The Viking Wants Forever (21 page)

If only her heart was as simple to vanquish as her body, Eirik mused as her breathless cries echoed around them. Framed in a blanket of snow, her brown skin dewy with sweat, she shuddered beneath him. She was the most beautiful woman, and unequivocal thief of his heart.

Growling, Eirik poured into her. As his heart pounded in his ears, he prayed to all the gods in Valhalla that another woman would not be his downfall. 

I
n the days that followed, Reese was nowhere closer to obtaining the black tourmaline and her freedom, but her life was closer to bliss than misfortune. She and Eirik were getting along swimmingly, bumping uglies every chance they could get. When not making love, he’d personally shown her every inch of his estate and the adjoining settlement, pointing out with pride how none of it had existed a little over ten winters ago.

Often in the evenings, they rode in his sleigh along the cliffs of the fjord and watched the moon rise over the cliffs. During these times, when it was only the two of them, nothing of the outside world intruding on their contentment, they slowly let their guard down. Smiles and laughter came as easy as secret desires and unfulfilled dreams. On one of these rides Reese divulged her longing to be a comic artist.

“I would give anything to sketch this,” she breathed as they sat holding hands, gazing at the stars.

“What is sketch-ahn?”

“Sketching,” she corrected, “is transferring what you see into an image.”

His inquisitive expression melted into a frown. 

Still holding his hand, Reese leaned forward. She dipped her index finger into the dust coating the sleigh and sketched a lady bug. “Sketch,” she enunciated as she topped the insect with a pair of antennas.

“You are pretty good.”

“This is child’s play compared to my graphic novel. The people I’ve shown it to say it’s good enough to publish.”

He frowned again. “Publeesh?”

“I could make money off my stories and drawings.”

“Could?” With the frown still lingering, he cocked his head. “So that means you do not.”

“No,” Reese murmured. “I allow self-doubt to sabotage anything I hold dear.”

“Like us,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.

If what they had wasn’t doomed, would she have set herself up for failure? Probably. Exhaling in a long slow breath, Reese sat back. “My lack of self-worth has more than contributed to a special brand of crazy that sent more than one man running for the hills.”

He leaned back as well, the shadow of a smile curling his lips. The moonlight caught in his pale blond hair turning it white. “Unfortunately for you, I am a mighty Viking. We never retreat.”

“Never?” she softly challenged.

He pressed his body against her, and like always heat infused her senses. “When will you realize I want forever?”

Like a schoolgirl with her first crush, Reese clung to him, wanting to touch him a dozen places at once. “How about showing me,” she whispered, soliciting sex.

He licked the curve of her bottom lip. “How deep do you want it?”

Reese wished she could say her relationship with the other slaves had progressed just as effortlessly. Seeing she’d regained Eirik’s favor, they were constantly pressing her for the promised change. Like yesterday afternoon when Magdal and Phee cornered her in the larder.

“How are your new sleeping quarters?” Magdal sneered as she sidled up beside her, Phee in tow.

“The master’s bed must be a big improvement from the floor.” Phee reached out and traced the red smocking along Reese’s bust line. One of two linen aprons Eirik had given her, the garment was pristine. A stark contrast to their stained gunny sack dresses. Reese felt more than a twinge of guilt, but she refused to be bullied. 

“Look I don’t blame you two for being sore with me. I planted the seed for obtaining our freedom, and for all intents and purposes it looks as if I’ve abandoned you. Rest assured I haven’t.”

“She is with child,” Phee said, resting her hand on Magdal’s shoulder. “Your plan to secure as many sympathizers to our cause as we could went a little too well.”

Magdal must have read her mind because she lifted her chin. “Stig is the father of my child, but he does not have feelings for me...none that he has openly expressed,” Magdal glanced down and rubbed her belly. “But I already love this child and it does not sit well with me that he or she will be born a thrall.”  

Reese glanced at Magdal with sympathy. “It doesn’t sit well with me either. This class system has to go. I promise—”

“REESE!”

Despite her heartbeat racing a mile a minute and her body’s involuntary pull, Reese stayed put. “I promise,” She stepped forward and took each woman’s hand, “I promise I am doing all I can to free us all. Even more so now with the baby—”  

“REESE!” 

