Frida: Claimed (Viking Guardians Book 3)

by Kaitlynn Clarkson

  CHAPTER 10

  Frida yawned and stretched as the first rays of dawn began to filter through the cracks in the barn wall. She pushed aside the bedclothes and sat up, looking around the dim room she had called home for the past month. She had seen no one except Sigrid, who still faithfully brought her food and news of the family. She recalled the conversation they’d had during the night when Sigrid brought her food.

  “Father has failed to find you a husband,” Sigrid told her. “No man wants someone who has run away from trouble.”

  “Well, that is not surprising,” Frida said. “They only wish to have someone who will obey them and care for their needs.”

  “I agree with you,” said Sigrid. “But there are exceptions. Father and Mother are not like that. Father treats Mother with respect.”

  “He has ruined us for ordinary men,” Frida said. “We both want husbands who will treat us the way he treats Mother. And there are not many men who will do that.”

  “Torsten asked after you a few days ago,” Sigrid said. “He wanted to help but I told him to go away.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because he is a man. And he is not of our people. How do we know that we can trust him? Besides, there is too much danger if another person knows where you are.”

  “Torsten is a good man,” Frida said. “He has been kind to me. And he chased Fritjof away once.”

  “I did not know. I might have been kinder if I had.”

  “You were unkind to him?”

  “Well … yes.”

  “If you see him again, please be gentle with him for my sake. It is not his fault that I am in this situation.”

  “I will. I admit that I was hasty to judge him.”

  “What did he say?” Frida asked eagerly.

  “He wanted to help. I asked why and he said he cares about you.”

  Frida’s heart twisted. She wished she could see Torsten again but Sigrid was right; it was too risky. But it didn’t stop her from wishing she could see her friends again. She missed Kaarina and Torsten … and even her annoying brothers.

  “Tomorrow is the deadline,” Sigrid reminded her.

  “I know. It is the day I will become subject to Fritjof,” Frida said quietly. But instead of despair, there was acceptance in her voice. “I have wrestled with my fate for long hours while I have been here alone,” she said. “I have concluded that if God wants me to become Fritjof’s wife, I shall do it. He will give me the strength.”

  “Oh, Sister, you are far braver and stronger than I. I would scratch that awful man’s eyes out!”

  “Oh, that might yet happen,” Frida managed the ghost of a smile. “I will do my best to stand up to him. He is a bully and a coward and they do not know what to do about people who refuse to play their games.”

  “I shall pray for your safety,” said Sigrid.

  “But for now, I shall remain here,” Frida said. “I will stay here as long as I possibly can.”

  “Then I shall continue to bring you food,” Sigrid said determinedly. “But now I must go. The hour is late and the morning shall arrive before I have had any sleep.”

  Now as Frida thought about their conversation, she marveled at the calm she felt in the face of the calamity that would be her life from this day forward. No longer would she be Frida, treasured eldest daughter of Alfonso and Minna. She would be Frida, despised wife of Fritjof. Never in her worst nightmares had she imagined this type of marriage for herself. All her dreams of finding a husband who loved her were in ruins. Somehow, over the past lonely month in the barn, she had come to accept that her dreams were over. She would spend the rest of her life unloved; wanted only for what she could do for the tyrant who would become her husband.

  She cautiously went to the door and listened. No sound emerged other than water dripping from the roof. She was fortunate in her little room at the end of the barn; the roof didn’t leak much. It was her custom to slip outside at dawn for some exercise before anyone else was likely to be around. She didn’t go far, just a brisk walk around the clearing. She would remain inside during the day and go out again as dark was falling. So far, no one had come near her hiding place and she relaxed, feeling safer here than she had in the beginning. She already had an escape plan in mind should someone enter the barn. She kept the shuttered window at the end of her room slightly ajar, easy to push open so she could scramble through it and escape. She had spent hours working on it, greasing it with candle wax and repairing it so that it would slide open with no sound. She was confident that she could escape without making a noise. She had done it many times already in practice.

  Now, as she slipped outside with her usual caution, she was grateful that the fog hung heavy and low over the hillside. It was like a protective blanket, covering her from any unfriendly eyes that might be lurking near her hiding place. After listening for a few moments, she set off along the barn wall in the grey half-light of dawn, grateful to stretch her legs and fill her lungs with the crisp, cool air. The scent of damp earth and wet forest greeted her nostrils and the light, misty rain continued to fall, soaking the land. It was her favorite time of day.

  All of a sudden, strong arms grabbed her from behind and a hand clamped over her mouth, smothering the instant scream that erupted from her throat. She struggled and fought, kicking her assailant in the shins. They staggered backwards against the barn wall with a thud.

  “Frida! It’s me! Torsten!”

