#WIPItUp … Merewyn’s Viking Master

WIPimage12This is WIPItUp, the blog hop where authors share excerpts from their works in progress. And please feel free to comment – we authors love feedback.

This week I’m sharing another teaser from my newest WIP. Back from beta readers it just needs some final edits before going off to my publisher. This one is a historical story, with sexy Vikings, naturally. The tentative title is Merewyn’s Viking Master, but that may not emerge unscathed from the editing process.

Oh, and here’s picture of my inspiration for the hero, Mathios…

Check out this short snippet…

Vikarr caught his eye from his seat on the opposite side of the table. The youth gestured to the pallet behind him. Mathios turned.

The wench was awake. She lay motionless, her eyes open. They were a dark brown colour, he noted, and she regarded the Norsemen with an expression of pure horror.

Mathios got to his feet and approached the bed. The wench shrank away from him, clutching the blanket to her chin as she wriggled backward until she was pressed against the outer wall of the cottage. Mathios crouched beside the pallet.

“How do you feel?” He spoke in the Celtic tongue, glad that he had learnt it from the slaves in his father’s longhouse.

She did not reply. Mathios reached out and laid his palm on her forehead. It felt cool to the touch, her skin no longer clammy.

“Good,” he said, careful to keep his tone low. “You are much improved.” He reached for the pitcher of fresh water he had insisted the kept close by and poured a little into a mug. “Here, you should drink this.”

The wench continued to stare at him as though he might have sprouted an additional head. Mathios reached for her, intending to assist her as he had while she was unconscious. She whimpered and pulled the blanket higher as though she might yet hide from him.

“You have no need to be afraid, I will not harm you.” He took hold of the blanket and gently but firmly tugged it from her face. The battle was an unequal one. The girl lay still, her eyes like saucers as she awaited her fate.

 

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