Bjorn turn back to his task of refurbishing the old forge. The man puzzled him. He didn't know if he was dangerous or just a grouch. What he did know was Bjorn was a good blacksmith, and their community could not survive without a smith. Maybe he'd watch the man more closely.
Despite Bjorn's grumpiness, Ronan left the forge feeling invigorated. His strength seemed to surge back into him.
The day was bright, although still chilly. A knot of women gathered near the stream, which still ran muddy and strong. As he approached, their chatter silenced, and all eyes turned to him. Then as if he were of no significance, they all looked away. The women parted, then dispersed as if they had intended to leave anyway.
Only Arienh remained, along with the village sheep, swinging her crook and encouraging the flock away from the river bank.
A dog. She needed a dog. Better yet, someone to help her with the flock. But she had already turned that offer down.
"Good morning," he said.
She looked at him silently, muted anger still seething in her eyes. But something else. Was it a flicker of scheming satisfaction at the success of her mischief? There was plenty of that in her.
His entire body hummed in anticipation of challenge. Should he ignore it as he had before? Or was this the time for confrontation? His men were getting impatient.
"You look tired this morning," he said impishly. "Did you not get enough rest last night?"
"I am rested. You look like you could use more sleep."
"Horses got out last night. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"I don't know much about horses." She concentrated her attention on her flock.
He stepped up beside her. "I see. And you wouldn't know how the saltwater got into the mead, either, I suppose."
"Saltwater in mead? As I have never been to sea, I cannot imagine what you might have done to cause that."
"Mm. Nor would you know why three young women forgot they had left one of my men stranded in the bottom of a pit after he rescued their lamb."
An evasive glint passed her eyes before she quickly turned away. Ah, as he thought, she was the mastermind. As if he had said nothing at all, she riveted her attention on her unruly flock, swinging her crook to urge them up the trail.
Ronan pounced into her path. "I can think of other things I would rather do with my nights than chase ponies, Arienh. Making love, perhaps."
"Vikings make love?" she retorted with a sneer, pushing him aside. "I would not call it that. I doubt you know what love is."
"I could keep you happy."
"Nay, only a man could do that. Vikings do not qualify."
He had not forgotten kissing her. The memory of her body flexing against his sent a shiver of energy through him. It had been more than mere sympathy for an injured man. He reached for her arm.
"Do not touch me. I want no part of you."
"Yes, you do," he replied, laughing. "You want a very specific part of me." He drew her close. She squirmed free.
"You are but a beast. Stay away from me. And keep your brother away from Birgit. If he hurts her, I will kill him myself."
Again, she shoved at him with her free hand, and he reluctantly released her. She shooed at her flock to hurry them away from the water toward the upper valley. The sheep continued to move at their same ambling pace.
She had no great skill at herding, and too many sheep for one small woman to control. Ronan picked up a fallen branch and hacked it clean with his knife. With a few bounds, he caught up with her, and swung the makeshift crook at the animals to move them in the direction she had chosen. He scooped up a young lamb that couldn't keep up and draped it around his neck.
"Go away. I don't want your help."
"But without it, you will not make the upper valley until midday tomorrow."
"That is my affair." Even in profile, he could see angry frustration flashing in her eyes.
"Then I make it mine. How will you manage the sheep and still do what you must do at home? Tanni is a good shepherd, with
Despite Bjorn's grumpiness, Ronan left the forge feeling invigorated. His strength seemed to surge back into him.
The day was bright, although still chilly. A knot of women gathered near the stream, which still ran muddy and strong. As he approached, their chatter silenced, and all eyes turned to him. Then as if he were of no significance, they all looked away. The women parted, then dispersed as if they had intended to leave anyway.
Only Arienh remained, along with the village sheep, swinging her crook and encouraging the flock away from the river bank.
A dog. She needed a dog. Better yet, someone to help her with the flock. But she had already turned that offer down.
"Good morning," he said.
She looked at him silently, muted anger still seething in her eyes. But something else. Was it a flicker of scheming satisfaction at the success of her mischief? There was plenty of that in her.
His entire body hummed in anticipation of challenge. Should he ignore it as he had before? Or was this the time for confrontation? His men were getting impatient.
"You look tired this morning," he said impishly. "Did you not get enough rest last night?"
"I am rested. You look like you could use more sleep."
"Horses got out last night. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"I don't know much about horses." She concentrated her attention on her flock.
He stepped up beside her. "I see. And you wouldn't know how the saltwater got into the mead, either, I suppose."
"Saltwater in mead? As I have never been to sea, I cannot imagine what you might have done to cause that."
"Mm. Nor would you know why three young women forgot they had left one of my men stranded in the bottom of a pit after he rescued their lamb."
An evasive glint passed her eyes before she quickly turned away. Ah, as he thought, she was the mastermind. As if he had said nothing at all, she riveted her attention on her unruly flock, swinging her crook to urge them up the trail.
Ronan pounced into her path. "I can think of other things I would rather do with my nights than chase ponies, Arienh. Making love, perhaps."
"Vikings make love?" she retorted with a sneer, pushing him aside. "I would not call it that. I doubt you know what love is."
"I could keep you happy."
"Nay, only a man could do that. Vikings do not qualify."
He had not forgotten kissing her. The memory of her body flexing against his sent a shiver of energy through him. It had been more than mere sympathy for an injured man. He reached for her arm.
"Do not touch me. I want no part of you."
"Yes, you do," he replied, laughing. "You want a very specific part of me." He drew her close. She squirmed free.
"You are but a beast. Stay away from me. And keep your brother away from Birgit. If he hurts her, I will kill him myself."
Again, she shoved at him with her free hand, and he reluctantly released her. She shooed at her flock to hurry them away from the water toward the upper valley. The sheep continued to move at their same ambling pace.
She had no great skill at herding, and too many sheep for one small woman to control. Ronan picked up a fallen branch and hacked it clean with his knife. With a few bounds, he caught up with her, and swung the makeshift crook at the animals to move them in the direction she had chosen. He scooped up a young lamb that couldn't keep up and draped it around his neck.
"Go away. I don't want your help."
"But without it, you will not make the upper valley until midday tomorrow."
"That is my affair." Even in profile, he could see angry frustration flashing in her eyes.
"Then I make it mine. How will you manage the sheep and still do what you must do at home? Tanni is a good shepherd, with
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