  She recognized his voice and stopped struggling but he didn’t let her go. She was pinned against his broad chest, his arm around her waist from behind.

  “Let me go!” she told him.

  “Will you promise not to run away?” he asked. “It would be futile anyway. I will catch you again.”

  “It appears that I have no choice,” she said bitterly.

  “Just listen to what I have to say,” he pleaded.

  She nodded reluctantly. “All right. But let me go.”

  He did as she asked and she stood before him, misery in every feature but still determined to fight. At the sight of her, his heart was stricken with pity for this woman who faced a future where she would never be known or loved for herself.

  “Are you going to hand me over to Fritjof?” she asked quietly.

  Horror filled him at her words. Was she so wounded that she trusted no one, not even him?

  “No!” he exclaimed. “I would never hand another human being over to that pig.”

  “Then why are you here?” she asked, her lips quivering with the determination to withhold tears.

  He wanted to take her in his arms and stroke the dark hair and reassure her that her future would be safe because he had a plan. But he had to tread softly, lest he frighten her.

  “Why did you grab me like that?” she asked before he could answer. “If you intend me no harm, why would you do something that would scare me?”

  “If you had seen me, you would have run, would you not?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you might have screamed also?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then it was better for me to catch you by surprise because if there are any enemies around, you might have alerted them to your presence.”

  “You were the enemy,” she accused.

  He smiled. “It might appear that way,” he agreed. “But I assure you, I have good intentions.”

  “You did not answer my question. If you do not intend to hand me over to Fritjof, why are you here?”

  “You did not give me the chance to answer your question. I am waiting until you are calm and ready to hear what I have to say.”

  She noticed that his hair and clothes were not wet. “Why are you not wet?” she asked. “Did you not walk through the rain to get here?”

  “I did,” he agreed cheerfully.

  “Then why are you not wet?” she asked again.

  “Because I spent the night at the back of your barn, under the overhang.”

  “You slept here?”
she asked, horrified at her unawareness of another human being so close to her sanctuary. “Why did you not come to see me last night?”

  “Because I did not wish to terrify you. I thought you may be less afraid in the daylight.”

  “How did you find me?” she asked in an accusing tone of voice.

  “Your sister. She has no idea that I followed her last night when she came to see you.”

  She was struck dumb at his deviousness. “I cannot believe …” her voice trailed off.

  He chuckled. “I was desperate to find you. And Sigrid would not help me. She was rude and feisty.”

  “I apologize,” she murmured in spite of herself. “Sigrid is very protective of me. Even our parents were unable to get any information from her.”

  “I understand. She did a good job of getting rid of me. Or so she thought.”

  “She tells me that Father has searched far and wide for me. I am grateful he never thought to look close to home.”

  “He has been very worried about you. So has your mother. They blame themselves for what happened to you.”

  “They refused to listen to me. Sigrid tells me I should forgive them and she is right. Anger towards them does not help me.”

  “It will make you miserable,” he agreed.

  She paused for a moment, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. “Why did you go to such lengths to find me?” she asked quietly.

  “Are you ready to listen now?”

  She looked up at him, soft brown eyes luminous in the growing light of day. He thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful.

  “If you wish to tell me,” she replied, finally accepting his presence.

  He sensed tiny seeds of trust starting to grow and was determined to proceed carefully lest she shut him out again.

  “Today is the last day,” he said.

  She nodded. “I am only too aware that it is my final day of freedom,” she said quietly.

  His heart ached at the quiet resignation behind her words. “I come with a solution to your problem,” he said carefully, allowing time for his words to sink in.

  Hope flickered across her face, followed by wariness.

  “And what is this solution you propose?” she asked.

  He turned to face her and his carefully prepared speech went flying into oblivion. All he could think of was her desperate situation and how much he loved her.

  “I love you,” he blurted out, then wished he could bite his tongue off.

  “Love me?” she asked in surprise.

  He found renewed courage. “Yes, dear Frida. I love you with all my heart. I cannot imagine life with anyone but you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Frida stared at Torsten in disbelief. Had this tall, blond native of the land of Norowegr just told her that he loved her? Had he just asked her to marry him?

  “Torsten, I do not know what to say,” she finally managed. “This is a surprise to me.”

  “Take your time,” he encouraged gently. “Think about it for a little while. I know it is a shock to you.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Yes would be a good start,” he said with the hint of a smile. “But I want this to be your decision. I want you to make it because you want to be with me rather than as a way to escape from Fritjof. I know that is difficult under the circumstances but I wanted you to know that you have another option should you wish to take it.”

  “Oh, Torsten, I do not deserve such consideration,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

  He reached out and drew her gently against him. She didn’t pull away. “Yes, you do,” he said. “One thing that living among your people has taught me is that no one should be treated as another person’s property. I have come to value the freedom to choose in the same way as your people do.”

