The Northman's Last Kiss *RetitledOriginally titled 'The Northman's Bride'

Chapter 2-For the Love Of Lemons

Chapter 2 - For the Love of Lemons

"Charming. You are the first Northman I have met and you will be my last." Mimi thought she best reclaim her hand, it wouldn't be proper to let his attentions linger...but since death was all that was in supply for entertainment, she would let the normal rules of decorum slip just this once and flirt in return. "How unfortunate we are about to die, you do seem like a handsome lot. How is it that you speak the Franken tongue?"

"I travel. Wait here." He turned towards the barrel, pulled a small axe from his belt and chopped the ropes and kicked over the water supple. "Fear not, my lady. We have plenty of ale to quench our thirst." He strode towards the hatch. "Wait here."

He carried the nuns bodies up and they said a quick prayer over each one before he dropped them into the sea.

"Was wise of you to bind them so well, contained the fluid and disease," he said to her as they watched a bundled Sister Beatrice slip under the black current.

"I remember my mother speaking to me about the pestis that swept through her village when she was a girl. Killed so many that the survivors packed up and moved to another island, with no strong men to work the vineyard, they would starve if they had stayed."

"Aye. Though I haven't seen a plague that worked so swiftly. You have no fever?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Perhaps it's the lemon water. You should try some. My sister Celine paid a serf to smuggle a few barrels aboard for me. She thought it would comfort me on my journey to the nunnery, how could she have known that it would be such a comfort to have a luxury from home in my final hours." She realized she was rambling, but couldn't find the self possession to stop. "I told the nuns it was a special tonic for my skin, that without it, I would be overcome in scales." She could not help the smirk of amusement that spread across her face, taking more pride than she should in the small triumph she had over her holy jailers. Instantly she felt wretched and shamed that she lied to the nuns and stopped smiling at once.

Eternally grateful to not be alone, Mimi felt oddly at ease in the Northman's company. "There is some left. You must try it. It is most refreshing. Perhaps it will help your stomach."

Starring out across the sea, he drew in a deep breath. "My stomach has settled. It was the stench from entering your cabin that turned it. I will fetch your barrels."

"Oh, my thanks, and there are crates of lemons and figs in the hold. They are marked with the S for Spoleto. Do you know letters, Aleski?"

"Aye. I will look for your lemons."

The sails flapped idly. The massive cargo ship lulled spiritless in the center of the vast sea-no land in sight. The ship gently pushed towards what direction she had no clue. The Baltic Sea was notorious for pirates. What a sad lot if they were to be set upon to spread their plague to other shores. But she couldn't think on that sad point at the moment, selfishly, she wanted to concern herself only with enjoying her last day of life.

The warm, sunny day should be their last if they were sensible enough not to wish to cause more shores harm. Perhaps they should even set fire to the ship while they still had strength to set a good enough blaze.

Mimi hoped she was dead before then, shuddering at the thought of being burned alive. She sunk down to the deck, leaned against the rail and soaked in the warmth of the sun. She tugged the hem of her shift up and warmed her legs.

A crate of lemons dropped at her feet. She swept her legs under her white nightgown and sat up in a more dignified manner. He sat down next to her and spread his long legs out, and crossed his feet at the ankles.

"Oh, you are an angel. My gratitude," she said yanking a board away and snatching up a yellowy delight. She bit into the citrus and savored the oily, bitter spray, cleansing her mouth of the vile taste two days below deck had given her. She quickly peeled the fruit and tossed a chunk in her mouth. The burst of sour made her eyes water, more for the remembrance of home than the sharp taste. She held up a chunk. "Would you like some?"

His long finger brushed against hers as he accepted the fruit. A jolt of awareness that she was alone with an utterly handsome male hit her. Her strict religious upbringing would have had her head shaved and crucified for even a whisper of impropriety, yet here she was wearing her night clothing, eating a lemon, alone with a large handsome warrior. Perhaps this was God's twisted way of laughing at her. Placing the forbidden fruit in front of her. One last test of faith before she dies...maybe she was already dead and this was the test on the way to heaven...no, she never imagined heaven stinking of dead nuns.

His face puckered and nose twitched, eyes pinched tight. "You enjoy that?"

"Oh, yes. My family lives on the most beautiful vineyard you can image. We had lemons and figs. Lemons are the zest that will cure anything that ails you-well, other than the rotten plague, I should think."

He chuckled. His large shoulders hopped up and down. "Haven't met many maids who takes life and death so lightly. Where are you from, Mimi?"

The sound of her childhood name relaxed her shoulders that she had been holding up around her ears. "I boarded this vessel a week ago on a small island of Dane held territory where I've been sent to a nunnery. But Corsica is my real home. Have you ever been?"

"Nay."

"Pity you will die so young and never have a chance to sail there. It truly is the most beautiful place on earth. Fields of lavender to the east of our home and vineyards overflowing with fat grapes to the south." She shrugged and popped another juicy chunk of lemon in her mouth. "Pity I should die so young and never have a chance to return. My mother told me that life is long and I would have plenty of time to make things aright for myself. How wrong she was."

His eyes squinted as his face brightened into a deeper, more satisfying smile. "I wonder if my many years of service for the Holy Empire has granted me this unusually enjoyable death? Should you not be railing against God, weeping and pulling your rich curls out?"

She turned her face up to the sun. "Suppose I still have time for that later. I prayed to God to get me out of that stinking hot box of a cell and here I am. So I guess for now I'll enjoy the moment. Did you happen to see any crates of figs down there?"

He nodded, staring at her with an altogether worldly smirk. "What will you give me to go get them for you?"

She dropped her smile, her brows knit together. "Your share of delicious figs."

"I'm not hungry for figs." His eyes locked to her mouth. Her stomach fluttered and her mouth dropped open in a very unmannerly way.

"What are you hungry for?" she asked, knowing the answer, knowing she was stupid to ask, knowing she was a naïve dimwit about to be ravished by a lewd, crude, rough neck Norseman before they both die...not such a bad idea now that she thought about it.

"You," he said and tossed another piece of lemon in his mouth.

*****

*My thanks to all the readers. As a new, unknown author, I really appreciate you taking the time to read, comment, vote or share my story.

**My gratitude to AnnMarie Spiby for her fabulous cover and beta service. http://on.fb.me/1FYgBMw

www.sandralakeromance.com

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