Viking's Love (19 page)

When she finished, she made to rise, but he
clapped a hand on her shoulder and forced her to remain seated.
“You do not leave until your master is finished. Do you not know
anything, Slave?” he asked and earned a reproving stare from Janna
as she came to join her husband for the meal.

Allisande heard several of the men laughing
at this, and cringed at their crude comments as she was forced to
wait for Joran to finish his meal. He seemed to eat even slower,
enjoying her discomfort as she sat upon the floor at his feet.

She felt every eye in the hall upon her to
witness her shame. Her hands trembled as she folded them in front
of her, her eyes glued to a spot on the floor. She was determined
to ignore him.

He seemed even more determined to irritate
her. She shifted and looked away as his hand came to rest upon her
shoulder. She longed to sink her teeth into his long fingers but
instead had to endure their torment.

Allisande gasped as his hand slid down the
front of her gown. He fondled her breasts casually in front of his
people. She sucked in her breath when he teased the nipple there
lingeringly until it stiffened under his touch. She reddened with
shame and embarrassment, and wanted to die as more ribald comments
were heard from the other tables.

Tears filled her eyes. She refused to allow
them to fall as she felt him grope her for the entertainment of his
men. She refused to look up at him. She had no choice but to endure
the humiliation. Joran soon tired of his game and pushed his
trencher away from him, regarding her coolly as she sat stiffly
upon the rush-covered floor with narrowed blue eyes.

“
You may go now, Slave,” Joran said
loud enough for everyone to hear. “But do not go far for I may have
need of you.” This last comment caused much laughter among his men,
who eyed her appreciatively as she rose to her feet and left the
hall, unable to look at anyone as she passed.

Allisande helped clean up the mess from the
meal, and refused to dwell upon Joran’s threats to beat her if she
displeased him. She found a knife upon a work table in the kitchens
and slid it into her skirt pocket. She would make good her threats
to unman him if he touched her again, she vowed.

The other women were whispering amongst
themselves as she passed, and she refused to give them any further
gossip. She was bending over to retrieve a fallen tankard later in
the evening when she heard his loud shout for her to come to him
from his chambers.

Allisande flushed as every eye in the hall
turned to her with such knowing looks. She refused to show any
emotion as she straightened and went to the stairs, her legs
trembling as she walked up to his chamber.

She opened the door and saw him lounging in
his tub, looking at her with a decidedly nasty gleam in his eyes.
He tossed the soap and a rag at her feet.

“
Wash my back, Slave,” Joran ordered
tersely. She glared as she bent and picked up the soap and rag and
approached him. She knew he was angry at her words that morning,
and refused to allow him to get her riled. She dipped the rag into
the water, and avoided looking down at his glorious nudity as she
lathered the rag and bent to wash his back. She did so without
speaking and could feel him stiffen under her fingers as she washed
him with little gentleness. When she was done, she stood up but he
grabbed her wrist, and eyed her with a darkened blue gaze. “Now you
can do the front, Slave, and be mindful of the force you use
there.” His lips curved tauntingly up at her. He seemed to enjoy
her look of discomfort as she dipped the rag into the water, and
lathered the soap before applying it to his chest. She finished
soaping and rinsing his chest, and thought herself done.

His hand grabbed hers and forced it under the
water to touch him between his legs. She gasped as her hand touched
his hardened maleness under the water. He was hard and huge, and by
the determined set to his jaw, he wasn’t going to allow her to
retain any modesty as he forced her to wash him there as well. She
couldn’t look at him when she finished, feeling so shamed she
wanted to die. She dropped the rag and backed away from the tub,
her eyes wide with dread as he stood up dripping from the tub.

Her eyes were glued to the floor as she heard
him step out of the tub to dry his body with a cloth. When he
tossed the cloth at her feet she stared at it with a glare as she
bent and picked it up. “Dry me now, Slave,” Joran growled low, and
she approached him tentatively, still too mortified to look below
his chest as she reached out to dry him. He endured her efforts for
several minutes until he grabbed the cloth and tossed it to the
floor.

