Season of the Sun

Season of the Sun by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Season of the Sun by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Coulter
door to his shop and Olav pulled away from Zarabeth, jumping to his feet. “I know not who it is, but have more ale ready,” he said over his shoulder, as he walked the length of the room, lifting the thick fur that separated the living quarters from his front shop, and disappeared.
    Lotti made a strange sound and Zarabeth whipped about to look at her. The little girl had stuffed her fist in her mouth. Her eyes—a deep golden color—were wide and scared. Her hair was the color of ginger root and wrapped in braids around her small head. Her skin was fair, with a smattering of freckles over her nose.
    Zarabeth dropped to her knees beside her sister.She spoke clearly and firmly. “There is nothing to be afraid of, Lotti. Your father won’t ever hurt you, I swear it. You belong to me and I will always take care of you. Do you understand, sweeting?”
    The child looked at her, and her look of fear faded. She smiled and patted Zarabeth’s hand. At that moment Zarabeth felt something inside her clench and twist at the look of complete trust on her little sister’s face. No one should accord another such trust and belief, yet Lotti believed in her unconditionally. Zarabeth knew she was but a woman, not trained in weapons to defend either herself or Lotti. Still, it didn’t matter. She would never allow it to matter. She rose slowly, brushing off her gown.
    Olav returned to the room, followed by his son, Keith. A man shorter than his father, Keith had dark hair and dark eyes, a sallow complexion, and a thick beard of which he was inordinately proud. He had the habit of stroking his fingers through the coarse strands endlessly. Keith was the image, Olav had always said with just a bit of sarcasm, of his mother. He was well-formed and not unhandsome, despite the slight limp from a broken leg when he had been a boy. There was also a thin scar from his temple to his jaw, but it didn’t disfigure him. He wasn’t stupid, though he hadn’t been able to copy his father’s success as a trader. He had not the talent, but Olav wouldn’t admit it. He was easily manipulated, Olav would say, shaking his head, though he was the one who usually did the manipulating. Aye, poor Keith was easily swayed, by other traders, by the tanner, by the smithy, by the jeweler—the list was endless.
    He was twenty-two, married to a woman who pretended subservience in his presence and was a sharp-tongued bitch when he was gone from her. To his credit, he had, for the most part, simply ignored Zarabeth when his father had brought her and Maraback to York, showing neither like nor dislike for her. But it seemed to her that he had somehow changed during the past few months. He came more often to his father’s house, many times without Toki, and she had seen him looking at her while he stroked his beard, pretending to listen to his father’s endless stream of advice. She took care never to be alone with him.
    She saw him staring at her now, and nodded, her expression remaining passive.
    â€œWhere is your wife?” Olav was asking his son.
    â€œToki is at home, where she belongs. She has her woman’s curse and claims she is ailing.” Keith shrugged and looked toward the wooden bottle of ale. “You bought her for me, you know her well enough. She has more of her mother’s character by the month. I am the only one who knows her sweetness of nature.”
    Zarabeth wanted to hoot with laughter at Keith’s summing-up of his wife’s character. Olav chose to ignore his son’s whining and the hint of bitterness. By all the gods, he did know Toki’s mother, a creature to make a man’s rod shrivel. He said only, his voice vague, for his thoughts were still of the damned Viking and Zarabeth, “Excellent. Would you like a cup of ale?”
    Keith nodded and seated himself at the table. He said to Zarabeth, “You are well, sister?”
    She nodded, saying nothing

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