Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2) (4 page)

“Thank you.”

She followed him through the woods.

“Are you prepared for the reaction some of my people might have when they see you?” he asked as he stooped to fill his water skin. “I will do everything within my power to keep them quiet.”

“Is there that much animosity for my people amongst your family?”

“Aye.” He took a long drink, then offered the skin to her. “People believe what they hear, Eva. And you are not the first stranger to arrive here as of late.”

She peered at him with curiosity. “Stranger? Or enemy?”

“Enemy,” he clarified. “My brother chose to bring his Saxon bride to the Trondelag without warning.”

“I know little of the Saxons,” she said. “Only what my brothers discuss occasionally. War is a subject my mother despises. So you see, Viking, it makes no difference to me what my patient looks like or where she comes from.”

“How can you mean it?” He took the skin from her hand and corked it. “The same consideration will not be given to you.”

She sighed. “I cannot expect you to fully understand the philosophy of a healer. From a very young age, my mother taught me to respect everyone—to value all life. From the tiniest creature to the greatest of men, we all share this world. We all breathe the same air. All struggle to survive. All love. And eventually, all die.”

“Pretty words for a girl’s tender ears.”

“No,” she disagreed. “Truth.”

Roald glanced at his mount drinking from the creek. “So my life isn’t worth more than his?”

“You are twisting the meaning of my thoughts. Every creature serves a purpose. Would the gods waste their time creating anything they didn’t have a use for? Look…” She gestured at a honey bee as it flew from one wildflower to another. “Bees and plants are completely dependent on each other to survive. And we, too, benefit from the bee’s labor. For there is nothing sweeter than honeycomb. We are hopelessly intertwined, Jarl Roald. That is all I am suggesting.”

He recognized the value in what she said. However, he lived in a different world, where men forcibly took what they wanted from the weak. “I admire your beliefs, Eva. Few have the ability or luxury of seeing the world the way you do. Including myself. I’ve lived through too much violence—heard men scream in pain—seen them piss and shit themselves as their life force bled out of their broken bodies.”

“Because of war,” she offered gently. “Think what our lives would be like if…”

“We all lived peaceably?” he finished for her. “As I said before, pretty words for a girl’s tender ears. You are young, yet. Filled with dreams.”

“I doubt I would be standing here with you if I were.”

“Enough,” he growled. The girl countered everything he said. Peace? Perhaps another reason her people were viewed as inferior to his. “There is no peace in the Trondelag or beyond the North Sea. Only men with blind ambition, longships, and weapons. And what we see, we take.” The way he had claimed her already. Roald made sure his expression demonstrated what he was feeling. “Mercy sets us apart from the beasts, Eva. And the ability to exercise it when necessary.”

She bit her lower lip, looking very uncomfortable, but didn’t speak.

“It is time to go.” He collected his horse. “Climb up.”

“No,” she refused. “I have been in your company long enough to know what kind of man you are, Jarl Roald. And since I am Sami—repugnant to you—I am satisfied to walk the rest of the way.” She didn’t give him a second look and pushed by him, intent on defying him.

Roald let her go for the moment, knowing he’d wounded her emotionally. Lapplanders were an odd people, brimming with pride, though they could hardly defend their holdings. The only reasons they hadn’t been forced out of the Trondelag and other areas were for their valued skills as builders, smithies, and for the crop of fresh reindeer they sold at the height of winter. That meat had kept hundreds from starving to death in the past.

Aye, she had clearly and honestly explained her beliefs. Showed a kind of mettle few women possessed. But it didn’t change the reality of their origins. If he had met her under normal circumstances, she would be considered as filthy as any foreigner. And Roald wasn’t sure who his kinsmen would resent more once he showed up with Eva, his Saxon sister-in-law or the spirited healer.

As his horse cut through the trees and emerged in the open, he could see Eva walking briskly ahead. At least the girl had a good sense of direction. Sure he hadn’t seen a finer feminine specimen, especially from behind, he made no attempt to move. The way her hips swayed pleased him immensely.

“One thing I can promise,” he whispered to his mount, smiling. “She’s all woman underneath those clothes.” That’s when he decided to play a game with his new friend.

