Free Viking Flame: Prequel to Viking Fire by Andrea R. Cooper Page B

He’d rather three days to observe before it was revealed he was a Viking here to fight for the Laird Liannon. Often, people hid their motives when they knew who was watching. “Thank you…” Bram gestured toward the servant and her smile brightened.
    “Elva.” She dipped into a curtsey not many servants would be able to manage as gracefully, much less one with grey hair and wrinkles. “I’ll fetch you when they are ready.” After a wink, she was gone.
    Stay put? No, he was not a prisoner nor would he act like one. Still, he was a guest in the Liannon’s home and wished to stay in his good graces. But he wanted to at least see his intended. To know if he was attracted to her and what kind of person she was when she didn’t know anyone observed her.
    He chuckled as he tugged up the hood of his cloak. His beard needed shaving, but he’d leave it until he was announced. No doubt, his intended would faint when she realized she was being forced into a marriage with a heathen—a Viking.
    The rain softened to a mist and he desired to explore the area.
    He left the chambers and marched down the stone flooring to a courtyard. The rushes crunched under his boots. Outside, the early summer sun heated his skin and the recent rain made the grass look brighter and humidity clung to the air.
    Next to an oak tree stood a woman with her back to him. Her red hair, the color of sunset on the ocean, made his breath catch. Around her were two lads with frowns and a younger lass who kept wiping at her eyes. The woman had one hand on her hip, the other clutching a child’s bow. “Why won’t you let Mary shot with you?”
    “She’s a girl,” one of the young boys replied.
    “That shouldn’t matter.” The red-haired woman took a step closer to the weeping girl. “I’m a girl, and I could beat you all and your brothers with the bow.”
    They snickered. Bram shifted closer so he could see the targets in the distance, but remained hiding behind a crooked maple tree.
    “Don’t believe me?” she asked them, then bent down and whispered something to the little girl with a mop of curly blonde hair who scampered past Bram and into the keep.
    “Women should be having babies and baking.” The older boy spat on the ground near the woman’s feet.
    “And boys should know manners. Queen Boudicca was a warrior. The Celtic Druidess Sgathaich trained fighting men and women–even as from as far as Gaul–and those warriors were feared more than any others.”
    The boy shrugged. “But Mary’s not a warrior. She’s a whiny baby.”
    “Maybe because you’re not giving her a chance.”
    “Excuse me.” Mary, the little one with her face damp with drying tears pushed past Bram. She held a bow and quiver of arrows twice as tall as she.
    When the woman glanced toward him, Bram stepped closer to the maple tree in order not to come across as if eavesdropping on her conversation. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to know more about this woman before she saw him. Too often, people put on masks for either good or not. He wanted to observe this woman before officially meeting her.
    “Thank you, Mary.” She grasped the bow and an arrow, handing the child’s smaller bow back to her. “Now watch.” Smoothly as if she were picking a flower, she notched an arrow. The arrow zinged through the air and struck dead center of the target. It would be a difficult task for most men, yet this woman had done it easily.
    “Lucky sh—” the older boy sneered, but his words cut off when another arrow hit the next target at the bull’s eye.
    Five arrows later, the woman tucked her bow over her shoulder. “Still believe it’s luck or that women can’t shoot?”
    Bram grinned. The woman was fiery more so than Morga. Ragnar, a childhood friend of his who wept at animals being slaughtered, died in battle. He was too kind-hearted. Bram’s father made him watch his friend cut down. If Ragnar had fought, he might have lived. In this land, Bram was