Viking Surrender: Jerrik: a Viking Warrior Romance) by Felicity Brandon

Author:Felicity Brandon [Brandon, Felicity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HISTORICAL HARLOTS
Published: 2019-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

11

Jerrik

Jerrik had been stirred by a great many things in his time. The soft curve of a hot woman, or the battle-ready cries of his enemies had both roused his interest on countless occasions, but never in all his days had he woken to the scream of a child. He’d jumped from Brigid’s body, convinced they were under attack until he’d finally laid eyes on the child in the room with them. Only the sight of Bram’s wild eyes had prompted him to him throw his dagger aside.

And then the petulance of the boy had astounded him! He had flatly refused to obey his mother’s simple instructions, and when Jerrik himself had demanded his focus, the little imp had only turned and fled! He shook his head as he watched Bram’s escape, even more unimpressed with the way his wife had scrambled after him, shouting for Bram to return.

A few short strides had brought him back to the main entrance of the dwelling, where he caught up with Brigid, still wrapped only in the coarse wool blanket.

“Stop yelling,” he told her in a stern tone.

She turned, her eyes wild with worry. “But he’s gone!”

Brigid’s expression conveyed a frenzied combination of concern and exasperation, as though she could barely comprehend Jerrik’s words.

“I will fetch him back,” he explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “But not like this!”

He gestured down towards his naked body, and she nodded, finally understanding his words.

“Then let me go,” she implored him. “I should go anyway. I am his mother.”

Jerrik gazed down at the small Pict beside him. She was naked, too, save for the blanket, which had already fallen to reveal one of her luscious breasts. By Thor, Jerrik couldn’t wait to get better acquainted with those.

“You’re my wife,” he reminded her firmly. “And I’m not having you running around the village naked.”

Jerrik pulled her away by the edge of the wool, kicking the door with his bare foot so it shielded them from some of the cold air. There was still enough light to make out the fierce look in Brigid’s eyes, but the room already seemed warmer. “Now go and get dressed and start the fire. I will find Bram and bring him home. It seems he has been allowed to run amok without a father, but that will soon change.”

Brigid ran a small hand through her dishevelled mane of dark hair. “Please do not be hard on him,” she replied with passion. “He has been through so much and he is still so young.”

He snorted at that. “The boy has seen eight summers. He is no baby. I was making my own weapons and learning how to shoot them by his age.”

She shook her head, parting her lips as though she meant to protest, but one glare from Jerrik seemed to silence her.

Good, he mused, intentionally looming over her much more delicate frame. “Did you not hear my instructions?”

Brigid gulped in response, yet tentatively, she nodded. “But what about Bram?” she whispered, gazing up at him with those large hazel eyes.

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