Free The Viking's Captive by Sandra Hill Page A

physician friend to help my father. What should have been an easy task has proved bothersome in the extreme. ‘Twould be a shame to have accomplished one goal … saving my father … only to lose his holdings for lack of diligence.”
    “Diligence! You toil beside your men. You work your fingers to the bone. With all due respect, my lady, you do your bloody well best.”
    “With all due respect,” she repeated back at him, “hard work matters not if there is no success. And do not dare quote me a proverb about that.”
    “Why go looking for trouble?” Rashid persisted on the same subject. “Did a messenger from Stoneheim not arrive this morn, informing you that your father still lives?”
    “Yea, but that could change at any moment.”
    “Like I said, do not borrow misery. Believe me, trouble finds you, as certain as the thirsty hump-backed beast seeking a desert oasis. Allah willing, of course.”
    What was it about her that brought out the religious fervor in these two men? Rashid was always quoting his God, or the prophet Muhammad. And every time Adam came into her company, he invariably said, “My God!” Usually it was after staring unabashedly at her breasts, or her buttocks, of all things.
    “You are thinking about my master again, are you not?”
    “I … was … not,” she lied, then felt guilty for being dishonest, even about such a trivial thing. “Well, mayhap a little. How could you tell?”
    “Your face betrays you. One of two expressions do you show whenever he is about, both of them accompanied by flushed cheeks. The first is anger, and then your eyes turn fiery blue, nigh flashing with sparks. The other is arousal, and then your eyes fade to a smoky blue … dreamy.”
    “Oh … oh … oh …” Tyra sputtered. “I have never been aroused!” was the only retort she could come up with, so roiled was she with consternation.
    “You haven’t?” Rashid was clearly surprised, and amused.
    “Not by that … that infuriating man! And my eyes have never gone dreamy either, for him or any other man. Really, what kind of leader would I be for my troops if I went
dreamy
every time a handsome man walked by?”
    “Aaaah! So you think my master is handsome?” he commented, homing in on the most irrelevant part of what she’d said.
    “Yea, the man is handsome, as if that matters a whit when—”
    “Oh, it matters, m’lady. When it comes to seducing a maid, being comely in appearance can be a decided advantage for a man. By the by, my master tells me that you wish to be disinherited by your father if he lives … though I can hardly credit the logic of that. But I was wondering … I do not suppose … well, would you be interested in joining a harem? It is quite a coincidence, but I know of one that is being formed.”
    She made a tsk-ing sound of disapproval. “I have heard this harem nonsense that you blather to my men. It isnot good to plant such ideas in their heads. Bad enough that some Norsemen practice the
more danico
and that they often have several wives and mistresses, if they can afford them. But a harem!”
    “Was that a yea or a nay?”
    “It was a nay, you fool.”
    Rashid’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. “That is unfortunate. You would make a good houri, I believe.”
    “I would not!”
    “You would,” he disagreed. “Any woman who moves the way you do, in battle-sport or sailing-sport, would move very well in bed-sport, too.”
    It was hopeless trying to talk to the thickheaded Arab. “I cannot believe that Adam, presumably a noted healer … in a Christian country, no less … would countenance a harem. It is so … so … uncivilized.”
    “I beg to differ, m’lady. It is a most civilized custom.” Rashid ducked his head then and confessed, “Actually, my master has not precisely given his permission for me to put together a harem for him.”
    She narrowed her eyes at Rashid.
“Precisely
what has he given permission for you to do?”
    Rashid looked