Eirik: A Time Travel Romance (Mists of Albion Book 1)

by Joanna Bell

  Gudry walks in at that very moment, just as I'm searching for some way to say the Jarl was out of his mind, irrational with fever, that nothing he said during his sickness should be taken seriously, and relieves me of my duty to do so. Hildy's expression curdles into a scowl and she throws the linens on the ground and gets in Gudry's face.

  "Girl, this is not my work! It's yours! Now take these to the washerwomen at once, before I have to tell the Jarl you let his mother's son languish in a filthy room!"

  I smile and lie back, reassured that the strange moment with Hildy has passed. She rushes out of the roundhouse and Gudry looks at me, worried.

  "Lady, I –"

  "It's fine, Gudry. If this place got any cleaner, you all could use it as an operating theater."

  "What?"

  "Nothing," I smile, as Anja enters with my baby in her arms. "It's – nothing. Is he hungry, Anja?"

  ***

  That night, I am roused from sleep in the darkness, as I have been warned to expect, and hustled into the bathing roundhouse, which is lit with more candles than I have ever seen. Gudry and Anja bathe me and dot my forehead and the nape of my neck with an oil I've never smelled before.

  "What is that?" I ask, when the heady, floral scent fills my nose.

  "It's from the south, across the sea," Anja says, brushing my hair out so she can braid it. "Rarer and more precious than gold – even the highest women can only wear it on their wedding day."

  Whatever it is, it smells like heaven. I am beginning to wake up. When the gown is brought in, draped over Anja's arm, I gasp. I've never seen anything like it before – not in the past, anyway. It's cream, like most of the garments worn by the Vikings, but it's trimmed with colors I didn't think existed here – red and blue. In places, it's sewn with golden thread.

  "Oh my God," I murmur, when Anja unfurls it in front of me. It even sounds beautiful, the heavy silk falling against itself with a whisper and the click-clack of the precious stones and beads that have been sewn into the neckline.

  "He loves you," she says, when she sees the look on my face. "I've never seen a man love someone so much. When you were gone, he tried to keep everything as it was, but everyone knew if you didn't come back –"

  She stops herself.

  "What?" I ask. "What if I didn't come back?"

  Anja shrugs. "I don't know, Paige. You came back, so how can I say what would have happened if you didn't? All I know is that the Jarl's sadness was a heavy weight over this place. And nobody knew how to help him. It's good you came back – see to it that you don't leave again."

  I feed the baby one last time before I am dressed in the gown. It's the first time I regret the lack of mirrors or cameras in the past. I would like to have a photograph of this moment – of myself – to show to my baby when he grows up, or just to look at for myself, when I am no longer a young woman.

  When I am dressed, and my braids have been extravagantly arranged on my head, I am led out of the camp in complete darkness, and complete silence. I try to ask where we're going at one point, and am shushed by Anja immediately.

  We're going to the beach. I can feel the grasses brushing against my ankles as we walk, but the darkness is thick. Soon, the ground underneath my feet turns to sand and there is just enough light to see that we are on the rocky headland that juts out on the south side of the bay where the Vikings anchor their ships. In front of me stands Eirik, who I haven't seen for days. I can't see him, all I can see is the absence of stars where he blocks their faint light.

  "Ei –"

  "Shh," he responds, caressing my cheek with so much tenderness that it makes me ache.

  I wait for a little while, to be told what is about to happen. Is this where the ceremony will be? Are we waiting for someone? Where is my father? What if the baby gets hungry? No answers come. At some point I sense that Eirik and I are alone, that Gudry and Anja have left.

  I'm confused, at first. What's happening? Why is no one saying – or doing – anything? But after one more attempt to speak to Eirik, and being lovingly shushed again, a kind of peace comes over me. The wind that blows off the sea is tangy with salt, the sand beneath my toes dry and cool. I'm suddenly so conscious of everything around me, so present in each moment as it comes upon me and then slips easily by.

