Free Kathleen Kirkwood & Anita Gordon - Heart series by The Defiant Heart

staunchly but truthfully. “He suffers as any man who denies his body. He finds his relief as you suggest, by taking frequent swims in cold lakes.”
    The tension seemed to seep out of Skallagrim ’s shoulders and limbs. His smile reappeared, then mellowed as he shook his head. “ ‘Tis unfathomable, this priest-class’ devotion to celibacy that the Christians so revere.”
    Ketil found no response as his thoughts went to Aleth. To his mind, the fairest and most enjoyable achievement of Divine creation was Woman, and she God fashioned expressly for Man.
    “ At least your friend will enjoy the riches of the church without the need to first plunder them!” Skallagrim grinned.
    Ketil gave a brief nod and matched his smile as though to agree. He hoped Lyting would move with care about Skallagrim and the beautiful slavegirl. A misstep could prove fateful.
    »«
    Ailinn rose to her feet, slipping a last glance to the Dane as she took up the dense weight of wet linens. Their eyes brushed for the barest of moments before she turned and followed Thora back along the wharf.
    The vision of the bright-haired warrior continued to play in her mind as she and Thora retraced their earlier steps, turning down one lane, then another. Suddenly they came upon a gathering — mostly Arabs and Northmen — crowded about something of interest. In their midst Ailinn spied the maids of Clonmel, displayed before all as common slaves, proffered for a bit of coin. ‘Twas then that her gaze fell on Lia.
    “ Ní hea !” Ailinn lurched forward, her shackles trammeling her step. Their eyes found each other’s just as Thora cuffed Ailinn alongside the back of her head, where marks would be hidden beneath the hair.
    Ailinn bent beneath the blow, clutching the sodden laundry to her side. She tasted the sharp, bitter hatred that filled her soul. Hatred for all that was Norse.
    Slowly she straightened and cleaved Thora with such a look of vehemence and utter loathing that the Norsewoman drew back a pace.
    Ailinn ’s eyes then sought Lia’s once more. Their gazes met and held across an ocean of pain in one last farewell.
    As she forced her steps on to follow Thora, Ailinn’s heart splinter into a thousand pieces.
    Woodenly she trailed Thora’s steps back to the house. As she approached the portal, she observed Hakon within the fenced side yard, his back facing her.
    Unclad to the waist, he peered into a small disk of polished metal, nailed to a sapling, and scraped away the growth that covered his jaw. Though Hakon appeared unconcerned with the women ’s arrival, Ailinn saw that he watched her in his mirror as she moved toward the door and entered the dwelling.
    Thora had no sooner set her to a task than Hakon appeared on the threshold and stepped inside. He paused by the barrel of ale that sat near the entry and took a hollowed gourd from the wall. Ladling up a portion of the golden liquid, he drank it slowly, his eyes passing over her where she knelt by the hearth. Draining the last of the beverage, he returned the dipper to its peg, wiped his mouth, and departed without a word.
    Unease settled in Ailinn ’s bone. She strove to force Hakon from her mind as she coaxed the embers to life. Thora lingered by the door a moment longer, gazing after Hakon’s back. Her eyes then drew to Ailinn.
    Thora moved to a weathered trunk that sat along the wall. Opening it, she withdrew a stout chain, several arms’ lengths in measure, and a heavy lock. Her expression lightened as she started toward Ailinn.
    With a grunt, Thora half-bent, half-squatted to remove the linkage that bound Ailinn ’s ankles. She then reshackled Ailinn’s left leg with the second, much longer piece of chain. Rising, Thora proceeded to wrap the end about the carved, timbered post opposite the hearth and secure it with the lock.
    Ailinn remained motionless as Thora sought her mantle and advanced toward the door. On a parting thought, Thora turned back, grabbed up an abandoned distaff