Her feet shifted underneath her. “I’m not sure what troublesyou.”The wolf prowled, though he sat in a great chair. His uneasinessmade her skin tight and her heart race. Hakan was a handsomeman, very appealing to all of the fairer sex tonight with his blackjerkin stretched across broad shoulders. He had shaved for theGlima festival, and his blonde hair, lighter from summer, loosenedfrom the leather tie.“Many thoughts trouble me tonight, but Astrid’s not one ofthem.” In the dim light of the longhouse, his white teeth gleamedagainst his tanned face.“Does your head ail you?” She clasped her hands together,comfortable with the role of nurturing thrall.“Nay, but ‘twould please me if you sat close to me and playedyour harp.”“Music would be pleasant.” Skittish and studying him underthe veil of her lashes, Helena retrieved her harp.She sat cross-legged on a pelt near his chair. ‘Twas easy tostrum a soothing song and lose herself in the delicate notes herfingers plucked. But when the last note faded, the restless wolfstirred on his throne, unpacified.“Why did you play that game with Astrid? Letting her thinkmore goes on between us?”Ice-blue eyes pinned her, yet, ‘twas his voice, dangerous andsoft, that did things to her.“I…I don’t know.” Her own voice faltered as warmth flushedher skin.Glowing embers molded his face with dim light. Hakanleaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. His sinewy handplucked the harp from her, placing it on the ground.“Why?” Hakan’s fingertips tilted her chin.
~ Gina Conkle
