Read Online Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 02] by The Outlaw Viking - Free Book Online

but ugly? Never! In fact, he’s probably the most attractive man I’ve ever met.”
    The women stepped away from her slightly, as if she might be deranged.
    “The scars, the broken nose, the cruelty in his eyes, his hateful ways. Why, ’tis said he cannot even tolerate children in his presence, that he squashes them like vermin under his feet. Truly, do these things not repulse you?” Gunvor asked incredulously.
    Rain tried to picture Selik in her mind. Yes, there were scars, lots of them, and an imperfect nose, but they didn’t mar the total man with his fine, classic features, his well-developed, muscular body. And the cruelty in his eyes—it was there, but couldn’t these women recognize that it masked a deeper pain? Of course, she could never love a man like Selik. He was too vulgar, too stubborn, too war-like, but neither could she deny his innate beauty.
    She started to tell the foolish women just that, but Selik approached, muttering vicious curses, and the females scattered like frightened mice.
    “Did you have to scare the women off?”
    “Spineless half wits,” he grumbled. Leaning over the simmering cauldron, he sniffed deeply, then helped himself to a heaping bowl of the stew. He sat down next to her on a large boulder and wolfed the food down ravenously, ignoring her presence.
    His hunger touched her oddly. Although he wore the same stained tunic, Rain noticed that he’d bathedand shaved. His pale, platinum hair shone like spun silver down to his shoulder blades. Scrutinizing him more closely in light of the women’s harsh appraisal, Rain noticed many scars, old and new. Especially gruesome was an old scar running from his right eye to his chin, a pale jagged line in his deeply tanned face. And the raised white scar tissue on his forearm spelling out the word rage —well, Rain shivered at the thought of what horrifying events had prompted Selik to carve the letters in his own skin. At least, she presumed he had.
    “Keep your roving eyes off my flesh, Sleetling.”
    “What?” Rain jerked to attention, embarrassed to be caught examining him closely. “I was admiring all your battle scars.”
    “Liar.” His eyes impaled hers contemptuously, then turned away in disgust. “Have a caution, wench. I am in no mood to humor your airs today. Go off and leave me alone.” He used the fingers of both hands to rub his eyes wearily.
    Selik’s curt dismissal offended Rain, so she persisted foolishly. “How did you get that scar on your face? Was it in the midst of some silly battle where you slaughtered men right and left? Or did the husband of one of those women with whom you rutted come after you? No, let me guess. I’ll bet you tripped and fell when—”
    “Nay, wench, ’twas none of those.” Selik’s icy gray eyes held hers coldly, speaking of horrors of which Rain suddenly knew she didn’t want to hear. She stood to depart, but Selik shoved her rudely back down to the boulder. “You asked, lackwit. Now you shall stay and hear.
    “Your father Thork and I were Jomsviking knights together. When Thork was a child, his brother Eric—Eric Bloodaxe, they call him—pursued him bloodily. He even chopped off the smallest finger of Thork’s right hand when he was only five. Eventually, Thorkran off to become a Jomsviking, the only way open for him to escape the ambitions of his ruthless brother.”
    “Selik, stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up these painful memories.”
    But Selik continued with his punishing explanation. “In the final Jomsviking battle afore your father’s death, our enemy Ivar—Ivar the Vicious—cut off the remaining fingers on your father’s hand and kicked open the fatal sword wound in his side. And that, sweet lover of peace, was after he chopped off the heads of a dozen of our comrades.”
    Tears streamed down Rain’s cheeks. She didn’t want to know these horrid details of her father’s or Selik’s life. She didn’t want to feel there was any