Viking Fire by Andrea R. Cooper Page A

class. But she knew one day she would have her revenge on her husband and the Liannons.
    She recognized Angus’s sword when the child Kaireen returned. She had heard her mistress bemoan her reckless daughter many times, and Rhiannon had stoked the fire with her words to learn the details of the sword. Straightway, she sent a letter to the O’Neill keep—to the one family member who loved her, her son.
    He shared her feelings regarding the laird, her husband. Rhiannon knew the laird did not know of his son’s hatred toward him.
    Hatred she helped to fester and grow in the child’s mind. When Angus had discovered her secret, he had her banished, but only after his sons pleaded not to kill her.
    “Never let him know how you truly feel about him,” she had whispered to the young boy as she hugged him.
    Angus thought he had remedied the problem. But it was too late, her roots had taken hold.
    • • •
    After Elva’s treatment, Kaireen and Bram’s hands were healed from the fire. Since their hands had been treated and bandaged in the dark, neither saw how much damage was done. Elva told them to keep the bandages on for a full day and then they could take them off. Her hands had been red and tender when she removed the bandages. Even the cook and servants felt pity for her as they did not require as much manual labor from her.
    Kaireen was pleased with her progress today from the previous night of kitchen work and the fire. She finished her duties in the kitchens. She had made mistakes, but pleased the cook with her idea of adding onions to the stew.
    After the meal the second night, a few of the servants stayed to help her clean. Her punishment was one-third done. The worst was yet to come.
    Rhiannon.
    She could not recall one instance of her acting nice. Rhiannon made lye soap feel like heaven.
    Kaireen plodded down the corridor to the lowest level of the keep. Gossip flew around concerning Bram and some type of blood eagle. Rumors ranged from beating one with eagles, to letting eagles eat a person’s flesh.
    However, whatever it meant, the usual drunken manservant tonight did not have a drop of wine. He apologized to any woman he thought he may have bumped into. Sweat beaded his forehead and his eyes darted around as if the devil lurked to drag him away.
    Kaireen smiled. She thought of Bram and his promise to always speak truth to her.
    A blush swept over her as she remembered his other promises. Still, a part of her mind held a sliver of reluctance. Maybe this was a ruse as part of being a spy? Never had he given love as the reason for their marriage, only to obtain land.
    Around the corner, Bram leaned against the wall.
    Her breath caught in her throat. He wore a saffron tunic and hose. Cross gathers weaved round his legs and vanished into leather boots. His dimple made her flush. “I cannot stop thinking about you or our kisses.” He strode toward her.
    But her feet stuck to the floor.
    He reached for her and her rebellious body softened in his embrace.
    His lips lowered to hers and she threw her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. What did it matter if they shared a few kisses? She still was not going to marry him anyway.
    Aye, she remembered too well the feel of his lips upon hers. She did not care if anyone saw them. After the fire, she thought she might never see him again. She leaned into his arms; aware of the flutter in her chest which made her think she must have lost her breath or maybe the fire’s remains had yet to be purged from her lungs.
    Thoughts were lost in his embrace. It was as though she had drunk too much wine and could think of nothing but him. Her lips wanted the deeper caress of his tongue dancing with hers. Warmth spread from her stomach down between her legs. She could not get close enough to him. The touch of his muscled body soothed away the aches in her bones like the bath that Elva had drawn for her before the fire.
    His tongue teased hers until they danced, becoming one