Alrek(17)

“Oh.” A hand rose to her mouth and she wavered.

Alrek shot to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Come, you do not need to see this.”

Several sheep carcasses lay scattered across the land. One was close enough that he could see it had been torn apart. Blood and wool mingled in the grass, a macabre sight even for one used to battle.

“Who would…?” Her voice wobbled and Alrek glanced down to see the tremble of her chin.

“No one, Ilisa. This was wolves.”

“Wolves? But they do not normally come out so far.”

“If they are hungry, they will do anything.”

“It could be Vikings.” Her voice sounded small.

He let his brow furrow and reminded himself she spoke out of shock. “Few Vikings would take pleasure in killing animals such as sheep. Even the most bloodthirsty would rather go against a foe that can defend itself. Look, Ilisa, ‘tis the work of a wolf.”

Her shoulders softened beneath his arm and she leaned into him. “Aye, you are right. Forgive me.”

“Come, they have enough water. There is little you can do. I shall discard the carcasses shortly.”

“I must check on the rest. Many graze further up,” she insisted, her quavery voice betraying her.

“Nay, I will do that. You have had a tiresome night looking after an ailing Viking and a shock this morning. Let us return to your cottage and I shall make up for being such a burden to you by seeing to your flock today.”

Ilisa peered sideways at him, eyes glimmering slightly. “You are a good man for a Viking, Alrek.”

He smirked. Would she think the same if she knew all the heated thoughts that had been plaguing him? He doubted it.





Chapter Six

Raised voices roused Ilisa from her sleep. She squinted and focused on the timbers of the roof as she struggled to clear her mind of a sleepy fog. Rubbing her eyes, she sat. When had she fallen asleep? And why was she in her bed during the day? The last thing she remembered was returning home to do some weaving. She had started on a blanket and when she peeked at the table, she saw it there, patiently waiting for her. Alrek must have put her to bed. Something warm sparked in her chest at the thought of the powerful Viking lifting her and cradling her in his arms. Alrek was indeed a good man.

The shouting pierced her dreamy thoughts and she thrust back the blankets to step outside. She paused to listen. Was Alrek in danger? She didn’t wish to put him in further peril by distracting him. And she would need her brother’s sword. Not that she could do much with it. Perhaps an eating knife would be more effective.

“Where is she, Viking?” she heard a man spit. “Have you harmed her? I shall run you through.”

Ilisa stepped out as soon as she recognised the voice. On his horse, a hand to the pommel of his sword, was Galan. The dark-haired Pict was dressed in a long tunic and mantle, and he barely glanced at her when she stepped out, his full focus on Alrek who stood near the chopping block, axe in hand. She drew in a sharp breath. The fury on his face, the wide stance and confident way he held the weapon… he looked like a Viking again. No amount of Pictish clothing could disguise the fact. And a coil of awareness and excitement fluttered in her belly. In spite of Galan’s threats, she found she enjoyed the sight.

“You will do nothing,” Alrek responded. “Be gone before I remove your head from your shoulders.”

Galan slipped from his horse and drew his sword. Ilisa stepped forward. “Galan, put your weapon down. There is no need for fighting.” She held up a palm to both men and gave Alrek a pleading look. His jaw tensed and he flicked his gaze between her and Galan before dropping the axe to this side. “Galan?” she prompted.

“Has this savage harmed you?” he demanded.

“Nay. He had done naught.”

“Why do you have a Viking in your home?” He peered at her down his nose, flicking a disproving look at Alrek. She thought she heard Alrek growl.

“He washed up on the shore, nearly dead. I nursed him back to health.” Galan kept his blade aloft so Ilisa pressed a hand to his wrist to urge him to lower it.

“You have been alone with this man, Ilisa?”

“For several days, Galan.” She lifted her chin. It might ruin her but if Galan wanted to stay in her good graces he would tell no one else of the Viking in her home. Dear God, she hoped she was right. If the villagers discovered Alrek they would send a mob out.

“Your brother would be deeply ashamed.” Galan peered at the Viking once more before lowering his sword. “You should not be alone with him,” he hissed.

“Come, Galan, let us walk for a while and I shall explain all.” She slipped an arm through his and began to draw him away