Page 101 of My Fair Viking

It was an absurd situation, and he was sick of having these people foisted on himself. With a snarl, he turned on his heel and began to stomp up the hill to gather the last of his belongings. He had no intention of returning to Stoneheim… leastways not in the next decade or so.

Halfway up the hill, he stopped dead in his tracks. At heart, Adam was an honest man. He abhorred lying, even to himself. What if Selik and Rain had decided they were not responsible for Adela and me? That question hammered inside his head, almost as if his two foster parents were asking the question. The kindness must be passed on. As you were treated, so must you treat others. As you were saved, so must you save others. And, yea, you have the power to provide miracles.

He muttered a sincere "Bloody hell," then turned around and announced to the gaping crowd, "All right. But only for a short visit."

At first there was a stunned silence. Then Ingrith asked, waving a hand to indicate herself and her sisters, "All of us?"

"Yea. God help me, but you are all welcome, for a short visit. But make no substantial changes."

Vana was already wringing her hands with anticipation, and he thought he heard Ingrith ask Rafn, "Dost think they have wild reindeer in Britain? I'm thinking a reindeer feast would be good for the homecoming festivities. If not that, how about boiled wolf?" What homecoming? What festivities? And wolf? I am most definitely not eating wolf. Drifa was rushing off to get a shovel, no doubt to dig up some bushes for transplanting. And Breanne was still pondering the temptations of a rusty drawbridge.

"And the children?" Rashid asked. There was a crafty smirk on his face that Adam did not like… not one bit.

"Yea, for a visit. Then they will return to Stoneheim." Inside, Adam knew—he just knew—that he was committing to much more than that.

Adam had not finished speaking before Kristin was running up the hill, her gown gathered to her knees, her skinny legs pumping wildly. This time, when she hurled herself into his arms, she was smiling, not weeping. As she patted his face reassuringly, she confided in her little-girl voice, "You doan hafta luv us…"

Adam braced himself for what would come next.

"… but I luv you."

Adam knew he was lost then. Good and truly lost.

Or was he found?

Elsewhere…

The trip to Byzantium—referred to as Miklagard by the Vikings—was a grueling one, and thank the gods for that. Tyra needed hard physical labor and concentration to keep her mind off her misery.

The work should have taken up all her time and thoughts. Unfortunately, it did not. Weather-luck had been with them, the climate getting increasingly warmer each day, but that was the only good thing about the trip thus far. She could not even share in the enthusiasm of her men-at-arms, who were looking forward to the adventure of a new country and service in the imperial army's prestigious Varangian Guard.

She had known from the start that forgetting Adam and their night of lovemaking would be impossible. But she had underestimated just how miserable she would be. She was losing weight, sleep, and the joy of living.

She missed Stoneheim.

She missed her sisters and her father.

Above all else, she missed Adam.

To make matters worse, she was not pregnant. Her monthly flux had been late, and deep inside, a foolish part of Tyra had wished for Adam's seed to have taken root in her womb. But it was not to be, she'd found out yestereve.

In order to avoid the more difficult voyage around Jutland, the land of the Danes, Tyra had directed her small contingent of sailors to cross the stormy Baltic Sea. Then they would follow the trade route down the Volkov to Old Ladoga, the Norse Aldeigjuborn, where a trading post stood, offering a brief respite from the journey. If their ship had gone by way of the Dneipr, as many Norsemen did, they would have had to face cataracts, sandbanks, and dangerous shoals. As it was, they'd had to employ portage on more than one occasion.

Gunter and Egil came up to stand at the rail with her as her boat approached the Golden Horn harbor of the "Great City," Constantinople, capital of the Byzantine Empire, which occupied the eastern half of the old Roman Empire. It was a spectacular view, even for those like herself who had visited here in the past. There were three sets of walls enclosing the city, one inside the other, accented periodically by one hundred massive towers, each sixty feet high. The ancient walls were almost six hundred years old. Surrounding the outer walls were moats, and along the sea wall were iron chains that blocked the harbor from invaders. There was much to protect, too, since the city had several hundred thousand inhabitants and vast wealth.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Gunter asked, looping an arm around her shoulders. She looked pointedly at the hand, its fingers pointing toward her breast, and Gunter laughed. "Now, now, m'lady. I am just being friendly."

"Like our first night out, when you tried to crawl into my bed furs?"

Gunter pretended to wince. "You cannot blame a man for trying. What kind of Viking would I be if I did not offer my services to a pretty maid?"

"Oh, please, Gunter!" It was she who laughed now. "All these years we have traveled together, and not once before did you offer your services. Why now?"

He shrugged. "You have changed."

"How so?" Does the fact that I am no longer a virgin show?

"You are softer somehow."