Read To Find a Viking Treasure (Norse Series Book 2) for Free Online

was…agitating.
    He glanced at her, the corner of his mouth curling up. No doubt last night’s conversation crossed his mind. “Don’t confuse me for a hero. Gunnar volunteered first.”
    “Did he? Then why are you here and not him?”
    Brandr checked one side of the boat and levered the oar’s tip on a half-submerged tree. “Never send a boy to do a man’s job.”
    “Gunnar’s hardly a boy.”
    “He’s a whelp.” He steered them around the fallen tree, his shoulder and back muscles bunching under black wool. 
    How was it Vikings were so big? Brandr settled the oar back in place, his gaze crossing hers with banked intensity. Warmth flushed inside her. He was muscle upon muscle, strength and bone with wet, black curls clinging to his neck.
    Hard and soft.
    One curl hung longer than the others. The uneven line had to be the work of the warrior cutting his own hair. Did no one take care of him?
    “The whelp looked old enough to me,” she said, eyeing the curl. “You expect me to believe this is about doing a good job?”
    “Doesn’t matter what you believe.”
    She leaned forward, folding her arms about her midsection. Her knees bumped the plank seat between Brandr’s legs, and his warrior’s thighs snapped together, a reflex she was sure, but she’d make her point. The Viking couldn’t escape.
    “You can try and sound as uncaring as you want, but I know better.”
    Brandr grunted, and she scooted back on her narrow seat. He’d waded all night through chill waters, loading the three waiting vessels in the river. During the night, many came to the river’s edge pleading for a place on the ships. News had spread quickly. Gorm was burning Uppsala with plans to set fire to all the ships.
    Soon no one would be able to leave.
    Come sunrise, Brandr quietly surrendered his spot to an old man. She’d surprised both men, emerging from the root cellar during their exchange. The old man raced to the ship as Brandr’s silver stare challenged her to say something. Between the heavy vegetable basket in her arms and the frantic calls of Lady Mardred, she couldn’t.
    Now he sat with her, a riddle to unfold. And there was the reward, an unexpected boon. Like Brandr, she’d take it. Would her new lord allow her to purchase her freedom?
    If they returned safely with the treasure.
    She huddled on her seat. Water rippled harmlessly, darkening here, the depth too great to see the earth below. Morning would be better if the air cleared, but Brandr navigated like a man born to wind and water. She’d already described to him which island they sought when they started.
    Light scraping noises brushed the boat as three gulls squawked overhead. Brandr paused to study the birds and the treetops poking through fog. A cluster of islands rose from the mist.
    “Have you decided what you’ll do with your gold?” she asked.
    Lines framing his mouth deepened his scowl. “Do you always talk this much?”
    The scraping got louder under the soles of her boots. Brandr sculled the water in long smooth strokes, checking the boat’s wake.
    “Yes. When I’m nervous,” she said, checking the floor.
    “Then you must be nervous all the time because you’re always talking.”
    “That’s different. I’m supposed to make guests comfortable at my lady’s table.”
    The seam of his mouth tightened. “Especially the men.”
    She was about to give him a tongue lashing when the boat lurched violently. Heart in her throat, she gripped the side rails. “I don’t know how to swim!”
    “We bumped a fallen log. That’s all.” He dropped an oar and cosseted her shoulder. “Shhh. See there.” Brandr pointed one long-boned arm at the water.
    She stretched her neck for a better look, her nails digging into the boat’s wood slats. The tree lay in its watery grave, a thick, green-slimed branch reaching under their vessel.
    Her fast thumping heart slowed, and she let go of the rails. “Thank you for not turning that into a