  And in all of this, there he is. Even as I cannot see him, the strangeness of standing together, alone with each other in the night, brings Eirik himself into an intense kind of focus. Slowly, my eyes become barely aware of a faint light in the east. Dawn. How long have we been standing out here? Forever?

  And as the dawn begins to fill the sky, I find myself teary as the light picks the man I love out of the darkness. I look up into his eyes, unafraid of showing myself to him as the emotions rush through me, and it's all so perfectly clear. He is the center of my life. He is the sun around which I happily orbit. He's everything. I bring a hand to my mouth, overcome with the sudden nakedness, the complete acknowledgement of who Eirik has become to me, and stifle a sob. And then I don't bother to stifle the next one, or the next. And he stays where he is, not moving, as solid as an oak tree. He doesn't have to say anything, I am comforted by his presence alone.

  The tears pass soon enough, but the feeling only intensifies. And soon there is enough light for me to see that people are approaching us. Not a crowd, not at first. At first I see my father, accompanied by e Viking woman I don't think I recognize. He seems to be walking a little differently. Is he holding his head higher than usual? Is that pride I see shining in his eyes as he gets closer? He seems to be about to say something to me when he gets within a few feet of me but the Viking woman whispers something in his ear and he stays quiet.

  Others follow my dad. Eirik's men, Hildy, Hildy's family, Gudry, Anja, one of the healers. And slowly, as the sun itself mounts the horizon, the trickle of people gets heavier. I look back at Eirik, who hasn't looked away from me once, and breathe deeply. Soon we are surrounded. Everyone is quiet. The only sound is the wind, and the incoming tide.

  I don't know what's going on, because I'm not a Viking. I don't know what to do, or what to say. What I do know is that I have never felt as full of love and connection and peace as I do right now. Eirik seems to see what I'm feeling because he smiles at me, and I see in his eyes that he is feeling what I'm feeling. I see how much he loves me.

  We stand like that in the wind until the sun has lit each and every one of us with its pink light, and then someone hands something to Eirik. I look down. In his hands he holds a silver circlet, which he lifts, slowly and without breaking eye-contact, and places on my head. When the circlet is secure he steps back, gazing at me for a moment, and then draws me suddenly, rightly into his arms and kisses my mouth.

  And in that moment all the theory in the world, all the things I have ever read about love or thought about love or wondered about love become real. I am loved. Completely. It's all there in that kiss, the lifetime stretched out ahead of us, our two paths coming together into one. The tears are running down my cheeks again when Eirik steps away. He smiles, and uses his thumb to wipe them away.

  "Look at you," he whispers.

  A few second later, there is a random – or, so I assume – whoop of joy from one of the crowd. And following that one whoop, many more, until it seems the whole camp is shouting their joy into the bright morning sky.

  I don't need to ask, not really. I already know the truth. I feel it. But old habits die hard.

  "Are we –"

  "Yes, my love. Yes. The dawn ceremony binds us, and the silver circlet seals us. We are husband and wife now."

  Somebody pushes a bouquet of wildflowers into my hands, and the Viking women surround me, pushing more flowers into my braids, laughing, kissing my cheeks and hands. Anja emerges from the crowd with the baby in her arms and Eirik takes him from her. I look up at him as he watches the women decorate me with flowers.

  "I've never been so happy in my life," I say. Nothing I've ever said has been truer than those
words.

  And after me, it's Eirik's turn. The Viking men push new rings onto his fingers, lift new necklaces of precious metals over his head. They pick him up on their shoulders, cheering and dancing and singing songs, and carry him back into the encampment.

  "You won't see him again until night falls," Gudry whispers in my ear. "But every bride says the wait is worth it!"

  "Leave me here," I say, as the women move to lead me back to the bathing roundhouse, where I know I have hours of pampering ahead of me. "I'll be there soon. Just – just give me a little while."

  And so they take their leave of me in little giggling groups, until only my father and I remain on the headland. I turn to him when we're alone and see that he looks happy, too. Happy like I have only the vaguest memory of him ever being, somewhere deep in the past, before my mother left us.

  "Dad," I say, meaning to ask him how he is, but he pulls me into a hug and holds me tight.

