Page 114 of My Fair Viking

Tyra was gone. Again.

Adam caught up with her halfway to Byzantium.

She was by herself, brushing down her horse in the stable of a small village. She had planned to sleep here for several hours on a wool blanket placed over the straw. Taking no chances, her sword would be at the ready by her right arm and a battle-ax near her left.

That plan was cut short when she glanced up and saw Adam standing in the open doorway of the stall. He was leaning back against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest, his ankles crossed casually at the ankles. His nonchalant pose didn't fool her, though. He practically had smoke blowing from his nostrils.

"Adam," she acknowledged, trying to sound calm, when inside her heart was thundering. She resumed her brushing, as if his appearance had been totally expected.

"Tyra, you are in big trouble. The biggest trouble of your life. So big you should be shivering in your boots and begging for my mercy."

"Adam, I can explain."

"Oh, I am sure you think so. But we will save that for later. We have a longship to catch now."

She tilted her head to the side in question. "For where?"

"Northumbria."

"Don't you think you should ask if I want to go to your home?"

"The time for asking is long past."

She did not like his domineering tone… not one bit. But she would save that battle for a later date. "Where are my father and the others?"

"Following close behind. They will meet up with us at Hawkshire… some of them, leastways. Not Tykir or the hundreds of soldiers your father hired. They will go directly to Stoneheim."

"My sisters will be overwhelmed with all the extra work caused by the new arrivals."

"Your sisters are at Hawkshire."

Her mouth dropped open at that news. "How did that come about?"

He waved a hand dismissively, obviously not wanting to discuss it now.

She sighed deeply at all the changes that had happened. "I need to go back to Stoneheim for a while… to think."

"You are going to Britain with me," he declared, "where you can think all you want… or not think. Frankly, I do not care. Your fate is in my hands now, my warrior wench. Do not doubt that for one moment."

"Of all the… !" Her words trailed off as Adam grabbed her by the nape of the neck with one hand and raised a large broadsword over her head with the other. Was he going to lop off her head? He looked angry enough. But, no, the tap on her head was light, but the pincer-squeeze on her neck was hard. She found her legs buckling and her vision fading away. She was about to faint. As a doctor, he must know just the right spot to pinch to get that result, she decided with utter irrelevance.

Even as she was drifting into blackness, she felt the brute lift her by the waist, toss her over his shoulder, and carry her off to his mount.

The tables had truly been turned now. She and Adam had come full circle.

But what did that mean?

Chapter Twenty

One sennight later, home at last

Tyra was locked in one of the towers at Hawkshire.

Adam had barely spoken with her since he'd whacked her over the head and carted her off. He'd kept waving her off and saying, "Later!"

The tower she was in was new, one which had been erected by Breanne in Adam's absence, much to his consternation. In fact, when their weary retinue had ridden up the dirt road to Hawkshire that morning, Adam's eyes nigh bulged out of his head. Not only had the rusted drawbridge been oiled and repaired, but there were several new outbuildings, including a large structure that Breanne proudly proclaimed to be Hawkshire Hospitium.

To give Adam credit, he hadn't exploded with angry words at her sister, but Tyra could tell he'd wanted to.