Page 29 of My Fair Viking

"I never knew that. Do not overhandle a sword. I will have to remember that. See, Tunni, I told you how smart the man was."

If the rascal thought he was going to soften him with flattery, he was sorely deluded. Adam was about to tell the lot of them to go away and stop bothering him, but the little girl—Kristin—the one who could be Adela all those years ago, except her hair was blond and Adela's had been black, and her eyes were honey brown while Adela's had been blue… well, she was losing her shyness. Inch by inch she moved closer to Adam, who would have inched away from her if his bed wasn't built into the wall.

When she was practically nose to nose with him, she put a tiny hand on his forearm and said in her squeaky, little-girl voice, "I like you."

Adam could not take much more of this agony. He put his face in his hands, trying his best not to lash out at the children, who had no way of knowing how much their very presence affected him.

The little girl hugged him then. Nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck, wrapping her sticklike arms around his shoulders, patting him on the back as if to comfort him, she whispered the most incredible thing: "Be happy."

The selfsame words Adela had whispered to him just before she died.

Tyra was miserable.

Her father was deathly ill and might very well pass to the Other World on the morrow if the healer's operation failed. Even now, the Valkyries could be preparing an escort to Asgard for him.

Her sisters were nigh driving her mad with their constant nagging about marriage, marriage, marriage. And as always when in their company, she felt so… inferior.

Alrek and his brood had latched on to Adam and Rashid like barnacles on a ship's bottom and were tripping over themselves trying to do Adam favors he neither wanted or deserved. Like right now, they were presumably off at the well house laundering Adam's hose… a job he had no doubt given them just to get them out from underfoot.

She was no worse than Alrek, though. She, who had disdained men for many a year, had developed this embarrassing fascination with the man. When he was out of sight, she kept looking for him. When he was within sight, she tried her best to avoid looking at him. And when he was close to her—oh, when he was close to her, by all the gods and goddesses!—her face heated, her heart raced, her breasts swelled, and she felt the most uncomfortable ache in her lower belly. She hated it!

She let her gaze roam the great hall that was so familiar to her. Raised platforms surrounded each of the five large open hearths. On these platforms were long trestle tables, brought in just before each of the two daily meals, and ornately carved settles, or benches, at the lower end of the hall.

She sat at the high table on the dais of the great hall now, awaiting the evening meal… sure to be a feast of sorts, as all meals were at Stoneheim under Ingrith's supervision. Sure enough, a trumpet blared just then, announcing the start of the evening meal—another of Ingrith's bright ideas for enhancing their dinner, which the Viking men snickered about behind her back but put up with nonetheless. No one wanted to offend sweet Ingrith. The housecarls and kitchen thralls began filing into the hall, carrying platters and platters of food for the three hundred or more Viking hesirs and their ladies who had gathered there, sitting at the long trestle tables, sipping their mead and beer.

By thunder! It was only a welcome-home dinner… and a subdued one at that because of their king's illness. Still, there were more than eight types of fish, including baked sea trout stuffed with onions and mushrooms, an enormous whole cod that had been roasted over hot coals, creamed and salt herring, pickled eels, salmon in dill sauce, a cod and leek soup, several dozen baked brown trout, and hákarl, or cured shark. Most Norsemen would be satisfied with plain fish, dried or raw, smeared with butter.

Aside from the fish, there were an entire reindeer pit-roasted in hot coals; pork and leek stew slow-simmered with carrots, onions, celery, and barley; a stringy goat pottage; a large goose stuffed with hard-boiled eggs; and that ever popular hrútspungur, or ram's testicles pickled in whey and pressed into a cake. Bowls of butter accompanied huge platters of flatbread, along with pots of horseradish and mustard. An array of hard and soft cheeses included the Norse favorite skyr, a creamy curd cheese often flavored with fruit.

And vegetables! Blessed Freyja! There were cabbages, field beans, peas, carrots, and turnips. For the sweet palate, the traditional haverbread or oatcakes, plus stewed prunes, cinnamon apples, hazelnut tarts, and fresh berries with cream.

It was a veritable feast fit for a king, but the everyday fare at Stoneheim. If Ingrith didn't wed soon, she was going to turn them all into milksops. Or fat Vikings.

With a long sigh, Tyra put her face in her hands and wondered how she was going to survive this night… and the next day. And food was the least of her troubles, she realized as Adam came up and sat down beside her.

He smelled of clean soap and warm male. He smelled good enough to eat.

Chapter Six

"Why are you so sad?" Adam asked.

Without being invited, he had sat down in the chair next to her, which must have become empty when Rafn went to the garderobe. Not that being invited ever seemed necessary for this rogue.

"I'm not sad, really. Just somber, thinking about everything to be done on the morrow. Worrying about my father."

He nodded his understanding. Looking about the massive hall, he must be noticing that despite the hum of conversation and laughter, the same air of sobriety had settled in like an impending storm cloud. Tension lay in the background of all that her people said and did. They were all waiting for the next day and the outcome of the medical procedure on their king.

"So, what do you think of Stoneheim?" she asked

He arched his brows and grinned. "Not what I expected."

She arched her brows back at him.

He thought for a bit while a serving maid poured him a wooden goblet of mead. He took a deep draught before leaning back in his chair and answering her. "After force-feeding all of us that disgusting gammelost aboard ship, I thought there would be more of the same here."

"I left Stoneheim in a hurry. There was no time to gather tasty provisions from Ingrith's larder," Tyra told him before she realized how defensive she sounded. "You thought we ate stinksome cheese all the time at home?"

He nodded… and grinned some more.