Page 63 of The Blue Viking

Turning her head to glance back at him over her shoulder, she said, “Thank you.”

“ ’Twas my pleasure, m’lady.” He had just leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips when they heard a commotion out in the hall.

“Lemme go, you cod-suckin’ Viking bastard!”

“Ouch! Kick me again, you smelly whelp, and your backside’s gonna wear a blister the size of my hand.”

“Jamie,” Maire said.

“Toste,” Rurik said.

They both rushed to the door, and, to their amazement, they found the little boy lying flat on his back on the corridor floor, practically spitting fire. Sitting on the boy’s stomach, panting heavily, was Toste, who had a bruise above his right eye, scratch marks on his face, and a rip in his tunic.

Off to the side was the scraggly pet cat, Rose, whose back was arched, its teeth bared as it hissed its displeasure. The animal’s fur was caked with mud and bits of grass and twigs. In some places, there were bald or thinning spots on its pelt.

“Go back to whate’er you were doing,” Toste suggested with a grin. “I have the situation under control.”

The “situation” said a word so foul Rurik blanched and Maire gasped.

“Nice amber,” Toste commented irrelevantly, his gaze snagged on the gift Rurik had just given Maire.

Maire squealed with embarrassment and placed crossed palms over the exposed skin above her chemise bodice.

“I thought it was supposed to be a bride gift,” Toste added with a grin at Rurik.

Rurik felt his face heat up at Toste’s carelessly tossed remark. It had been a gift he’d planned to give to his betrothed on the morning after their wedding, to show his pleasure in her, but a man could change his mind. Couldn’t he?

Quickly, he glanced at Maire to see if she’d heard Toste’s words. Her face was bright red, but that might still be the result of Toste ogling her breasts. He hoped so.

“What are you doing up and about so early?” Rurik inquired of Toste and Jamie, wanting—nay, needing—to change the subject.

Toste sliced him a disbelieving scowl. “Are you daft, man? Everyone from here to Northumbria is awake from all that caterwauling Bolthor is producing.”

Rurik had to grin at that.

But Maire was not grinning. Forgetting momentarily that she wore only her chemise, she placed a hand on each hip and demanded, “What are you doing in the keep, Jamie? And don’t think you are going to escape punishment for that word I just heard come from your mouth.”

“He made me come here,” Jamie spat out. The boy, still flat on his back, imprisoned by Toste’s greater weight, looked directly at Rurik as he spoke.

“You?” Maire inquired of him, incredulously.

“Aye, the bloody damn Viking what’s been swivin’ me own mother, that’s who,” Jamie answered for him.

“Jamie, stop it! Halt that midden talk right now!” Maire told her son. Then she directed her attention back to Rurik, “How could you, Rurik? I told you how important it was to keep Jamie hidden away, protected from the MacNabs.”

“Yea, you did, but some things happened yesterday, whilst we were otherwise occupied. I made a decision, as chieftains are often called upon to do, that will better protect the boy.” His chin rose in defiance, daring her to disagree with his expertise.

“What things? What have the MacNabs done now? And why was I not told afore this?” Her green eyes grew cloudy with anger, and her cheeks flushed with the strong emotion roiling through her. Despite all that, the only thing Rurik could focus on was her heaving chest, highlighted by the amber pendant.

“See, mother, he’s just a bloody Viking. See how he gawks at your tits like a lackwit calf.”

“That’s it,” Rurik declared with an exclamation of disgust. Shoving Toste aside, he picked up the now squirming and squealing Jamie and tossed him over his shoulder. “This boy has been begging for a battle with me since first we met. So be it.”

“Nay!” Maire shrieked with alarm. “Jamie is my son, and mine to correct when he has done wrong.”

“You’re wrong, Maire. This is between me and the boy. I think the first thing we will start with is a bath. You stink to high Asgard, boy.”

“Doona be callin’ me ‘boy.’ I am James, High Laird of the Campbell Clan.” The boy sounded pathetic, his head bobbing against Rurik’s back as he spoke upside down.