Page 52 of The Outlaw Viking

“Anyhow, I’ve never tried edible underwear myself, but I understand that it comes in different flavors, like strawberry or lemon. I’ll bet there’s even some that tastes like cherry Lifesavers.”

“Really?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked with a laugh.

Selik shook his head from side to side, convinced now that she was fibbing. “Truly, you amaze me, woman. Do you stay up all night inventing these outrageous tales to scandalize me?”

“Are you scandalized?”

“Nay. You disconcert me, and that is, no doubt, your purpose. I will not allow you to divert me, however. Heed me well on this one thing. You swore not to escape, and I hold you to your vow. Stay at Ravenshire with Tykir.”

“Will you return?”

Selik scowled at her, refusing to answer.

“But where—”

“Where I go and if I return is my concern. Just follow my orders. And stay near the keep. There are Saxons about, I wager, and the bastards would lop off your winsome head in a trice, never stopping to ask why you traveled with The Outlaw. Tis enough that they think I favor your company. T have assigned Gorm to watch over you—”

“You wouldn’t dare. I don’t want that slimebucket within a mile of me.”

Selik’s face stiffened with menace. “All my men have orders to protect you. Has Gorm done aught to harm you? On my oath, I will skin the misbegotten cur alive if he has touched even a hair on your fair body.”

Fair? Rain honed in irrelevantly on his inadvertent compliment. Selik had called her beautiful last night, but she had doubted his sincerity. Was it possible it hadn’t been a line? Could he care for her? Was the emotion he displayed just now a sign of deeper feelings?

But then Rain’s heart sunk as his other words sunk in, I will skin the man alive. “Selik, please tell me you don’t skin people.”

He grinned. “It was just an expression, sweetling. Even I draw the line somewhere.”

She laughed shakily. “Well, I knew that.”

He shot her a look of amused disbelief. “Do you ever admit being wrong?”

A short time later, Rain watched with dismay from the steps leading up to the great hall as Selik mounted Fury. This was the Selik of the battlefield, the warrior of the Brunanburh painting, the man who had haunted her nightmares for years, drawing her back through the tunnel of time.

Wearing a thigh-length tunic of flexible chain mail over a wool hauberk and tight leggings, Selik expertly maneuvered the reins of the horse as it pranced nervously about the bailey awaiting the half-dozen men who would travel with him. He sheathed his lethal sword, Wrath, at his side, and hung his pike and helmet from special saddle hooks.

His eyes, distant and formidable, locked with Rain’s. There was no emotional connection now. Rain realized, with foreboding, that his berserk mode had taken over.

“Take care,” Rain whispered in a soft, shaky voice.

Selik didn’t seem to hear her words as he stared blankly ahead, ignoring her, but then she noticed his Adam’s apple move jerkily several times as if he was trying, but unable to speak. He surprised her by nodding. Then, without speaking, he rode off.

Watching his departing back, Rain felt as if he were taking a part of her with him. It was incomprehensible to her how a man she had met so recently could have touched her so deeply. She was beginning to think she would never be able to return to the future if it meant leaving Selik behind.

The moment Selik disappeared from sight, Rain went searching for Tykir, determined to get some questions answered. How could she help Selik if she knew nothing about him?

She found Tykir in his bedchamber with Ubbi exercising his leg. The men had improvised a primitive form of physical therapy by tying a small sack of flour to Tykir’s ankle. Lying on the bed, he was raising his leg up and down in slow repetitions.

“Swimming would be a good exercise to strengthen your leg muscles, too, Tykir. And massage. In fact, I can work on the muscles for you when you’re done with the leg lifts.”

Tykir and Ubbi both looked toward her as she approached the bed, raising their eyebrows skeptically.

“Swimming this time of year? I think not, sister. Methinks the leg would just cramp up.”

“It might be just the thing for speeding up the healing process, actually. And you, too, Ubbi,” she said, directing her attention toward the little man. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your arthritis. After you’re done with Tykir, I want to examine you. I think I might be able to help.”

Ubbi backed away from her. “Art-rye-tits?” Then he stood and threw his stooped shoulders back in challenge. “Examine me? Nay, ye will not be touchin’ me body. ’Tis unseemly fer a maid to even think such.”