Enslaved by the Viking Page 5

  ‘Courage.’ His gaze met hers briefly, and then he turned to address the room.

  He held up his arm in a gesture for quiet until the entire hall watched what was about to unfold. The bowl of food sat forgotten in her hands. Her attention settled on the breadth of Eirik’s shoulders.

  His voice carried around the room, and something about its deep, even cadence soothed her the slightest bit. It seemed as if he was telling a story because they all looked on with fascination and his speech continued uninterrupted. As she watched him, she realised that, here amongst his own kind, he was hardly a giant. Though one of the tallest, she had seen a few others that topped him. Even Alfred was only slightly shorter. It was Eirik’s solid strength coupled with his height that had made him seem so big. The men she knew from home were not as broad in the chest and shoulders.

  The jarl had turned in his seat to watch his son, but stood now as Eirik finished his speech. When the older man spoke she took the opportunity to observe him. His colouring was similar to Eirik’s and he had the same strong jaw, but the face was subtly different. The nose was the same, except for the break, but the jarl’s lips were thin and firm while his eyes were amber, like Gunnar’s. It struck her then that the three of them were related, leading her to wonder if the jarl was Gunnar’s father, as well. He must be, given that Hilla had taught him along with Eirik. She should have asked Hilla more about them.

  The older man stopped speaking and turned his head to look towards the door from which she had just entered. Merewyn looked to see men bringing in three chests, which were set on the floor before the dais. Eirik gave the word and they were opened simultaneously. Her mouth dropped open at the riches they contained. One held coloured silks and brocades; the second glimmered with various metals in coins and chains; while the third held packages wrapped in leather and linen. She couldn’t be sure what they held, but the aroma told her spices.

  Though she couldn’t understand the conversation, Merewyn knew these were all treasures Eirik had brought back from his trip. He’d probably stolen them all just as he’d stolen her. The jarl moved to leave the dais and walk amongst the riches. The man had yet to acknowledge her, but after he completed a pass of each of the chests, he stopped and looked directly at her. She instinctively held her hands clasped against her, pressing the bowl into her belly. His amber eyes were alive with merriment when he spoke and gestured to her. Eirik stiffened, but he didn’t appear amused. Whatever the jarl had said made Gunnar laugh and drew his attention to her. They were talking about her.

  She refused to look at him and instead held her gaze firmly on Eirik. His voice was low and solemn. His fingers were firm when he reached down to grab her arm and pull her to her feet. She dared not ask where they were going, but he took pity on her and answered the unspoken question.

  ‘Time for bed.’

  Chapter Six

  Eirik led her towards the back of the longhouse. It was darker there because a loft area loomed overhead and blocked most of the light from the fire and candles. Chests and bundles covered in coarse cloths were stored in the loft, but she saw some movement there, too. Just before he led her beneath it she saw a pair of eyes staring down. She barely had time to meet them before she faced the darkness underneath.

  It took a moment for her eyes to adjust enough to see that the area had been sectioned off into chambers on both sides, with wooden walls that rose up to meet the floor of the loft overhead. Four of the chambers had rough wooden doors, but the other two had scraps of cloth hanging down. The spaces along the walls between the doors were lined with bare wooden benches.

  She had just begun to wonder, to hope, that one of those benches was meant for her, when he spoke.

  ‘You’ll sleep in my chamber.’

  Merewyn swallowed as he pushed a door open and entered the chamber before her. She said a silent prayer for strength and followed him over the threshold. The darkness lingered for a moment, and then a lantern flickered to life, revealing the room to her. It was small in relation to the great hall, but much more lavishly decorated than she had expected. This was where he kept his personal treasures. Even Alfred didn’t have this sort of comfort in his own chamber.

  The floors were covered, wall to wall, with colourful carpets and thick furs. A large bed took up almost a third of the space. It was made of wood embellished with carvings of animals and piled with pillows. Heavy curtains hung from the corners for warmth, though they were tied back with braided cords. The outer wall was hung with tapestries while another held shields, armour and weapons. She recognised the chain mail he had worn hanging there. Chests lined the floor along one wall below shelves laden with assorted treasures in gold, silver and other materials she couldn’t even name. It was the home of an exotic prince.

  She stepped to the shelf nearest her to examine the figurines carved from a beautiful green rock she’d never seen.

  ‘Jade,’ he supplied. ‘But don’t touch them. Or take them.’

  Merewyn dropped the hand she had raised to touch the one closest to her. The door closed and he slid the wooden latch into place. ‘Stealing a jade figurine won’t get me home.’ Her glare would have melted him had he been a normal man.

  ‘You are home.’

  ‘This is not my home.’

  ‘You live here now.’ His voice was cool as he removed the brooches that affixed his cape to his tunic and then walked over to hang the luxurious fabric on a hook.

  ‘By force.’

  Eirik’s brow arched as he loosened the ties of his tunic and then brought it over his head to hang it beside the cape. Her eyes followed him as he walked to deposit the brooches in a small wooden chest that sat on a shelf near her. He moved like an animal, sleek and smooth, with a confidence that irritated her. Her only solace was the sight of the wound she’d inflicted on his biceps. It wasn’t deep, but the cut was still there.

