Alrek(9)

“Nay, you do not irk me. I enjoy hearing you sing.” He lifted the bread to his mouth and paused. “I would happily listen to you sing every day for the rest of my life.”

Before he could spill another confession, he jammed the bread into his mouth. What had got into him?

Alisa dropped her lashes and a tiny smile curved across her face. “I thank you. I love to sing but my brother and husband always scolded me. I annoyed them I think.”

So she had been married. Jealousy curved into his gut and cinched it tight. Who was this man who had such a treasure yet scolded her for her talent? “You should not be ashamed of such a skill. Where I come from, a beautiful voice like yours would be treasured. You would be asked to sing at every feast.”

She laughed through a mouthful of bread and swallowed it. “I do not think I could do such a thing but I am curious, what else is so different where you come from?”

“We are not so dissimilar to you, Ilisa.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “That I cannot believe. Picts do not raid others’ land.”

“Yet you fight amongst yourselves.”

Her tongue darted out to sweep across her lower lip. The simple movement caused molten heat to boil through him to his core.

“We do, that is true.”

“For little more than land and riches,” he pointed out. He did not enjoy being tarred as a demon.

“Aye, but ‘tis the manner of which you Vikings go about it. Men will always be driven by greed, I do not doubt that, but you Vikings are ruthless. You would cut down a woman to take a trinket.”

“You believe I would do such a thing?”

“I… I do not know,” she replied quietly.

“I think you do, Ilisa. I have fought much in my past, I’ll admit that much. I have spilled more blood than I’d like to admit to, but I am not so greedy that it blinds me to what is right, whatever you might think. Just because one Norseman would behave so does not mean another would. Would you have me judge you on the behaviour of the rest of your countrymen? You Picts have killed many a Scot have you not?”

She blinked, opened her mouth and shut it again. “I… we are at peace now.”

He reached over and took her hand in his. Her fingers curled automatically around his and his palm tingled. How perfect her small hand fit in his. “I do not mean to scold either but I would not have you thinking me a savage.”

Head tilted back, she viewed him and slipped her hand from his. Coldness washed over him but the curve of her lips quashed the fear he’d offended her yet again.

“I do not think you a savage.”

“What do you think of me?” he asked, unable to resist.

Her grin widened, revealing even teeth. “I am not sure yet, Alrek the Bold, but I shall let you know.”

She took his empty platter from him and he returned her grin. He had no doubt Ilisa would always speak her mind to him. But how would she take to him if he told her what he thought of her? What would she say if he told her he’d never met a more beautiful woman, or that he longed to take her away from her drab dwelling and give her land and children?

***

One eye on the Viking warrior, Ilisa cleared away the bread and platters. The night had grown chilly and her teeth began to chatter. She unhooked her mantle from behind the door and threw it over her shoulders. However, in spite of how cold she was, the heat in the pit of her stomach refused to abate. With only two candles lit, the Viking’s eyes seemed darker, more intense. He watched her movements as if fascinated by her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d never seen a Pictish woman before. Or perhaps a woman at all. But a man as patently virile as Alrek had likely known many women in his time. At what she concluded to be close to thirty summers old, he was likely an experienced man.

She still had yet to decide what to do with him. He seemed to have assumed she would shelter him for as long as necessary. But with one bed and little food, she hardly had the resources to take care of him for who knew how long. What else could she do though? Send him out into the wild where a Pict would likely find him and cut him down?

Nay, she could do no such thing. Her husband and brother would scold her further for such behaviour. Was she dishonouring their memory by harbouring the enemy? But her ethics would allow no other action.

“You are cold.”

She suppressed a smile. Alrek had an oddly blunt manner of speaking and she relished it. “A little.” She stacked the platters and swiped her hands over her skirts.

“Join me in the bed.”

Her breath stuck in her throat. Did he mean—?

“To sleep—nothing more. There is no sense in us both being cold.”