The Viking's Witch (4 page)

“Why do you say that? Because I kept Ivor from defiling her?” He shrugged. “You know me. I’ve never tolerated that behavior from anyone, anywhere.”

Karnik chuckled. “You
have
gone soft. Three years on land tending to fields and gardens have made you weak. You used to be courageous and bold, fighting everyone and everything. You’ve fought in more battles than anyone I know, and now look at you.” Karnik smirked. “Rothgar the Ruthless has been brought to his knees by a simple peasant girl.”

His pulse surged, and he fought the urge to slam his fist into Karnik’s face. Although it would make him feel better, it would not be a wise move. If he struck Karnik, the horde of men would descend on him—and Odaria.

“It would do you well to remember who you speak to. Need I remind you
how
I became known as Rothgar the Ruthless? I still have a few friends from the old days. A group of
berserkrs
sailed with us. I could call upon them …”

Karnik’s brown eyes widened in fear. “No, there’s no need for that. In the name of Odin, leave them out of this.”

“
Gut
.” He smiled. “Now, this is how things will be.” He paused and licked his lips. Karnik was not used to taking orders from him, but he would soon learn how. “Odaria stays with me. I will question the other villagers in the morning. They are not to be harmed. Anything else on this isle—homes, livestock, food, treasure—is free for the taking. Agreed?”

The muscles in Karnik’s jaw tightened, and he nodded. “
Ja
.”

“
Gut.
And after Ivor’s eaten, take him away with you. I do not wish to see him again until we set sail for home.”

Without saying another word, he turned his back on Karnik and resumed his place at the table.

Odaria rested her hand on his sleeve. “Rothgar, what did he—?”

“Shh. Do not bother me, woman. I have enough troubles.”

He filled his drinking horn with beer and drained it in three swallows. Right now, all he wanted was to get drunk and forget about everything. He had just made a potential enemy out of Karnik, and for what? An odd Pict girl he fancied? How soon would his error in judgment come back to haunt him?

Chapter Three

Odaria looked into the cloudless blue sky. The sun streamed down on her face, warming her. She gazed around the lush green field filled with yellow and white flowers. She smiled. Today was a good day, perhaps the happiest day of her life.

“Odaria, come on,” Rothgar called and waved at her from the bottom of the hill. Snow-capped mountains towered behind him in the distance.

She lifted the skirts of her light blue dress and ran to him, crushing the tender green grass under her bare feet. When she reached his side, he rested his left hand on her slightly swollen belly.

“Easy, love. You are in too delicate a condition to run so.”

She wrapped her arms around Rothgar’s neck and pulled him close. “I am fine, dearest husband.” She kissed him deeply, and he slipped his arms around her waist. “Shall we—?”

A loud bang startled her awake. She jerked up and looked around, confused. Where was she? Who were all these strange men? She thought for a second, then recalled everything. The gathering hall. The Norsemen. Rothgar.

She was sitting on the floor next to Rothgar’s chair. Rowdy Norsemen filled the room, drinking, laughing, and stomping. The men had been carrying on for hours. After they had devoured their feast, they had laid waste to the gathering hall.

Gnawed bones had been tossed onto the straw-covered floor, meat juices dripped down the side of the table, and empty bowls and plates had been thrown across the room. How late into the night would this continue? Wouldn’t these men ever settle down and go to sleep? It was probably well after midnight by now.

She looked up and saw Rothgar gazing at her.

“Did we waken you mit our singing?”

She cocked her head. Although Rothgar spoke her language, his thick accent confused her at times. Every so often, he blended some words from his own language with hers.

“Aye.”

Rothgar guided her head down until it rested on his thigh. “Sleep. I shall wake you later.”

She relaxed against Rothgar’s leg. It made a good pillow, and being close to him gave her a sense of security. He insisted on watching over her to keep her safe from the other Norsemen, and right now she didn’t mind the protection. When she thought about what Ivor had tried to do to her …

Odaria pushed the horrible thought from her mind and trailed her finger along the brooch Rothgar had given her. The detailed pattern of silver knots and swirls was accented with green stones he called jade. It had obviously been crafted with great care and looked quite valuable. She smiled. Never in her life had she been entrusted with something so precious. Where had Rothgar gotten it?

She glanced up and caught Rothgar staring at her again. His eyes were almost the same color as the dress she’d worn in her vision.

“Rest, Odaria.”

