Page 41 of Hungry Like a Wolf
“Well.” She straightened her shoulders. “That is good that you are not a mind reader, because it is not one of the things I would use to describe you.” She stepped past him.
“So what words would you use?”
“At this point in time, smelly.” She piled her hair on top of her head and wrinkled her nose.
“That is hardly my fault.” He plucked at his tunic and sniffed. He wrinkled his own nose.
“I didn’t say it was, but I am going to bathe first, as I was invited to, so if you would excuse me.”
He followed her to the bathing area and leaned against a pillar, crossing one foot over the other, shoulder bunched on the wood. “This is my home. Why should I leave?”
“Because.” She used a small pail to scoop up hot water. “You said I’d be happy here, and for that, I need privacy.” She circled her finger in the warm water.
“You put a high price on your nakedness.”
She hesitated, then, “I know you are a man of your word, Ravn. That is one way I’d describe you.”
“I am!” He tilted his chin and straightened. “You are right. I am a man of my word.”
She smiled.
“I will leave you to recover from the journey, Princess. And while you do that, I will visit my son.” He turned and walked away.
She studied his broad back as he took long paces away from her. He was even more regal here in his own kingdom. He exuded the confident stance of a man with power and influence. He was also a man with a quest to atone for his wrongdoings. There was something about that which appealed to the Christian in her.
Perhaps there was hope for Ravn’s soul.
She lingered in the hot water. Erin brought her ale and a platter of salted fish and pickles along with chestnut hair cleanser that lathered up wonderfully. Erin also brought clean clothes—the first in weeks—and when Carmel had dried and brushed her hair, it was luxurious to slip into soft pants and a warm, woven woolen tunic the color of the yellow flowers at home.
“You know of the king’s brothers and sister,” Erin asked.
“Aye, I do.”
“And what of them?”
“They are well. They are in the new kingdom of Tillicoulty.”
“Is that where you are from?”
“Not exactly.” She didn’t elaborate. Erin was a stranger. “King Haakon has taken a wife.”
“A crown and a wife.” Erin smiled. “The gods have been kind to him.”
“He appears happy.”
“And what is his wife like?”
“Queen Kenna.” Carmel thought for a moment. “She is kind, pretty of face, strong, so hopefully will bear him many sons.”
“I am pleased for Haakon. He was always kind to everyone he met.”
Carmel huffed. “Not if he met them on a battlefield.”
“Well, no, obviously. But he’s a warrior who demands victory. It is what he does. He defends what is his and takes what he wants. That is the path the gods set out for him.”
Carmel again stayed quiet. She was a stranger in these lands. To confess that her father’s army, with her in the wings, had attacked King Haakon could drop her in hot water of the unpleasant kind. “You are happy with Joseph? He is good to you?”
“Ja, he is a man I admire.”