Allisande looked up and flinched from the
look of lust in his eyes and backed away in fear, but he smiled
darkly and pursued her. She spun away to get to the door but he
scooped her up. She shrieked as he tossed her upon the bed. She
rolled to the other side and retrieved the knife from her skirt
pocket. She held it in front of her, and waved it threateningly
before him as she backed away.

Joran saw the knife and groaned inwardly,
knowing he pushed her too far in threatening her. She backed away
and he could see she was no novice with a blade, and eyed her
carefully.

“
Put down the knife or suffer the
consequences,” Joran bit out and regarded her coldly, his eyes
meeting hers with regret. “I should have known you would go out of
your way to defy me. Is this what you really want? Think very
carefully now, Allisande, for if your blade finds its mark, there
will be no place for you to run.”

“
I told you I would not please you,
Viking scum! If you want the knife, come take it if you can!”
Allisande eyed him warily as he stood in front of her and regarded
her calmly.

He could see the light of determination in
her gaze. She would not give up the knife without a fight. She
raised her chin defiantly and allowed her gaze to lower to his
manhood, and back to his furious stare.

She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, infuriating
him at her obvious intention to unman him if he touched her. He
wanted to strangle the girl for her temerity in holding a weapon on
him again. He was furious he hadn’t seen it coming. She did not
make idle threats.

“
Drop the knife, Allisande. Don’t push
me to have you whipped again, Girl. You will learn I am your master
if it’s the last thing you do!” Joran stalked her, his eyes meeting
hers with anger and regret. He could see she would not back down.
She would force him to make good his threats. He circled her
slowly, knowing despite her diminutive stature, she was quite adept
at using the small blade in her hand. She was gazing at him calmly,
not the least disturbed at his words. He was grim-faced to know he
would have to disarm her.

Allisande lunged forward so fast, he was
stunned. Surprise showed in his eyes as the blade slashed out and
cut into his chest. His breath escaped him in a hiss at the burning
pain there, but he held out his hands and continued to circle
her.

Joran was furious he put her to work in the
kitchens now, not thinking she would find a weapon there under the
women’s watch. Rivulets of blood dripped down his chest, but the
cut wasn’t deep. He was ready for her when she lunged at him the
next time, but not before the blade slashed across his shoulder and
left a trail of pain in its wake.

He grabbed her wrist hard, and twisted it
deliberately until she cried out. The blade slid from her fingers
and clattered to the floor. He eyed her grimly. “You have brought
this upon yourself, Allisande!” He reached down to grab the
toweling sheet to wipe at the seeping wounds upon his chest and
shoulder.

Allisande backed away from the rage she saw
reflected within his cold blue stare.

“
You wish to kill me, do you?” Joran
asked as he tossed the sheet away and glared at her. “Come, my
pretty slave, and do so with kindness.”

“
Never!” Allisande swore as she backed
away from the rage she sensed in him.

Joran glared at her and cut off any hope she
had of fleeing. He stalked her, his blue eyes narrowed with
determination. “I will enjoy this; make no mistake of that!”

“
Nay!” She turned to run, but he was
too quick, on her in an instant, tossing her twisting body onto the
bed before he joined her, yanking up her gown without any preamble
of his intent.

Joran held her thrashing body still as he
came down upon her, his anger making him unmoved to her cries as he
thrust hard within her unprepared body. She sobbed as he worked out
his anger within her, turning her head aside during his onslaught.
When he gentled during his lust, she remained inert, outraged, as
he spent himself.

When he finished, Joran rose and glared down
at her, dressing and sparing her not a look as he stomped from his
room. She sobbed in anguish as she curled upon her side, her body
filled with outrage at his casual use of her.

