The Viking Wants Forever (24 page)

On the other side of the hall, Magdal’s Stig stood as well. “There are no slaves here.”

Unconvinced, Haakon snapped his fingers at a wench curled around one of his men like a kudzu. Reese groaned. Of all people why Leika? Her resentment of her and her relationship with Eirik still simmered on the surface.

Eyes twinkling, Leika unwound herself from her male companion. Her glance swung across to Reese and she smiled with benign triumph. Thankfully, nothing of what Reese was feeling showed in her expression. Outwardly she appeared serene, inwardly she trembled. This was all her fault. She’d cooked up this scheme to gain their freedom. Instead, she’d put them all in jeopardy because of some silly girl’s spite.  

“Tell me, girl, do you serve
jarl
Eirik by choice?”

Chin planted in her open palm, her dress hanging off a pale shoulder, Leika continued to stare at her like a fish caught on a hook.

“Why do I serve jarl Eirik?” Mockery flavored her words, and Reese experienced a flurry of dread, followed by an irrepressible mental image of her pulling every single hair out of Leika’s head.

“Do not lie or you will bathe in boiling oil,” Haakon ordered harshly, all good-naturedness now absent in his tone.

“I choose to serve the
jarl,
” Leika coolly lied. “In return he sees after my protection and provides a warm roof over my head.”

An instant rush of relief melted through Reese’s body. Slightly unbalanced, she grabbed Eirik’s hand to steady herself. And when his fingers entwined with hers, a warmth of extraordinary proportions filled her soul.

Haakon grimaced. “How pleasing it must be to have people so loyal to you.” 

“I would not trade it for any kingdom,” Eirik softly said, his voice chill beneath the velvet tone.

Catching the play of words, Haakon nodded. “For once, I really do envy you.”

Uncomfortable under Haakon’s covetous gaze, Reese squeezed Eirik’s hand. It didn’t go unnoticed. “So how will you punish her? I’d hate to see that beautiful flesh marred.” Reese almost rolled her eyes. His concern regarding her well-being totally lacked conviction.

“No worries.” Without any warning, he picked her up, and tossed her over his shoulder. “She likes how I punish her.”

*****

E
irik watched Reese sleep, the dying embers of the fire illuminating her dark skin to a beautiful golden brown. Well...not everything. Her rump, still red from the spanking he’d given her for turning his household upside down, also sported his handprint.

What a waste of time and effort!
Instead of taming her, his punishment simply provoked more defiance, which in turn fired his blood. He’d meted out a half dozen blows before his fingers slipped inside her. Things went south, he flipped her on her back and his cock took over.

Freedom suited Reese well, gifting her with enough bluster and confidence that she gave as good as she got. Eirik ran the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip, and winced. His mouth like the rest of his body had both suffered and relished her sensual cruelties. His lips burned, his back bore her mark and Tiny Hammer...well, he was spent.

Still, their bedroom battle and the need for some respite wasn’t the entire reason he’d lain here, wrestling with himself, fighting the urge to wake her and burden her with the nasty business that lay ahead.

Eirik gritted his teeth. His brother’s directive to marry a stranger to solidify an alliance hung around his neck like an iron anchor. Haakon, forever the astute warrior and strategist, had blackmailed him with his only weakness. If he didn’t follow through with Haakon’s edict, he would seize everything he owned.

Blessed Odin, his most valuable possession was no longer at play. Reese’s hijinks saw to that. Too bad nothing could be done to prevent Haakon from seizing everything else. His inheritance snatched from him at an early age, he’d made his fortune raiding and as a sword for hire. Every beam in his keep had been bought with blood money, ransom and looting Christian churches.

Not proud of his transgressions, Eirik had sworn two summers ago he would not go back to that life, and settled down as a farmer and occasional trader. His retirement had been so sublime, he no longer longed for a warrior’s death and the ultimate reward, a place in Valhalla, because he already had heaven on earth.

Eirik ran his hands through his hair. Between a rock and a hard place, he had no other choice. He would have to wed Ivar’s daughter. Unwilling to hold this information from Reese any longer, and eager to begin his journey so he could return posthaste, Eirik bent down and kissed her lips. Like so many times before, touching her ignited his blood and Tiny Hammer stirred. Trailing kisses along her jawline, he captured her ear between his teeth and tugged.

