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called on the gods to reverse the spell and my curse. Odin bade her choose between me and Ciárrán. She chose me, but Aegir would only lift part of my curse.”
    “Tell me of this curse, betrothed.”
    The way the Viking clipped the word “betrothed” sent shivers down her back.
    “In good time. Mús is halfway to his cat form. It takes him some time to tame his beast anger when first he returns to lion. Make haste. We must leave him be.”
    He rose and motioned for her to precede him out of the cave. “So be it. In return you will wash the filth from your flesh.”
    Nyssa had grown to tolerate the slime and grime coating her skin, for most men lusted after clean females and in this guise they were wont to ignore her completely. But she could not return to Castle Caerleah in her current state and so, for now she would obey the Viking. The rain had battered most of the grease from her arms anyway.
    A burst of temper soured her saliva. She misliked any man, any at all telling her what to do. Not wanting to vent her building anger she lurched to her feet, tramped out of the cave, and choked back a groan. The full moon hung in the middle of a black sky littered with winking stars.
    Thrimilici would dawn soon.
    She hung her head and fought back the threatening tears. For so long she had lived with the futile hope the curse would somehow be broken. Stifling a scream, she raised her gaze to the midnight, gritted her teeth, and broke into a furious march.
    Fate had a battle on her hands. She would die fighting—would howl and curse the gods while the flames licked at her feet.
    The Viking strode alongside her on the narrow path leading down the cliffs.
    From behind them, a series of loud roars shattered the silence.
    Konáll cupped her elbow when she stumbled and wrapped an arm around her waist.
    She froze and bile raced up her throat. Twisting out of his hold, she leaned on a craggy stone. The roar of waves crashing on the tiny inlet and a sudden gust chased away the nausea. Nyssa drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, savoring the fresh tang of the sea.
    “What ails you woman? You are as green as the moss on the cave’s walls.”
    “I needs tell you of Aegir’s curse.”
    “The cat told me all.”
    Nyssa shook off his hold. “Nay. Aegir cursed me twice.”
    He crossed his arms, spread his legs wide, and raised a dusky brow. “More than burning at the stake?”
    “I am heiress to castles and lands—”
    She shrieked when he sprang forward, scooped her into his arms, and marched into the tumbling waves.
    “You did not answer me. What ailed you so your skin turned green?”
    “’Tis part of the curse. A man’s touch brings bile to my throat.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. Speaking the words soured her saliva. The muscles in her stomach rioted.
    He dumped her into a crashing wave.
    Nyssa stifled an oath when she parted her lips to swear at him and swallowed a mouthful of salty ocean. Turning her back to the incoming swells, she coughed and swiped at the tears caused by the brine attacking her eyes.
    He caught the neck of the tunic she wore and tore the fabric apart. Using the shredded linen as a cleansing cloth, he carefully wiped the grease from her face.
    “Give me fair warning when you are ready to empty your belly from disgust at my touch.”
    In truth, the nausea had faded somewhat. Mayhap because the fresh scent of the sea filled her lungs, or mayhap because when he scrubbed off the grime coating her neck and throat, she could no longer smell the stench of her own flesh. ’Twas blissful to be clean again.
    When he began to rinse the pig lard from her breast, she stilled his hand. Staring at his brown hand on her white flesh, she whispered, “I will finish.”
    “Nay. We break the curse this night, Nyssa. Close your eyes and lean against me.” He grasped her shoulders and fit her back to his belly. At that moment, she realized he had shed his garments. He set her bottom to his pecker. His erect