****

Grogan refused to speak of what angered his
Chieftain when Joran exited the stable after his ride. All could
only guess what his slave had done to anger the Chieftain now.
Janna refused to return to the hall. Grogan fought bitterly with
his wife before he watched her go to their cottage. She blamed all
upon Joran, and said she would not watch him hurt the girl
anymore.

Allisande awoke in the darkened room and
stifled a groan of dismay. Tears swam before her gaze as she
struggled to get up from the bed. It had been worth the pain to
show the Viking she would not bow to his will.

She grimaced as she sat upon the bed, eyeing
the tray of food with little appetite. She felt so miserable, she
drew her knees up to her chest, feeling bereft as she thought of
how she would escape now.

He would undoubtedly keep her locked up now
after she had tried to kill him. Her eyes narrowed in anger when
she thought of how he taunted her before he dragged her to his bed.
She endured the humiliation. It was worth it to maintain some
semblance of her pride to be made a slave.

Joran the Stonehearted would find she would
not yield if she had to force him to kill her at last. She reached
down and grasped the pitcher of water and poured it into the wooden
tankard left to her. The water soothed her parched throat and she
drank her fill.

She lay down gingerly upon the bed, her body
too weak and sore to do anything more but wait and heal, and fight
once more.

The weeks passed with agonizing slowness.
Allisande slept upon the floor each night, ignored except for her
master flinging her one of his furs when he sought his bed. He paid
her little heed except for his dark scowls that found her before he
stomped from the room each morning.

The hall was disturbingly quiet. The men ate
and left to be about their duties. Joran barely spoke, and glared
at anyone who dared to speak to him. Grogan was the only one who
tried to broach the subject as he met his Chieftain’s volatile look
as he sat next to him.

“
You had better get your slave under
control, Joran,” Grogan whispered softly, knowing he was torturing
himself. “Be lucky none but me know she attacked you. The girl
would have fared far worse.”

“
She will not give in, Grogan.” Joran
drained his tankard, and a serving girl ventured close to refill
it, before scurrying away from him. He frowned at this. His slave
caused all to fear him now. Allisande must be laughing to know how
they now regarded him warily, fearful of his displeasure. “She
pushes me to it. She wants me to hurt her!”

“
Do you blame the wench?” Grogan earned
a scowl at his words, but he wouldn’t stay silent. “Would you do
any less if the roles were reversed? She wasn’t born a slave,
Joran. You have stripped everything from her. She has nothing to
lose but to seek your death now.”

Joran rubbed the healing cuts under his tunic
thoughtfully at Grogan’s words, knowing he was right. Allisande had
been forced to act as she had, and blaming her father for his half
brother’s death didn’t excuse the way she was treated by him. She
hadn’t committed these crimes against his countrymen.

She’d done nothing but defend herself against
him and his people since he brought her here. He sighed, wishing
spring would arrive soon. He did not relish battling the girl every
moment until her ransom was met.

“
She will learn her place here.” Joran
sipped his ale, refusing to acknowledge his friend’s words. “I will
treat my slave as I see fit, Grogan. Her life belongs to me until I
choose to let her go.”

“
This is not about vengeance against
her father anymore, Joran, is it?” Grogan asked darkly and shook
his head. “You want something you cannot have for once. You think
the girl will happily come to your bed and forget all we did to her
family?”

“
She is mine! Do not tell me how to
treat my slave! Allisande will bend, or she will break!” Joran
refused to speak any more on it.

“
My guess is she will break, and you
will not get what you want at all.” Grogan got up and stalked away,
leaving his Chieftain with much to think about.

Joran hadn’t had a woman since the day he
forced himself on his slave in anger. His need was strong within
him. He refused to take any of his serfs up on their obvious offer
of comfort.

It was she he wanted, and it was she he would
have. He ordered a bath be brought up to his room. She would learn
to please him if it killed them both. He smiled as he felt his body
quicken as he thought of her surprise.

Allisande would rage and call him vile names.
He was determined to bring the woman to heel. He smiled arrogantly
as he thought of how he would do it. She would not like it, but she
would have little choice in the matter.