Read Online To Tempt A Viking by Michelle Willingham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michelle Willingham
Ads: Link
The heat of his hand warmed her skin and he leaned in close. ‘Could I ask you to tend my leg, if you’ve a moment?’
‘Of course.’ She swallowed the cup of ale the Irishmen had given her, rising to her feet. ‘But I think they have a healer who may be able to help you more than I can. We’ll go together and speak to her.’
With his hand in hers, she led him towards one of the older women. In her own language, she asked, ‘Do you have a healer in your tribe?’ Though the woman could not understand her, Elena pointed to Ragnar’s wound and the meaning became clear.
The woman called out a command to someone else and an older matron approached, carrying a basket.
‘Sit down,’ Elena ordered Ragnar. He did and she began unwrapping the bandage she’d tied around him. The wound was slick with blood and the flesh would undoubtedly bruise from the blows he’d received. But all of them were alive and she gave thanks for that.
The healer dipped a cloth in cool water and washed away the blood. Then she muttered words beneath her breath, packing the wound with a poultice made of more herbs.
‘I feel like a roast being seasoned,’ he remarked drily, wincing as the woman wrapped the bandage tightly.
‘But you’ll heal,’ Elena reassured him. She moved to sit by him and used a damp cloth to wipe the dust from his face. Though it was meant only to help him, his dark green eyes held her captive. She grew conscious of his sun-darkened skin and the firm line of his jaw. This man was a warrior, not an ordinary man.
When her attention rested upon his mouth, her skin tightened with heat. She’d kissed him, never imagining the feelings he would conjure.
There might be no harm in studying a handsome man. But she was a married woman, one who might be pregnant. She had no right to let her imagination wander over a fair face.
When the healer had finished wrapping Ragnar’s wound, she reached for Elena’s hand and spoke words in Irish, joining her palm to Ragnar’s.
‘What do you think she said?’ Elena asked him.
‘Probably that you should take care of me and see to my every need.’ His eyes flashed with a glint of humour. ‘You should bring food and serve it to me.’
‘Clearly, your enemy knocked your brains loose,’ she retorted, but didn’t hold back her smile. ‘Or you’re dreaming.’
His hand closed over hers, gripping her palm. ‘Perhaps I am.’ The heat of his skin against hers made her feel awkward and uncertain. But she didn’t pull away.
The Irish seemed grateful to both of them and as they built fires and prepared food for a meal, many smiled at them. One young boy toddled over to her with his arms outstretched. Elena caught him before he could tumble and he laughed. She gave him back to his mother, smiling warmly at the woman.
Though she didn’t know for certain if she would bear a child of her own, her heart wanted to believe. And now, instead of mourning her barrenness, she had a future to look forward to. She could only pray that Styr would be a part of it.
Like a physical blow, the memory of his capture slammed into her. She couldn’t shut out the vision of him being struck down and later dragged away in chains. Was he alive? Would she ever see him again? Her heart faltered, for although they’d had their marital troubles, she did care about him.
The weight of the past few days burdened her with so much fear. There were so many unanswered questions, but she could not indulge in cowardice. She had to stand strong and believe that they would find Styr. Once they did, she could rebuild their lives when she gave birth, come the early spring.
Her hand passed over her womb and she tried to imagine her body changing its shape while a precious baby grew within.
‘Are you hungry?’ Ragnar interrupted her thoughts, holding out a piece of the roasted venison. She took it, but although it was likely delicious, it tasted like dust in her mouth.
‘You’re troubled,’ Ragnar
‘Of course.’ She swallowed the cup of ale the Irishmen had given her, rising to her feet. ‘But I think they have a healer who may be able to help you more than I can. We’ll go together and speak to her.’
With his hand in hers, she led him towards one of the older women. In her own language, she asked, ‘Do you have a healer in your tribe?’ Though the woman could not understand her, Elena pointed to Ragnar’s wound and the meaning became clear.
The woman called out a command to someone else and an older matron approached, carrying a basket.
‘Sit down,’ Elena ordered Ragnar. He did and she began unwrapping the bandage she’d tied around him. The wound was slick with blood and the flesh would undoubtedly bruise from the blows he’d received. But all of them were alive and she gave thanks for that.
The healer dipped a cloth in cool water and washed away the blood. Then she muttered words beneath her breath, packing the wound with a poultice made of more herbs.
‘I feel like a roast being seasoned,’ he remarked drily, wincing as the woman wrapped the bandage tightly.
‘But you’ll heal,’ Elena reassured him. She moved to sit by him and used a damp cloth to wipe the dust from his face. Though it was meant only to help him, his dark green eyes held her captive. She grew conscious of his sun-darkened skin and the firm line of his jaw. This man was a warrior, not an ordinary man.
When her attention rested upon his mouth, her skin tightened with heat. She’d kissed him, never imagining the feelings he would conjure.
There might be no harm in studying a handsome man. But she was a married woman, one who might be pregnant. She had no right to let her imagination wander over a fair face.
When the healer had finished wrapping Ragnar’s wound, she reached for Elena’s hand and spoke words in Irish, joining her palm to Ragnar’s.
‘What do you think she said?’ Elena asked him.
‘Probably that you should take care of me and see to my every need.’ His eyes flashed with a glint of humour. ‘You should bring food and serve it to me.’
‘Clearly, your enemy knocked your brains loose,’ she retorted, but didn’t hold back her smile. ‘Or you’re dreaming.’
His hand closed over hers, gripping her palm. ‘Perhaps I am.’ The heat of his skin against hers made her feel awkward and uncertain. But she didn’t pull away.
The Irish seemed grateful to both of them and as they built fires and prepared food for a meal, many smiled at them. One young boy toddled over to her with his arms outstretched. Elena caught him before he could tumble and he laughed. She gave him back to his mother, smiling warmly at the woman.
Though she didn’t know for certain if she would bear a child of her own, her heart wanted to believe. And now, instead of mourning her barrenness, she had a future to look forward to. She could only pray that Styr would be a part of it.
Like a physical blow, the memory of his capture slammed into her. She couldn’t shut out the vision of him being struck down and later dragged away in chains. Was he alive? Would she ever see him again? Her heart faltered, for although they’d had their marital troubles, she did care about him.
The weight of the past few days burdened her with so much fear. There were so many unanswered questions, but she could not indulge in cowardice. She had to stand strong and believe that they would find Styr. Once they did, she could rebuild their lives when she gave birth, come the early spring.
Her hand passed over her womb and she tried to imagine her body changing its shape while a precious baby grew within.
‘Are you hungry?’ Ragnar interrupted her thoughts, holding out a piece of the roasted venison. She took it, but although it was likely delicious, it tasted like dust in her mouth.
‘You’re troubled,’ Ragnar
Similar Books
