Read Online The Viking's Captive by Sandra Hill - Free Book Online Page A

long braids, was still damp. Her face was shiny clean, and clear as new cream, except for the dotting of a few freckles on her nose. Instead of chain mail, she now wore a hip-length, faded blue linen
shert
over her usual tight wool
braies
and half-boots. The
shert
was belted at the waist.
    She was a big woman, Adam observed, not for the first time. Her height was immense for a woman, due to her exceedingly long legs. Her hips were ample, as were her breasts, though both were offset by a comparatively narrow waist.
    Oddly, her bigness was not unattractive. On the contrary. Overall, she was well proportioned so that all her bigness just contributed to a picture of woman in all her glory. She was almost more than a man could take in.
    He forced his eyes to move higher, and the picture was the same. Her lips were full. Her teeth were big. Her eyes were wide, thick-lashed, and crystal clear as blue lagoons. Even her blond hair would be big when loose, he would imagine.
    And he was imagining.
    But that wasn’t what had caused his chin to drop to his chest. It was her posture, leaning forward on muscled thighs, which resulted in her
shert
gaping open at the laced vee-neckline, giving him an enticing view of an ocean of skin and the top swells of two very curvaceous breasts.
    Adam had a weakness for curvaceous breasts. Well, actually, he had a fondness for all kinds of breasts—small, big, round, pointed, flat, whatever. Leastways, he had in the old days when he’d jumped from one lady’s bedchamber to another like a randy rabbit.
    “So, what do you think?” Tyra said.
    Huh?
He hadn’t realized that she’d been talking all this time.
    He arched a brow in question. He hoped he appeared more mature than he felt.
Thinking about breasts! By the rood! I’m behaving worse than an untried youthling.
    “Did you hear one word I said? Stop looking at me like that.”
    He shrugged to indicate confusion, but he knew exactly how he’d been looking at her. The shrug just covered all grounds. To his mind, shrugging was a man’s best tool.
    “Some men feel they must pretend to flatter me, just because I am a woman. Well, forget about that. I am a soldier first and foremost, and I know better than most how unattractive I am to men. Frankly speaking, I am stronger and larger in size than many men … not Norsemen, who are better endowed than normal men, but other males. Like Saxons. So save your ogling eyes and drooling lips for mush-headed maids who would appreciate the effort.”
    Is the woman daft? Unattractive? If I were any more attracted, my male parts would set themselves afire.
And I am very well endowed, thank you very much, even if I am only Viking by adoption, not birth. Furthermore, I most certainly did not drool.
He licked his lips all around, just to make sure.
    “Back to what I was saying afore—what would you say to a truce?”
    He might be interested. Truth to tell, he was bored to death with sitting about, rope-bound, all the time. He tilted his head to indicate she should continue.
    “I would set you free … under guard, of course … or two guards.” She added that last after giving his body a quick head-to-toe scrutiny.
    Aha! She is probably noticing my… endowments.
    “I have no fear of your doing harm to me, or my men …”
    Mayhap not.
    “… but you might find a way to escape, and I am honor bound to deliver you to my father’s bedside.”
    Honor, hmmm?
He could understand that—the need to fulfill a pledge. But there was something missing from this truce offering. She had told him of what she would give. What did she expect in return? The answer was forthcoming.
    “Your uncle Tykir claims you to be a trustworthy man … one whose word, once given, is solid as ice on a winter fjord. If you would give your vow not to attempt escape till you have examined my father and done whatever you can to help him, then I will cut your ropes myself right now.”
    He considered her offer for a long time. The