Free The Shipwreck by Glynnis Campbell Page A

a chance.  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you, little one.”
    Avril smirked at that.  “He’s afraid he might lose.”
    Brandr lifted a brow and gave her a cocky smile.  “Not even with a broken arm.”
    His grin sent a shiver through her.  She hoped it was a shiver of revulsion.  She feared it was something else, something that made her feel lightheaded and foolhardy, almost crazy enough to free him and let him try…almost.
    But she wasn’t a fool.  She couldn’t let him bait her.
    “My name’s Kimmie,” Kimbery informed him, holding her sword high over her head. “And Mama’s name is Avril.”
    Avril choked.  She didn’t want him to know her name.  The exchange of names suggested an intimacy she didn’t want to encourage.
    “Pleased to meet you, Kimmie,” he said with a polite nod.  Her name, however, came out on a purr.  “Avril.”
    She bristled.  That was exactly why she’d wished to remain nameless.  Already he breathed her name as if they were lovers.  Already it felt like he was insinuating his way under her skin.
    “Come on, Kimmie,” she said, shaking off the uneasy shiver that had passed through her.  “Let’s show the Viking what we do to men who think they can hurt us.”
    She hoped to impress upon him that the ladies of Rivenloch were not to be trifled with or underestimated.  But she also worried that his shipmates might show up.  So she taught Kimbery some useful defensive ploys in addition to straightforward sword fighting.  She showed her how to use her elbows to jab a belly, her heels to stamp on toes, her teeth to bite fingers, and her fists to punch a man where it hurt most.
    So enrapt was she with teaching Kimbery survival skills that she didn’t notice the figure stealing up on the cottage until it was too late.  But the instant she saw the glint of metal, her worst fears were realized.  It could be no one else.  The Northman’s shipmates must have come looking for him.
    Without a second glance, she swung Kimbery up and pushed her toward the cottage door.  “Go!”
    For once, Kimbery didn’t question her, but rushed inside.
    Her Viking prisoner, however, called out, “Is it my men?”
    She didn’t answer him.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.  Wheeling immediately with her blade drawn and her heart racing, she faced the oncoming threat.
    But it wasn’t his men.  It was her neighbor, the one who’d given her the sheep.  She lowered her shoulders in relief.  While she watched the man make his way toward her, she saw that he wielded, not a sword, but a spade.
    “Erik!” Brandr called out suddenly from behind her.  “Gunnarr!”
    Her eyes widened.  Shite!  She couldn’t let her neighbor find the Northman.
    She whipped her head around and hissed at him.  “Hush!  It’s not your men!”
    The last thing she saw before she lunged for the door, slamming it shut, was the perplexed furrow between the Viking’s brows.
     
     
    Brandr bellowed out a curse.  Unfortunately, he startled the little girl, who now looked as if she might burst into tears.
    “Shh, Kimmie.  I’m sorry,” he soothed.  “It’s all right.”
    But he wasn’t so sure.  He wished the woman hadn’t slammed the door between them.  If it wasn’t his men out there, who was it?  Thieves?  Murderers?  Though he realized it was completely contrary to reason at the moment—Avril was his enemy, after all—his instinct to protect women rose to the surface, overriding everything else.  Whoever was out there evidently posed a threat to her.  Otherwise, she wouldn’t have pushed Kimbery into the cottage.
    He had to do something about it.
    Kimbery’s chin was trembling, and the wooden sword drooped in her grasp.  “But Mama…”
    “Hush, Kimmie,” he coaxed.  “It’s all right.  Shh.”
    “I have to help Mama fight,” she decided, starting for the door.
    “Nay!”  She flinched at his sharp voice.  “Nay, sweetheart,” he said more softly.  “Your