  When he was finished he came over to stand in front of her. She took an involuntary step backwards. ‘If you obey me, you could have a good life here.’

  ‘Are those my choices? Obey you, submit and I won’t be harmed or fight you and...and live to regret it?’ Merewyn couldn’t stop herself from staring at his bare chest. She’d never seen a man without his clothing this close before. His skin was golden and looked like satin covering hard muscle. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but only managed to inhale his smell. That strange scent that was him—an exotic spice she’d never tasted mixed with leather—filled her and somehow made her feel more alone than she ever had before, even on the crossing. Everything about him was foreign. A strange longing flickered to life within her, and she realised that even she felt foreign around him.

  ‘Submit to my commands, aye.’ Eirik’s hand came up to tip her chin upwards so she looked at him. His solemn blue gaze fixed on hers. ‘But I’ve already vowed to not harm you. I’ll never ask you to share my bed. It’s not a demand I place on slaves.’

  Merewyn’s gaze flicked to the bed in a completely involuntary move, but then dropped to the floor when it only made her earlier fears return. There was no need for him to lie to her. She was here in the chamber with him, completely at his mercy. He could do with her as he would and no one would come to her aid if she screamed. She could trust him—at least in this. Then something shifted in his gaze. She couldn’t name it, but—just for a moment—the self-assurance was gone and she saw that he was unsettled. By her? The weight of fear that had held tight in her chest released the tiniest bit so that she could breathe freely.

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘Do you?’ The corner of his mouth tipped up. It wasn’t a smile, but it was close.

  ‘Aye.’

  She did. But he traced over her bottom lip with his thumb, causing it to tingle. Then he was moving away from her, leaving only the ghost of his touch behind to linger on her skin. Merewyn pressed her own hand to her lips to smite
it out.

  ‘Eat.’ He nodded to the bowl she still held and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and woollen socks.

  She chewed a piece of the meat, but only to keep the newfound peace between them. It was tender and flavourful, but she barely noticed. ‘What happened in there with the jarl? He’s your father?’ At his nod, she continued, ‘Just before we left, he asked you something. About me.’

  Eirik stood abruptly and his hands went to the fastenings on his trousers. She looked away when he began to push them down past his hips. Why didn’t it bother him to strip bare before her? The man was a heathen. They were all heathens.

  ‘Aye, it was about you. He asked why I was keeping you for myself instead of presenting you to him like a good son should.’

  Merewyn closed her eyes against the unspeakable vision that raised in her mind. ‘What did you say?’

  She gave him a moment to answer, but when nothing was forthcoming she looked to him, making sure to keep her gaze from lowering. He watched her with an intensity she’d never known before.

  ‘Obviously I denied his request.’ His voice was laced with sarcasm, but his eyes were solemn.

  ‘Why?’ With that one word, his face closed. Merewyn knew she’d get nothing out of him that night and averted her eyes.

  ‘You’ve already begun to address me as “my lord” and that should continue. The state of this chamber will be your responsibility, but we’ll talk more of your duties and my expectations when we return.’

  Merewyn studiously maintained her diverted gaze, despite the shock of that statement. ‘When we return from where? When are we going?’

  ‘I have to go on a short trip to visit a neighbouring jarl. No more than a week or so. I leave the day after tomorrow. You’ll come with me unless you’d prefer to stay here alone.’

  It wasn’t really a choice. ‘I’ll go.’

  He crossed in front of her again, completely unashamed in his nakedness, to reach into a chest at the end of the bed. She was forced to acknowledge him when he offered the woollen blanket to her.

  ‘You can sleep on the fur.’ Eirik indicated the dark brown bear pelt that was nearest the bed on the floor. It still had its claws.

  She clutched the blanket to her chest as he walked away and couldn’t help the glimpse she got of his backside. Solid muscle worked smoothly beneath his skin. That flare of foreign longing, exciting and unwelcome, ignited within her and shamed her into looking away. She waited for him to climb into bed before she sat her bowl down on a shelf and took her place upon the fur.

  ‘Oh, girl?’

  Her eyes shot open.

  ‘If you think to attack me with one of those weapons, I’ll stop you and you’ll spend the rest of your nights tethered. Think hard if it’s worth that risk.’

  It wasn’t worth the risk. Even if she hurt him, she had the others to contend with and an entire ocean to cross to make it home. There had to be another way, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Let him wonder if he’d wake up to a dagger in his chest.

  She thought she’d lie there contemplating the change in her living situation, but she fell asleep almost immediately. It was a deep sleep, the like of which she’d not experienced since she’d been taken.

  * * *

  Eirik did not fall asleep easily. Despite the fact that he was exhausted and in his own bed for the first time in nearly two years, the slave’s face haunted him. Hilla had managed an extraordinary transformation. The chestnut silk of her hair shone with health and had reflected hints of red from the fire in the hall. Highlights he hadn’t noticed in the grey light of the crossing. Her face wasn’t as drawn as when they’d arrived, but her cheekbones were still too sharp under her skin. Nothing a few days of rest and proper meals couldn’t fix. He’d even been pleased that she seemed to have regained some of her colour.

