A Viking For The Viscountess by Michelle Willingham Read Free Book Online Page B

sacrificed all else for him.
    As his own mother might have done. Arik studied her with new eyes, wondering who this woman truly was and why he had been called to guard her. He released her, but her hands rested upon him a moment longer.
    Her face held regret as she spoke. “I apologize if I led you to believe differently.”
    She had, but he said nothing of it. “When we return to shore, your slave should clean a few fish for our dinner and preserve the rest for your winter.” At least he could ensure that they wouldn’t starve. Though Juliana might be capable of catching more fish, her earlier efforts had borne little fruit.
    “Grelod is not a slave. She helps me with Harry,” Juliana explained. “And she has been my companion for many years.”
    Arik continued guiding the boat back to shore, and Harry woke up just as they arrived. He chattered happily, and though he tried to understand the boy’s dialect, it was beyond him to make sense of it. Even so, just being around the child brought a warmth to his heart. He’d always wanted a son of his own.
    He gave the boy a smaller basket of fish to carry, and Harry proudly marched beside him. Arik hefted the remainder, holding his own basket on one shoulder. When they reached the dwelling, he took a closer look at the structure. The wood had aged, and no one had bothered to repair the holes. No doubt it was freezing at night with most of the heat escaping.
    “If you prepare our meal, I will seal up the cracks in your house.”
    Juliana looked startled at the offer. “You needn’t, really. We’ll manage.”
    Did she think him incapable of it? He eyed her with a hard stare. “No woman or child should live in a house this ill-protected from the wind. I intend to change that.”
    Without waiting for her answer, he set down the basket in front of the door and left.

    Arik mixed thick mud and clay that he’d brought back from a source farther inland. It had been difficult to dig it up, for the ground was cold and partially frozen. With the help of water, he managed to create a blend that would seal off the crevices. The young boy had followed, and he’d given Harry two empty buckets to carry. After they filled the containers with the clay and mud, Arik had carried the buckets back, since they were too heavy for the child to lift.
    The child continued to speak words he didn’t recognize, but from his tone, Arik recognized the boy’s words as questions. It struck him as unusual that the boy would not have learned the Norse language, since both his mother and her handmaiden spoke it. In the end, he decided that speaking was unnecessary. It was easier to demonstrate to Harry how to repair the cracks in the walls.
    When he reached the far side of the house, he lifted a handful of mud and smoothed it into one of the open crevices in the wall. The boy came closer and pointed to the earthen mixture. “Mud?” he asked.
    Arik nodded and placed a handful in the boy’s palm. He guided Harry to fill in the cracks, and as his larger hands covered the boy’s smaller ones, regret spilled over him. Had he lived, he might have sired a son such as this. He could have trained him in the ways his father had taught him, showing him how to sail and hunt.
    But he would never have a son if he was truly dead.
    A pang of loss filled him at the realization that he had no future remaining. Only the gods knew why he had been sent here. Perhaps it was not for Juliana but for the boy.
    Why had she remained here alone without her family? As far as he could tell, there were only the two women and Harry. His gaze shifted to the sea. Although they likely believed they were safe enough, he intended to move them from here as soon as possible. It was too easy for an invading fleet to sail upon these shores at dawn, attacking at first light. Juliana would become a prize of war, raped or enslaved, if she had no one to guard her. He could not let that happen.
    Though he could repair the house to last them