A Flame Put Out by Erin S. Riley Page B

based on forgiveness pathetic. As far as the Finngalls were concerned, a society who worshipped a God who refused to fight back deserved everything it got.
    Ulfrik’s insult to Einarr would not be forgotten.
    But the man was so drunk it was doubtful he could lift his sword. “I’ll run you through, Oath Breaker,” he bellowed, and lunged toward Ulfrik. Einarr staggered and nearly fell, and the men holding him by the arms had to hoist him back to his feet.
    “Not tonight you won’t,” one of them laughed.
    Gunnar eyed Ulfrik for several long moments before turning to his wife’s brother. “Einarr, although you were only after the thrall, the woman was not yours to take. You have disrespected Hrefna Erlandsdottir with your lack of manners, and she is a fine woman who gave us shelter in the storm. You will sleep outside for the remainder of the night.”
    Einarr gave a drunken snort. “Where?” he demanded.
    “I believe Hrefna suggested the barn.” He steered the man toward the door. Einarr snarled over his shoulder at Ulfrik, just as Gunnar shoved him outside. He slammed the door on Einarr’s protests.
    “I apologize on behalf of Einarr Drengsson,” Gunnar said with a nod in Hrefna’s direction. He gave Ulfrik a fulminating glare as he passed him on his way to his bench. “ And on behalf of Ulfrik Ragnarson.”

Chapter 7
    Selia remained sleepless for the remainder of the night. There was an odd energy in the air that refused to dissipate even after the howling wind and pelting rain finally stopped. The house seemed eerily quiet after the constant noise of the storm. Finally, a streak of thin, pale light from the smoke hole in the roof revealed dawn’s arrival. Blurry-eyed, she arose from the bed and dressed.
    She jumped in surprise as she opened the door to find a pair of male legs stretched out across the floor in front of Hrefna’s chamber. Ulfrik, wrapped in his cloak, lay with his head pillowed by his arm. Even in sleep he frowned, as if dreaming of the previous night’s events.
    Ulfrik had chosen to protect her from any further mischief from Gunnar’s men. She studied him for a moment before stepping over him, headed out the kitchen door on her way to the privy. She glanced around in the watery morning light, watchful for Einarr, but he was nowhere to be seen. As drunk as he was last night, he would probably have to be carried onto the ship when they departed.
    The foggy dampness of autumn had given way to an early winter. The morning was clear and very cold, and the rain had turned to snow sometime in the night. A glittering blanket of white dusted each dark, slender tree, giving the forest an unnatural stillness. She hurried from the kitchen to the privy, crunching through the snow with every step of the warm fur boots Hrefna had made for her.
    Back in the house, she stirred up the coals in the kitchen hearth, and added a small pile of sticks to get the fire going again. As Selia blew into her fingers to warm them, she felt a presence behind her. She turned to find Ulfrik standing in the doorway.
    “What do you want?” she whispered in Irish.
    “You shouldn’t be outside alone,” he admonished her. “Einarr can’t be trusted.”
    Selia busied herself with the fire so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “And you can?”
    He remained silent, but she could feel his gaze on her. “You’ll end up being the death of me, Selia,” he finally murmured. “I almost killed my own cousin over you last night. You love a man who doesn’t deserve it, you tell me you care nothing for me, and you conspire to keep a child who very well could be my son. I want nothing more than to wash my hands of you.” His voice grew tight. “But yet I cannot. You consume me in a way no woman ever has.”
    Selia’s cheeks burned. She stirred the coals of the fire to gather her thoughts. “Whatever you feel for me, I did not wish it so. You were my only friend, like a brother to me. I missed Ainnileas so much . .