Read Online The Viking's Woman by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B

skin to rid himself quickly of the missile!”
    Eric cast Mergwin a scowl and dried his face on a linen towel. “You have tended to my leg, and your warning of treachery is too late. Perhaps, Druid, you could sail back across the sea whence you came and plague my brother, who surely needs assistance with some project.”
    Mergwin ignored him and pulled a wooden chair before the low-burning fire. The flames reflected on the incredible length of his beard, a beard that never tangled but rather seemed part of the steel-gray hair that flowed from his head and down his back. Eric, in turn, ignored Mergwin and went to the bedroom door, throwing it open. He was on the second floor of the wooden manor house, and where he had lain had surely been the lord’s room once, for the beautiful bed where he had slept was raised high on a pedestal, and the mattress upon it had been filled with down. Then there were the chairs; the beautifully, elaborately carved fireplace; the mantel, majestically adorned with both saints and gargoyles. Tapestries warmed the walls, and the pitcher and basin on top of the table were finely crafted, the handle of the latter set with jewels.
    Aye, the room had belonged to the lord of the place—shared with his lady, perhaps. Or possibly it had belonged to the wicked little minx who had cast him into his present sorry state.
    “Rollo!” he called, but even as he called, he saw the young dark-haired girl whom he had rescued from the overeager advances of his men the afternoon before.She was cleaned and neat; her dark hair was tied back in a knot; her tunic was long and demure; and her face, with its wide, adoring eyes, was scrubbed and fresh.
    She curtsied to him quickly. “My lord, I’ve been awaiting your pleasure.” She presented him with a tray. The aroma was enticing. The plate was filled with a roasted fowl, fresh bread, and a pitcher of ale. He stared at her and nodded. “Tell me, what is your name?”
    “Judith, my lord.”
    “Judith, have you lived here always?”
    “Always, my lord.”
    “Tell me, where is your master? Was he killed in the fray yesterday? Why would he seek to attack me? Do you know?”
    The girl shook her head, confused. “There is no master here, not since Prince Garth died many years ago.”
    “No master?” Eric said.
    Mergwin, his back toward Eric, his face toward the fire, spoke up. “Ask her of her mistress, my prince.”
    “The Lady Rhiannon,” the girl said.
    “Ah, the Lady Rhiannon,” Eric repeated. “A slender nymph with golden-red hair that falls well past her hip?” And with a wicked ability to send arrows flying, he added silently.
    “Aye, that’s my lady.”
    How dearly he would love to have his hands upon her again. He smiled casually. “Well, then, what of the Lady Rhiannon? Why did she seek to attack me? I came here at the invitation of the king.”
    The girl shook her head. “You came in a dragon prow, milord. You came in a dragon prow.”
    “Yes, we build dragon prows; they are fine ships,” he said. “But still I should have been welcomed here, unless there has been some treachery against me or the king.”
    The girl shook her head. “I know nothing of it!”
    He eyed her carefully. She was a pretty thing but a mere serving girl. She could not help him.
    “Thank you, Judith,” he told her, dismissing her.
    She colored greatly, offered him another little curtsy, and lowered her lashes. “May I serve you in any other way?”
    “Aye. Find Rollo for me—the big redheaded man. Send him to me.”
    She bowed to him again. “He has been waiting for you ….” The girl paused.
    Eric frowned. “Go on, girl, send him to me.”
    She fell before him, kissing his hand quickly, then she was up and scampering away. Eric stared after her, then shook his head and came back into the room. He sat down at the table and discovered that he was ravenous. He bit heartily into the fowl and found it very palatable. He stared over at Mergwin, who was watching