Page 17 of The Shipwreck
“Indeed?”her mother asked with a sly lift of her brow.“I’ll have to teach you how when your arm heals.”
He narrowed his eyes.Teach him to milk a sheep?Did she plan to enslave him?The idea was absurd.He was the son of a noble, a warrior.And unless she meant to keep him tied up, he’d easily fight his way free.A featherweight wench and her four-year-old daughter were no match for a Viking.
But this was good news.Without the imminent threat of death and with the benefit of time, he could easily lull her into a false trust.Then, when she least expected it, he’d manage his escape.
“Want to see my picture?”Kimbery asked him.She didn’t wait for an answer, galloping into the bedchamber and returning with a square piece of slate.
He turned his head to look at it.“Is that me?”
She nodded.
“Did you draw it?”
She nodded again.
“What does it say?”
“Kimbery,” her mother interrupted, “don’t bother him.”
“I’m not.”Then she pointed to the letters, confiding to him in a loud whisper, “It says Da.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that.The little girl certainly was bullheaded.
Her mother, obviously eager to end their conversation, asked, “How is the sloke doing, Kimmie?”
Kimbery set the slate down and peered into the clay pot nestled amongst the coals.“It’s bubbling, Mama.”
“Good.Don’t stand too close to the fire.”
The little girl took a dramatic step backward and started idly twirling her braid between her fingers.Her gaze slid over to him, then to the floor, and she wrinkled her forehead in concern.Following her eyes, he saw he was crushing her cloth doll beneath his hip.He moved aside as much as he could, which wasn’t very much.
“Mama,” she said plaintively, “I want Maeve back.”
The woman clucked her tongue.“You shouldn’t have given her to him.”
Kimbery’s bottom lip trembled.
The woman sighed softly.“Very well.You stay back.I’ll get her.”
She approached carefully and crouched beside him.She smelled fresh, like sunshine and sweet grass.Her underdress was still untied, and when she bent forward, he could see the upper crescent of her breast, as pale and smooth as cream.A surge of lust rose in him, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that she began rummaging under his buttock for the doll.
His uneasy grunt alerted her to what she was doing.Suddenly mortified, she seized the doll and yanked it out, unfortunately tearing its arm in the process.
Naturally, Kimbery began screaming in horror at the sight, and it took several moments before her mother could placate her with the fact that the doll could be easily repaired.
Meanwhile, Brandr was glad his hands were bound over his lap, for the sight of his rising desire would undoubtedly upset them even more.It certainly upsethim.He’d lost his wife less than a year ago.It wasn’t right that he should be aroused by this strange woman.
Eventually order was restored, though the woman had to pause in her other chores to stitch the doll’s arm back on.When she was finished, the little girl studied her handiwork intently to be sure it was correct.Apparently satisfied, she took the doll into her bedchamber, chattering to it all the way.
The woman was busy the rest of the day.He’d never seen anyone work so hard.Even the thralls of his country were allowed to rest.But she labored from sunrise to well after sunset, keeping the fire stoked, preparing supper, milking the sheep, laundering linens, making cheese, mending clothes, even teaching her daughter to read and write.No wonder she wanted to make a slave out of him.
The seaweed pottage was remarkably tasty, especially after she added the fresh sheep’s milk, smoked fish, and wild onions to it.It might not be the succulent roast pig he preferred, but he had to admire her ability to make delicious fare out of what was at hand.Indeed, if he’d come to Pictland for pillage and prisoners, he would have considered himself lucky to take such a resourceful woman home as a slave.
At the end of the day, the woman heated water for Kimbery’s bath and undressed her.As the little girl streaked through the cottage naked, squealing that she didn’t want a bath, Brandr had to bite back a smile.Eventually, her mother caught her and plopped her into a makeshift tub of a split ale cask.After a bit, the little girl’s protests subsided, and she began playing in the water, singing and splashing.By the time she was scrubbed clean, her mother’s kirtle was drenched, and Kimbery now didn’t want to getoutof the tub.
She kicked and screamed as her mother picked her up.Brandr, amused by the wicked little sprite’s antics, couldn’t help but laugh aloud.
Avril turned in surprise.The Northman was grinning.His eyes sparkled like the sunlit sea, and his teeth flashed as white as snow.But it was the low rumble of his laughter that took her breath away.She didn’t realize how much she’d missed that sound.She hadn’t heard male laughter in four long years.
