Read Online Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series by The Defiant Heart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: The Defiant Heart
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Rurik and Brienne’s children would be the only ones Lyting would ever enjoy.
A shame, Ketil sighed as he examined the line of seal-hide for imperfections and tested its strength. The Good Lord saved Lyting from the brink of death, well and true. But that did not necessarily mean that He spared him apurpose for Corbie. Lyting thought in that vein, however, and it seemed naught could dissuade him.
Ketil chuckled at Richard ’s antics and waved again. He caught the twinkle in Lyting’s eye as he scooped up the boy and dangled him upside down.
“ You sailed with that man?” a roughened voice sounded off to his left.
Ketil turned and took measure of the weathered sea-warrior who stood several arm ’s lengths away. He possessed as brambly a mane of hair and beard as himself and stood nearly as tall.
“ Já ,” Ketil answered with a shadow of caution. “We arrived yestermorn from Normandy.”
The man seemed to consider this for a moment, then his eye ranged to Lyting. “Your friend tried to buy a slave of mine.” He nodded toward a maid who labored over her wash at the end of the wharf. A maid of exceptional beauty.
Ketil lifted a brow in utter surprise. He had heard of the incident from Aleth and Brienne. But they made no mention that the maid Lyting sought to free was one so fair.
Ketil tugged at his beard, a smile spreading beneath the fiery thicket. ‘Twas a good sign. Mayhap, his badgerings and advisements would bear fruit after all.
Ketil smoothed his mustache and shrugged casually. “I imagine that one draws many an eye.”
“ Já , that she does. But your friend seemed more intent than most.” The man looked again to Lyting and considered him with a hard stare. “Normandy, eh? Has your pale-haired friend a name?”
Ketil bent an eye over the sea-warrior, gauging how he should respond. “Lyting Atlison, blood-nephew to Duke Rollo himself and brother to the Baron de Valsemé. We sail under the baron’s banner. And you?”
The man rolled an eye to Ketil. “Skallagrim, master of the Wind Raven . I sail under my own banner.” Unexpectedly one side of his mouth drew into the semblance of a smile, then faded. His attention returned to Lyting.
“ Best advise Atlison to take a long, cold swim. His desire for my slave is obvious, but the maid is not for purchase. He’ll have to find another to bed.”
“ Him?” Ketil fairly choked, though the thought of Lyting “in lust” was wondrously heartening.
Again, a faint knell of caution sounded somewhere in Ketil ’s brain, and he felt a compelling need to put Skallagrim’s concerns to rest. He hoped Lyting would understand the necessity to depict matters as he must to their Odin-worshipping kinsman.
“ Nei , there be naught to glean in his interest,” Ketil avowed. “Those Franks have turned him into a knee-bending Christian. He seeks a monkish life on our return to Normandy. ‘Twas not for himself but for the baronne that he sought to acquire the maid. She is a softhearted woman, a Frank.”
Skallagrim looked to Ketil skeptically. “Odd that she would choose a slave of such beauty to tempt her husband.”
Ketil huffed into his beard. Obviously Skallagrim had not seen the Lady Brienne nor heard the saga of hers and Rurik’s joining. Their tale of love was the sort skalds remembered in verse and celebrated in the halls.
“ Nei . I did not mean that the baronne selected the maid. She left the matter of purchase to Lyting. He is after all, a full-blooded son of Danmark. Understandably, he chose the most beautiful.”
To Ketil ’s surprise, Skallagrim cracked a smile.
“ I imagine the baron would have been appreciative of that, had he succeeded!”
Ketil remained silent as the chieftain cast a suspect eye to Lyting.
“He seeks to be a monk, you say? I have heard that the Christians’ beliefs can unman a warrior. But he does not look unmanned from here.”
“ Lyting honors the vows he seeks to embrace, even now,” Ketil maintained
A shame, Ketil sighed as he examined the line of seal-hide for imperfections and tested its strength. The Good Lord saved Lyting from the brink of death, well and true. But that did not necessarily mean that He spared him apurpose for Corbie. Lyting thought in that vein, however, and it seemed naught could dissuade him.
Ketil chuckled at Richard ’s antics and waved again. He caught the twinkle in Lyting’s eye as he scooped up the boy and dangled him upside down.
“ You sailed with that man?” a roughened voice sounded off to his left.
Ketil turned and took measure of the weathered sea-warrior who stood several arm ’s lengths away. He possessed as brambly a mane of hair and beard as himself and stood nearly as tall.
“ Já ,” Ketil answered with a shadow of caution. “We arrived yestermorn from Normandy.”
The man seemed to consider this for a moment, then his eye ranged to Lyting. “Your friend tried to buy a slave of mine.” He nodded toward a maid who labored over her wash at the end of the wharf. A maid of exceptional beauty.
Ketil lifted a brow in utter surprise. He had heard of the incident from Aleth and Brienne. But they made no mention that the maid Lyting sought to free was one so fair.
Ketil tugged at his beard, a smile spreading beneath the fiery thicket. ‘Twas a good sign. Mayhap, his badgerings and advisements would bear fruit after all.
Ketil smoothed his mustache and shrugged casually. “I imagine that one draws many an eye.”
“ Já , that she does. But your friend seemed more intent than most.” The man looked again to Lyting and considered him with a hard stare. “Normandy, eh? Has your pale-haired friend a name?”
Ketil bent an eye over the sea-warrior, gauging how he should respond. “Lyting Atlison, blood-nephew to Duke Rollo himself and brother to the Baron de Valsemé. We sail under the baron’s banner. And you?”
The man rolled an eye to Ketil. “Skallagrim, master of the Wind Raven . I sail under my own banner.” Unexpectedly one side of his mouth drew into the semblance of a smile, then faded. His attention returned to Lyting.
“ Best advise Atlison to take a long, cold swim. His desire for my slave is obvious, but the maid is not for purchase. He’ll have to find another to bed.”
“ Him?” Ketil fairly choked, though the thought of Lyting “in lust” was wondrously heartening.
Again, a faint knell of caution sounded somewhere in Ketil ’s brain, and he felt a compelling need to put Skallagrim’s concerns to rest. He hoped Lyting would understand the necessity to depict matters as he must to their Odin-worshipping kinsman.
“ Nei , there be naught to glean in his interest,” Ketil avowed. “Those Franks have turned him into a knee-bending Christian. He seeks a monkish life on our return to Normandy. ‘Twas not for himself but for the baronne that he sought to acquire the maid. She is a softhearted woman, a Frank.”
Skallagrim looked to Ketil skeptically. “Odd that she would choose a slave of such beauty to tempt her husband.”
Ketil huffed into his beard. Obviously Skallagrim had not seen the Lady Brienne nor heard the saga of hers and Rurik’s joining. Their tale of love was the sort skalds remembered in verse and celebrated in the halls.
“ Nei . I did not mean that the baronne selected the maid. She left the matter of purchase to Lyting. He is after all, a full-blooded son of Danmark. Understandably, he chose the most beautiful.”
To Ketil ’s surprise, Skallagrim cracked a smile.
“ I imagine the baron would have been appreciative of that, had he succeeded!”
Ketil remained silent as the chieftain cast a suspect eye to Lyting.
“He seeks to be a monk, you say? I have heard that the Christians’ beliefs can unman a warrior. But he does not look unmanned from here.”
“ Lyting honors the vows he seeks to embrace, even now,” Ketil maintained
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