  "My sweet girl," he says, kissing my cheek. "Your mother would be so proud of you."

  We sit down and I take his hand. "Good," I say. "I want to live a life that would have made her proud. But I want to make you proud, too. And, Dad, I want you to be happy. How has it been for you – being here, I mean? I know it's still too soon to –"

  My dad laughs. "Did I ever tell you that your mother was a huge Star Trek fan?"

  I giggle at the seemingly random piece of information about my mom. "No, I don't think so."

  "Well she was. She used to have a whole bunch of episodes on VHS, and we would watch them sometimes, on dates at her apartment. Anyway, there is actually a point to this revelation. I think I remember one episode about one of the characters being in a coma, or sick or something. Not for long, but while he was unconscious he lived this whole life – years, got married, had kids etc., in the space of what was a very short time in the real world. That episode stuck with me for some reason, how strange it was to think you could be dreaming your whole life."

  The wind plays with a lock of my hair that's come loose from my elaborate bridal hairstyle. I tuck it behind one ear and look at my dad. He does look healthier – younger, even. His face has some color to it, his back a straightness I don't remember seeing before.

  "Is that what you think this is?" I ask. "A dream?"

  "I don't know," he replies, shrugging helplessly. "I honestly don't know, Paige. I mean, you're here. You seem real. All of this seems so real. If it is a dream, it's not like any dream I ever had before."

  "And even if it is a dream," I continue. "Is it a pleasant one? Are you enjoying it?"

  My father looks down at the grass, rolls a few of the blades between his thumb and forefinger. "Yes," he says, a few moments later. "Yes I am, Paige. There's no computers here, are there? Nothing to do in the roundhouse except sleep – not even any books! They're treating me well, even if I can see it in their eyes that they can't believe how incompetent I am. One of the young men had to teach me how to hold a bow the other day. Not shoot an arrow, we're not there yet – he had to teach me how to hold the bow. And Kelda is helping me plant a little garden, just west of the encamp –"

  "Kelda?" I ask, remembering the woman from the marriage ceremony. "Is that the woman I saw you with?"

  My dad chuckles at my tone. "Yeah, that's her. She lost her husband a few years ago, in battle. We've just been talking about that, about what it's like. She has a daughter, too, just a few years younger than you."

  My heart is near bursting with happiness. So much so that part of me wonders if my dad's theory about it all being a dream might be true. It certainly seems too good to be reality.

  But it is reality.

  "And we know how to get back to the tree," I say. If you ever change your –"

  My dad looks at me. "I only want one thing, Paige. I want to be with you and Eirik – and I suppose now I should add your new husband to that shortlist too, huh? Wherever you are is where I want to be. I want to watch my grandson grow up. And if this is where I get to do it, in this beautiful place, then so much the better."

  He puts his arm around me and we sit quietly like that for a long time, looking out to sea.

  Chapter 35

  9th Century

  Sometime in the late afternoon, after Gudry and Anja have finished fussing over me and the baby has been fed, they lead me out of the bathing roundhouse in a second silk gown, this one less adorned, and offering decidedly less coverage than the one I donned for the wedding ceremony.

  I assume we're heading to Eirik's roundhouse and a low, steady hum of excitement sets up deep in my belly at the thought of being with him after all this time. But we don't go to the roundhouse. Instead, we leave the Viking camp and walk into the hills to the west. I'm just about to ask where exactly it is we're going and whether or not I can have a wool tunic to keep the early evening chill away when I see it.

  A spring – a hot-spring, I realize, when we get closer and I spot the steam rising off it.

  "Wait here, lady," Gudry says, smoothing my tunic down over one shoulder as Anja inspects my already completely-inspected braids.

  I turn as they go to leave, both of them smiling like Cheshire-cats, and ask what I'm to do.

  "Am I to bathe? In the spring?"

  Anja demurs. "No, lady. You must wait."

  "But –" I start, noting that the sun is sinking in the sky and I'm outside the camp's boundaries.

  Gudry, never good at biting her tongue, bounds back to me and leans in close to my ear. "I promise if you wait, something good will come."

