“He was right. You took unnecessary risks. You might not like him ordering you about, but he cares. We all do. His voice just happens to be the most strident.”
Tyra nodded as she gave him one more squeeze. Freya was behind her when she turned, and the two women embraced as they shared their fear and relief with no need for words. Once her friends were sure everyone was hale, they worked with the others to set up camp near the beach. It was too late to assess the damage. Once people built fires, watches were assigned, and a sparse meal eaten, everyone gave in to exhaustion.
As the sun rose once more in a bright, clear sky, Tyra walked around the hulls, making note of which needed the most urgent care. Bjorn and Erik were checking with captains for injuries that needed tending, while Freya and Strian determined the boats and crews they lost. Rangvald and Lorna hiked a ridge near to the beach. They set off to scout for any of the lost boats and to get a lay of the land.
“You have the natural talent everyone says you do,” a deep voice came from over Tyra’s shoulder. She sensed who it would be before she turned, but she still was not prepared for how dazzlingly handsome the man was. She took in his broad shoulders and the smattering of hair on his chest. He was nearly the most handsome man she had ever seen. There was only one man she found more attractive, but she forced her mind from Bjorn.
“Thank you. I’m glad to have it when I can keep my people safe.”
“Perhaps the tales are true then. You are the tenth daughter of Rán and Ægir.”
“Hardly,” her voice hardened. She despised the comparison because it ignored her real parents. It was already becoming hard to remember what they looked and sounded like.
The man held his hands up as he smiled at her, his white teeth shining in even rows.
“I meant no offense. I intended to appreciate the fortune the gods offered us.”
Tyra nodded as she moved on to the next ship. The man followed her as she ran her hand along the wood planks.
“You’re aware of who I am.” She added nothing beyond that. She would not state her curiosity but let him decide whether he would take the bait.
“I am Fritjof.”
Tyra looked over him, and something in the back of her head made her wonder if his name was true. One who steals peace. He smiled once again, and she pushed the meaning aside.
“It’s nice to meet you. You sail for Jarl Rangvald?”
“Yes. I’m a distant cousin to the jarl and Erik.”
Tyra nodded as she continued to survey the ships. She would ask Erik later about the man. Before their conversation progressed, Strian came back to her side.
“Tyra, there isn’t as much damage as we expected, but there are a few holes and deep gouges that need repairing. Your carpenters will be busy for the next few days. I’ll send my crew and Bjorn’s to fell trees and bring them back. In the meantime, we are meeting.”
Tyra watched Strian’s gaze flick past her as he assessed the man standing behind her. His face revealed nothing, but Tyra knew him well enough to sense Fritjof did not impress him. She would ask Strian later about the man, too. She looked back at Fritjof and smiled.
“It was nice to meet you.”
“And you, too.”
Six
Tyra twisted her back and leaned her head from one side to the other as she tried to release the knots forming from standing over a log, running a rasp over it to remove the bark. She pushed her shoulders back and ignored the cracks along her spine, but she flushed when Fritjof stepped forward just as her chest thrust forward.
“You work very hard and at a great many things. You are a mapmaker, a shipbuilder, a sailor, and a carpenter. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Yes. Plenty,” she grinned.
“Such as?”
“Cook. I can’t cook, and I don’t sew very well. I mean I can do these things, just not very well.”
“If those are your only failings, then you are still nearly perfect.”
A growl filled her ears as she instinctively reached for his pelt and pulled him forwards lest Bjorn walk into him with a log under his arm. She glared at him and at Strian, who carried the other end. Strian chuckled and shrugged. Bjorn scowled when he realized all he had done was bring the two closer together.
“Thank you,” Fritjof murmured against her hair as he cupped her shoulders.
She found her hands resting on his chest. His skin prickled as if it would singe her fingertips. She looked into eyes that were dark brown. They reminded her of someone else’s eyes, but they lacked the warmth she was used to in Bjorn’s gaze. Fritjof’s seemed to assess her as if he was sizing her up. Whatever he found must have pleased him because he pulled her closer.
