The Viking Wants Forever (12 page)

“Are you winning, my lord?” Dripping with honey, her voice made both men look up, abandoning their game.

The dark Viking Bjarni puffed his chest out so far, Reese half-expected him to beat it with his fists `a la King Kong. “He always loses to me.”

Obviously not an attention seeker, Eirik sat back, mug in hand. “He’s right. I wear my last loss on his chin.” Reese caught a glimpse of the thickened scar on Bjarni’s chin before he slapped his hand over it.

“You do not believe my exploits.”

“Your exploits, my lord?”

“During the skalds retelling of my journey to Bluland, you rolled your eyes.” To Reese’s utter delight, he provided a demonstration with a wild swing of his baby blues.

Tickled by his antics, laughter bubbled up from deep in Reese’s belly and erupted in a fit of giggles.

Obviously, no one else shared her funny bone. Eirik’s expression had turned deadly serious, his perusal of her so intense she looked to Bjarni for an ally, but he was staring just as intensely at his chieftain as if fascinated.

Feeling like the odd woman out, Reese straightened up. “I...ah...well, your cups are filled.” She placed the wine cask on the table. “I need to help with the clean-up.”

Eirik caught her wrist before she could escape. His grip was gentle, the pad of his thumb massaging the vein as he pulled her closer.

“Your laughter is like a rain storm on a summer night.” Bjarni chuckled and Eirik shot him a quelling look that shut the other Viking up. “If I can only get you to do that more often.”

He might be snowing her, but it had the desired effect. Reese relaxed. So much so, she shot him back some game of her own. She leaned forward slightly, putting her cleavage at eye level. To her delight, his gaze zeroed in on her ample lady lumps.

“Just be kind to me.”

For some reason, Bjarni doubled over in laughter.

“I will do my best.”

“You know what would be really nice?” she asked coyly, batting her eyelashes a mile a minute.

Unaware what he was in for, he caught the bait, “Tell me.”

The Viking Emancipation Proclamation was so on! “Do I really need to wear this ol’ collar? I know I am yours. I don’t need this reminder.”

Eirik was silent so long, Reese almost retracted her request. At length he said, “I will do this if you put aside all thoughts of leaving or escape.”

“Where am I going, my lord? I couldn’t leave even if I had a mind to.” And she wasn’t lying, she thought ruefully as she spun around. “The others will be just as grateful,” she said, lifting her thick hair out of the way.

“
Others
?” His hands felt warm against her neck.

“You can’t remove my collar without removing them all,” she replied much more calmly than the moment merited. His touch, his very nearness was turning her bones to Silly Putty. 

“You ask too much.”

Reese felt a rush of panic when his hands circled her neck, the tips of his fingers overlapping.

Had she pushed for too much too soon?  “I know this, my lord,” she rushed to pacify him as his grip tightened. “And if you grant this request, I will be indebted to you.”

“You owe me no debt.” Reese felt tension around her neck, then she heard a snap and the amulet fell to the ground. “Just do not forget that you are mine.”

His warning should’ve weighed her down, darkened her spirit even more, and yet nothing could dampen this moment. This overwhelming lightness. Drunk with happiness, Reese’s hands flew to her face and she giggled. Uncontrollably.

“She’s gone mad,” Bjarni whispered in wonderment.

Understandably concerned, Eirik turned her toward him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, fanning her wet cheeks. “I had no idea how wonderful that would feel.”

“You are happy?”

Reese nodded.

Grinning broadly, Eirik scratched the back of his neck. “We are on the same longship. I am happy I could make you happy.”

He grasped her wrist and an electric shock whizzed up her arm straight to her heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I want to see more of this happiness.”

He dragged her over to a young boy named Petr. Assigned the important task of tending the fire pits, the freckled face youth shifted the dying embers with a stick, kindling more flames.

“How do you fare this evening, Petr?”

“I am well.” The boy responded with an easy smile. Eirik maintained an easy rapport with everyone in his village whether they were family, friend, freeman or slave.

“What say you if I remove your slave collar?”

“Why?” Petr’s eyes widened with what looked like fear. “Are you selling me?”

Sensing his angst, Eirik placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Rest easy. I only asked because you will no longer be required to wear a thrall collar.”