  “Where would we live?” she asked. “I am certain I could not live near Fritjof.”

  He had given the matter much thought already and was pleased to see that she was beginning to accept the idea. “We could build a house in Merilant,” he said.

  “But you already have a house,” she pointed out. “Right near Fritjof’s.”

  “Einar can have that one,” he said. “We were about to build him a house anyway. We can build one for us instead. We can even build the style of house that you are accustomed to if you wish.”

  “Would you really do that for me?”

  “I love you, Frida. I would do that and more. But if this is what you want, you must decide that you will agree to my plan today. After that, you will belong to Fritjof.”

  The stark reminder jolted her and her face paled. “I want to say yes. But I am afraid,” she whispered.

  “Why are you afraid?”

  “I am afraid I will wake up and discover that it was nothing but a pleasant dream and that I am really in the midst of a nightmare.”

  “I can only offer you my assurance that I love you. And it is not simply because I do not wish Fritjof to have you. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you dancing on the road with Kaarina.”

  She gasped and drew away from him. “That was long ago, just before Kaarina’s wedding. It was long before this situation arose.”

  He nodded. “You caught my attention because you reminded me of Revna. But I fell in love with you because you are Frida.”

  “Do you still wish that you could be with Revna?” Frida asked. She needed to know.

  Torsten looked directly at her. “Revna was a good woman and I cared for her. I am sure that had we married, we would have had a good life together. But I did not choose Revna. She was chosen for me by my parents before we were old enough to marry. I am choosing you, Frida. Not because I want a wife to bear me children and do the household work. I am choosing you because I love you for who you are.”

  Frida was amazed at his insight. In her experience, men rarely acknowledged feelings or the uniqueness of an individual. Their attention was usually focused elsewhere. Torsten was unusual in that regard.

  “You amaze me, Torsten,” she said softly, brown eyes full of wonder.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you care about people and you think about things that other men would not.”

  He shrugged. “I always have.”

  “It is uncommon in the land we live in,” Frida said. “Most men only think about the work or how a woman can serve their needs. Even my father is not good at recognizing the things you have spoken of.”

  “Your father is a fine example of what a husband and father should be,” Torsten said.

  “He spoiled me for a husband of this land,” Frida replied. “Most are more like Fritjof. Had I been born among your people, marrying such a man as Fritjof would have seemed normal because that is what the women of your land do. Many are grateful that they are wives and not slaves because at least they have some legal protection.”

  “You are right,” Torsten agreed. “It saddens me when I think of the unhappiness endured by so many of the people of this land who are slaves or wives who are mistreated by their husbands.”

  Frida knew she had a decision to make. She took a deep breath. “If I were to say yes to your proposal, how would you treat me?” she asked.

  Torsten’s face lit up as he realized that she was thinking about saying yes but he knew that his answer mattered to her. “I would treat you as my equal,” he said. “We would make decisions that would affect our family together.”

  “Would you permit me to practice my faith?”

  “Yes! It is one of the things that makes you who you are. You will always have my blessing to worship as you choose.”

  “And you will not take a concubine?”

  “Never! I have seen the unhappiness that such arrangements often cause. There is so much strife between two women who are sharing a husband.”

  “What about slaves?”

  “I have always been uneasy about owning slaves because I can see that they ar
e people with minds that think and hearts that feel, just as we are. I would prefer to hire domestic help or provide lodging for someone in need in return for their help.”

  “You still amaze me!” Frida exclaimed with a chuckle.

  “Why?”

  “You sound like a Christian. That is what a Christian would say!”

  There was something else Frida needed to know. “If we were to have children, would you permit me to teach them of my faith?” She blushed as she said it, trying not to think about sharing a marriage bed with the handsome man in front of her.

  Torsten could feel heat stealing across his face at her direct question. There was nothing he wanted more than to share their lives and have babies together. “I will not prevent you from teaching our children of your faith,” he said quietly. “On the seventh day, when you go to worship at the dingstat, you may take our children. Who knows, perhaps sometimes I might join you.”

  A sudden realization struck Frida. This man was everything she had ever wanted in a husband and more. He was kind and caring. He’d given her his word that she could worship as she chose and that he wouldn’t take a concubine, as was the custom among his people. He didn’t believe in owning slaves and wanted her to raise any children they had with a knowledge of her faith. He worked hard and was willing to settle in her village just to make her happy. Yet she had never considered him as a potential husband because of his heritage. She had been blind to the possibilities in front of her face, instead preferring to chase rainbows and grasp at shadows. When that failed, she had assumed that she would never find a husband who loved her, when all along, Torsten had been in her life, waiting for her to recognize his value.

  “I am sorry, Torsten,” she said softly.