“You better get out there afore he comes in here and drags you out.” 

“Give me a little more time,” she spoke earnestly.

Phee glanced at Magdal who shrugged. “We have nothing but time.”  

She pulled on the larder door, and crashed into Eirik. With the tourmaline and everyone’s freedom on her mind, her gaze lifted to his great height and she smiled sweetly. “Looking for me?”

“
Ja
. Everywhere,” he admitted, blustering confidence and a lascivious smile.

It felt for a moment as if he’d touched her. And as heat flamed her senses, she said with obvious effort, “What did you want of me?”

“I want plenty,” he whispered with a flagrant familiarity, and her nipples hardened into twin peaks. “Come with me.”

He didn’t wait for her to accept (as if she wouldn’t). He took her hand in his and led her through the hall. Thighs growing slick in anticipation, Reese struggled to keep up with his long-legged stride. Instead of going to his bedchamber, he pulled her into a smaller room next to his. Nonplussed by the change in scenery, a man of his word he’d taken her in every room of his keep. Just last week, they’d enjoyed a wallbanger inside the garrison.

Unable to keep her hands to herself, she came around and wrapped her arms around his neck. “This is beginning to be a habit, and I like it...” Not getting the lusty Viking reaction she’d grown accustomed to, Reese stepped back. “What’s wrong?”  

“We have visitors.” He pointed at the window overlooking the harbor.

Reese hurried over, and gasped at the sight of a half a dozen long ships cutting through the dark waters of the Sognafjord, heading toward the village. Manned with no less than fifty men each considering the number of oars working to propel them down the strait, they looked ominous with their red and white striped sails.

“Are we under attack?” she asked, eyeing the battle shields flanking the ships’ hulls.

“Worse...it’s my half-brother,
Konugr
Haakon,” Eirik muttered, his tone dripping with spite.

As he turned the horses around, Reese asked, “You have a brother who’s a king?”

“Half-brother,” he countered, smacking the horses’ reins. “My father was forced into an arranged marriage; therefore, his eyes wandered. And they strayed more than once on my mother, who served as handmaiden to his wife; thus Thoren and I.”

“So...why has he come?”

“He wants something. His last visit resulted in my leaving for five summers.”

Five summers
? Reeling at the news, Reese leaned against the sill.

“I brought you here because you will remain in this room until he leaves.”

“Until he leaves?! That could be two days or two months!” she balked.

“And you will remain in this room the entire time,” he said very deliberately, his tone and body language not brooking any form of disobedience.

Refusing to settle for confinement without a good reason, she asked, “Why?”

A coolness entered his pale blue eyes. “Like all his subjects, what belongs to me also belongs to the
konugr
.”

Now on the same page, Reese turned to him, arms folded. “And you don’t like to share.”

“I will not share you.” He looked at her a moment more, and then strode from the room.

Meaning to call his bluff, Reese ran to the door and found it locked.

* * * * *

B
ack in the main hall, Thoren awaited him. Newly washed and dressed in his ceremonial best, his baby brother bounded over to him. Without stopping, Eirik headed outside.

Mind on the boats sitting in the inlet, Eirik barely noted the beautiful weather. He paid no mind to the sun beating at his back or the short-lived orange petal wild flowers blooming along the path to the docks.

“Why do you think Haakon’s come?”

“We shall soon find out,” Eirik muttered.  

Thoren sucked in an excited breath. “He probably needs us to go to war!”

I pray to Odin it’s not war
. Eirik frowned. There was a time he thirsted for war. The opportunity to let up his sails, wet his blade with an enemy’s blood would send him into a frenzy. Now, the thought of stepping aboard a long ship made his stomach churn.

When did I become so weak...and for a woman?

While Eirik warred with his very nature, Thoren continued to chatter all the way to the inlet. By the time they reached the end of the docks, several rowboats were already cresting the waves. On the lead skiff, a blond giant cloaked in a snow white fur stood at its bow.

“Why, he’s your twin!” Thoren exclaimed. He’d been too young, only four or five summers, on Haakon’s last visit.