Rothgar took his dark green cloak off the back of the chair and draped it over her shoulders. The heavy wool garment was as big as a quilt on her. She wrapped it around her and adjusted it to cover her legs. It smelled salty, like the sea.

She snuggled under the cloak and sighed. If she fell asleep against Rothgar again, would her vision continue? From the vivid details, bright colors, and swirl of emotions that were stirred within her, she knew what she’d seen had been no dream. It was a foretelling, a glimpse of what was to come. She’d had powerful visions before, and they always came true.

But how would she come to be married to Rothgar? They had known each other for only a few hours, and she wasn’t even sure where he came from. Was his homeland the place she’d seen in her vision? The mountains in the distance had told her they were no longer on Stronsay.

She toyed with the silver brooch and bit her bottom lip. There was no denying that a strong bond existed between her and Rothgar. Every time she looked into his ice-blue eyes, she felt drawn to him, but that was a far cry from being married and bearing his child. His child? By the stars! Then they must have—

She shoved that thought away. Aside from Rothgar’s brief kiss in the cookroom, no man had ever touched her in a romantic way, let alone made love to her. She shivered and pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. And no man was ever going to, either.

When she had come of age, her mother had warned her to keep away from men. All they wanted was to sate their lust, and they cared nothing about love or marriage. Then and there she had vowed never to fall prey to a man’s advances unless she truly loved him and knew for certain that he loved her as well. Taking a lover or completing a handfasting ceremony would be meaningless unless it was based on love.

Rothgar reached down and stroked her hair, and she repositioned her head against his thigh. A warm feeling of contentment settled over her. For the first time in a fortnight, her belly was full and she could sleep without fear. Rothgar had protected her from Ivor, and he’d given her a fancy brooch to wear. But why was he being so generous? What did he expect from her in return?

“Wake up, Odaria.”

Someone was shaking her shoulder. She opened her eyes in time to see Rothgar bend down and scoop her into his arms.

“What’s happening?”

“Time for bed,” he replied.

The Norsemen in the room whistled and clapped their hands. A few shouted out words she did not understand. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. Why were they acting that way? What did they care if Rothgar took her to bed?

She was too tired to protest as Rothgar carried her out of the main room and up the short flight of stairs that led to the single bedchamber. He ducked as he carried her across the threshold and into the sparsely furnished room.

The bed was positioned beneath the window. Moonlight streamed into the room, casting a silvery path on the sheepskin bedcovering. Two lit candles flickered next to a pitcher and bowl on a chest of drawers. Rothgar set her down near the bed, then locked the door behind him.

As the lock clicked into place, she snapped awake. “What are you doin’ that for?”

Rothgar slipped the iron key into the pouch dangling from his waist. “I do not want us disturbed. Get in bed.”

She glanced at the small bed. It was barely wide enough to fit Rothgar’s shoulders and certainly wasn’t long enough for him. “Nay, ’tisna room for both of us. I’ll lie on the floor.”

Rothgar propped his sword against the wall, then unstrapped the dagger from his hip and placed it on the chest of drawers. He pulled his green tunic over his head and flung it onto the chair in the far corner. “It was not a request,” he replied as he removed his boots.

She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Nay, I—”

He yanked the cloak off her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. “Get in.”

All of a sudden, she understood why the other Norsemen had applauded when Rothgar said it was time for bed. He hadn’t brought her up here so they could sleep in private. He meant to have his way with her.

“Nay. I’ll not—”

Rothgar shoved her in the chest, and she fell back onto the bed. Before she could move, he climbed into bed and rolled on top of her. The straw mattress sank under their weight. She tried to push him off, but she could barely move. Something hard was poking her through her chemise. “Get off!”

“Shh, lie still. You shall enjoy it.”

“Never.” She struggled for a moment, then realized that she was powerless against him. Rothgar had her pinned to the bed. Fighting him would be useless.

He chuckled. “Wriggle about all you like beneath me. It serves to excite me further.”

xShe lay still and closed her eyes. If he wanted her to move, she’d turn into a stone. What had come over him? Why was he behaving like an animal? He had promised not to hurt her. “I trusted you,” she whispered.

Rothgar smoothed her hair. “I will not hurt you, Odaria. Relax and let me make love to you. I am a good lover, you will see. I shall make you feel—”

“I shan’t feel anything for you except hatred.” She glared into his eyes, and he drew back a little. “If you do this—”

Rothgar covered her mouth with his. She tensed and squirmed, then lay still. His coarse beard prickled her chin and cheeks as his lips moved against hers. She closed her eyes and let out a tiny whimper as his kiss became more insistent and needy. Rothgar moaned and settled more of his weight on her, crushing her chest.

