Adellis rushed to the dying man’s side, recognizing him as one of Alrek’s most loyal. “Hvor er han?”
With a pained flinch, he rolled his head to the side, turning away from her.
The man was a fool if he thought her so easily put off. She crouched down, grabbed his chin, and yanked him back to face her. “Hvor er han?”
He curled his lip as though she stunk. “Hore.”
A spear embedded itself deep in the man’s chest.
She twisted around and looked up to find Thorburn, his face red with rage.
“No one calls my lady love a whore.”
“Since when do you speak Norwegian?” She stood and eased his hand away from the quivering shaft of the weapon.
“I dinna speak it, but an insult is plain in any tongue.” With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his arms. “None of these men will speak against him. Not if they are all like this one.”
“They are all like this one,” she admitted quietly, even though the truth pained her. Her people had turned on her long ago. Alrek had seen to it.
With a tender kiss to the top of her head, he held her for a moment longer, then took her hand and led her up the steps.
“Where do we go?” She hurried along beside him, scrambling to maneuver the piles of stone and great wooden beams awaiting the craftsmen’s use.
“Away from the field. The stench of this failure sickens me.”
“This is no failure. Not a one of your men fell—did they?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept striding across the bailey with the force of a charging bull. They entered the largest completed room in the keep. Workers emerged from every archway, creeping into the torchlit room. Reassured that the fighting had ended, they hurried outside, their curiosity getting the better of them.
Crude tables and benches filled the cavernous space, now empty except for them. Stone dust and rubble covered the floor, but the tables appeared to have been wiped down. Adellis recognized this as the chief gathering place, destined to be the chief’s great hall where everyone would eat and claim fealty to their liege.
“Did you see their faces?” she asked. The man would have to blind to miss their relief. It had shone from them brighter than the torches. “You protected them. This is not a failure.”
That won her a grudging side-eyed glance but still no smile. With a weary huff, he lowered himself to a bench and patted the place beside him. “Come. Sit with me, love. Grant me the comfort of yer company.”
“Comfort?” She sat and nudged him with her shoulder. “You sound like a man already long in the tooth and short in the bed.” She needed him happy. Uplifted. When his spirits flagged, hers dragged even lower.
Finally, he revealed those straight white teeth in the devilish smile she loved. “Dinna fash yerself, love. Later, I shall be more than happy to prove that ye have nay chosen an old man to walk with ye through this life.”
Adellis found herself without a response. Walk with him through this life? A promising notion, but also terrifying. Did he mean what it sounded like he meant? As his smile brightened even more, she realized she sat with her mouth open but no words coming forth. “Uhm.”
His deep, rumbling laugh echoed to the rafters. “IsuhmNorwegian for ye agree to be my wife?”
“You are a mercenary. The constable of Argyll’s vast legion ofGallóglaigh.A man such as yourself does not marry.”
“I do as I wish.” He hugged an arm around her. “I have lands. Titles, even, although I canna remember all of them.” He nuzzled a kiss behind her earlobe. “As I said, I do as I wish.”
“Your Lord of Argyll might have something to say about that.” Bitter victory soured on her tongue as his mood shifted and the sweet nuzzling ended. She hated to be right, but the proof of it shone in his face.
He cleared his throat and sat taller. “I will go to him upon our return. Ye will see.”
“I fear I shall,” she said softly, frowning down at the rough-hewn table beneath her hands. The Lord of Argyll would accept a Norwegian slave without blinking an eye, but a Norwegian wife for his constable? Doubtful.
“My lady?”
Adellis turned toward the soft greeting. Midst all the turmoil, she had forgotten about poor Gerdy. “I am glad to see you safe. What is it?”
The girl held out a plank bearing two steaming cups but didn’t smile nor meet eyes with either of them. Instead, she stared downward, occasionally stealing furtive glances toward a doorway a few steps away. “A brew,” she whispered in the same despairing tone she had used back at Alrek’s camp.
