Malice Striker
“A moment’s hush felled the raucous hullabaloo of a keep assembling for the evening meal, the one the Vikings called the náttverðr.The chamber reverberated with noise.Occasional shouts rang out over the low, murmured conversations of men, women, and children. Booted feet pounded the stone floors. Metal clanked and glass clinked. But what interested Skatha most was the absence of any animal sounds. Not a cat mewled, not a dog barked.“The Viking approaches.” Lady Gráinne gave her hand a squeeze. “...Have courage.”An aroma fast becoming familiar wafted to her nostrils. She inhaled the tangled fragrances, a spicy odor combined with the scent of leather, soap, and a man coming in from a day under a clear sky. Every muscle in her body clenched. He walked with a light tread for such a large man. She flinched when he grasped her fingers.“My lady wife.” He turned her hand over and kissed the center of her palm.His lips tickled her flesh, and she warmed from the inside out, as if flint had been applied to a banked fire fluttering low in her belly.MoreLess
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