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Vengeance Hammer, Vengeance Warriors Book 3
Excerpt
“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” She answered no to his questions with
quick, frustrated shakes of her head. He repressed a curse. Why had he not had
the sand tray brought to the chamber?
A notion formed. Dráddør set her small palm to his chest. “Write on
me.”
The sudden flare in Xára’s eyes made him smile
and her echoing grin had him preening. He tried to keep his breathing even, but
the graze of her fingertips sent his desire soaring. His dolt of a cock gave
another hopeful twitch.
See Jennie, she traced.
Of course. What a lout he was. “Aye. I will take you to her. She will
probably be sleeping, but we can check with the healer.”
The fur thudded onto the cold stone floor when he stood, but the
blankets were long enough to cover his erect shaft. Dráddør debated donning a
tunic, but knew none but his men roamed Lathairn this eve.
She tangled his hair in one hand, yanked, pointed to the covers, and
then the discarded cyrtel.
“I am taking you to your mother. And nay, it makes no sense for either
you or me to dress. You are wrapped snug as a swaddled babe, my men would not
dare glance at you, and there is no one else about.” Shifting her in his arms,
he fumbled with the bar on the door. ’Twould’ve been easier to open the door if
he set her down. But he liked the feel of her in his arms, the slight tickle of
her breath on his shoulder, and the way her curls brushed his chin.
The two men guarding the chamber’s entrance straightened away from the
wall when he stepped out of the room. Xára buried her face in his shoulder. Her
modesty pleased him and he gave her a little squeeze of approval.
Dráddør spoke in Norse, “Be at ease. I but take my wife to her mother.
Is all quiet?”
“Aye, my lord,” answered the taller of the two, a warrior new to
Dráddør’s service whose name he could not recall.
He inclined his head, turned in the opposite direction, and marched to
Lady Jennie’s chamber. The door stood open and a few tallow candles on a table
flickered long, angular shadows on the wall behind them. Both the healer and
Jennie slept, one on the bed appropriated from a nearby farmhold, the other on
a pallet on the floor. Dráddør halted at the side of the bed.
Xára stiffened in his embrace and pushed at his chest.
“Nay,” he whispered, cursing his reluctance to release her. “She
sleeps. Slumber heals.”
The sight of her misty eyes and trembling lips as she examined her
mother’s features tugged at his heart. By Loki’s stones, she was the daughter
of his sworn enemy and deserved no pity. Dráddør clenched his jaw and cast her
a quick glance.
Sorrow canted Xára’s mouth down and she blinked rapidly.
Without a moment’s hesitation, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Your mother has regained some color, I believe.”
Both silky dark brows climbed to her hairline, she bent over, and
studied Lady Jennie once more. Xára nodded and flashed him a querulous smile
before mouthing, “Aye. She has.”
Guilt added speed to his movements and he spun around to leave. While
the yellow tint to Lady Jennie’s complexion had faded a tad, Dráddør had no
doubt the woman would die soon, mayhap before dawn.