Page 105 of The Bewitched Viking

She let him put the neck ring on her then. Its thick gold band fit snugly around her slim neck, just above the collarbone. From it were suspended many tear-shaped amber stones, starting with a large one in the center and decreasingly smaller ones on either side, going back, till they were the size of tiny human tears. She resembled a magnificent Viking princess, garbed thus. A goddess. The yellowish stones set off her breasts and the creaminess of her skin. They made her eyes sparkle green fire.

“Thank you, Tykir,” she whispered. “It is a gift I will always cherish. Always.”

She thanked him then by being the aggressor. And she reversed the tables on him in other ways, too, by giving him the most tender loving of his life. In the process, something precious happened between them.

Mayhap the amber neck ring did indeed have magical powers.

Or mayhap the magic was in them.

Chapter Sixteen

Three months later

Springtime arrived way too soon, and they were leaving Dragonstead.

Oh, it was not a true spring. There was still snow on the ground in the mountains, and the air was chill. But the ice had broken in the fjords, which allowed the longships to move out for their trading and a-Viking ventures.

Jubilation filled the air as the bearlike Vikings, many with huge beards and fur cloaks, came out of winter hibernation, eager for new adventures. Blood thickened by the cold season and lack of exercise suddenly thinned and roared to life. These virile men were not made for inactivity or bucolic work, and exciting exploits awaited them in the Westlands, beyond Norway.

Not everyone was jubilant, however.

Finally, Alinor was going home. But where was home now? She’d become so fond of Dragonstead and its people…and one infuriating Viking, in particular. She was so confused. This was not her home, and yet it felt like home.

She’d always thought that her only dream was to live independently on her own estate in Northumbria. No marriages. No greedy brothers. Just a peaceful, solitary life.

What a foolish maid she had been!

“Why the tears, my lady?” Tykir inquired softly. All the trading supplies and foodstuffs had already been loaded. He’d come up to her side where she stood on the dock waiting to board the longship. She noticed that he barely limped, having pampered his leg all winter long with hot bricks, massages and rest.

“I’m not weeping,” she said, swiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her gunna.

He raised his brows in contradiction. “I would think you’d be happy to leave this ‘prison’ and return to your homeland.” There was an odd vulnerability on his face as he spoke.

“I am happy,” she lied. “These are tears of happiness.”

It was the wrong thing to say. She saw that immediately when his expression went flat. What did he expect of her? He hadn’t asked her to stay. And, frankly, she didn’t know what she would have done if he had.

“Well, then, there must be a keepful of happy people here at Dragonstead. I have not seen so much weeping amongst the womenfolk since the widows came to claim the bodies after the Battle of Brunanburh. ’Twould seem you have touched a few hearts here, Alinor.”

She nodded her head at his kind words, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.

“You must be stronger with your brothers when you return to Graycote,” he advised her then. “Do not let them dictate your life, as they have in the past.”

“Yea. I have taken a vow to withstand their assaults on my private life in future. What think you,” she asked, flashing a mischievous smile his way, “of my threatening to curl their manparts if they try to force another husband on me?”

“That should handle them good and well,” he said on a laugh. Then, suddenly serious, he declared, “I will miss you, Alinor.” He put up a halting hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “I do not utter those words lightly, sweetling. Know this: I have never said them to another woman in all my life.”

“Oh, Tykir,” she murmured.

Then, on a lighter note, he teased, “But I will not miss your chicken soup.”

“Nor I your gammelost.”

He smiled gently down at her. “Mayhap we will meet again someday.”

“Mayhap.”

He didn’t believe that any more than she did. Once Tykir’s longships reached the juncture of fjords and sea near Anlaf’s court two days hence, they would all be going their separate ways—Tykir and Bolthor to the Baltic lands for amber harvesting; Adam to the land of the Arabs, where he would continue his healing studies; Rurik off to Scotland in search of a dye-wielding witch, and Alinor back to Graycote and her sheep.