The Shipwreck Read Online Free

face expressionless.  She decided he must not be able to understand her after all.
    She backed away, turning to jab at the coals on the hearth.  “How unlucky for you, Viking,” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.  “You come to invade my land and end up shipwrecked on my beach.  Maybe that will teach you savages to stay where you belong.”
     
     
    Brandr creased his brow.  Where he belonged.  He didn’t belong anywhere.  He had no home, not anymore.  The place he’d once called home was full of painful memories, and he had no wish to return there.
    Had he come to invade her land?  Aye.  Had he meant to plunder it?  Absolutely.  But he’d come to settle here, not to wage war.  He only meant to kill if he had to.  He wasn’t a savage.  Of course he’d taken slaves before.  But none of his men brandished their weapons without good cause.  And none would ever bed a woman against her will.
    The Vikings who’d come before must have been berserkers.  Such men ingested peculiar mushrooms that made them crazed and violent, driven to mow down everything in their path.  To Brandr, they were worse than wild animals.
    “I expect your shipmates will be washing ashore soon,” the woman mused, replacing the poker.  She gazed into the fire, adding sardonically, “I hope I have enough leashes.”
    Brandr tightened his jaw.  He doubted any of his shipmates were alive.  No one should have survived that storm.  The fact that he’d been spared was proof that Loki, that mischief-making god, wasn’t finished torturing him.
    He didn’t know what had happened to his brothers’ ships.  The tempest had roared to life halfway through the voyage, and the three vessels had become quickly separated.  Even if Halfdan and Ragnarr somehow miraculously managed to sail into the storm and come out the other side, it was unlikely they’d end up on the same stretch of the winding Pictish coast.
    “Meanwhile,” the woman considered, “what do I do with you?”
    She gave him a thorough perusal that ordinarily would have been flattering.  But where most women gazed at Brandr as if imagining exactly what they wanted to do with him, she looked as if she hadn’t the slightest idea.
    “I could turn you over to the lawmen,” she murmured.  “If you’re lucky, they’ll hang you quick.”
    He doubted that.  If berserkers had wreaked havoc here, the villagers would more likely stand in line to exact revenge on a Viking trussed up for their pleasure.  They’d delight in tearing him to pieces.
    “I can’t keep you here,” she said to herself.
    She was right about that, he thought, staring straight ahead, betraying no emotion.  She damned well couldn’t keep him here.  He’d allow no one to keep him on a leash, least of all a puny Pictish lass.
    The woman continued to contemplate his fate aloud while, behind her, her daughter quietly inched her stool forward.
    “The last thing I need,” the woman said, “is a third mouth to feed.”
    A third.  So she lived alone here with her daughter.  His gaze went to the sword propped in the corner.  Then whose was that?  Maybe, he thought morosely, it had belonged to the last man she’d tied up in her cottage.
    The little girl picked up the stool beneath her, toddled a few steps closer, and sat back down.
    The woman sighed peevishly.  “I should have tossed you back into the sea while I had the chance.”
    The little girl stared intently at Brandr as she tiptoed forward again with the stool.
    “It would probably be a kindness to kill you,” the woman muttered, “before someone with less mercy finds you here.”
    The little girl took two more cautious steps forward and sat down an arm’s-length behind her mother, watching him fearlessly.
    “And it’d be no less than you deser-“  She whirled and almost tripped over the little girl.  “Kimbery!”  She glanced back at him, blushing, then turned to confront her wayward daughter.  “I told you to