“Would you dine with me tonight?” he asked.
“As long as I am not needed elsewhere.”
The rest of the day passed as Tyra’s shipbuilders sawed and hammered, preparing to repair the worst of the damage the next day. When it was too dark to continue work, and everyone was hungry and tired, Tyra called it quits for the day. She found the others, but they were chatting rather than planning or strategizing. She looked around and spotted Fritjof who watched her. She smiled, and he walked toward her. He brought a bowl of pottage someone cooked earlier that evening.
“I think you earned your supper tonight.”
“Thank you. I am starved.” She took the bowl, and they found a place to sit against one of the felled logs. Tyra blew on the steaming food as she looked across the rim at him. Fritjof cocked his head as he watched her eat.
“How are you not married yet?” The question, nearing on accusation, shocked Tyra, and she choked on the food that burned the back of her throat.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No man claimed a seat next to you, and you agreed to dine with me. That tells me you’re unwed or at least your man is not on this voyage.”
Tyra lifted her chin and peered into smoky brown eyes.
“I’m not married because I don’t want to be.”
Fritjof nodded as he looked around. Tyra was sure he noticed the others watching them, but Tyra ignored them.
“Then why are aren’t you someone’s companion?”
“Who says I’m not?”
“The same reasons I know you’re not married.”
“Perhaps I like my freedom.”
“Freedom to choose?”
Tyra nodded as she guessed where the conversation was going.
“Then who do you choose?”
Tyra smiled behind the bowl and continued to sip as Fritjof waited. When he looked around and grew uncomfortable with the silence, Tyra placed her bowl beside her.
“I haven’t given it much consideration.”
“I believe I can give you much to consider.”
Fritjof ran his hand over her knee as she watched his gaze linger on her lips. Tyra tried to focus on Fritjof, tried to enjoy his attention and touch. It was not unpleasant; it just was not exciting either. She looked at the handsome man in front of her and remembered Lorna’s words about having only one life. She accepted she and Bjorn were not meant to be, and she was tired of lonely nights. Tyra wanted to lose herself with someone who wanted her. She figured if Bjorn had moved on with Gunnhild, even for a night, she would do the same. She was not looking for any form of attachment. She was looking for pleasure and release. She imagined Fritjof might provide that.
Bjorn watched from across the fire as Tyra conversed with a man he did not recognize. He admitted the other man was good looking, having listened to several other women comment on him throughout the day. He looked at Erik and cocked his head in Tyra’s direction, raising an eyebrow. Erik looked beyond him and shrugged.
“He’s not a bad man, but he also is interested in himself. As long as she doesn’t set her hopes on a future with him, she’ll come out no worse for wear.”
Bjorn hissed at Erik’s choice of words, and his friend looked guilty.
“I just meant he will not harm her or take advanta
ge of her,” Erik leaned forward, letting go of Freya long enough to murmur to Bjorn. “You know, if she is ready to move on, then you should, too. Do you want to grow old alone? Do you want to die without making the most of life? There’s always the chance you die in the next battle, and what? You’ve been living a celibate life like a Christian monk for no reason than to punish yourself.”
Bjorn nodded, aware there was truth in Erik’s words. It appeared Tyra was moving on and would enjoy the man’s company for the night. He looked away as nausea gurgled in his belly and tried to push its way up his throat. His sights landed on Gunnhild and another woman, Solvi, who he had bedded several years ago. He smiled at the women as they chatted together. He stood and nodded his head toward the woods. The woman exchanged a glance before walking toward him.
“Come to your senses?” Gunnhild purred. “You’re lucky you have such a big cock and a talented tongue, or I might not be so forgiving.”
“It has been a long time,” Solvi chimed in. “You shall have to refresh my memory.”
