Norse Jewel by Gina Conkle

Author:Gina Conkle
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: viking, historical romance, viking romance, Vikings, Scandalous, Norse Jewel, Romance Series, romance, Medieval Romance
ISBN: 9781943772704
Publisher: NYLA
Published: 2016-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Lord Hakan possessed a great treasure that he failed to share with her.

With heavy heart and rag in hand, Helena slammed the heavy green glass smoother on fine linen stretched across the whalebone board. Tendrils stuck to her cheeks and forehead from the heated glass as she pressed out wrinkles with all her might. How could he?

She should have given herself to him.

She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

She would tell him today, if he would stay long enough for them to speak.

Tonight he would stay. The king was to visit, or so the king’s man said who tarried in the yard, waiting for Hakan.

Since the Glima, Lord Hakan had buried himself in hunting: bear, deer, moose. He dragged one carcass after another to the farmstead. Then, he had gone upriver, trapping with Sven. Gone three days, he had just returned and unsaddled Agnar in the barn.

Her curious gaze strayed to the king’s message.

Stick-like marks were scratched in neat rows, but ‘twas no matter. She couldn’t read in any language, and the rare ability awed her. Hakan knew this, yet he failed to share that treasure with her. She set the smoother atop orange embers and fed her curiosity. She picked up the wooden slat, and the pad of one finger traced the indented lines.

“What are you doing?” Hakan called, striding through the longhouse.

She jumped and held out the wooden slat. “The king’s man brought this.”

“I saw him.” Hakan scowled and took the king’s message.

He went to his great chair near the hearth and read the message. Did the message bear glad tidings? She couldn’t tell, for he bent over the hearth and scraped a layer of wax into the embers. He held the board over the mild flames until the wax began to soften. With the tip of a sharp-edged stick, Hakan etched his own message to the king. Helena hovered close, examining his calloused hand as it moved the stick swiftly over soft wax.

“You read and write.” She folded her hands into her apron.

He glanced up from the board. “I do.”

“And you never told me.” And never offered to teach me.

“I did not.”

He focused on the board, and she could have been little more than a bothersome gnat. His head was bent to the task, while the stick moved with quick precision. She leaned in closer.

“I wonder if—”

“You’ll have to wait.”

He tossed the stick into the fire and went to the lintel, beckoning the king’s man and calling loudly for Gamle and Olga. Dismissed, Helena leaned against the table’s edge and rested the heels of her palms there. At a loss, she watched his broad back fill the doorway.

Hakan passed the wooden board to the king’s man. Olga came from the root cellar, wiping her hands on her apron. She scurried across the yard with Gamle when she saw Hakan’s face. Hakan issued clipped commands too quick and low for Helena to understand. She stared at the earthen floor and drummed her fingertips. Why such urgency?

“Aye,” Olga said, her head bobbing in deference.

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