He urged his horse into a full gallop, closing the distance between him and Eva so quickly, she didn’t have time to move out of the way as he leaned sideways in the saddle and scooped her into his arms.

“
Neavri
,” she screamed, kicking her feet wildly. “Put me down, Norse devil.”

“It isn’t like that, Eva.” He gathered her closer. “You do as I say—go where I command. When you have fulfilled your obligations with me, then I will set you free.”

She squirmed, managing to ram the heel of her palm into his nose. Pain exploded inside his skull, but he didn’t let go. If anything, the mind-numbing ache made him clamp down harder. And as soon as he could see straight again…

“Is this how you treat someone you need help from?” her voice wavered slightly, but she stared into his eyes. “I am Sami—daughter of a celebrated
noaidi.
I am not a spoil of war or some helpless woman you captured.”

With his eyesight almost restored to normal, Roald shook his head, clearing the temporary fog from his mind. The rage on her face made her that much more desirable. And he liked the way her tiny body was draped across his legs. The difference in their sizes alone made her powerless against him. But she fought like a Valkyrie. And that blow to his nose…

“Who taught you that death move?”

“Death move?” She appeared genuinely shaken by his question.

“To shove a man’s nose through his skull. If you were stronger, you could have killed me.”

The horse had come to a complete stop in the middle of the well-traveled road. There was only one path north, and on any given day in the warm season, a multitude of people went this way between villages. Only by Odin’s grace, no one would see him arguing with a Sami girl who had nearly blinded him. He’d never escape the shame of it if they did.

“My brothers taught me how to defend myself.”

“Your hands are sharper than that bloody knife in your boot.” He rubbed his face, finding himself even more absorbed in Eva’s strange character. “You are a walking contradiction.”

Understanding penetrated her eyes. “Why do you say this?” she asked. “Because I fought you? I am a peacemaker by nature, Jarl Roald, but I am not a coward or a fool. I value my freedom and life.”

He lifted her by the hips and repositioned her on his lap. “You will sit here, Eva, and accept your fate. You are riding with me the rest of the way, even if I have to tie you to the saddle.”

T
he sight of
Jarl Roald’s home, an immense longhouse constructed from wood and stone, surrounded by a timber wall taller than any man, humbled Eva. She’d never seen such wealth before, never imagined the man she shared a horse with was so important. Yes, she envisioned a well-established chieftain with men to command. But this…

Roald gazed down at her as his horse walked through the open gates. “Why are you so quiet? Do you fear what awaits us inside?”

She shook her head. “I am not afraid, sir.” Fear didn’t properly describe what she felt as she further surveyed her new surroundings.

The main entrance stood open, painted shields crowned the double doorway. Effigies of Viking gods were carved into the wood overhang.

“Who is the bearded, one-eyed man holding the drinking horn?” she asked, as Roald helped her dismount.

He chuckled. “The very god you denied supremacy to. Odin.”

“And the woman?” The craftsman responsible for the carvings had spared no detail. “She is beautiful.”

“Frigg is Odin’s wife. The mother of all creation.”

“Jarl Roald.” An older man greeted her host as they approached the entrance. “The situation with Konal’s wife has grown worse.”

Roald cringed at the news. “Then I’ve arrived with no time to spare. Captain Troel will see to your needs and safety,” Roald said, cupping the small of her back and urging her forward. “This is Eva.”

The bearded captain eyed her head to toe. “Sami?”

“Allfather provided what we needed most,” Roald said.

“Odin?” Troel didn’t look convinced. “I suspect Loki has tricked you, sir.”

“Listen carefully.” Roald stepped closer to his captain. “You will overlook her origin and focus on her abilities as a healer. There will be no hatemongering as long as this girl is under my roof. No complaining by the maids or thralls who are tasked with feeding and clothing her. No wandering eyes from my men. Treat her as you would my own sister. Are my wishes abundantly clear, Captain?”

Though there was a defiant glint in Troel’s eyes, he accepted his master’s commands. “Aye.”

