Page 49 of The Viking’s Captive

“Actually, I think Adam rather likes her.”

“He does?” Thorvald’s brain might have been injured, and he might not be thinking as clearly as he should, but he was too crafty not to recognize an opportunity when it stared him in the face. “How does she feel about him?”

Rafn shrugged. “I think she likes him, too. Oh, they exchange word-jabs at every turn. But when she is not looking, he stares at her like a hungry wolf, and when he is not looking, she stares at him like a hungry wolf, too.”

Thorvald couldn’t have been happier. He had given Tyra, his firstborn and most beloved, a free hand in choosing if and when she would marry … to the detriment of her sisters. Was the long wait finally over?

“What of his bloodlines?”

“You remember Selik and Rain … from Jorvik? Adam is their adopted son. Tykir of Dragonstead—who is here now, by the by—and Eirik of Ravenshire are his stepuncles, or foster uncles or some such thing.”

“Good enough!” Thorvald nodded his head, although his eyes were already beginning to close with weariness. “Although I had always wanted her to find a fierce warrior to take over for me when I am gone.”

“My lord!” Rafn said with affront.

“Oh, do not be getting your braies all in a knot, Rafn. I know you and Vana will wed the moment Tyra is settled. And I know full well that you want the kingship more than any other. It may very well come to that.”

Rafn’s stiffened shoulders relaxed. “There is a problem, though.”

“When is there not?” Thorvald said through a yawn. He was fighting to stay awake.

“Tyra has decided on a new campaign. She renounces all ties of kinship, and then she will join the Varangian Guard, thus leaving herself husbandless and her sisters free to marry.”

“The girl always was bullheaded.” Like her father. He wasn’t sure if he thought that or Rafn said it. It mattered not.

“She appears to be determined.”

No more determined than I. Cut myself off from my first child? I think not!“You must do several things for me, Rafn.”

His trusty captain leaned closer to hear his whispered words.

“Do not tell anyone that I awakened, or that we talked.”

Rafn appeared confused, but he nodded.

“And bring me a boar steak, along with a horn of mead … all under cover, of course.”

“My lord?” Rafn was definitely confused.

“I have a plan,” was all Thorvald would say, for he was soon unconscious again.

But the king wasn’t the only one making plans…

“What we need here is a plan.”

Drifa was speaking to three of her sisters, as well as the Lady Alinor, as they helped her sort large bunches of cut flowers and herbs, which would be dried and used in various ways over the winter. Some would be used in potpourris, others crushed into salves, some of the more fragrant ones mixed with rushes to spread about the bedchamber floors. They were in an upper solar of the wood, castle … one of three solars in all, thanks to Breanne’s obsession with building.

“What kind of a plan?” Vana wanted to know. “We were talking about Tyra. What has that to do with … oh, I see.”

“A wedding plan. For Tyra,” Drifa announced. “We already know that she likes him, and he likes her, though neither would admit to such. The question is how can we make Tyra more desirable to the man? Irresistible, really.”

“Oh, I love it. I love, love, love it!” Alinor said, clapping her hands together with excitement … which caused her infant to blink his eyes, squirm around in his cradle, then nestle back to sleep in the soft furs.

“Hmmmm,” Breanne said and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and a pot of ink. “Let’s make a list.”

“She dresses like a man,” Ingrith complained.

“Well, then, that should be number one,” Drifa suggested. “Write that down, Breanne. Womanly attire.”