Both women stepped forwards and ran their hands over his chest. He tried to pay attention to the women as their hands drifted over his middle to his cock. It was only slightly awake, but it perked up as the women’s ministrations grew more forceful. He tried to concentrate and enjoy the attention, but there was only one thing to envision if he wanted his body to comply.
Tyra watched Bjorn walk away with the two women clinging to his arms. It strung to watch him entertain anyone else. She was no virgin, and it was no secret. She had not been one for ten years, and she had had more than just Knud as a partner in her past. Being a shieldmaiden was perilous work. With no guarantee of life but a surety of death, one learned to take pleasure when it was available, as there was a surplus of misery in battle. However, it had been a long time since she shared a bedroll with any man. She forced air through her nose as she built her courage.
She surveyed the camp, and her eyes returned to Fritjof. He was handsome, and he watched her as she decided he would do as well as any other. Loneliness had crept into her heart unlike ever before. The brush with death during the storm, followed by watching Bjorn choose not one but two women, made her decision seem more reasonable. If he found comfort, so would she. She smiled at Fritjof, and he stood, reaching for her hand. She met him halfway and with a smile, they turned to find their own spot among the trees. She had not made it far when she sensed eyes upon her. She looked around and found Bjorn glaring at her. Her eyes darted to his companions before she lifted a brow to him in defiance.
He had no claim to her, no right to stop her. Why now? She knew, just as he did, that she could find solace when she wanted. He had proven it true for himself. However, it did not stop Bjorn from disentangling himself from his surprised, then angered, partners. He stomped over to her and placed his hands on his hips, glaring at her wordlessly.
Once again, she raised her eyebrow to him. He looked at Fritjof and growled. The other man had the audacity to chuckle. Fritjof raised his hand, saying, “Shall we?”
She nodded once and made to step around Bjorn. He grasped her upper arm and pulled her toward him. He bared his teeth and hissed for the man to leave. Fritjof shrugged and chuckled again.
“Bah. Too much work for one night,” Fritjof said. “Find me when your keeper is already busy plowing someone else.”
Tyra bit her tongue as she opened her mouth to ask Fritjof to stay but watched him hold out his arms to Gunnhild and Solvi. The women giggled and led him into the trees.
“He was quick to replace you,” Bjorn grumbled.
“No faster than those two bitches in heat replaced you.”
Bjorn shrugged, “Doesn’t bother me, if we might try being honest.”
“Honest? You want honest? How about, I can’t stand you and wish you would stay out of my life.” Tyra shrank back from the harshness of her own words.
“Someone has to protect you from yourself.”
“And that someone has to be you? I don’t need your protection. In fact, the only person I need protection from is you.”
“Very well. Run and catch him. Join in. See how you feel about yourself in the morning.”
“I can think of how I would feel. Pleasured and satiated.”
Bjorn’s laugh was hollow just as he felt.
“Of course. I’m sure that’s it.”
“And you know otherwise? From Gunnhild?”
Tyra regretted the words when agony and torment haunted Bjorn’s gaze.
Bjorn looked at Tyra for a long moment before he looked at the camp. There were a handful of women he had bedded over the year sitting around the fire, some even with their husbands or companions. He was tired of playing this game, dancing this dance, with Tyra. He was too heartsore to keep up a façade any longer. He would make sure she understood, and then she could decide, but he was done trying.
“Ingeborg,” he called out to a woman about to sit down.
Tyra gasped as she watched the buxom blonde walked toward them. She was familiar with the woman Bjorn had slept with many times over the years. She had even feared the woman might become Bjorn’s companion, if not his wife.
“Hello, Bjorn. Tyra.” Ingeborg smiled at them both, but Tyra caught the lust flare in the other woman’s eyes as she looked at Bjorn. Tyra had an urge to slap her.
“Tell Tyra.”
Tyra looked at Bjorn and then at Ingeborg. She looked just as confused as Tyra felt.
“Bjorn, are you sure? You made me swear never to tell anyone, and I assumed that included Tyra.”
“What?” Tyra looked back and forth. “What am I not supposed to know?”