“Good.” Roald pulled Eva aside then and whispered near her ear. “One of my servants will deliver your belongings to your room. Anything you want, anything you need, just ask, Eva. My resources are at your complete disposal. Silvia must live. I can’t emphasize the importance of this enough.”

“Yes, milord.” She curtsied, recognizing the severity in his tone. “I ask only one thing.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

“If your sister-in-law is a Saxon, why do you care so much if she lives or dies? Wouldn’t it be wise to let the gods decide? Why act on your enemy’s behalf?”

She’d provoked him many times on their short journey. But this question must be answered before she examined Silvia. Though a
noaidi
relied upon many things to be successful, the energies around her—the very spirits of the people influencing her patient were nearly as important as Eva’s faith. Dark forces could threaten the balance of love and healing in her hands.

He shook his head, obviously not liking the idea of having to answer. “Why did you wait until this moment to ask?”

“Your motivation will help determine how I proceed with Silvia.” Roald held her gaze. The man was hopelessly handsome. Fierce. Intimidating. And worth the risk of being in the lowlands. If her brother could see what kind of man she was attracted to, then maybe he’d stop trying to marry her off to someone she cared nothing about.

“Honor.”

She hadn’t expected that answer. “Honor?” she repeated.

“I’ve already explained that anyone under my roof…”

“Yes,” she said. “Obligation. Another word you’ve thrown at me, Jarl Roald. I understand it perfectly. I desire the deeper truth.”

“Why?”

“Roald?” A man of similar looks and stature appeared at the entryway, his face full of anger and concern. “What have you done to my wife?”

Roald raised his hand to silence Eva and faced the man who’d addressed him. “Choose your words carefully, Brother. Though I sympathize with your grave situation, there will be no blame put on me. I searched the countryside for a healer and have returned with Eva. She will attend Silvia.”

Roald’s brother hardly spared Eva a look. “No Sami will lay hands upon my wife.”

“Konal,” Roald growled. “You will demonstrate the same acceptance you required all of us to show Silvia. Eva
will
examine her.”

Doubt in her own abilities as a healer uncoiled inside Eva’s belly. What if she couldn’t help? She’d only met two people here so far, and both men showed nothing but contempt toward her. The fact that Roald accepted her so easily, only confirmed how desperate he was.

“Troel.” Roald looked beyond his brother. “Take Eva to Silvia.”

“Aye.” Troel bowed and gestured for Silvia to follow him.

But she didn’t want to go anywhere without Roald. “You promised to protect me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “These are tumultuous times, Eva. I have business to attend to before I can join you. Remember the oath I took—that is proof enough that I shall honor our agreement. Troel is my right hand. He will stay with you.”

She lowered her chin and gazed at the captain. “I will try, Jarl Roald.”

With a little sigh, she followed Troel. The great hall was no less majestic than the outside of the longhouse. Eva imagined she could fit fifty of her cottages inside the rectangular space. Rafters crisscrossed in the high ceiling and carved in the center of the wood was another image of Odin with a raven perched on his shoulder. People moved aside as the captain led her through the crowd. She felt naked as she walked by, their open disapproval and shock a heavy burden to carry.

“Lapp.”

Muttered insults did not escape Eva’s attention, but she did as Roald had asked, trusting Troel to protect her.

“Skridfinn.”

“Filthy Sami whore.”

These words could not be overlooked. She stopped abruptly and eyed the man she knew uttered the curse. “Do not judge me,” she said.

His dark eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. “Tis like a Sami to lay the blame on others. I will judge you based on the actions of your people.” He spat on the ground at her feet. “And from where I stand, I see a whore.” He grabbed a fistful of her tunic, tugging her close. “Would my pikk rot off if I speared you?”

With a roar, Troel appeared at her side and freed her from the man’s grasp.

Eva stepped back, shaking uncontrollably, but determined not to cower.

Troel’s face reddened as he lifted the man off the ground by the throat. “Another word from your putrid lips and I’ll hack your head off your shoulders.” He looked to the left and right, making sure the bystanders understood. “This woman is a personal guest of our jarl—under his protection. Insult her, touch her, even look at her the wrong way, and you’ll answer to me, then our master.”

He let go and the man fell to the floor with a deafening thud.