The boy exhaled heavily, and his narrow shoulders slumped. “Then why do you remove the collar?”

Eirik stepped behind the boy. “Do you plan on leaving Skildheim?” he asked, while removing the small band.

“Where would I go? I have lived here all my life. My mother and father are here.”

“You just proved it is not needed.” With a grim expression, Eirik tossed the braided cord in the fire along with hers. 

“Thank you, my lord.” Beaming, Petr rubbed the newly exposed skin, disrupting the dirt ring.

“You owe Reese your gratitude. I am only playing nice.” Eirik’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you bathed?”

“That time in the fjord, when you made me remove all my clothes.”

“You have not bathed since?” Eirik grabbed Reese’s arm and raised it high.

“Don’t do it,” she warned. “This dress could walk to Hedeby and back.”

“I have been asleep at the tiller.” He dropped her arm so fast Reese almost stumbled. “You finish up here. My mother and I need to have a talk.”

“C
ome on
,
Reese!
”

Reese blew the stray curl out of her eye and sat back on her heels. Despite the ache in her lower back, she returned Elisabeta’s smile. Taking note of the cloth slung over the girl’s arm and the line of women filing out the back door of the kitchen, she threw the scrub brush into the bucket and rose to her feet. Eirik was definitely a man of his word. While she did not like the idea of bathing out in the open, she could not deny the excitement that ran through her at the prospect of being able to finally wash off a week’s worth of sweat.

The quarter of a mile trek to the hot springs took over an hour. Unsupervised, they took advantage of this brief respite from their daily labors to have fun. Some chased butterflies others played hide and seek in the surrounding forest.

As soon as they spotted the water source’s telltale vapors, several of the girls started ripping off their outer aprons, leaving them on low-slung branches. Not as freewheeling as the others, Reese hung back, taking her time removing her garments and setting aside a special salve created by Gurta.

Bar of soap in hand, Reese stepped into the large pool. Itchy all over, she submerged her entire body. Reese closed her eyes. Extremely alkaline, the warm water felt delicious against her skin, between her toes and in her hair.

Reese finally came up for air then began to wash and rinse herself, saving the arduous task of washing her hair for last. Thick and tightly coiled, her locks required a special process or they’d end up a knotted mess. She had to finger comb it first, divide it into six sections, wash and rinse each section individual and then finger comb it all again to prevent tangling. One day, Gurta had witnessed her careful ablutions, taken pity on her, and come up with a special conditioner made of goat milk, butter, and lavender oil. She might be in the 11
^th
century but her hair smelled like she’d stepped out of an expensive salon.

“Ach! So many lovely changes in a day!” Magdal purred. Her thick Persian accent made mincemeat of her captor’s language. Eyes closed, she sat in front of Phee who was shampooing her black locks. “I wonder what’s gotten into our lord?”

“Better question is
who
got under his skin?”

Several of the women giggled.

“I wish it were I! Eirik is so big and strong.” Leika gushed. Her almond-shaped eyes turned dreamy. Like Magdal, she hailed from the Far East. After a little quizzing, Reese determined the woman had been abducted from what was now modern-day Russia.

“I think Reese can answer that?” Elisabeta looked at her as did the others. “She convinced him to remove our thrall collars.”

Soap dangerously close to blinding her, Magdal squinted at her. “What other favors do you think you can wring from him?” she asked.

“I want only one other favor,” Reese said with an aura of mystery. Her soapbox moment had arrived. One just couldn’t spring a revolution on someone. “And I will need everyone’s help.”

“He seems to only favor you,” Leika sniffed.  

“There are other Vikings besides Eirik.”

“I can name two,” Elisabeta offered. “Vlad, Jordi and possibly Fenris.”

“We can all count Fenris.” Phee crept over to Elisabeta, hands curled into claws. Her lips curled back over her teeth. “He resembles the giant wolf he was named after and he lusts after everyone.”

Elisabeta raised her chin. “He still counts.”

“Why should we help you? You are not that bright.”

“Leika!” all of them admonished the girl.

“I only say what you
all
have been saying behind her back. She should be warming our lord’s bed, not sharing the floor with us. She is stupid and I would think twice before doing anything she says.”

