Page 18 of The Shipwreck
Then Kimbery, wet and slippery, taking advantage of Avril’s distraction, slid out of her grasp and began tearing around the cottage.She dodged the linen Avril held out until Avril finally gave up, figuring the little girl would dry herself off with her running.
The Viking’s smile turned bittersweet then, and a faraway look came into his eyes.Avril knew at once that he must be remembering his own daughter.
She forced her gaze away, dabbing at her damp kirtle with the linen.It wasn’t her concern.His people hadn’t cared whose children they slaughtered when they’d raided Rivenloch.Why should she care what had happened to his daughter?And yet, against her will, words fell softly from her lips.“What was your daughter’s name?”
He glanced up, as if surprised she’d read his thoughts.“Asta.”
“It’s a pretty name.”
“She was a pretty…” He choked on the words.“A pretty lass.”
She shouldn’t feel sorry for him.The Vikings killed pretty Pictish lasses all the time.But there was a deep sorrow in the Northman’s eyes that pulled at her heart.
“Who’s Inga?”The words tumbled out of her mouth unbidden, mortifying her.She should never have asked him that.He probably didn’t remember calling her by that name or kissing her anyway.
His gaze shot straight to hers.
“You…spoke her name in your sleep,” she explained.
He frowned.“I dreamt she was alive.”
“Your wife,” she guessed.
He nodded.
He must have loved her well.That kiss had been full of tenderness and desire.As odd as it was, Avril envied the dead woman.His fortunate Inga had known the love of a devoted husband.Avril had only experienced the mindless lust of a Viking berserker and a handful of men for whom she felt nothing.
Just then Kimbery went galloping past.Before Avril could catch her, the wee lass dove at the shocked Northman.She plopped herself into his lap and captured his gold-stubbled face playfully between her hands.
“Da!”she cried.
Avril’s heart leaped into her mouth.Tiny, pale, bare Kimbery looked so vulnerable against the Viking’s broad chest.Lord, he could bite off her hand with one snap of his jaws, just like that wolf in his story.
She glanced up in horror at his face.But he looked far more rattled than she was.No doubt he was unused to strange naked children leaping into his arms.
“Kimbery!”she barked.“Get away from him!”
Kimbery clambered down, looking guilty.She probably hadn’t intended to disobey.She’d only been caught up in her play.
Still, Avril didn’t dare let her think it was acceptable to traffic with Vikings.“Go to bed.Now.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Now!”
The little girl began to weep, which made Avril feel awful.After all, she’d been so happy a moment ago.But Avril couldn’t afford to let down her guard.Kimbery’s life depended upon it.
Tears of heartbreak streamed down Kimmie’s face.She started sobbing in earnest and shuffled sadly off to the bedchamber.
Avril bit her lip in remorse.It was hard being a mother.Sometimes she thought she would have had an easier time commanding the army of Rivenloch than she did watching over one wee lass.
But the horrible memory of the berserker hurling his ax into the child’s back would never be far away from her thoughts.Kimbery’s sobs might tear at her, but at least she was alive to sob.
By the time Avril cleaned up the bath, Kimmie’s crying had subsided to sniffles.“Mama?”she called tentatively from the bedchamber.“Come tell me a story.”
Avril was tempted to tell her a story about vicious invading savages from the North, to cure her of her misplaced affection for their captive.But she supposed that would give the lass nightmares.Instead, she told her the story of the time she defeated all four of her brothers in combat.
From the next room, Brandr listened in rapt fascination.The woman was telling a grand, typically Pictish tale to her daughter about a warrior wench who’d disguised herself as a man and fought against her own brothers.It was a good story, like the sagas of his people—full of excitement, adventure, and retribution—and the woman had a pleasant voice, lilting and dramatic.
