The Peacemaker by Jianne Carlo

Author:Jianne Carlo [Carlo, Jianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Vikings
ISBN: 9781936751341
Publisher: Etopia Press
Published: 2011-06-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

“I am going to kill him.” Bettina stamped her foot so hard her toes threatened to fall off. “I will cut off his ears, slice his tongue out of his mouth—”

“Not another word, Bettina.” The growled coarseness in Njal’s voice silenced her at once. Before she could collect her thoughts, he cupped her elbow and guided her up the stairs to their chamber.

Once he barred the door, Njal turned to face her. “Tell me you had naught to do with Mordred’s barrows.”

She stumbled over her own feet and sat down heavily on the floor, her skirts billowing around her like sheets threatening to take flight on a windy day.

How did he know?

She decided to attack and not defend. “Mordred’s persuaded King Máel Coluim to give him Mama.”

Twin slashes of red stained Njal’s bronzed cheeks. “To me, wife. Look me full in the eye. I remind you of your vow last eve.”

Lord, he’s going to beat me.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where is your crossbow? Where are the barrows?”

Her parched throat swallowed her voice. She licked her dry lips. “The barrows will not be found.”

“Who else have you involved in this treason?” Bettina had to strain to hear his words he spoke so softly. “Speak now. All of it. Do not draw my anger into fury.”

She who never broke a bead of perspiration even after a hard ride became drenched in a patina of hot sweat. Bettina told him of the barrows, the cart, Brock, Luca, the stolen rents.

“I needs know from the start all you have done. Take off your cyrtel and tell me every crime you have committed.”

Not daring to move, Bettina watched in fascination as he set his weapons on the table and pulled his tunic over his head. Pausing in the middle of unlacing his boots, one foot propped on the bed, he quirked a brow. “’Twill be a penance for not obeying my command. Undress, wife.”

Penance?

Undress?

A delicious shiver sailed up her spine and she immediately wanted to bang her head on the table.

How could her womanly parts heat and throb now? She must concentrate on Mama.

Deciding ’twas better to humor her husband, even though his actions and words made no sense at all, she tugged free her laces, shrugged the dress off her shoulders, and let the blue fabric puddle on the floor.

“On the third floor there is a chamber where I keep my bow and arrows. And the breeches. The barrows have been taken to a slaughterhouse in a village near the coast.” She loosened the ribbon around the neck of her chemise and an icy chill assaulted the back of her knees as the transparent material fell to the stone floor. “The coin I stole from Mordred’s rent collectors was left in an alcove in the church at the abbey near Shelbourne.”

He cupped her jaw.

She met his gaze, standing tall before him in her stockings, slippers, and garters, and naught else.

“My cyrtel is gone.” Her fingernails dug into her palms.

“And breathtaking you look, wife, in naught but the finery a woman should wear.

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