“No more...,” she moaned. “You beat me to a pulp. I am duly chastised.” Eyes still closed, she ducked beneath a feather pillow.

“You exaggerate.” As if pulling a blanket from a babe, he removed the pillow and tossed it at his feet. He smiled when she peeked at him. “Get up, we have much to discuss before I leave.”

Both eyes popped open, their golden brown color a beautiful contrast to her dark skin. “Where are you going?”

“I have to go north to see Ivar, a minor chieftain in Uppland.”

“I’ve sailed with you before,” she said, sitting up, her curly mane floating around her shoulders. “Can I go with you?”

Unable to resist, he reached out and caught one of the springy curls in his hand. “You would not want to accompany me on this trip.” he hedged, his gut clenching with guilt when she frowned. He did not want to hurt her, but she deserved the truth, before he brought his new wife home.

“I am going to see Ivar because I am to wed his daughter.” Eirik half-expected Reese to yell at him or throw a tantrum like most women would. To his surprise, she said nothing for several drawn-out moments. But then she sighed, as if in resignation. And when she looked up at him, her eyes swam with unshed tears.

“I guess our time is up, then,” she replied with a laugh. “It was fun while it lasted.”

Eirik reached out and touched the side of her face. She automatically turned her cheek into his palm. “This is not the end,” he promised. “When I return, we will be the same as we are now.”

He felt her body stiffen.

“What do you mean, we’ll be the same?” she asked, her voice rising with anger. Before he could explain, she bounded from bed, her ass jiggling when she stooped to pick up the first piece of available clothing—his tunic—and pulled it over her head. She turned to face him, her hair swirling about her head, reminding him of one of those banshees the Celtics were so afraid of.

“I will
not
share a bed with you and your new wife!” she bit out.

“You will not?” Despite her new freedom, the man in him couldn’t accept her rejection. Unmindful of his nudity, he stalked across the room and grabbed her before she could make a mad dash for the door. “You dare tell me what you will and will not accept? You belong to me!”

“No longer!” she shrieked when he lifted her. “Or did you forget you gave us our freedom?”

With her tucked under his arm, he stalked back to the bed. “I have not forgotten,” he growled, regretting his knee-jerk reaction for the hundredth time. None too gently, he tossed her onto the bed. When she tried to climb out on the other side, he dove in after her.

“If I say you will share my bed.” Grabbing her by the waist, he planted her on his lap and grappled his arms around her, caging her in. “You will, and that is that!”

“Don’t ask this of me,” she hiccupped, her beautiful brown eyes twinkling with unshed tears. “I’m in love with you.” She dropped her head as if in defeat. “It would kill me to have to share you with another woman.”

Eirik was at a loss for words. At last, his mighty warrior had broken down and gifted him with the words he’d been aching to hear for what seemed like eternity. Heart pounding with happiness, he grasped her chin.

“You will not have to share me,” he said when her eyes finally met his. “Ivar’s daughter will be my wife in name only. You will be the
hustru
of my heart, the one who will carry my children.”

“I don’t want you to go.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and Eirik closed his eyes. It was dangerous to care about another person this much.

“I do not want to go, but Haakon has threatened to seize everything if I do not. From this keep to every blade of grass,” he murmured against the soft curls at her temple.

She reached out and lifted the necklace on his chest, fingered the black stone set in pure silver.

“Then you must go,” she whispered. “There are more valuable things at stake than me.”

Eirik glanced down at the black gem resting in her palm. One of the spoils from his last raid, the jewel, and the mine from whence it came had set him up for life.

“I never take this off, but as an act of good faith and my honorable intentions.” He reached up and removed the chain from around his neck, “I give this to you,” he said, dropping the treasured talisman in her hand.

“Why did it have to be like this?” she whispered as her fingers curled around his gift.

“I will see Haakon off, then in two days I will follow.” At the thought of leaving her Eirik’s heart constricted. “I will negotiate the marriage contract with Ivar, recite my vows, and then cut the customary wedding feast short. I will return as soon as I can.”

