Her Heart's Desire by Allison Merritt Read Free Book Online Page B

Eir.” Ulrika's wisened face creased. “And you best hope Eoghann finds good reason to refuse Valhalla should Valkyries come calling.”
    “Ulrika, stop.” Ealasaid packed the wound with herbal plaster. “He is of good stock. Kentigerns don't die easily.”
    The thrall nodded. “I will attest to that. He's a strong lad with every reason to live. Any man with such a sweet woman to warm his bed would fight to return to her. When you finish the packing, you should join Hella. He'll give Erik all kinds of permission to torture information out of the bowman. You should be there to keep them from killing him, least till we've learned all his secrets.”
    “A wise thought. Eoghann may have been an enemy, may have slain Norsemen, but what he did for Hella will stand as testament to his loyalty. He is a good man, my brother.” Ealasaid pressed the last of the poultice around the wound. “Death is no less than the intruder deserves, but I will try to intervene for the time being. Dress the outer edges with comfrey, Ulrika. For now, it's best to let him sleep. There's little more we can do but wait for him to heal.”
    Or die. Idunna's stomach turned. “But the fletch scored nothing vital?”
    Still pale, Ealasaid washed blood from her hands. “I don't believe so. The angle it entered his shoulder tore a great deal of muscle. He'll be miserably sore, but it should all knit together again without leaving permanent damage.”
    “They meant it for Hella.” The shaft lay on the floor where Ealasaid had dropped it. If not for Eoghann's quick work, they might be mourning the loss of their leader.
    “Our numbers are low from the battle. Perhaps whatever Jarl Ofbradh's quarrel is about can be settled without more bloodshed.” Ealasaid rubbed her eyes. The weary queen overcame the determined healer. “I'm in no mood for more fighting. Not while winter rages outside.” She sighed. “I must settle Birgir's questions and see to Fulla before I seek Hella. You may stay with him, Idunna, but you should wash and change out of your stained clothing. He shouldn't wake for a while, but if he does, it may frighten him to see you so out of order.”
    “I'll soak them for you,” Ulrika offered. “Then I'll bring you something warm to drink. You're shaking. A mug of hot mead will set you to rights.”
    A husband, whole and healed, would serve her better. “My thanks, Ulrika. I won't be long.” She grimaced. “I hope they've killed the bowman already and I hope Hella sends his head to Ofbradh.”
    “Don't fret. Justice will be had.” Ealasaid wrapped Idunna in an embrace. “To attack the king's family is an outrage. Someone will pay and we'll soon know who.”
    * * * *
    The white-hot burn of pain must be the punishment for sinking an axe into his own brother's head. To end a war that should never have been started, he'd become a kin killer. Saving Ealasaid hadn't reduced the severity of his sin. His good deeds fell short of outweighing the bad. Too many villages unable to defend themselves were burned because he'd been afraid to say no. Women and children had died because he didn't protest Diarmaid's actions. He'd been among a horde that trampled crops and left people—no different than himself—to starve in winter's cruel grip. Robbed Idunna of the chance to be at home among her own clan with his filthy Saxon blood.
    Every barbed hook that pierced Eoghann's shoulder was a punishment earned.
    A cool hand fell on his forehead. “Eoghann?”
    Christo, let it be one of those damned vikingrs' Valkyries or the monks' holy angels come to bear me away.
    He forced gritty eyes open and shivered beneath the wool blanket covering him to mid-chest.
    Idunna's concerned face hovered near his. No angel, then. At least not one sent from Heaven to relieve him of mortality. But not Hell, either, which was some relief. His sweet wife, tending him as promised, though he'd never felt less like making love.
    “You're hot,” she murmured.
    “The