Page 33 of The Blue Viking

And blow on the bagpipes.

Now the Viking wears a pladd,

And the lassies wanna know,

When the wind blows,

Will the arse he shows,

Be Scots…

Or Norse?

Rurik would never live this saga down. This was worse than the eel-up-Alinor’s-gown escapade, worse than the time Alinor’s sheep followed him and his fellow Vikings across Northumbria, worse even than the time he was caught in a sultan’s harem with not one or two, but five of his wives.

Wait till his friends Tykir and Eirik heard about this, along with their respective wives, Alinor and Eadyth.

Wait till his comrades in the Norse court heard about this.

Wait till his bride-to-be heard about this. Wait till his father-to-be-by-marriage heard about this.

But the worst was not yet to come, it was already at hand, for when Bolthor finished, the hall echoed with a resounding cheer, “Long live Rurik Campbell!”

Maire finally sat down next to Rurik at the high table, at his urging. Well, it wasn’t exactly urging … more like yanking her by the upper arm and whispering into her ear, “Come with me, wench.”

The first thing she did was take a long sip of uisge-beatha and murmur with appreciation as she stared into her cup, “Aaah! Just the thing for the end of a long Highland day.” Obviously, her body was more accustomed to the burning brew than his, for she did not even wince at the first taste, as he was wont to do.

“What’s got your tail in a tangle?” she asked then. “You have such a fiery expression on your face. I nigh expect to see smoke come out of your ears.”

“Oooh, your tongue outruns your good sense, m’lady. I’ll tell you why my tail is in a tangle. I am a Viking. I have been a Viking all my life. I like being a Viking. I will be a Viking on the day I die. Being Viking is a good thing. Viking, Viking, Viking. That’s who I am.”

“You like being a Viking?” she asked with surprise. Then, “What’s your point?”

He made a low, growling noise at her question. “My point,” he said, wagging a finger in her face, “is that I refuse to be a bloody Scotsman, adopted or otherwise. Your people had no right to give me the Campbell name without my permission. It’s damned humiliating. I’ll never live this down.”

“Oh, that.” She waved a hand dismissively. He’d like to wave a hand dismissively at her, right across her bottom. Mayhap he would … later. “What do you want me to do?”

“Rescind it.”

“Me? I cannot do that. Besides, it’s an honor… not one I would necessarily grant you, but—”

“You are really making me angry, Maire. And, believe me, you do not want to make me angry… especially when we have not yet begun your ‘punishment.’ ”

She waggled her hand in that dismissive manner again, as if to say, “Oh, that!” Truly, the woman tempted the devil when she behaved so flippantly. Did she not recognize that her time of reckoning was fast approaching? But then she put a hand on his forearm, her face went soft, and her eyes misted over. And his anger melted, along with his bones. “Thank you, Rurik.”

He tried to call back his anger, to no avail. “For what?” he grumbled.

“You spoke on behalf of my clansmen. You gave them back their pride. You are a better man than I ever thought…”

He arched a brow at her unfinished comment. “Than you ever thought a Viking could be? Or just me?”

She shrugged. “Just know this … tomorrow, or in a sennight, or even in an hour, I will probably go back to considering you a Norse toad. But for that one moment, when you stood up to the MacNab in my courtyard and praised my clansmen … well, you were a better man then than I have ever known in my life.”

“Meekness does not suit you, Maire.”

“Cherish it whilst it lasts, Viking,” she countered with a decided grin.

Rurik loathed and savored her praise at the same time. Thor’s Knees! He could barely speak over the lump in this throat. So, all he said was, “Thank you.” But then he relaxed, cast her a deliberately provocative look, and asked, “Does that mean you will be thanking me in other ways later?”