Free The Viking Takes a Knight by Sandra Hill

doing military exercises in the outer bailey, John had taken to his bee fields. To study and harvest some of the combs, he’d said. She suspected he just wanted to escape the keep…and her.
    But escape was not in the cards for him, because Henry and some of the other children had begged to go with him, and he’d grudgingly agreed.
    â€œKin I get my very own honeycomb?” Henry wanted to know.
    â€œI wanna see the bees rutting up in the air,” Kavil added, recalling John’s previous words.
    â€œKin I pick some flowers?” Breaca asked, already dragging a large basket with her.
    â€œHow do you set up a new beehive?” Godwyn asked. “Me father once tol’ me, afore he died, that ya have ta smoke ’em out.”
    John listened to each of the requests and nodded, albeit reluctantly. You had to love a man whose heart softened to children. Not that she loved John. And besides, he was most often a grumpy bones about the children. This was just an exception, in her opinion.
    But then, he’d even allowed Ubbi to tag along, despite Ubbi having said, “I will keep an eye on the troll for you, m’lady.”
    John had gotten the last word in when he’d cautioned the little man, “Keep on bothering me, gnome, and I will plop your tiny arse on top of a hive. You’ll not be able to sit for a sennight.”
    Even Bolthor and Hamr accompanied John, to his chagrin. “This is turning into a bloody party,” John had complained.
    â€œOh, good!” Hamr had said. “Mayhap Ingrith can prepare a basket of food for us. Bread, cheese, fruit, leftover boar, oatcakes. Just a few things.”
    Ingrith had given him a not-amused glare.
    â€œAnd several jars of mead,” Bolthor had added.
    Thus, Ingrith was alone when Katherine’s group arrived in two wagons with several lone riders.
    â€œI am Katherine of Wickshire Manor,” the grim-faced woman said, introducing herself, motioning for her children to gather behind her. Ingrith could see that they were anxious to be let loose.
    Katherine had seen at least forty winters, if a day. She had ample flesh about her middle and silver threads amongst her black hair, but she was still an attractive woman.
    â€œLady Katherine,” Ingrith acknowledged, and was about to introduce herself when Lady Katherine blurted out, “Are you the lady of Hawk’s Lair? I did not realize that Hawk had married.”
    â€œOh, good Asgard, nay! I am Ingrith of Stoneheim, in the Norselands. I am just…visiting.”
    â€œI met your father, King Thorvald, one time in Sussex. That means…you are a princess?”
    Ingrith nodded.
    â€œWell, Princess Ingrith, where is the lout?” a grim-faced Katherine asked.
    â€œWhich lout?”
    â€œYou know of many hereabouts?”
    â€œSeveral.”
    â€œI refer to my husband, Bolthor. Didst know that the lackwit wrote a poem about my bosoms?”
    â€œHey, he wrote one about my behind.”
    Katherine’s eyes went wide, and then she burst out laughing. “I like you.”
    â€œYour husband is a very nice man. My father said that he was a fierce warrior at one time, a soldier he would welcome at his back any day.”
    â€œYea, he is a good man,” Katherine agreed. “I berated him for writing that bloody poem, but I ne’er intended for him to go away. And certainly not for two sennights. The man is twelve years older than I, but I swear betimes he acts like a boyling.”
    â€œWell, he is out in the bee fields with Lord Hawk at the moment, but I think they will be back soon. I know that he and Hamr intended to ride to Jorvik this afternoon.”
    â€œHah! He’ll be going nowhere when I get a hold on him,” Katherine said, entering the great hallbeside Ingrith. Then she softened her words with a wink.
    It was then that Ingrith noticed the messenger in Ravenshire livery. He carried letters for both her and John.