“She winced as she used the pointy end of the driftwood to cautiously sweep aside the unconscious man’s hair. Blood tricked down his temple where she’d struck him, but his pulse still beat steadily in his throat. Thank God she hadn’t killed him. True, Northmen were degenerate and insidious and evil. But slaying an unarmed man went against everything her father had taught her about honor. Now what was she going to do with him? He might wake again at any moment. She couldn’t keep clubbing... him. But she had to keep him subdued. And she had to get him out of sight. She didn’t really want him in her home, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She couldn’t afford to have him roaming loose. At least in the cottage, she could keep her eye on him. Dropping the driftwood, she separated out one long strand of tough kelp caught on his boot and wrapped it around his ankles several times. She wrapped another thick strand around his wrists, noting that his left forearm was bruised and swollen.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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