“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “Will you let me?” His heart threatened to pound out of his chest. Their proximity made his loins tighten.
His words appeared to bring her back to the present. She shook her head and pushed him back slightly with her hands. Not in a rough way, but making her point, nonetheless.
He was glad for the reprieve. He wanted to be sure there would be no regret when they did kiss. “Until the morrow, Shield-Maiden.”
The address brought a small smile to her lips. He knew at that moment, he would be kissing them and soon. And by the pink of her cheeks, he was certain she knew it too.
“Until the morrow, Giric of Alba,” she said and lifted the latch of the chamber door. She swung it wide and stood behind it, locking gazes with him while she closed it. With a deep breath she shut the door and latched it.
Giric stood there for long moments waiting to hear her footfalls indicate that she had moved away. When they didn’t he leaned close to the door and said, “I will have my kiss soon, Shield-Maiden. And you will enjoy it as much as me. Tonight I will dream of you.”
The soft gasp he heard on the other side of the door further heated his blood. With that he turned back to the hall, grateful that no one appeared concerned about him or his actions. He located a heavy fur and settled back into a chair to try to find a comfortable spot to encourage slumber. After rooting around for a few minutes, and realizing it was not possible, he reached for the horn of ale and downed it. Perhaps that would help the dreams of his shield-maiden emerge.
Chapter Six
Her sister’s soft snores pulled Saga from her slumber. Since their chamber lacked a window, she could not discern the time, though it felt like morning. She dressed as quickly as she could and entered the hall hoping to make as little noise as possible in case the men still slept. She wanted to see how Bjorn had fared through the night and did not want anything or anyone to delay her. The fact that Gunnar was not in his bed was not a good sign.
Creeping through the chamber door and out into the main hall, she took in the scene. The stench of last night’s ale and drink as expelled by the men hung heavy in the air. If only she could lift the roof off the place sometimes.
As she turned the corner of the head table she spied a red robe covering a pair of long legs. The poor man was far too big to sleep in a chair.
Saga could not help but admire his features as he slumbered. His thick, straight brows and long, dark hair framed a strong face. There was no denying he was an attractive man. Her gaze fell to the hand that had fallen open and hovered above the floor. It was curled slightly as if he held a sword.
Her gaze drifted down the length of him. A part of her, the honest part, wanted to know what his long, hard body would feel like pressed against hers. The thought warmed her body. Were it a quick tumble with him she wanted, she could have had that last eve. But she sensed he wanted far more from her and was cautious as to how far in she should let him. Her body was interested—her heart was not.
“Is aught wrong?” he asked softly.
Her gaze shot up to meet his. She cursed herself for getting caught staring at him. How mortifying.
He smiled at her as he sat up and rubbed his neck. “How long have you been up?”
“Just now. I was about to go see how Bjorn fares. Would you like to join me?” Where that had come from she could not say.
He scraped his hand down across his beard. “Aye. I would like that.”
As he drew nearer she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “I do not think you slept very well, Giric of Alba.”
Shaking his head, he said, “I managed a little. Better than most, I expect,” he said, nodding toward the rest of his men who lay in various positions of slumber either on or near the tables. “Has Gunnar returned?”
“Nay,” she said. “Come let us make our way. I believe we both could use some cleaner air.”
“Aye, that we could,” he said with a grin.
As they were about to open the door to the hall, several servants arrived and propped them open wide. They entered with buckets of water and kindling to start the fire for cooking. It would be an hour or more before the first meal was ready and she chuckled when Giric’s stomach rumbled.
“Let us go see Bjorn then we can break our fast.”
“Aye, I think I can last that long.”
They walked in silence to Freydis’ hut. Smoke plumed from her chimney indicating someone was up and about. Saga knocked softly on the door and opened it slowly. She did not want to disturb them if they were in fact sleeping.
Freydis snoozed in a chair as Gunnar sat near Bjorn. He put his finger to his lips, but it made no difference. Freydis stirred as soon as Saga and Giric stepped inside the hut. While it was not very large, with the three big men inside, the space now felt quite cramped.
“How is he?” Saga asked.
“He will live,” Freydis said. “But he will be weak for a while. I can only imagine how irritated he will be too, when I tell him to stay abed for a sennight.”
To this, Gunnar scoffed. “You may as well tell him to don a woman’s clothing and take up weaving.”
