The Viking's Captive(33)

“That is elk, Duna,” he said. “Have you seen one before?”

“No, and I didn’t think it would be so big.”

“She is big, dangerous too when with her young. I would not like to bump into her on a dark night.”

“She’s very protective?”

“Incredibly, strong too. She could and would take on a pack of wolves and there would be wolf injuries, even deaths. She can supply a lethal kick.”

Ivan raised his head and snorted.

“Hey, hey, go on then,” Halvor said, shaking the reins. “Ivan isn’t fond of elk.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’ve had other horses who don’t mind them.”

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze seeming to stay with the elk, then she spoke again. “Nadir said she made a promise to your mother, what was that?”

He turned to her, surprised by the blunt question.

She glanced away and dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

He studied the track ahead. “My mother and Nadir were great friends. They grew up together, and when my mother became sick, she asked Nadir to be there for me after she was gone.”

“How many summers were you when she died?”

“Twenty, I hardly needed mothering, but Nadir took her promise seriously and has always sent prayers for my safety to the gods.”

“I like her.”

“Yes, I like her too.” He paused. “Elderberries, let’s collect some.” He glanced back to make sure they were a safe distance from the elk.

“I’ll make a tonic with them, should we fall ill in the winter months, and also a jelly for the bread.”

“You are very useful to have around,” he said, jumping to the ground and reaching for her. The drop was too great for her small height.

As she set to work, filling a basket, it pleased him that she’d spoken of the winter months, and that she appeared to have accepted her new life with him.

Though she was clever, in her pretty head he believed there to be a sharper mind than many thrall women. He’d discovered that in their conversations over previous days, and she was particularly skilled with leather. He’d have to be sure she wasn’t luring him into a false sense of security, and begin to trust her too much. She had, after all, been plucked from her home, her father, and everything she knew in the middle of the night and brought to his land to be his possession.

A fate of the same kind was not something he’d accept readily.



*



They were back at the longhouse in plenty of time before nightfall.

Duna put the new rooster safely in the coop, and Halvor worked with Raven to bring the sheep into the barn. He noticed a dip in the earth around the corner, as though something had scratched at the soil beneath the wood. Had Raven been digging again? Sometimes he liked to bury the trotter bones Halvor gave him.

When he went into the longhouse, the fire was blazing and Duna stood before it. She held Misty against her chest with one hand, and with the other she was stirring broth.

She was singing; a sweet melodic tune he hadn’t heard before.

He paused, enjoying the sound and the scents of the scene before him. Having Duna in his house this last week or so had changed how he felt about it. It was no longer quiet, he didn’t have to perform every task, and it smelled pretty good when she cooked.

It’s home.

He realized that was what she’d done. She’d turned it from a building into home. He hoped her singing meant she’d had a happy day with him and she was learning to accept her role.

“That’s nice,” he said, reaching for his cask and stepping closer to her.

“Thank you.”

“What’s it about?”

“My island. The place where I was born and where my heart is.”

So maybe not so accepting… yet. “Is it a song enjoyed by many?”

“I guess so. My mother taught it to me.”

He poured a drink, then sat and studied her small frame from behind. He couldn’t help sliding his gaze to her ass even though it was hidden beneath her clothing. “Where was your mother that night I came to your village?”

“She is with God and Jesus Christ.”

He paused. “She’s passed?”

“Yes, when I was seven summers. She was giving birth to my brother.”

“I was unaware you had a brother?”

“I don’t.” She paused. “He died with his mother and became an angel with her.”

“I’m sorry for your sadness, Duna.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“But you still miss her?”

“Of course. She was my mother, so kind, so beautiful.” She sighed. “My father took the loss hard.” She turned. “And now he has lost me.”

He took a deep drink. He was sorry for her father, for he would hate to lose Duna, but he wouldn’t apologize. The old man’s loss had been Halvor’s gain. It was the way of Vikings, to take slaves from other lands.

Though if he could send a message that he was treating his daughter well, that he’d lay down his life to protect her, then he would. Maybe next time he went to the port he’d pay a coin for a message to be delivered to her island.