Page 27 of Hungry Like a Wolf (Vikings Rock #3)

C armel ate most of the porridge. It scraped on her throat, but her stomach demanded feeding. Her mind went back to the previous episode she’d had like this. Her mother had fussed and fret, as had her father, but she’d bounced back in a few days and had almost forgotten all about it.

Until now when it had come again.

Thank goodness once more her body had fought the sickness.

After using the pail of water to freshen up, she wrapped her hands around the warm mug full of honeyed water and stepped outside into the bright daylight.

The scents of outdoors filled her nose and she breathed deep, enjoying the earthy, grassy, briny smells that were laced with salt. It was good not to have her head throbbing, though her shins and wrist ached. Ravn must have put the bandages on them. She couldn’t remember doing it herself.

“Hey, what is that?” She pointed at a big pine chair covered in soft furs.

Ravn looked up, axe in hand. “You like it?”

“Aye, I do.”

“I thought you might like to recover in comfort with a view, so I made it.”

“You’re very thoughtful.” She walked up to it and ran her fingertip over the smooth back.

“You’re still so pale.” He was in front of her. A few dots of perspiration sat on his brow and his torso was bare, showing his dark chest hair and where the sun had licked his shoulders.

“I do feel tired,” she confessed. “But I’ve had enough of lying in the dark.”

“Of course. That’s why I made this.” He sat heavily in it then reached for her.

The next thing Carmel knew, she was on his lap and his arms were around her. He pulled a fur over her legs and cuddled her close.

“Drink your honey,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She took a sip.

He stroked her hair, his touch tender. After a few minutes, he spoke. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.”

“You lost a wife before and you survived.”

He frowned. “That is true. But…”

“‘But’?”

“But with you, it is different. I feel that we were destined, that the gods set us on a long path to find each other and then be together. I couldn’t have stood it if we’d walked that path for so little time.”

“I am almost better.” She touched his cheek. He had a thick fuzz of dark stubble.

“I thank the gods for that.” He tipped his head back, gesturing behind himself. “If you had been taken from me, I would have forsaken my crown, my life would have been over, and I would have come to live here with nothing but my memories.”

“My love, but you are a king.”

“I would not wish it any longer.”

“So you would become a hermit? Here?

“ Ja .”

“Without a wife, you would grow a great, shaggy beard. You would wear unkempt clothes and have long, unsightly toenails.”

He chuckled. “And a handsome sight I would be.”

“I think not.” She shook her head. “And it would make me sad, looking down from heaven to think that was what you’d become.”

“So, my dearest, beautiful wife.” He nipped her chin. “Do not die on me. For now you know my dismal fate if you do.”

“I will try my best”—she swept her lips over his—“to stay alive.”

He held her tighter.

Carmel adored the way her husband made her feel so cared for. As though she truly was the only woman he saw. She hoped she’d give him many sons and that they’d have a long and happy life together.

“Here, let me take that.” He set her empty mug aside.

“Thank you.”

“And rest. You need to regain your strength.”

“Do you have chores?” she asked.

“ Ja , this. My job is to hold you safe and warm.”

She sighed, settled her head against him, and looked out to sea.

It was a calm day. The waves whispered onto the sand and the water reflected the blue of the sky. The sun shone bright and white, a brilliant, diamond orb, and to her right, the horses grazed and swished their tails.

A sense of contentment filled her. God’s beautiful creations were awe-inspiring and the love in her heart for Ravn overflowed, filling her with warmth.

He drew a gentle circle on her arm and his breathing slowed.

She guessed he’d had a broken night worrying about her. He could do with sleep too.

A warbler set up its familiar chirpy song in the reeds and she let her thoughts drift as she watched the constant movement of the ocean.

She was just starting to fall asleep when she spotted something on the horizon. Shielding her eyes, she peered forward. Was it what she thought it was?

“Ravn. Look.”

“Mmm?”

“Out there. It’s a… It’s a longboat.”

“What?” He tensed.

Red sails billowed and tall prow carved through the water. The hull was lined with shields and the oars left specks of white on the blue surface.

“Can you see a banner?” he asked.

“I’m not sure?” She unwound from her husband’s arms and stood.

Ravn hopped up and for a moment disappeared. When he returned, he wore his belt with axe, dagger and sword attached. He also held a shield. His expression had gone from relaxed to grim.

He stomped to the rise of the beach that led down to the waves.

“I think I can see something,” she called. “A banner.”

“What color?”

“Black with red on it.”

“That is the banner of… In the name of Odin… I can’t remember, but I’ve seen it… I…”

“It is the banner of Tillicoulty.”