She waited as Bjorn watched her, and Ingeborg wrung her hands.
“Bjorn?” Tyra whispered.
“Tell her, Ingeborg,” Bjorn growled.
“All right,” Ingeborg sighed. When she spoke, she made sure her voice did not carry. “Tyra, you know Bjorn and I were intimate for quite a long time. We’ve even come together again in recent years, but not often, mind you.”
Ingeborg bit her lip but plowed on when she caught the nervousness on Tyra’s face.
“Bjorn swore me to secrecy and paid me well to keep his secret. Tyra,” Ingeborg paused yet again. “It was your name he called out. He called me by your name and would never look at me.”
Tyra stood there stunned. She had not imagined this would be the secret Ingeborg divulged.
“Thank you,” Bjorn murmured, and Ingeborg nodded before returning to the fire.
Before Tyra said anything, Bjorn called out to another woman, Eira. The woman approached them, but her smile dropped when their faces turned toward her.
“Tell her.”
Eira looked at Bjorn and nodded once before looking at Tyra.
“It was your name. He never said mine, refused to look at me. He made me promise not to tell anyone, and he paid me well for it.”
“Thank you,” Bjorn gazed into the fire rather than at either woman.
“Wait,” Tyra reached out to stop Eira. “I don’t understand. You two were together many times. It didn’t bother you?”
Eira looked at Bjorn before looking at Tyra, and Tyra deduced the answer. Eira still loved Bjorn. Tyra squeezed the woman’s shoulder and forced a smiled.
Bjorn opened his mouth to call out another name, but Tyra could not bear it.
“Stop,” her hushed tones carried across the few inches that separated them.
Bjorn looked at her and waited. Neither of them seemed able to say anything. After several drawn out moments, Tyra dislodged the lump that sat at the base of her throat.
“Why? Why did you do that? Why tell me?”
“Because it’s time you knew.”
Tyra tried to back away, shaking her head. She held her hands up as if to create a barrier between them. Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes.
“It doesn’t change anything, Bjorn.”
“Doesn’t it? Doesn’t it change everything?”
“
No. It can’t.”
Bjorn stepped forward and grasped her arms. He pulled her, and she stepped into his embrace. She let him wrap his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest as she breathed in his fresh scent. He had bathed earlier that evening, and she smelled the pine from his soap. He stroked her back as she fisted his shirt as she clenched her fingers closed. Tyra relaxed into his arms until the sounds coming from the trees nearby drifted to them.
“Gunnhild, yes. Right there.” Tyra and Bjorn froze as several grunts and a long moan followed. “Solvi, that tongue of yours.”
“Finally, a man who uses my name. A man with a cock that works on its own.”
Tyra pulled away from Bjorn as she looked aghast at the trees.
“So much for a secret,” Bjorn muttered. He looked at Tyra and recognized humiliation rather than embarrassment. He reached for her again, but she shook her head before dashing away.
Bjorn wanted to bash his head against a tree trunk. He could not win for trying. No matter what he did, no matter how honest he tried to be, Tyra rejected him. Bjorn watched her settle near the fire, and something in him fractured. He found a jug of mead and walked down to the beach. He would drown his sorrows rather than watch all the happy couples curl up together.
Tyra noticed Fritjof, Gunnhild, and Solvi return from the woods. She watched as they engaged in a sloppy kiss with all three swiping their tongues, a sight that was obvious even from the other side of the fire. Tyra watched Fritjof walk to his tribe’s side of the camp before she watched Gunnhild make her way toward their camp. Solvi settled next to another man.
“Gunnhild,” Tyra called out, careful not to draw attention. She waited until the woman stood before her. “Sit. Please.”
“Why, princess? Angry that both men you want prefer bedding me?”
“Angry that only one of those men remembers your name?”
Tyra looked up at Gunnhild as the other woman glared down at her. It tempted her to rise to her feet, but she knew Gunnhild would view it as a challenge.
Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3) Page 7
