afore the second. The second must wed afore the third. And so on."