Lord Of Hawkfell Island by Catherine Coulter

Author:Catherine Coulter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2011-01-16T23:39:47.248000+00:00

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

platter.

Harald didn’t look at her. Indeed, he turned away from her completely and spoke to Merrik, his voice overloud. “You will go trading to Kiev soon now, boy. Press me not just at this time. Soon you will go, I promise you.”

Sira said loudly, “I wish some. Don’t just stand there gawking at me. Serve me.”

Mirana looked at the girl, then looked down at her wrist. There were purple bruises where Sira had gripped her so tightly, then twisted.

“Why do you just stand there? Do you not understand me? Are you witless? Serve me now.”

“I have learned from my husband,” Mirana said loud enough so that all would hear her, “that rudeness can be dealt with simply and practically, with no undue anger or insult.”

She dumped the platter of mutton and leeks on Sira’s head, turned on her heel, and walked out of the longhouse, paying no heed to the shrieks and wails of fury and outrage behind her. She thought she heard Amma laugh, but she couldn’t be certain. She did hear Kerzog bark loudly, and could easily imagine the huge mongrel trying to lick the mutton from Sira’s face.

That image made her smile.

18

IT WAS COLDand becoming colder still, the sky black with turbulent clouds, roiling and bursting against each other, harbinger of a violent storm to come. The wind was whipping the waves against the rocks below her, sending plumes of spray thirty feet upward only to crash downward again hard and fast, the sound of mad thunder. She felt the cold mist on her cheeks and stepped back from the cliff edge. She shivered and rubbed her arms but didn’t even think of returning to the longhouse and the pandemonium she’d left behind her.

She grinned suddenly, the picture of Sira shrieking like a witch, as leeks and mutton thick with gravy slithered off her head and face and onto her gown, ah, it was a vision that would probably stay with her until she died. Without a doubt, Mirana had made an enemy.

But Sira was already an enemy.

What would Rorik do?

She felt a shaft of pain slice through her belly. Her marriage of one day—surely a hopeful beginning—had collapsed into a pile of cold ashes.

She saw his pain again in her mind’s eye, unguarded in that instant, such pain she couldn’t comprehend.

What would he do now? Would he send her away? Kill her?

“The little princess is still shrieking like a goat, with Rorik’s mother trying to calm her. There is laughter, but it is muffled behind hands. Kerzog holds no respect for her plight. He is trying to lick the gravy from her neck and face.”

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