Lord of Hawkfell Island by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

must relieve myself,” she said, and hated him for forcing her to say it aloud, though it shouldn’t have mattered, not after the three days on his warship.
    He cursed, plowing his fingers through his hair. “Come along.” He set the bowl of stew on the end of the bed, told his dog to keep away from it, then turned and left the chamber. She trailed behind him, wrapped in the now-damp blanket, half of it dragging behind her on the beaten earth floor. Kerzog slowly followed.
    She followed him from the longhouse, aware of the boisterous conversation that quieted when she appeared. He took her to a small shed and said, “This is the privy. Hurry. I will wait for you here.”
    When she emerged from the small shed a few minutes later he simply looked at her, just like his damned dog was still looking, then motioned for her to follow him again. This time he led her into a large stone and wood building. Inside there was an outer chamber with benches along the sides of the wall. It was the bathing hut, and she felt a spurt of hope. Surely he wouldn’t bring her here just to watch him bathe. She followed him into the inner chamber, small and square, filled with heat and steam drawn from the pile of burning embers filling the fire pit in the center of the chamber. Wooden planks covered the floor and more wooden benches lined the walls. He stood her in the middle of the room, pulled the blanket off her, and said, “Stand still. If you move, I’ll toss you in the sea again. I’ll have my dog kill you. He’s vicious. He protects me and my island that you have so freely scorned.”
    She stood there, shivering despite the billowing heat and the thick steam, trying to cover herself, and knowing that she failed and knowing too that he was looking at her, but that he didn’t care, that she repulsed him. She should be grateful for that, she thought, watchinghim coming into the chamber again, a bucket in each hand. She knew what was coming and nearly yelled with the anticipation of it. He threw a bucket of hot water on her. He handed her a piece of soap carved into the shape of a small bird. A tern, if she wasn’t mistaken. She was going mad, she knew it. A tern!
    â€œBathe, all over, and hurry.”
    She did. She didn’t even notice that he’d left her alone. She’d never before in her life realized the luxury of a bath with soap. It was wonderful. He’d left another bucket on the wooden plank beside her. She rinsed her hair and soaped it again. Once clean, she had nothing to do but wait. She couldn’t fetch her own water, not naked.
    When he appeared, he looked at her, his expression grim. “Hold still.” He poured the water slowly over her head as she rinsed herself. Then he backed up several feet. She looked at him even as he raised the bucket and threw ice-cold water on her.
    She shuddered and heaved and yelled even though she’d known what was coming.
    He laughed. She reacted just as he always did. Evidently Einar had a bathing hut on Clontarf like this one.
    Once she was dry, he handed her the damp blanket again, and motioned her to follow him.
    Conversation became muted once again. Mirana looked neither to the right nor to the left. She followed him into his sleeping chamber and sat down on the edge of the bed. He tossed an antler comb onto her lap. Kerzog hadn’t come into the sleeping chamber this time.
    â€œEat first else you might collapse again. I don’t wish to have to untangle that witches’ nest on your head.”
    Obediently she took the bowl of stew from him, the stew now long cold. She took a bite, and gagged. It tastedlike congealed grease and strangely sour. The bits of meat were stringy, the sauce filled with lumps as nasty as rye root. She was hungry but she wasn’t starving. She forced down another bite, then set the bowl aside. Any more of it and she’d vomit again. Her stomach was knotting and unknotting in