Maidensong Read Online Free

herself.
    “There’s no profit to you to spite me in this,” he said. “I only want to see you warm, I swear it.”
    Her chattering teeth decided the matter and she climbed into the supple leather sack with the black Viking. The hudfat was designed for sharing bodily warmth so she stopped shivering in only a few moments. The big man seemed to radiate as much heat as a roaring central fire in a longhouse.
    Earlier, he’d removed his mail shirt and the blood stained tunic beneath it, leaving him smelling only of fresh sea air, tinged with honest male sweat. It was a strangely comforting combination. Even though he was her enemy, his warmth made Rika drowsy. She settled back against his chest as she sank toward exhausted sleep.
    “Why did you do that?” his voice rumbled in her ear.
    Every hair on her body stood at full attention. She should’ve known better than to trust him enough to climb into the hudfat with him..
    “I was cold. You promised only to warm me,” she reminded him. “Nothing else could lure me into your bed.”
    He snorted. “There are those who could assure you that my bed is not such an odious fate, but that’s not what I meant.” Bjorn jerked his head toward Ketil. “I know you were cold. Why did you give him your cloak?”
    “He’s my brother,” Rika answered simply. “We share everything. That’s what families do.”
    “Very touching.” His voice was hard. “But not very practical when there’s only one cloak.”
    She turned to look at him. The lines and planes of his face were as stony as the granite cliffs they shel tered under. “Wouldn’t you share a cloak with your brother?”
    Bjorn’s dark eyes flickered down at her and then back up to scan the sea again. “No. My brother would just take the cloak."
     
     

Chapter 2
     
     
     
    By midmorning, the small fleet turned inland up a wa terway Magnus’s little troupe had never visited. Sogne fjord. Rika had sailed past the wide inlet dotted with rocky islands numerous times, but for some reason, Magnus always made an excuse not to swing into this particular fjord. Her hope of finding someone who’d heard her father perform sank like an anchor stone.
    They stopped at settlements along the steep sides of the inlet to drop off a cow here, a pair of pigs there. Rika couldn’t help noticing that many of the karls’ farmsteads had a neglected air.
    A roof was caved in at one place, part of the longhouse open to the sky, with nothing being done to right the situation. Several plots of land that by rights should have been sprouting barley had yet to be sown with grain.
    This was more than the ravages of a raid a month gone. Something caused a rot in the spirits of the in habitants of the fjord, leaving them careless with their holdings.
    Perhaps Magnus had been right to avoid Sogna.
    Sognefjord seemed to go on forever, winding its way into the heart of the land. Rika was forced to spend another two nights sharing a hudfat with the hard-headed, hard-bodied leader of the raid.
    She’d never slept so closely entwined with anyone, let alone a strange man. His warmth was a blessing, but she stiffened, prickling with apprehension, each time his body shifted. She wasn’t able to fully relax until exhaustion drained her. What irritated her most was the fear that she might begin to enjoy his breath on her nape or the feel of his hand, heavy on her waist.
    The wind died as they traveled farther from the open sea, and Bjorn ordered the mast down and the oars out. With each heaving stroke, Rika’s heart flut tered. Whatever was wrong with Sognefjord waited for her at the end of the voyage.
    She glanced at Bjorn. He stood at the steering oar, his dark hair streaming in the wind, his eyes narrowed to slits against the glare of sun on the water. His arms bulged with the strain of keeping the longship within the correct channel to avoid submerged rocks.
    Rika frowned at him, puzzled. From his cryptic re mark two nights ago, she judged there was