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away, eager to create some distance between her and the man who was disrupting her heartbeat.
    Keeping her hands occupied was easy. There were always plenty of chores to be done. She’d gathered seaweed yesterday to make a soup, and now she stood at the table with her wooden block, chopping the ruffled red strands into small pieces. Keeping her mind occupied, however, was almost impossible, especially when she felt the Viking’s silent gaze on her like the intent stare of a stalking wolf.
    After several unnerving moments, he finally spoke. “No chains can hold me forever, woman.”
    She continued chopping. She worried he was right, but she certainly wasn’t about to let him know that.
    He continued, “Have you not heard the story of Fenrir?”
    She gave him a disinterested sniff.
    Which he ignored. “Fenrir, the fearsome son of Loki. They tried to keep him chained. Shall I tell you what happened?”
    She refused to look at him. “Nay. I have no wish to hear—”
    “Tell me! Tell me!” Kimmie suddenly cried from the doorway. “I want to hear a story!”
    “Hush!” Avril hissed. “I don’t want you going anywhere near him, Kimbery.”
    “I won’t go near him, Mama. I promise. Please?”
    “Nay. I don’t even want him speaking to you.”
    “But why?” she whined.
    He answered before she could open her mouth. “Your mother is afraid I may turn you into a Viking.”
    “Oh,” Kimmie said.
    Avril let out an exasperated breath, slammed down her knife, and glowered at him. “That’s not true.”
    “But Mama, I’m already half Viking,” she said happily, skipping over to Avril.
    Avril bit the inside of her cheek. She usually tried to forget about that half. Despite Kimbery’s ice blonde hair and periwinkle blue eyes, she thought of her daughter as a sweet little Pict lass.
    “Please, Mama,” she wheedled, tugging on Avril’s skirts, “I’ll be good, I promise.”
    “ You’ll be good,” Avril said, picking up her knife and pointing it toward the Northman. “ He, however, is not so well-behaved.”
    “What do you expect I’ll do?” he muttered, pointedly twisting his neck in the collar, “Pierce her with my gaze?”
    Avril thought he was doing a fairly good job of that already. She felt the touch of his frosty glare like the stabbing of winter sleet.
    But he was right. For all intents and purposes, he was helpless. He couldn’t harm Kimbery with mere words. Besides, it would be useful to have the wee lass entertained while Avril tended to her chores. She’d heard Viking sagas were notoriously lengthy and convoluted, which would keep Kimmie out from under her feet for a while.
    Still, she couldn’t allow the Northman anywhere near her daughter. He might not be able to escape, but he could do serious damage to a little girl who wandered too close.
    “I won’t hurt her,” he said. “I swear.”
    Surely he didn’t expect her to trust him. A Viking’s oath wasn’t worth shite. “That’s right. You won’t. Because if you lay a finger on her, I’ll carve you up with this knife.”
    “Please, Mama?” Kimbery pursed her lips.
    Avril sighed. She shook her head, still not sure it was a good idea. “You swear on your honor, Kimbery, that you’ll stay where I put you?”
    “On my honor,” she said, clapping a hand to her chest.
    Avril put down her knife and wiped her palms on her apron. She took Kimmie by the hand and walked her to a spot near the hearth, opposite the Viking. “Stay here. And you,” she said, stabbing a finger toward her captive. “Don’t even cast your ‘piercing gaze’ on my daughter or I’ll gouge out your eyes.”
    She didn’t need to tell him that. He wasn’t going to look at her precious Kimbery. His piercing gaze was reserved for the cursed wench who’d clubbed him on the head, dragged him up the beach, tethered him like a rogue hound, and punched him in the nose. He might be telling the tale of Fenrir to her daughter, but his glare and the story were