Read Online Viking Fire by Andrea R. Cooper - Free Book Online Page A

through their eyes when they thought no one watched.
    • • •
    Half a side of blackened stew was removed when Kaireen needed to sneeze. She scooted back so her head would not bang against the side, like she did the first three times. Her sneeze sounded pitiful to her ears. Kaireen rubbed her nose with her forearm.
    This was all Bram’s fault. If he had not wanted to see the lands so soon. If he had ridden back with her to warn her father instead of insisting to stay and fight.
    Climbing back inside the kettle she scoured the encrusted blackened stew.

Chapter Nine
    Bram found a servant boy scuttling after a toad. “Where is Owen?” He knew the man’s name and what he looked like by the battered woman telling him.
    The boy stared at him dumbfounded, but then pointed to a man laughing with another in the hall.
    “Tell him to come to my quarters now.” Reaching in his coin purse, he placed a silver coin in the boy’s hand.
    The boy grinned, showing a broken front tooth. Coin tight in his fist, the boy raced down the hallway.
    With the staff for support, Bram shuffled to his quarters.
    Inside, he removed his belt and sword. He laid both across the stool, for he did not want the temptation now of his weapon.
    Candles flickered, lighting the room. He was surprised Elva was not there waiting for him. She came every evening to apply fresh salve and linens, though he told her the old linens be fine. She ignored him, slapping his hands away, and did her work.
    His room was narrow, but long. The hearth was small and he let the fire smolder on a log, but he liked the coolness of the nights. It reminded him of home in western Scandia. He wondered if Kaireen would like to visit his homeland sometime. No one would think it strange, like here, for him to practice sword fighting with Kaireen. Here Christian propriety got in the way of adventure.
    He recalled when he first saw Kaireen. It was weeks before she knew he was there. Damn the vow he made to her mother, perhaps if he had not made it, things would be better between him and Kaireen.
    His bed, with linens replaced, lay a foot from the back wall. Underneath the window in the room he had placed the stool. Next to the wooden shelf bolted along the wall faced the far side of the bed.
    Another shelf cut across the wall to the right, a washing pitcher and bowl cluttered on one side with a hand towel draped over the ledge. Lit candles lined the other side.
    Moments later a rap sounded. Bram stepped forward, leaning on the oak staff more than necessary. “Enter.”
    The servant man came in and bowed. “You need my services?”
    “You are Owen?” Bram attempted to smile at the man’s nod, but supposed it came across as a grimace. “Close the door, please.”
    The servant followed his orders. When he turned around he was then pinned against the wall with Bram’s staff pressed to his neck.
    “H-Have I offended you, sir?” His mouth quivered.
    Bram twirled the staff, clipping the man under the chin. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. The servant lay in a heap on the floor.
    Bram gripped the staff in his hands, his wrath wanting more. Instead, he took deep breaths to calm himself. Striking the stone floor with the staff eased the anger, some.
    He had control again. He leaned on the staff and then hobbled to the shelf along the wall in front of his bed. He grasped the stone pitcher of water and carried the water back to the crumpled man across his floor. He doused the unconscious man with water, and he came to, sputtering and groaning. He rubbed his jaw, eyeing Bram warily.
    Bram placed the empty pitcher on the floor away from the man’s reach and then stepped forward.
    The servant flinched.
    “If you hurt another woman,” he smiled, but knew his eyes spoke the truth of his fury, “I will finish you.”
    “You mistake me for someone else, my lord.” Owen held out his hands.
    “The serving wench,” Bram ran a hand through his blond hair, wanting to ring this man’s