Read Online Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series by The Defiant Heart - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: The Defiant Heart
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from the water.
Satisfied, Thora straightened, smoothed the panels of cloth that overlay the front and back of her gown, then, after casting a glance to the white-haired Dane, returned to her friends.
»«
Anger exploded through Lyting. He started forward as the bearish-looking woman descended upon the maid. Thora Kolsdóttir. He recognized her from yestereve and gained an instant dislike for the woman. In the next moment he halted as the maid called out something and Thora’s arm went rigid. The woman looked ready to chew iron rivets, but she released her hold on the girl.
Lyting rubbed his hand along his jaw. What could the maid have spoken? He watched her pluck the fallen garments from the river. A smile touched his lips and then died as he discovered Thora’s eyes upon him. Incredibly, she tried to draw his interest as she strutted toward the cluster of women, giving a slight pitch to her great hips. In truth, the movement produced more joggle than sway. Meanwhile, her companions whispered and tittered among themselves as their eyes strayed over him.
Lyting felt nauseated. Then his anger boiled afresh. How long had these women been observing him? Had they seen how his gaze fairly consumed the maid? How their eyes had met and wed for that one brief moment? Jealous shrews. Was that the cause of this scene? Did they punish the maid on his account?
His choler rose another degree as the women continued to devour him with covetous eyes. If ‘twas a closer look they desired, then they would have it, along with a blistering piece of his mind.
He began to take a forward step, but the children chose that very moment to wrap themselves about his legs.
“Look, Uncle. Ketil.” Richard waved toward the wharf.
“ Ketil,” chimed Kylan.
Lyting reined his impulses, remembering the lads. He hauled his eyes from the women and sliced a glance along the pier. There, he spied Ketil examining a length of line. Nearby stood Skallagrim — watching, solemn-faced.
Lyting stilled as he and the chieftain regarded each other across the distance. Skallagrim raised his bearded chin, then shifted his gaze to the maid and then to his sister, Thora.
“Up, Uncle.” Kylan pulled at Lyting’s thigh and hip in an attempt to scramble upward. Richard likewise began to scale his uncle’s other leg.
Stifling the fire that yet burned within, Lyting looked down on the round little heads and allowed his smile to return. He tousled their ebony locks, then lifted them, one to each hip.
Again, the boys called out and waved at Ketil until they captured his attention. Ketil’s teeth gleamed through his blaze of beard, and he lifted his hand in acknowledgment.
Lyting nodded a greeting to Ketil as well, his arms occupied with the two lively pups. Still distracted, he deflected his gaze back toward the maiden.
‘Twould seem that Skallagrim watched over his prize captive as closely as he, himself, did. Likely, the chieftain was not the sort of man who would welcome interference with that which he held as his own — slave or sister.
Lyting stabbed a look at the women, yet debating whether or not to confront them with his displeasure. A muscle flexed along his jaw. Teeth clamped tight, he vented a breath. For the moment he would resist the temptation — as long as they left the maid undisturbed.
He glanced once more to the auburn-haired beauty, resolving to remain here for the time, near at hand, and enjoy sporting with young Richard and Kylan.
As his humor flowed slowly back, Lyting sank down into the coolness of the water, drawing the boys with him. Their gasps quickly dissolved to laughter as he squiggled his fingers over their soft bellies and flashed them an openhearted smile.
»«
Ketil watched with gladsome approval at the cheery little scene. ‘Twas good to see Lyting relaxing with the mites. He loved children and should have a hall filled with his own. But with his mind set on shutting himself within the sterile walls of Corbie,
Satisfied, Thora straightened, smoothed the panels of cloth that overlay the front and back of her gown, then, after casting a glance to the white-haired Dane, returned to her friends.
»«
Anger exploded through Lyting. He started forward as the bearish-looking woman descended upon the maid. Thora Kolsdóttir. He recognized her from yestereve and gained an instant dislike for the woman. In the next moment he halted as the maid called out something and Thora’s arm went rigid. The woman looked ready to chew iron rivets, but she released her hold on the girl.
Lyting rubbed his hand along his jaw. What could the maid have spoken? He watched her pluck the fallen garments from the river. A smile touched his lips and then died as he discovered Thora’s eyes upon him. Incredibly, she tried to draw his interest as she strutted toward the cluster of women, giving a slight pitch to her great hips. In truth, the movement produced more joggle than sway. Meanwhile, her companions whispered and tittered among themselves as their eyes strayed over him.
Lyting felt nauseated. Then his anger boiled afresh. How long had these women been observing him? Had they seen how his gaze fairly consumed the maid? How their eyes had met and wed for that one brief moment? Jealous shrews. Was that the cause of this scene? Did they punish the maid on his account?
His choler rose another degree as the women continued to devour him with covetous eyes. If ‘twas a closer look they desired, then they would have it, along with a blistering piece of his mind.
He began to take a forward step, but the children chose that very moment to wrap themselves about his legs.
“Look, Uncle. Ketil.” Richard waved toward the wharf.
“ Ketil,” chimed Kylan.
Lyting reined his impulses, remembering the lads. He hauled his eyes from the women and sliced a glance along the pier. There, he spied Ketil examining a length of line. Nearby stood Skallagrim — watching, solemn-faced.
Lyting stilled as he and the chieftain regarded each other across the distance. Skallagrim raised his bearded chin, then shifted his gaze to the maid and then to his sister, Thora.
“Up, Uncle.” Kylan pulled at Lyting’s thigh and hip in an attempt to scramble upward. Richard likewise began to scale his uncle’s other leg.
Stifling the fire that yet burned within, Lyting looked down on the round little heads and allowed his smile to return. He tousled their ebony locks, then lifted them, one to each hip.
Again, the boys called out and waved at Ketil until they captured his attention. Ketil’s teeth gleamed through his blaze of beard, and he lifted his hand in acknowledgment.
Lyting nodded a greeting to Ketil as well, his arms occupied with the two lively pups. Still distracted, he deflected his gaze back toward the maiden.
‘Twould seem that Skallagrim watched over his prize captive as closely as he, himself, did. Likely, the chieftain was not the sort of man who would welcome interference with that which he held as his own — slave or sister.
Lyting stabbed a look at the women, yet debating whether or not to confront them with his displeasure. A muscle flexed along his jaw. Teeth clamped tight, he vented a breath. For the moment he would resist the temptation — as long as they left the maid undisturbed.
He glanced once more to the auburn-haired beauty, resolving to remain here for the time, near at hand, and enjoy sporting with young Richard and Kylan.
As his humor flowed slowly back, Lyting sank down into the coolness of the water, drawing the boys with him. Their gasps quickly dissolved to laughter as he squiggled his fingers over their soft bellies and flashed them an openhearted smile.
»«
Ketil watched with gladsome approval at the cheery little scene. ‘Twas good to see Lyting relaxing with the mites. He loved children and should have a hall filled with his own. But with his mind set on shutting himself within the sterile walls of Corbie,
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