“What?” He spun to her. “This longboat has come from the new home of my brothers and sister?”

“I believe so. And I can see it clearer now. Aye. It has a horse hoof and a fish on it.”

“Do you think they can see us?” He rubbed his temple and frowned, as though emotions and thoughts were colliding in his mind.

“Light the fire.” She stooped for firewood.

“No. Not you. Sit down. You have to rest. I will do it.”

“But I can help. I am—”

“I was not asking. I was telling you, Carmel. You’re what is important here, not this longboat.” He threw fresh driftwood on the dwindling fire. It caught almost immediately. “No matter who is on it.”

Carmel sat on the smooth furs, glad to take the weight off her weak legs. She quickly removed the dry bandages on her wrist and shins and tied the laces of her boots, which she’d left undone when coming out of the pit house.

“They’re turning this way,” Ravn said, waving.

“You’re sure they are friendly?” she asked, wondering where her own dagger was.

“We are on good terms with Tillicoulty, are we not?”

“Aye.” Unless King Haakon had decided to add to his collection of crowns and come to claim Drangar.

Ravn didn’t seem to think of this and grabbed a torch, holding it aloft with flames and smoke licking the sky as he went down to the water’s edge.

There was no pier, nowhere for the boat to dock.

“Brother!” A deep voice carried on the sea breeze.

“Orm? Is that you?”

“ Ja . It is me! Your favorite sibling returned.”

She peered forward. It was definitely Orm. She recognized his tall, lean body and long, dark hair.

Orm then dragged at his tunic, pulled it off, and stepped high on the prow. In one smooth dive he entered the water with barely a splash.

He swam like a seal, slick and fast, and within a minute was striding out of the water, pushing his hair back from his kohl-streaked face. Water clung to his trousers and dripped down his bare torso.

Ravn rushed to meet him.

“Why are you here?” Ravn asked, embracing his brother. “It is good to see you.”

“That is unexpected welcome.” Orm slapped Ravn on the shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

“I am in a good mood.” Ravn laughed.

“And not in your kingdom.” Orm looked around with his arm draped over Ravn’s shoulder. “We haven’t been here for years.”

“Carmel wished some sea air.” Ravn gestured to Carmel.

Orm appeared to notice her for the first time. He walked closer, the sun sparkling off his wet skin. “Carmel? Your thrall, brother? Our prisoner?”

“ Ja . Carmel.”

“Orm,” Carmel said, not getting up and giving him a curt nod.

“Well, it is good to see you too.” Orm rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Because you can get to work and prepare my brother, the king, and me a drink to celebrate being reunited in our homeland.”

“I don’t think so.” Ravn scowled.

Carmel held her hand up. When she spoke, it was in Orm’s own tongue. “I am pleased you have had a safe journey, brother-by-law, but you will address me as ‘Your Grace’ from this moment on. And it is you who will fetch the mead from the pit house.”

Orm’s mouth hung open and he rubbed his eyes. He stared at Carmel then turned to his brother. “What is she saying?”

“You heard,” Ravn said, stepping up to Carmel and taking her hand. He kissed her knuckles. “Carmel is my wife, which makes her Queen of Drangar. You will address her appropriately if you and I are to remain friends.”

“You married the slave?” Orm’s eyes were wide as he shook his head. “And I thought you took her to protect Tillicoulty and—”

“It doesn’t matter what you thought, Orm, because you forgot one important point. Carmel is a princess by birth. She has royal blood and is a fine leader, huntress, and councilor at my side in Drangar.”

“But she is a prisoner, a thrall, and a Christian at that. She cannot rule Drangar. It is not—”

His words were cut short as Ravn drew his blade and angled it at Orm. The tip was dangerously close to the dip of his throat. “The way you speak is treason. Be careful, brother. Be very careful.”

Orm stepped back, sighed, then turned and kicked a stone down to the shoreline. As it splashed into the fizz of the waves, his frustration seemed to go with it. He turned with a grin. “To the King and Queen of Drangar.” He held up his hand as though raising a horn of mead.

Ravn exhaled and re-sheathed his sword. He held Carmel’s eye contact for a moment.

She smiled at him, glad to see the tension slipping from his shoulders. Orm wasn’t her favorite person in the world, not by a long shot, but as a good Christian, she would practice tolerance and maybe even forgiveness for the sake of her husband.

“Who is on the boat with you?” she asked Orm as he helped himself to a handful of nuts from a bowl.

“A small crew. And…” He waggled his eyebrows. “My wife.”

“Your wife?” Ravn spun to look out at the figures on the boat.

“Anna?” Carmel asked.