Page 71 of Lord of Fire and Ice

She inhaled sharply. “Why?”

He kissed her forehead with a resounding smack. “Because you ask too many questions. Now why don’t you see what Inga packed for us to eat while I set up a lean-to.”

Surprisingly enough, she swiped her eyes and obeyed him for once.

Could that be the secret to peace with a difficult woman? Was love the way of taming the she wolf?

I could admit to loving Katla all day, he thought as he strung a rope from the mast to the prow and draped his cloak and hers over it, tacking the corners to the gunwale on either side of the narrow craft. As shelters went, it wasn’t much, but it would turn the rain.

They made a thrifty meal of potted beef and cold barley buns, and washed it down with some of the mead he’d packed with the cargo. After a few rounds, all traces of Katla’s tears were gone, and she laughed at his tales of the oddities in distant Byzantium.

Finally, he pulled the hudfat from the trunk and spread it beneath the tent of cloaks. The supple leather sleeping bag was roomy enough for two to share body heat through the chill of a night on the water.

With any luck at all, he and his bride would share much more than that.

When he turned around, Katla was climbing over the stowed cargo and stepping across the narrow distance from the long-necked prow to the steep land.

“Where are you going?”

“To find a little privacy.” She alighted on a goat track and turned to face him from solid land. “You may have a bladder the size of a head of cabbage, but some of us aren’t so blessed.” She began climbing the switchbacked path up the slope. “There are bushes on the crest of the rise. I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t stray far.” Brandr watched until she disappeared over the rise, and then dropped the front of his trousers and aimed off the port bow. He’d never considered the inequity of it before, but now that he gave the matter thought, it seemed to him nature had made some fairly simply things unnecessarily difficult for women.

Yet another time, he thought as he relieved himself, when it’s good to be a man.

My princess is used to a lime-washed privy, not a bush. He chuckled at the thought of her living rough for the short duration of their journey. Once they reached Jondal, he’d be able to offer her his private chamber and its thick bed of furs and a latrine built right onto the jarlhof, so she wouldn’t have to brave the bitter wind come winter.

After the discomforts of travel, she’d enjoy life in his brother’s hall.

He, on the other hand, could be just as satisfied with a hudfat in a rocking coracle.

Ja, it was good to be a man.

Then he imagined Katla in glorious nakedness in that hudfat.

It was very good to be a man.

He thought about disrobing and waiting for her in the sleeping bag. Body heat was best shared with skin-on-skin contact. Then he decided he ought to watch for her descent on the starlit slope.

When she didn’t come, he cupped his mouth and called her name. His voice echoed against the sides of the fjord.

There was no answer.

Chapter 25

Katla didn’t hear them approach until they were upon her. A sudden blow to her temple sent shards of light careening across her vision. Then she perceived the terrifying strangers in only random flashes and snippets as she drifted in and out of sucking blackness.

A flurry of hands. Biting rope around her neck. No air.

A growling voice gave terse orders.

A gag with a rancid smell and even worse taste was thrust between her teeth.

Rough hands lifted her under the armpits and bore her along with her feet floating over the uneven ground. The way her head reeled, she felt as if she were flying, her booted feet hovering a few hand spans from earth, like a pair of gulls skimming the waves.

Someone called her name. The voice echoed against the mountainside until it faded in receding sibilance.

Brandr.