Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 04] by The Bewitched Viking Read Free Book Online

expecting her skin to sizzle and burn. But nothing had happened, except she resembled a sodden rooster.
    Tykir wasn’t so sure about all these maneuvers, especially when Lady Alinor snickered the first time he explained their purpose, including the backwards braies.
    “Are you an idiot?” she’d asked.
    “Nay!” he’d snapped. Mayhap, he’d thought.
    Two days had gone by without another witchly spell; perchance they were safe for now. And it was past time to leave this bloody Saxon land and return to Trondelag, where witches and trolls and magical events were the stuff of legends. He could scarce wait till this whole witchly mission was over and done. If it weren’t for Adam, he would have abandoned the ill-fated assignment sennights ago.
    Because the Lady Alinor’s hands were bound in front of her, Rurik put his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her up to her saddle, none too gently. She wore loose underbraies so she could sit astride, something she had protested vehemently, but he’d insisted upon for the sake of speed. The lady’s snarl was her only reaction to being touched by a man who clearly repulsed her. With good reason.
    In a rare moment of consciousness these past two days, Tykir had discovered that Rurik was piling tree limbs and kindling in the courtyard…enough wood to feed a huge bonfire. In the midst of this was a wooden stake to which Rurik intended to place the witch the moment Tykir died and went off to Valhalla.
    Luckily, Tykir had not died. Lucky for the witch, as well.
    But the witch’s pyre still stood as a reminder in the courtyard for all to see. And the grim-faced Alinor was all too aware of its continuing existence.
    In the process of arranging the woman on the shifting mare, Rurik jerked her restrained hands forward so she would be able to grasp the front of the saddle. Bolthor had already taken her reins in hand and would lead her horse.
    “You brute!” the foolish woman commented to Rurik.
    “You daughter of Satan!” Rurik countered
    “If I had real powers, I would have struck you dead long ago.”
    “Desist!” Tykir roared. “’Twill be two or three sennights, at the least, on land and sea, till we get to Anlaf’s court. Let me establish here and now that I refuse to listen to you two bickering endlessly the entire time.”
    “But he—” she started to say.
    “But she—” Rurik started to say.
    “But nothing!” Tykir growled, rubbing his forehead. It was an ill omen of things to come if he had a headache even before they began their journey. He fixed Lady Alinor with his gaze now. “You do know how to ride, don’t you?”
    “Hah! ’Tis a fine time to be asking.”
    The expression on his face must have alerted her that she was treading a fine line. “Yea, I can ride, though I’ve never done it with my hands tied.”
    He shrugged. “Either ride thus or on my lap.”
    She looked as if he’d suggested her riding him, instead of his horse.
    “I can ride my own horse,” she said in a strangled voice.
    “Fine. Let us be off then.”
    “Come, Beast,” Rurik called out cheerily to his wolfhound, who stood at Tykir’s side.
    The dog lifted its head haughtily and refused to obey his master’s command—something he never used to do. The animal had switched his allegiance to Alinor ever since Rurik had taken her sheep and her mangy sheepdog, Beauty, to a far pasture. Thereafter, Beast had been alternately despondent and mad with frustration, howling till the wee hours of the morning. ’Twould seem Beast was smitten with Beauty. Their constant chasing of each other about the keep these past two days, with a dozen dumb sheep following after, had driven all the servants nigh mad.
    “So be it then, traitor.” Rurik nudged his knees against his stallion’s sides to prompt him into motion. At the same time, he reached over and slapped Alinor’s mare on the rump.
    The mare bolted.
    And Lady Alinor slipped ignominiously to the ground, smack onto her