Finally, he broke the kiss and caressed her cheek. “Was it so bad that you do not open your mouth and kiss me in return?”

“I canna breathe. You are killing me,” she managed to croak out.

Rothgar raised himself onto his elbows, taking some of his weight off her. “Sorry. I am most eager.”

She turned her head. “And I am not.”

“Come now, Odaria, there is no need to be afraid. I’ve pleasured many women. I’m well endowed—”

“Then go find a woman who would welcome your endowments. There are experienced women in the village who know how to satisfy a man. Take one of them tonight, and leave me be,” she said, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

Rothgar arched an eyebrow. “An experienced woman? You have never—?”

“Nay.” She blinked back tears. “I’d never even been kissed before tonight. If you do this to me, you shan’t like it. You are wasting your time.”

“Then I shall teach you.” Rothgar trailed his thumb across her lips. “I want you. No other woman shall do tonight, nor any other night. You have stirred a deep lust in me that has been sleeping for years.”

Rothgar bent close to kiss her again, and she brought her hands up to his chest to push him away. Instead of resisting, the hard feel of his chest muscles stunned her into submission. Although she knew Rothgar was a strong man, she hadn’t expected him to feel so warm and inviting. She trailed her hands across the front of his chest and discovered a thick patch of hair. As she explored it with her fingertips, an odd tingling sensation spread through her lower body. What was happening to her? Suddenly, she felt weightless and dizzy, as she had in the cookroom. She no longer wanted to struggle against Rothgar. She wanted to lie here beneath him, kissing his lips and touching his chest.

The room seemed to fade away, and the next thing she knew, her lips moved against Rothgar’s. Was she doing it right? She had never kissed a man before, but it wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything, it excited her and made her feel warm and mushy inside.

Her mind flashed back to her vision. In it, she was Rothgar’s wife, they were in love, and she was about to kiss him on the hillside. Was this how their courtship began?

Rothgar moaned. Suddenly, his lips parted, and he thrust his thick tongue into her mouth. He tasted like beer.

She recoiled and writhed beneath him, trying to shove him off. Instinctively, she entwined her fingers in his chest hair and yanked as hard as she could.

Rothgar roared and rolled off her. “Dammit, wench, what are you doing?”

Odaria leapt out of bed and ran to the door. Her heart pounded wildly as she tugged at the door handle. It was locked. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten that Rothgar had locked the door and taken the key. “Let me out. Open this door and set me free.”

She cowered in the corner near the door, not daring to take her eyes off Rothgar. He was sitting up in bed, scowling and rubbing his chest. What had she done? Now she was trapped in here with him, and he was angry. What would he do to her? If he wanted to hurt her, she wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“Pray let me go.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Find yourself another girl.”

“You are not leaving this room tonight. You are mine.”

She wrapped her arms around her chest, shielding herself from him. “Never. You are no better than Ivor. You rescued me from him so you would have the pleasure of deflowering me. Do what you will to me, I canna stop you, but I swear by the gods I shall lie there like stone. You will receive no pleasure from your lustful—”

“Quiet! Must you shout always?” Rothgar stood and strode to the chest of drawers. He retrieved the iron key from his pouch and threw it on the floor in front of her.

She snatched it up and held it to her chest.

“You wish to leave me?
Fara!
Go. Be gone from here, wench. Leave, for all I care.” Rothgar sat on the edge of the bed. “Go. Unlock the door and run downstairs. But be quick. There are a dozen Norsemen in the lower room. If you sneak past them with your maidenhead intact, consider yourself lucky, for there are a hundred more outside. If you run fast enough, they may not catch you.”

Rothgar paused for a second, then continued. “But make no mistake about it. Someone, one of them, perhaps a few, or twenty, will catch you. They are Nordmenn. A few tears will not sway them from fulfilling their desires.”

She gasped. How could he say such repulsive things?

Rothgar raised his head and looked at her. “Make your choice. How many virile Nordmenn do you wish to have tonight? One … or a hundred?”

She clutched the key in her trembling hand. How many Norsemen were on the isle? Even if she could escape from the gathering hall safely, what awaited her outside?

Rothgar rubbed his temples and sighed. His huge shoulders slumped. “I did this for your protection. I was not going to hurt you … or force you. I am not like them. It has been so long since I’ve …” He walked to the chest of drawers.