Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Fiona nodded. “She rests peacefully and mother looks after her.”
“And you?” Raynor asked with obvious concern.
“I want the bastard who did this to my sister.”
Tarr smiled. He admired her tenacity and boldness. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We will find him.”
“Your word?”
“You have my word,” Tarr said.
“Mine too,” Raynor added.
“Good, for you know if I find him first . . .”
Her words trailed off. She did not need to finish, both men understood Fiona would have no trouble taking the man’s life.
Fiona emptied her goblet and held it out to Tarr to refill.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, pouring more wine.
“This morning, I think.”
She sounded unsure, and he could understand why. The past few hours were like a bad dream, best forgotten.
“I will have food brought for you.”
“I am not hungry.”
“You will eat,” Tarr ordered.
Fiona took a swallow of wine. “You will not tell me what to do.”
“I have every right to tell you what to do. I am to be your husband.”
“I want no husband that issues orders.”
“When the orders are best for you, you will obey.”
“Did you say ‘obey’?”
“Mistake,” Raynor whispered to Tarr and with that he took his leave, closing the door quietly behind him.
A crack of thunder split the silence, followed by a sudden pounding of rain against the windows. The sky had darkened considerably, it looked as if night fell upon the land yet it was only late afternoon.
The lone couple remained as they were, staring at each other, until Fiona broke the heavy silence.
“Do you expect obedience from me?”
“I expect you to be you,” Tarr answered.
Fiona’s shoulders slumped, she looked about ready to collapse, but Tarr’s arms were right there to catch her.
“You need to bathe and rest,” he said, holding her close.
“Do you tell me I stink?”
“Fiona—”
She looked up at him.
“Shut up.”
“I want answers. Someone threatens Aliss and me.”
“Leave that to me.”
“But—”
“Later,” he insisted. “We will discuss this later, when you are rested and can think clearly.” He did not give her a chance to argue. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bedchamber, catching a servant in the hall and ordering that a tub of water be prepared for her and food brought.
He no soon as placed her in a chair by the hearth than he was summoned to the great hall.
“Go,” she said reluctantly. “I do not need you.”
Tarr leaned over her, his hands braced on the arms of the chair. “You need me more than you know.” He kissed her and hurried off, promising to return shortly.
In the meantime she tended herself, chasing away the servants who offered her help. She needed no one. She had taken care of herself and her sister since she had been eleven; she needed no one, not a soul.
She wrapped herself in a towel and crawled into bed exhausted from the day that seemed never ending. It should be night, she thought, so she could sleep and rest. It was not right to sleep during the day, though the sky did look more like dusk. There were things that needed attending to, like the threat to Aliss and her. She needed to give it her immediate attention.
She yawned and cuddled beneath the wool blanket, and in seconds fell asleep.
Tarr spoke briefly with Kirk in the great hall, issuing orders meant for their ears alone, before he hurried out of the keep to greet Odo and his men. They had met briefly when he arrived with Anya, but in all the excitement he had had little time to speak with him. When it was made known what had happened, Odo instantly volunteered to search the area for the culprit, hence his delay in arriving at Hellewyk.
Raynor was already greeting his uncle with a bear hug and a slap on the back.
Tarr took note of Odo’s size, tall and broad with a full gray beard that seemed to swallow up his mouth. His gray eyes were sharp for a man whose weathered and wrinkled face made him appear well into fifty years.
He dressed like men from the north in furs and leather, and he spoke in a Viking tongue with Raynor, though switched quickly enough to the Scottish tongue on Tarr’s approach.
“Your men are diligent, they went over our tracks,” Odo said in lieu of a greeting.
Tarr held out his hand. “They obey orders.”
Odo grinned and gripped his hand in a firm shake.
Tarr responded, his hand like a vise that refused to let go until finally Odo relented, easing his grip.
“You found nothing?” Tarr asked, directing Odo into the great hall where food and drink awaited him and his men.
“Not a sign or a disturbance,” he answered, entering the hall and following Tarr to the dais. His men dispersed to the tables laden with food and drink. They stripped off their fur cloaks and hurried to feast on the inviting banquet.