Page 35 of My Fair Viking

It was she who put a finger to her chin and tapped thoughtfully now. There was more to this man than she'd originally thought.

He stared at her hotly, waiting for an answer. "Well?" he prodded finally when she refused to respond to his request for a kiss. A kiss that would be more than a mere kiss. She was afraid to imagine exactly what that might entail, but for a certainty it was bound to prove dangerous to her equilibrium.

When she still declined to answer, he moved on to another subject. "In all honesty, I must thank you, as well."

"Me? For what?"

"You are correct in saying that I am a physician. I am also a man… as I intend to show you someday. I was a brother… at one time. I am a stepson. And I am a friend. But most of all, I am a physician. Somehow… God only knows how… I forgot that for a while. Some say that God is the Supreme Healer. Mayhap He arranged events so that I would separate myself from society and medicine for those two years… something I needed to do so that my wounds would mend. Mayhap it was also God who arranged for me to be kidnapped by a warrior-wench who brought me to this lost land.

That was the most backhanded compliment she'd ever been given. But she was well pleased, more so than if he'd given her false praise about her beauty, as men were inclined to do when in the company of women. His comment relieved her guilt somewhat, too. But, really, he used the most tangled logic she'd ever encountered. "Methinks you give your God too much credit."

"Methinks I have not given Him enough, and that has been my problem."

Religion? From this rascal? He is ever confusing me. Does he do it a purpose? Probably. "You are a good doctor, aren't you?"

"Yea, I am," he answered without humility. She expected no less from him. "And you, my fair Vking. Are you a good soldier?" he asked, taking her hand and twining their fingers together. She tried to pull away, shamed by the size of her hands and the less-than-feminine calluses on her palms, but he would not allow that. Instead, he freed only his thumb and began to caress her wrist, back and forth. What a glorious, glorious sensation centered there where her pulse began to beat wildly! You would have thought he was doing something intimate, or scandalous, but all he was doing was caressing her wrist with a thumb, whilst he watched her, waiting for an answer.

An answer? Blessed Thor! I forget the question. Oh, he asked if I was a good soldier. "Yea, I am a good soldier… the best a woman could be… or most men for that matter."

"I could give you an ointment for that itch."

What that offer had to do with being a good soldier, she had no idea. "What itch?" She cocked her head in question.

"The one right there," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he stared at the crotch of her braies.

She blushed furiously.

"The one you scratch on occasion… especially when you notice one of your men doing the same."

She tried to pull her hand away, again to no avail. The man saw too much by half. She did try to take on some masculine traits. The way she walked, for one thing, when she remembered not to roll her hips. Her garments, for another thing. Crude gestures, for still another. It was silly, she supposed, especially if people like this brute noticed that they were not natural movements.

"Now, now, do not be embarrassed. I think it's rather adorable, actually… in a silly sort of way."

"Adorable? You think my scratching my private parts is adorable? I need to rethink my actions. I really do. Adorable is not the image I am trying to convey."

He threw his head back and laughed. What a wonderful sound his laughter was! Warm and spontaneous and very, very sensual.

When he was done laughing at her, he pulled a mock-somber face and asked her the most unexpected thing: "Well, isn't there some important question you have been yearning to ask me?"

She couldn't imagine what he was referring to.

He stood and pulled her to her feet with him. An amazing feat in itself. She did not realize he had the strength.

"Don't you want to ask me what I am wearing under my robe?"

When his mischievous comment finally penetrated the daze she was in, she blushed again, because, of course, she had wondered idly about that very subject. But a woman, and her pride, could stand only so much teasing. She pulled hard, and he released her hand. As she stomped down the rampart path, she heard the oaf laughing.

But she did not stop stomping, and he did not stop laughing… until he called out, "Nothing."

And then he reminded her, "You owe me, sweet lady-warrior. Do not forget the kiss."

As if I could!

Chapter Seven

"Psssssttt!"

Adam was about to step down the steep wooden stairs leading from the ramparts when he heard the hissing sound. Was it Tyra, having second thoughts about the kiss? Had she decided to give it to him now, rather than later? He smiled to himself, liking the idea of all this privacy for a kiss that he guaranteed would melt her bones.