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

neck. “The one with cut lip and black eye? She is your wife?”
    The man’s pear-shaped face changed from shock to calm within moments. He grinned, but then took two steps back seeing Bram’s blue glare. “I know where the mistake is now. Always she is clumsy. Yesterday, she fell down stairs. They can be unforgiving.”
    Bram grated his teeth. “Bruises like that do not come from stairs, they come from a fist.” He took three strides forward. Concealed his pain with what he hoped was a snarl of anger.
    He tapped the staff against his palm, staring into the other man’s eyes. “Do you know of the blood eagle?”
    “An e-eagle sir?” Sweat beaded across the other man’s forehead.
    “Many say ’tis a myth, but ’tis as real as both of us.” The slapping of the staff echoed. “Many Norsemen refuse to tell a foreigner of how ’tis done.” For effect he held the staff with both hands. Then dropped one hand, he whirled the staff straight and hit end against the stone floor.
    The man jumped, his gaze locked on the staff.
    “But I will tell you of the blood eagle, so you know I speak truth. The blood eagle is a slow death.” Each word vibrated through the chamber. He wanted every word understood. “First, strap a man to a tree, his back exposed. Then the knife cuts him along here.” He used his free hand to jerk quick motions along his back. “Then the ribs are broke open to reveal the lungs.
    “With each breath you are in agony. With each breath your lungs cover in blood. Like an eagle’s wings they flutter, until you die.” He leaned forward. “Harm your wife, or any other woman,” his stare locked into the other man’s frightened eyes, “and I will carve you into a blood eagle.”
    Owen blubbered apologies.
    But Bram glared at him and the servant snapped his mouth shut.
    Then Elva swung open the door, a basket full of linens and medicinal herbs in her arms.
    At the intrusion the servant crouched in a corner.
    “Are you done with Owen, sir?” she asked sweetly.
    Bram nodded leaning on the staff.
    She held the door open as Owen crawled by. “And mind your manners. Lucky for you, your wife refused to allow Sir Bram to kill you this time.” She closed the door and then faced her charge. “Well, off with your tunic. I do not have all night while you gape at me.”
    • • •
    Kaireen’s shoulders slumped as she continued to scrub the kettle. Her annoyance had long been replaced with anger gnawing at her stomach. Inside the kettle she sneezed; the sound echoed through her ears. She longed to crawl into her bed and never wake again.
    She thought she heard a rhythmic thump in the distance. She ignored it. Probably it was the cook coming to give her another list of tasks to finish.
    Kaireen quickened her pace scrubbing, so the woman would think she worked hard enough. But she doubted the cook ever got her hands dirty with cleaning or scrubbing this infuriating kettle.
    At least Kaireen had finished all of the other chores, save this one. She had cleaned everything else. Her eyes and hands burned from the lye soap.
    Now, this kettle refused to cooperate. She scraped the sides with the metal spoon. The handle engraved marks into her palms.
    “Are you trying to make the pot sorry that it met you?” Bram said.
    Kaireen jumped and banged her head against the side. Rubbing the back of her head, she eased out the rest of the way.
    With a grin, he leaned forward, his hand outstretched.
    She glared at him and scooted back.
    Instead of arguing, he nodded. Then he balanced with the staff until he sat on the stone floor with her.
    She smelled the aroma of Elva’s healing herbs on him. Myrrh, hyssop, pine, and strong wine radiated through the air.
    “I have work to do, sir. So if you please, take leave.” The memory of his kiss angered her. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, smearing dried stew there. She saw his quick smile and huffed. “If you have come to laugh at me, then have your fill now