Well, she had a point.
Even she had called herself all kinds of fool for the past two weeks.

“What if my favor gains us our freedom?”

“Tis not possi—”

Without warning, Magdal grasped the top of Leika’s head and dunked her underwater. “Go on,” she sweetly encouraged ignoring the other girl’s thrashing.

“With enough inducement, I believe I can free us all.” Reese hesitated when Magdal released Leika. Gasping for air, the girl came up sputtering. Arms spinning like a pinwheel, she wobbled backward, lost her footing, and went under again. Unconcerned, Reese continued, “All I need is for you to butter up as many Vikings as you can, put a bug in their ear so Eirik doesn’t feel like the odd man out.”

“So what you are saying is that we should seduce our captors?” Magdal asked.

Reese nodded.

“You already have two on your side,” Phee spoke up. “My Skaldi and Magdal’s Rollo have both expressed their wishes to free us, but it must come from Eirik since we are his property.”

“Then we’re ahead of the game.” Reese held her arm out. “So who’s in?”

One by one, they placed their hands on top of the other—twelve in all. Even the water logged Leika.

Viva la Revolucion!

“So my advice is working?”

Eirik glanced over his shoulder at Bjarni. “At the cost of my mother’s health. She foamed at the mouth like a mad dog when I told her the slaves would no longer be wearing my mark.”

“I can imagine.” Bjarni chuckled. “If only I could have witnessed that.”

“
Ja
, it was priceless.”

Before sunlight, he and Bjarni had embarked on their monthly hunt. By the time the sun was at its highest in the sky, they’d bagged their prize, a wild boar. They were on their way back to Skildheim now.

“Do you think you will tire of her?” Bjarni asked as they came to a stream.

“I have barely tasted her. How can I say when I will be bored with her?” Eirik shifted the heavy tree limb to which they’d trussed up the boar to his other shoulder. Silently, they navigated through the thigh-deep white water and slippery rocks, then scaled the steep bank on the other side.

At the top of the grassy knoll, Bjarni took the lead. Instead of heading west toward home, he walked toward the sea.

“Where are you going?” Eirik dug in his heels, halting their progress.

“I think we should make a detour, and head to the hot springs for a quick soak before heading back to the village. Are your muscles not sore from the chase?”

With a body honed for battle, the hunt and the miles they’d covered before dawn had little impact on him. “You can soak once we get to Skildheim.”

Bjarni turned around. The heavy tree limb with an added two stones not hampering his mobility, he walked backward. “I think you will like my idea much better. Trust me.”

Eirik’s eyes narrowed. “What have you cooked up?”

“Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Plenty of times. Like when you suggested we try salting cabbages and we lost our entire crop. Or that lovely idea of yours to trade with the Picts.” Eirik held up his tunic, revealing a long, silvery-white scar running from his arm pit to waist. “I still bear the mark from following that proposal.”

“You are right,” Bjarni acquiesced a little too quickly for Eirik’s liking, causing more suspicion. “I can wait until Skildheim to appease my sore muscles.”

Curiosity piqued, Eirik barked, “Lead the way.”

“I will make you into a mighty warrior, who’s not only strong of body but strong of mind.”

Eirik rolled his eyes. Bjarni was beginning to sound like those religious truthseekers they’d come across while trading in the Far East.

As they crossed the Blár Valley, they talked about everything and nothing. Eirik cherished these moments. Devoid of responsibility, they reminded him of the life he’d had before he’d become a mercenary for hire.

Funny how he could miss those carefree days when all he’d done back then was lust after power. Now his days were filled with settling petty disputes, fortifying Skildheim’s defenses, and making sure his people didn’t go to bed hungry.  Thankfully, meting out judgments of life of death were few and far between. When he’d ordered Balder’s banishment from their village for raping Skol’s daughter, a good night’s sleep eluded him for months. Meted out at the height of winter, his punishment had been a death sentence. Very few, even a Viking, could survive their winters without shelter.

Eirik smiled as a breeze swept past them, ruffled his hair and carried a green wave along the valley floor. Two butterflies danced nearby, taking turns chasing the other. They reminded him of the merry chase Reese had him on.