Free The Viking's Captive by Sandra Hill

guardsmen, ordering them to stand outside his tent. Before he knew it, she was gone in a huff.
    “I told you she would be back,” Adam gloated to his friend as he crawled into the bed furs inside the tent, after untying the Arab’s ropes.
    “Feather by feather, the goose will be plucked,” Rashid declared with a laugh, rolling over and away from him.
    “Precisely,” Adam said.
    “I was referring to you as the rooster, not her,” Rashid said with dry humor.
    “I know.”

CHAPTER FOUR

    H
er in a harem? Hah! …
    Tyra couldn’t stop looking at the man.
    He’d caught her in mid-ogle once or twice. On one occasion, the rogue had actually winked at her; the other time, he’d just grinned. In any case, his smirking, as if he thought she was remembering her promise to him—
which she was not … definitely not … well, hardly—
cured her of her infernal staring … for a few moments, leastways.
    It had been a busy day, starting with their early morning turn from the North Sea up the headwaters of Ilsafjord—one of the thousands of rivers interlacing the Northlands. Not all of them were connected, unfortunately. In fact, twice today they’d had to portage the two longships. Portage was a long, arduous enterprise that involved removing all the men and animals from the crafts, then carrying the boats overland to the next waterway … or pushing the boats over hastily made wooden rollers, if the distance was far and the pathway open.
    All that time, Adam, to his credit, had contributed his fair share of muscle to the hard labor. And, yes, Tyra was beginning to notice, to her chagrin, that, for a healer, he had a fair share of muscle … not like her Viking warriors, whose very livelihood depended on their being in perfect physical condition. But he held his own,and that was remarkable in itself. She supposed it came from being raised in a Norse household, even though he was Saxon by birth.
    Tyra suspected that one of the reasons Adam worked so hard was to escape Alrek, who had developed an attachment for the healer, despite Adam’s best efforts to avoid the boy and his never-ending questions. He seemed especially uncomfortable with Alrek’s view that he was a miracle sent to change his life. Why he could not just laugh off the outrageous notion was beyond Tyra’s understanding.
    Oh, well. In the next day or so they would enter the edges of her father’s vast land holdings. Then she would be faced with a whole other set of problems.
    A wicked man’s wink would mean nothing to her then.
    Well, almost nothing.
    She hoped.
    “What troubles you, my lady?” Rashid asked, jarring her from her reverie. Rashid and Adam traveled on the same longship, now that their bonds had been released. Rashid had just given up his spot on a sea chest to Adam, who was teaching Alrek how to row without hitting himself in the face on the backswing of the heavy oar. The boy had gotten two bloody noses yesterday. No doubt, Adam’s reasoning was that an exhausted Alrek would be a silent Alrek.
    Tyra glanced up from the rudder she was steering … easy work now that they’d entered the wide river, Drisafjord. There was no wind to carry the sails, but the current ran smooth.
    “What troubles me?” She gave her full attention to the Arab—a handsome, dark-skinned man with a full mustache but a hairless chin, which he plucked meticulously every evening, to the wincing fascination of hermen. Tall and slim, he was an attractive man who was probably much favored by women. Alrek, who had latched on to the Arab as well as his new best friend, Adam, claimed that Rashid was the son of some desert sheik. She would have to ask Rashid later why a prince of the desert would have left his homeland. “Everything troubles me. My warriors and I should be off protecting our southern boundaries. Pirates and outlaws abound. My sisters are up to Odin-knows-what mischief. My father hovers at the doors to Valhalla. I have wasted much time searching for your