“You will only be gone a few days?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Less than a fortnight, and then I will return and fill my true wife with my seed.”

“Then I will wait a fortnight for your return.”

Eirik reached out and slid his hands through the curls at the nape of her neck. He applied enough pressure so that she looked up at him. His innards twisted into knots, and his eyes stung. Before he made a complete fool of himself, he captured her lips.

As always, her lush mouth made him weak, yet strong at the same time. Weak enough to do anything she commanded, but strong enough to move mountains at her insistence. His tongue twined in a slow dance with hers until he felt his cock stretch toward her heat.

“Will you give me something...as a show of faith,” he babbled, eager to be inside her.

“What do you want?” Out of breath from his ardent kisses, her voice was a small, suffocated sound.

His hand delved between her thighs and rested against her sex. “This...always this.”

Holding his gaze, she maneuvered her body so that she straddled him. He guided the tip of his cock home, slid the engorged crest along her warm, slippery cleft until she whimpered. She pressed downward, trying to take him into her. But he held her up with a palm beneath her bottom.

“I own you tonight and always.”

It wasn’t a question, but she said, “Yes.”

Due to her newfound freedom, her concession was staggering. With one word she both freed him and bound him to her. He moved his hand to her waist and guided her downward. Before he was completely submerged, he lifted her, then guided her back down again. He gazed at the dark, moist curls, covering her cleft, and watched himself disappear and reappear, and wondered who needed whom more. Several more strokes and he knew the answer.

“I want you. I need you,” and when he was buried deep inside her, close as anyone could be, he whispered, “I love you.”

She didn’t speak at first, simply stared at him for a stark, direct moment. “You’re trying to make me cry again.”

“
Nei
just want your love.”

“You have that and more,” she confessed, her legs locked at his waist, her body so near orgasm she shook.

A brute animal instinct responded to her declaration. Wishing in some primordial way to put his mark on her, he penetrated to the very deepest depths and pressed himself hard against her womb. He moved by instinct alone, gripped in a savage compulsion, driving in over and over again.

“I love you, I love you...” she sweetly chanted. A moment passed with her panting for air, and then her eyes rolled. Shuddering violently, she began to climax, her cry of release mixed with words of love echoed in his ears. She was so warm and wet around him, her pliant flesh yielding to him, throwing fuel on his own release. On the brink, and unable to control his impulses, he shuddered violently. He tightened his grip. Eyes closed, breathing like an animal, he spilled into her.

Limbs heavy in the aftermath they collapsed on the bed. Still needing intimacy, he pulled her into his side. He kissed her lightly on the top of the head.

“Will you miss me?” he asked.

“I miss you already.” She moved down his body showed just how much.

T
hey reached the mouth of the River Nid before sunset on the third day of their voyage. Nestled on its banks was the port of Kapaneun, a former fishing village, and now a thriving trading port, due to its deep harbor and sheltered conditions. After sleeping over for the night, they awoke at dawn and continued their journey inland to Trongdelag and Ivar’s stronghold.

At least three leagues from their destination, they spotted a lone warrior dressed in full battle gear. He stood watching them from the cliffs overlooking the Trond-heimsfjorden. As they passed, he lifted his arms and blew on a horn; the resulting sound echoed off the cliffs. In the distance ahead, Eirik heard the faint welcome call of another horn, and then another.

Ivar’s warning system, Eirik mused. He himself employed large pieces of polished copper and the sun’s reflection. Soon they would reach land. Disgruntled, he turned about and walked the length of
Dragons Spit
to its stern. He leaned his arm on the ornately carved dragonhead and fixed his eyes on whence they came.

“You are looking the wrong way,” Sveinn, his
styrsman
, joked, his eyes trained on the horizon, his hands sturdy on the keel.

“I long for home.”

Still staring straight ahead, Sveinn’s eyes widened. “We only just left.”

“A day feels like a season. Three days? A year.”

A half-smile curled Sveinn’s chapped lips. “Your new bride will be happy to hear you are no longer married to the sea.”