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Authors: Erin S. Riley
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other circumstances.
These men, however, were not operating under that same concern, and she was taken aback at the blatant desire she saw in many of their faces.
Hrefna, on her way to the kitchen to oversee the assembly of a supper for forty unexpected guests, whispered to Selia. “Stoke up the fire quickly and then join me in the kitchen. And don’t go to the privy alone tonight. Ulfrik or I can walk with you if necessary.”
Selia stifled a cynical laugh at the thought of asking Ulfrik to accompany her to the privy to protect her from the advances of Gunnar’s men. But she nodded to Hrefna, understanding the danger all too well.
Holding the babe in one arm, she stirred the coals of the fire to warm the men. They stripped down to their breeches, laying their wet shirts and cloaks on the floor to dry, and the air was soon filled with steam from the damp wool.
Not at all comfortable at being surrounded by nearly naked men with lust in their eyes, she hurried toward the kitchen to help Hrefna. She stumbled slightly as she stepped over the wet clothing, and a big hand went around her arm to steady her. She’d been in no danger of falling, yet the hand remained on her arm.
Selia looked up into the eerily familiar face of Einarr Drengsson. Although he had the strong build that seemed to be a given in Ragnarr’s bloodline, Einarr was not quite as tall as Alrik and somewhat thinner. And younger than he appeared from a distance—only a few summers older than Selia. He had the same intense blue eyes as his cousins, as well as the same wide, sensual mouth.
Einarr leaned closer, looking directly into her eyes, and smiled Alrik’s smile. It made her skin crawl.
“Selia. What a rare beauty you are. But then, Alrik Ragnarson has always had good taste in women. If I had known about you I would have visited long before now. To partake of my cousin’s hospitality.” His fingers pressed into her flesh in a slow, deliberate massage.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Cousin or no, Alrik would never have stood for this man’s insolence. She gave a pointed look toward his hand on her arm, then glared up at him. “You do not know Alrik very well, I am afraid. You would lose that hand if he were here.”
Einarr’s eyebrows went up as his smile deepened. He released her arm. “I see you are not faint of heart,” he said. “Even better. I should have known Alrik would have chosen a feisty one.”
As he stood upright again, Selia noticed the tattoo on his chest. It was in the same location as Alrik’s and appeared to be the same design. Was it some sort of family symbol?
Einarr saw what she was looking at and puffed his chest out a bit. “Ahh, you like berserkers, little Irish cousin? They do say once a woman lies with a berserker, a normal man will never do again.” He gave her a knowing wink and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I would be happy to oblige you if you find your bed is cold tonight.”
Selia would have slapped his face if she wasn’t holding the babe. “No. But I will be sure to tell my husband of your offer when he returns,” she hissed.
Ulfrik’s voice came from behind her. “Einarr,” he warned, “I would advise you to mind how you speak to Selia. A man could find himself in a shallow grave for disrespecting the wife of Alrik Ragnarson.” His voice was deceptively calm, but the threat was clear.
Einarr grunted, eying his cousin over Selia’s head for a long moment. He finally stepped back. Ulfrik took her by the elbow to steer her toward a quieter corner of the room.
“Let go of me,” she demanded when they were out of earshot of Einarr. Just being in the same room with Ulfrik made her uneasy. She shook her arm free.
“I mean you no harm, Selia. I just want to talk to you,” he said in Irish.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped.
He sighed. “Give me my child, then. I haven’t even had a chance to see it. Is it a boy or a girl?”
She hesitated, torn between a desire to
These men, however, were not operating under that same concern, and she was taken aback at the blatant desire she saw in many of their faces.
Hrefna, on her way to the kitchen to oversee the assembly of a supper for forty unexpected guests, whispered to Selia. “Stoke up the fire quickly and then join me in the kitchen. And don’t go to the privy alone tonight. Ulfrik or I can walk with you if necessary.”
Selia stifled a cynical laugh at the thought of asking Ulfrik to accompany her to the privy to protect her from the advances of Gunnar’s men. But she nodded to Hrefna, understanding the danger all too well.
Holding the babe in one arm, she stirred the coals of the fire to warm the men. They stripped down to their breeches, laying their wet shirts and cloaks on the floor to dry, and the air was soon filled with steam from the damp wool.
Not at all comfortable at being surrounded by nearly naked men with lust in their eyes, she hurried toward the kitchen to help Hrefna. She stumbled slightly as she stepped over the wet clothing, and a big hand went around her arm to steady her. She’d been in no danger of falling, yet the hand remained on her arm.
Selia looked up into the eerily familiar face of Einarr Drengsson. Although he had the strong build that seemed to be a given in Ragnarr’s bloodline, Einarr was not quite as tall as Alrik and somewhat thinner. And younger than he appeared from a distance—only a few summers older than Selia. He had the same intense blue eyes as his cousins, as well as the same wide, sensual mouth.
Einarr leaned closer, looking directly into her eyes, and smiled Alrik’s smile. It made her skin crawl.
“Selia. What a rare beauty you are. But then, Alrik Ragnarson has always had good taste in women. If I had known about you I would have visited long before now. To partake of my cousin’s hospitality.” His fingers pressed into her flesh in a slow, deliberate massage.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Cousin or no, Alrik would never have stood for this man’s insolence. She gave a pointed look toward his hand on her arm, then glared up at him. “You do not know Alrik very well, I am afraid. You would lose that hand if he were here.”
Einarr’s eyebrows went up as his smile deepened. He released her arm. “I see you are not faint of heart,” he said. “Even better. I should have known Alrik would have chosen a feisty one.”
As he stood upright again, Selia noticed the tattoo on his chest. It was in the same location as Alrik’s and appeared to be the same design. Was it some sort of family symbol?
Einarr saw what she was looking at and puffed his chest out a bit. “Ahh, you like berserkers, little Irish cousin? They do say once a woman lies with a berserker, a normal man will never do again.” He gave her a knowing wink and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I would be happy to oblige you if you find your bed is cold tonight.”
Selia would have slapped his face if she wasn’t holding the babe. “No. But I will be sure to tell my husband of your offer when he returns,” she hissed.
Ulfrik’s voice came from behind her. “Einarr,” he warned, “I would advise you to mind how you speak to Selia. A man could find himself in a shallow grave for disrespecting the wife of Alrik Ragnarson.” His voice was deceptively calm, but the threat was clear.
Einarr grunted, eying his cousin over Selia’s head for a long moment. He finally stepped back. Ulfrik took her by the elbow to steer her toward a quieter corner of the room.
“Let go of me,” she demanded when they were out of earshot of Einarr. Just being in the same room with Ulfrik made her uneasy. She shook her arm free.
“I mean you no harm, Selia. I just want to talk to you,” he said in Irish.
“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped.
He sighed. “Give me my child, then. I haven’t even had a chance to see it. Is it a boy or a girl?”
She hesitated, torn between a desire to
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