Saved by the Viking Warrior

Author:Michelle Styles
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-11-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

‘This is as good a place as any for the night,’ Thrand said, gesturing to a small cave in a hillside. In the distance, Cwenneth could hear the faint gurgle of water.

They had not encountered anyone, and Cwenneth felt more hopeful that they would reach their destination without any trouble. Surely Hagal would not risk sending his men this far into Bernicia.

‘Shelter and water. What more could a woman ask for?’

‘I’m pleased you approve.’ Thrand slid off Myrkr.

Cwenneth had noticed that today he had kept his body from touching hers as they rode. Whenever he could, he found reasons to walk.

The ease of this morning’s sword lesson had vanished and Thrand seemed preoccupied, answering her questions in as few words as possible.

‘If you can gather some firewood, I will go and fetch the water.’ Thrand stretched. ‘I could do with a wash and Myrkr a drink.’

Cwenneth froze—half on and half off Myrkr, the image of Thrand’s naked skin gleaming wet imprinted on her brain. She forced her feet down, nearly tripping.

‘Do you have a problem with that?’ he asked, taking the pack and Myrkr’s saddle from the horse.

‘No, no problem. I am perfectly capable of tending to Myrkr. We have reached an understanding.’

Cwenneth carefully set the pack and saddle inside the mouth of the cave before she went about finding some firewood. Anything to keep from finding an excuse to check on Thrand and see if he was truly bathing. He had made it very clear that he did not think of her in that way. They were friends, not lovers.

When would she learn that he wasn’t interested in her, not in the way she wanted him to be?

He probably saw her as a skinny stick of a thing with very little sex appeal, the same as her sister-in-law’s assessment of her charms right before she departed from Lingwold. And since then he had been careful not to touch her. She had thought he might kiss her when he taught her this morning how to use the sword, but he hadn’t. And she refused to be pathetic and beg. Men disliked pushy women. Aefirth had told her that enough times, but her mind kept whispering that Thrand was not Aefirth.

She gave a wry smile. Only a few days ago, she had worried that he might force her, now she worried that he wasn’t touching her. She was being ridiculous.

‘Come on, Cwenneth, stop stalling,’ she muttered. ‘You need to find dry wood, instead of dissecting what Thrand might or might not feel for you. Maybe if you are lucky, he will catch some fish and you can have a hot meal instead of the hard bread.’

She gathered three more armloads of firewood and started to lay a fire in the entrance to the cave.

There was a distinct rustling inside.

‘Thrand?’ she said. ‘That took you much less time than I thought it would.’

The rustling stopped, but there was no answer.

From somewhere behind her, she heard a snatch of song in Thrand’s off-key voice.

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