Page 46 of The Bewitched Viking

“I would like to offer you a bargain…one that could be very lucrative for you.”

His mind went suddenly alert. What was she up to now? “Lucrative in what way? I have more than enough wealth.”

“Nobody has too much wealth.”

“I do.”

“Nay, you do not,” she argued.

“Make your damn offer and be done with this foolishness. But know that if it involves your release and an exchange of money, I am not interested.”

“Loosen your hold on me first. I’m suffocating.”

“I’m not on top of you. You do not bear my weight. And my arm and leg are only resting lightly on you. How can you be suffocating?”

“Your nearness suffocates me.”

Ah, so she was aware of this strange connection betwixt them. He couldn’t quite explain it. It was more than a spark, but less than a flame. Was her body making ready for the bedsport, even as her stubborn mind resisted? He did have that effect on women betimes. He smiled widely with satisfaction.

“Stop smiling,” she chastised.

“How can you tell I’m smiling?” The room was dark, but not totally black due to the brightness cast by the banked fire.

“I sensed it.”

“You sensed a smile?”

“Aaarrgh! Let us get back to the subject at hand. I will not ask that you release me now—”

“Good thing,” he interrupted, “because I would not.”

“—not this instant, I mean. I know that you are honor bound to deliver me to King Anlaf’s court. Your nephew Adam’s safety is important to you, and—”

“Adam? Who told you about Adam? That god Loki must be stirring trouble again in the form of a certain someone who has a loose tongue in my company.”

“It does not matter how I found out. The important thing is that you deliver me to King Anlaf’s court, and that you offer me your protection there. Most significant, you will promise to return me to my home at Graycote…let us say, by Christmas.”

“Let us say…not in my bloody lifetime.”

“Now, do not be hasty. Do you not want to know my terms?”

“Nay.”

He thought she said something foul in an undertone before speaking aloud. “I can give you three hundred marks of silver, if you will agree to my safe return to Northumbria.”

He wondered how she was able to lay her hands on that considerable sum, but he’d been truthful in telling her he had wealth enough. “You would ransom yourself?”

“No one else will.”

Any other woman would moan and bewail her misfortune in making that statement, but not Alinor. She just brushed it off as a fact of her life. He did not want to admire the shrew, but sometimes he could not help himself.

“Well?”

He laughed at her persistence. “’Twould not be worth the aggravation.”

“Aggra-aggravation,” she sputtered.

He rather enjoyed making her sputter.