Eirik snorted. “Our physical resemblance is the only thing we have in common. He’s a self-centered bastard who uses his station in life to use people as pawns.”
Including his kin
, Eirik thought.

Before the hull was tethered to the dock, his carbon copy alighted. Moving like a man used to commanding thousands, Haakon swaggered toward them. Even though he smiled, his gray eyes were cold and devoid of any emotion.

Eirik inclined his head with due reverence. Haakon might be his king, but he would be damned if he bowed to the arrogant bastard. Thoren on the other hand, appeared enchanted. Mouth agape, he stared up at their old brother as if he were Odin himself.

“Is the hilt of your sword made of pure gold?” He reached out but Eirik slapped his hand.

Chuckling, Haakon’s blue gaze settled on Thoren. “My you’ve grown, brattling.”

Thoren threw back his narrow shoulders. “I am no brattling. I am almost a man.”

“A boy who has his mother’s greedy ways. I wonder—”

“Why are you here?” Eirik interjected before things escalated, and he bashed Haakon’s head in. “You rarely leave your kingdom, so this visit must be of dire importance.”

“Come,
bróðir,
 I am hungry. We have much to discuss, but you know I do not like to talk about my intrigues on an empty stomach.”

Eirik nodded, only conceding to his brother’s wishes out of custom. Haakon and his men could eat a man out of hall and keep, and there was little he could say about it. Whatever he owned also belonged to his king. And an extended visit, right before winter, could deplete their stores, and set his people up for a harsh winter. Already calculating his losses, Eirik was roiling with anger by the time they passed through the keep’s main doors.

Thankfully, his mother had everything in control. Like a commander over a legion of a hundred men, Brita directed the servants with efficiency. The benches along the walls had already been wiped down, the floor swept, and tankards of ale were already waiting for them at his high table.

“
Konungr
Haakon!” Brita exclaimed, scuttling toward them before Eirik could soak his anger in honey mead. She dropped to the floor in a deep curtsy, and then rose, rather sprightly for a woman her age.

“Brita...” Haakon sniffed. “I see you are still underfoot.”

Brita’s face suffused with color and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Her affair with their father had ended over twenty years ago with his murder at the hands of King Harald, yet Haakon, like most other nobles, refused to let her live it down.

“W-w-we were not expecting your arrival,
Konungr
Haakon, but we have poured our finest ales and we’ve baked a batch of sweet bread. I myself have selected the freshest cheeses and choicest meats for your trencher. And tonight we shall dine on pickled herring, meatballs in a lingonberry sauce and a boar.”

There were times when his mother tested his patience, but at this moment, Eirik pitied her as she stumbled over her words. Haakon had a way of unhinging even the most stalwart of adversaries.

“Thank you, Brita. You’re preparations are greatly appreciated.” Despite her show of resourcefulness and graciousness as a lady of the manor, Haakon didn’t acknowledge it. He picked at an imaginary speck of dirt on his tunic instead. “Since you are so busy making Haakon’s visit as comfortable as possible, I’m sure you have more important things to attend to, and we are monopolizing your time.”

Brita bobbed her head, relief evident on her face. As she scurried off to finish the preparations for his brother’s visit. Eirik decided to send Thoren off as well. Ever since the docks, the youth had been unusually silent.

More than ready to end this business and send his brother packing, Eirik squired Haakon over to his personal table. Deferring to his brother’s status, Eirik took a seat on the adjacent bench while Haakon took his chair.

His brother settled his large frame and reached across for a tankard. Instead of immediately downing the ale, he brought it to his lips, he sniffed it first. Finding it to his liking, he proceeded to down it —only stopping when one of the female thralls, Phee, set a wooden trencher in front of him. When she turned to walk away, he slapped her on the rump.

“How is Margethe?” Eirik asked.

Haakon looked at him sharply, but then he shrugged his shoulders. “She’s fine —as good as any married woman, I suppose.” He took another swig of his ale before slamming the metal cup back down on the heavy oak table. “Speaking of wives,” Haakon paused to wipe his mouth with his shirtsleeve, “that is the very reason why I’m here. It is long overdue, as your brother, to do my brotherly duty.”