  But none of that explained why she disturbed him. It didn’t begin to explain what happened to him when he looked at her. The way his body tightened with the unexpected need to possess her and protect her at the same time. The way he’d wanted to stand up in front of everyone in the hall and proclaim that she was his. Or the primal anger that had gripped him when his father had laughingly asked for her and the internal struggle he’d had to beat it down.

  The girl was his. He wanted to possess her and liked the idea of her awaiting his pleasure entirely more than he should. But he couldn’t possess her. Couldn’t even let his mind take him down the path of imagining what it would be like to explore her body. It would be too easy to pluck her from her pallet and push her underneath him in bed if he let his mind wander there.

  But even the mere thought caused his blood to thicken and settle low in his groin. He wanted her. There was no denying anymore that he wanted her in the primal way a man lusted for a woman. It was a visceral urge that gripped him in its tight fist and refused to let go. He knew then it was no demon that had possessed him to take her. It was his own dark needs—his desire for her.

  Shame reared its ugly head, the usual complement to his damnable lust. To want any woman was not something he permitted, but to want her—a slave who could neither fight him nor accept him—made him angry. He’d known what it was to have no control of his physical being before. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, force that on another. Had never even considered it before now. Before her. He never lost control, never let himself go so that he was at the mercy of his body’s demands.

  Eirik knew then that he should have left her behind. There had been no need to take her from her home. Aye, she’d been a gift, but gifts could be rejected. The girl had clearly wanted to stay, despite the bruises. Perhaps she would have been safer.

  He rolled to his stomach to press the uncomfortable tightness of his erection against the blankets. He forced his mind to go black and his breathing to stay even. The lust would not overtake him. He would fight it.

  Chapter Seven

  The nightmares started near dawn. At first the blackness consumed him and all was quiet. But it wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was heavy and expectant, like the stillness of the sky before the torrential downpour of a storm. The air sat heavy upon his chest and threatened to choke him with its liquid weight. Eirik struggled, but was only pulled down farther for all his effort.

  When the screams began he jerked with surprise. He hadn’t heard them in years, but he recognised them immediately. They tore from his own lips and filled him with shame even as they released some of the pain tearing through him. But this time, he was in control. Instead of allowing the vision to take hold of him, he fought it. Moments later, he opened his eyes to the darkness and breathed in the familiar air of the chamber.

  The trembling of his limbs was nothing new. It happened with every other nightmare he’d ever had, and he knew it would subside eventually. His throat wasn’t raw, so he knew that the screams had been brief—this time. That was good. It was something.

  He should have been grateful. There had been times when the nightmare trudged on for hours and he would awaken to Hilla or, when it was particularly bad, his friend Sweyn, dousing him with cold water. His throat would be inflamed and his voice rough from the screaming.

  He wasn’t grateful. The nightmares were gone, beaten. He’d closed his mind to the events of the day years ago that had caused them. He’d thought that they couldn’t haunt him anymore. But they were back. Eirik breathed in and held the air in his lungs. He exhaled in a slow, steady breath of air that relaxed him and eased the trembling. Why were they back now?

  Pushing up from the bed, he swung his feet over the side and hung his head until the pounding in his skull ceased. He sucked in a deep breath again and was assailed by her scent. The salt of her. Meagre light from the hall seeped around the cracks of his door to illuminate the girl. She was sleeping deeply on the rug, her hair streaming out behind her.

  Eirik closed his eyes. The nightm
ares were back because of her. Somehow they were her fault. His fists closed and gripped the blanket before releasing it as he forced the tension from his body once more and got up to dress. To try to sleep would be useless.

  * * *

  He wasn’t surprised to find his father already in the hall, though he was disappointed. He’d hoped to sit in silence while the strength returned to his knees. At the moment, it was a struggle to keep his legs from trembling like a newborn foal. But there was no help for it, so he forced himself to join his father where he sat breaking his fast and drinking mead.

  The man never slept. If it was because some demon haunted him and stole his sleep as well, Eirik didn’t know. Sleeping men filled the benches, but the dais was clear, so Eirik took a place there across from the jarl. He waved away the offer of food, but filled a tankard from the pitcher that had been left on the table.

  ‘Sleep well?’ his father asked, and looked him over. Eirik hoped the despicable weakness didn’t show on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when the man looked back down to his meal.

  ‘Well enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper bed. I’m not used to it.’ It was the truth. His back ached from the softness.

  ‘Aye, I remember that. You’ll get accustomed to it again.’ The older man laughed before taking a mouthful of porridge. ‘Go to the baths later. The hot water will help with the tightness. Take your pretty new slave. She can pound out the knots.’ Hegard used his spoon to point in the direction of the bedchambers.

  Eirik took a drink of the mead to fortify himself. The last subject he wanted to discuss was his pretty new slave. She was quickly causing more trouble than she was worth. He should have left her to her family.

  Silence descended over them for a while as Hegard finished his meal, but soon he was pushing the bowl away and refilling his mead. ‘Are you planning to visit Kadlin?’

  ‘I’ll leave tomorrow. I’d thought she would be here.’