Free Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) by Jianne Carlo

chamber?
    “Mayhap, ’tis the time to introduce myself, since none seem so inclined. I am Tighe, Earl of Dalriada, and I am at your service, my beautiful lady.” Tighe swept a wide bow.
    Konáll draped an arm over Nyssa’s shoulder and glowered at Tighe.
    Nyssa raked what could only be termed a scornful glance at the highlander. “So you are the warrior Hjørdis sighs and swoons o’er. Methinks Hjørdis’s eyesight needs checking.”
    “Methinks his eyesight needs fist-adjusting. Desist staring at my wife at once or meet me on the training grounds, highlander,” Konáll barked.
    Nyssa made a clucking sound. “Husband, highlander, sheath your weapons. Earl Tighe, I beg you to discourage Hjørdis. She insists on wedding you.”
    “Ah, my lady, I fear our King Kenneth has contracted me to a Norse woman of much renown. I will send Hjørdis my apologies. ’Tis a fine castle Dráddør now rules, is it not?” Tighe swept a hand around the hall.
    Dráddør grinned at Tighe’s adroit side-stepping of the king’s latest dictate. The highlander had no intentions of ever marrying the Viking woman Kenneth had chosen for him.
    “’Tis a fine hall, but mayhap a few tapestries would not be amiss,” Nyssa remarked, craning her head back to examine the paned windows.
    Tighe snorted. “You should have seen it when we first arrived. ’Tis markedly improved now, my lady.”
    Dráddør shifted from one foot to the other. He had hoped to impress his brothers with his new holding. “Arnfinn’s step-brother, Néill, destroyed much of the furniture of the castle. ’Twas most provident Tighe had insisted on providing the marital bed as a dower gift for my wife, or we would have naught for the wedding night. We have managed to scour benches and tables from the nearby villages and farms. We can accommodate your men, brother. As you can see we have but a crude dais and high table.”
    “’Twill suffice.” Konáll lifted his wife, hopped onto the platform, and set her down on the bench.
    A bevy of kitchen boys streamed into the room carrying jugs of ale and steaming cider. On their heels followed three maids with baskets. The doughy aroma of bread filled the room.
    “I must find Xára. Go sit. Try to stop Konáll from exploding. I thank Odin I have a meek, biddable, and truthful wife.” Dráddør started in the direction of the kitchen only to halt in mid-stride when he spied Xára coming down the steps. How had she got above stairs in such a short time?
    Ah, she carried the sand tray. In truth his wife had a quick intellect and he approved of her calm and organization. He offered her his arm when she reached the last step.
    She gifted him with a sweet smile and a deep blush, but could not quite meet his gaze. Was she, like he, recalling their bedsport? His groin heated. Grinding his teeth, he willed his wayward erection to desist and forced himself to concentrate on the many issues at hand.
     
    * * *
     
     
    Oh, he had a wicked gleam in his blue eyes, her husband. Xára’s cheeks warmed and she had to bite her lip hard to erase the image of his head ‘tween her thighs. Her sex grew damp. She prayed none noticed her embarrassment.
    She took the seat next to Nyssa and placed the sand tray on the table 2tween them. What odds the two of them meeting after so many years? When had she last seen Nyssa? Many winters ago, but she could not recall the exact time and place.
    “I am so happy to see you.” Nyssa grasped her hand and squeezed. “We are sisters in marriage, now.”
    Xára frowned. For the second time she did not catch a memory from a touch. Why?
    “I take it Xára was at Circe Fearn Abbey with you?” Konáll offered his wife a slice of cheese.
    “For three winters. I am older and we were housed in a different tower, but I saw her oft at mass and during the many prayers.” Nyssa nibbled on her food. “Albeit, I am distraught. How did Xára lose her voice? When?”
    “Nyssa’s questions echo mine and all at the