What in heaven's name was the matter with him? She had expected him to be angry, gruff, hostile. When Rurik continued to smile at her, his appreciative gaze wandering over her lazily as he unfastened his sword belt and lay it upon the bench, she grew all the more bewildered, her blush creeping up to her scalp. "Your . . . your supper has grown cold." Then she rolled her eyes. How inane she must sound, and what did she care if his food was no longer edible! To her surprise, he chuckled. "I suppose it has." He began to pull his tunic over his head, his voice muffled through the fabric. "Forgive my delay, but I thought it good for morale to share some ale with my men, especially after what happened tonight." "So that's it," muttered Zora, her suspicion confirmed when Rurik swayed slightly while freeing his arms from the sleeves. She could not help noticing how boyish he looked with his silvery blond hair rumpled about his handsome face, but there was nothing boyish about the powerful span of his chest now bared to her gaze, or the muscular definition of his abdomen .
