The Viking's Captive(25)

As Duna went about her task, Halvor made headway with his agricultural plans. His molder board plow was in good working order. His meadow would soon be ready for cutting down with his scythe and it would provide winter fodder for his animals. The vegetable patch was a tangle of weeds. But that wasn’t his problem; Duna would be responsible for that.

In what seemed like no time at all, she appeared at his side, holding Misty and with neat leather boots on her feet.

He stared at them. They were of fine quality. She was clearly an expert when it came to leather.

“What would you like me to do, Master?”

“You didn’t tell me you were talented at shoe making.”

She smiled, just a little, and shifted her feet on the gritty earth. “In my village, everyone came to me for boots, saddles, leather tunics and bags. It’s my trade.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And a very useful trade.”

She was quiet, then, “If you can get me tanned hides, I can make more, for you.” She paused. “It brings me pleasure to be creative.”

“Does it?” He’d enjoyed the way she’d said the word pleasure. Would she ever willingly allow him to bring her pleasure?

She nodded. “I’ll get the water now, and then make porridge.”

“I have fencing to attend to.”

As she walked away, he called to her. “Stay on the homestead, do not go into the hills or down to the lake on your own.”

She didn’t reply. But he knew she’d heard; she wasn’t far away from him.

He gathered nails and hammer and went to tend to a broken fence around the pasture. His sheep could eat that grass down before he drove them to higher land to graze. At this time of year, it would keep them busy for several weeks.

He toiled for an hour, hammering and repairing. The sun heated his back, and he discarded his tunic as he began to sweat.

The sheep were bleating in the barn; they were hungry after their journey. Raven lay in the grass sleeping and Halvor often thanked the gods for such a good dog. He was big enough to take on a wolf, as long as it was one on one, and he was as smart as a Viking when it came to caring for the flock. As long as Halvor saw to it he was fed well twice a day, Raven never let him down.

He finished the fencing, then rolled out his shoulders and swiped at the moisture on his brow. He was in need of ale; as soon as he released the sheep into their pasture, he’d quench his thirst.

Before he headed to the barn he glanced around, wondering if he’d see Duna. When they’d been unloading the wagon, he’d told her the vegetables would be her next task, and now that she had shoes there was no reason why she couldn’t start weeding and planting.

He couldn’t see her.

“Raven,” he said, clicking his fingers. “Come hither.”

Raven jumped up and went with him to the barn, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling. His energy had been topped up after his rest.

Halvor released the sheep, and with Raven’s help they were soon in the meadow.

“Watch them,” he said to Raven in his native tongue. “Do not move.”

Raven sat, back straight and eyes scanning his charges.

Halvor ruffled the fur on his head. “Good boy.” Again he glanced at the vegetable planting area. If only his slave was as obedient as his dog.

Entering the longhouse, he paused and let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He’d expected to see Duna.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Where is she?”

He spotted Misty in a basket, curled up asleep. He strode to his barrel of ale, drank deep, quenching his thirst, then wiped at his mouth.

He’d have to go and find her. Surely she hadn’t attempted to escape him.

That thought tightened his belly and sent fear shooting through his heart. The land was beautiful, but danger lurked all around for a thrall on her own.





Chapter Ten


Duna drew the bunch of thyme to her nose and inhaled deep. It smelled divine and would go wonderfully with the fish she was about to catch.

She’d got it into her head to make Halvor a fish meal, a non-burned one, to make up for the catch she’d ruined. His fishing line had been easy to locate, and the lake only a short distance away. In the light of day she’d felt bolder about the wolves; not only would she see them, she’d be able to call for her master to come to her rescue. It was worth the risk to eat a proper meal. Her stomach was so empty it felt hollow.

She studied the landscape. It was different to home, but very pretty. Fertile and sun filled, with plenty of water, it wasn’t such a bad place to end up.

Not that she’d be here forever. She’d made a vow to herself to get home, to her father, at the first chance she had.

“What in Odin’s name are you doing, wench?”

She started as Halvor’s voice boomed around the small cove bouncing off the large boulders then skimming over the lake. It echoed onto the opposite side of the valley, almost seeming to shake the trees there.

She clasped her hand over her chest and gasped. “You scared me.”

“I scared you!” He whacked his hands on his hips.

His broad chest was bare, damp over his sternum, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the flesh straining over them. His breeches sat low on his hips, highlighting the packs of muscles in his abdomen and the dark blond hair that crept up from his groin.