  So that's what I do. I wait. The tunic is silk, so thin I might as well be naked for all it hides of my body, and a breeze blows over my bare, pampered skin. I'm in the midst of shivering with the sensual delight of it all when a noise from behind alerts me to someone's presence.

  Eirik. He stands naked and at ease beside the hot-spring, a colossus in the sun's golden rays. A physical sensation of heat rushes through my blood at the sight of him, a softening I can no more control than I can control the tides or the changing of the seasons.

  "Paige," he says, beckoning me towards him. "Look at you, my love - as ripe as a late summer flower. And I as eager as a bee."

  I giggle at the comparison Eirik makes between himself and a bee and he pulls me into his arms. We're both tense with anticipation, aware that we need to take things very, very slowly if we're to enjoy the full measure of each other after all this time.

  "Why do you laugh?" He asks, burying his face in my neck and taking a long, noisy breath of me.

  "Because you compared yourself to a bee," I tell him. "It's funny, bees are so cute and fuzzy. I don't think of you as very bee-like."

  Eirik open his mouth against the warmth of my neck, kissing the place where my heart beats rapidly beneath the thin, pale skin. "Mmm," he says, "maybe not – but I'll have stung you more than once before the night is out."

  I turn towards him as he speaks, helpless to stop myself, reaching for him like a drowning person reaching for shore.

  "Wait," he chides, stepping away from my greedy hands. "Paige, I'm going to have you how I want you tonight. How I want you. You're my wife now, and you'll do as I say."

  He's grinning, half-teasing, looking to get a reaction out of me. But I don't know if he's going to get one, because the last of the sun's light is catching his blue eyes and if he told me in all seriousness that it was now my life's work to please him whenever and however he wanted, I'm certain I would simply acquiesce. He must see it in my expression, too – that I'm not up to pretending I feel anything other than pure need right now. Without a word, he takes the hem of my tunic in one hand and lifts it up, pushing his strong, rough-skinned hand up my inner thigh and slipping one finger between my lips.

  "Voss," he whispers, suddenly breathless as he feels what the months away from him have done to me. "Voss, Paige, your thighs are slippery with your need."

  I look up into his eyes. "That's your fault. You did that. I can't even –"

  I'm about to t
ell the Jarl that I can't even think of him when he's not with me without the same thing happening, but his hands are on me hard now, and suddenly. He tries to untie the intricate knots Gudry and Anja have tied down the back of the tunic and, when that doesn't work, he simply grasps the fabric in both hands and tears it off me.

  "I'll have you now, girl," he pants, sitting down with his back against one of the boulders that circle the hot-spring and pulling me down with him. I don't know what I'm expecting – a few more seconds, maybe, or a finger inside me – but there's none of it. Eirik takes his manhood in his hand and guides it into me before I've even settled, yanking me down, impaling me on it in one swift motion.

  I cry out, digging my fingers into the corded muscles of his shoulders at the unexpectedness of it – the sheer size of him.

  "Paige," he breathes, one hand clamped onto my hip and the other cupping one of my breasts, lifting me up and down, not giving me one second to ease into it. "Paige, I need – I –"

  He's trying to apologize, I realize, even as he completely fails to slow himself down. But I don't want the Jarl to apologize. I don't want anything except to give him what he needs. And if he needs to take me like this – deep and hard and fast – then that's what I want.

  "No," I whimper, pulling his head against my breasts. "Don't say – don't –"

  Jesus I can barely speak he's fucking me so hard. I try again, but now he's jerking his hips up sharply each time he pulls me down and that little spot inside my sex is starting to ache for more, even as it's already too much. "Eirik," I sigh, my breath quick and ragged. "You don't have to be sorry. You, oh my God, Eirik. You don't – Eirik!"

  My voice rises to a near scream and he's done, we're both done. He jerks me down again, all the way down the length of him, and then he holds me there as I gasp and squirm and fills me with every drop of his savagery. I come, too, when he's nearly finished, as I feel him throbbing inside me. My sex twitches around him and a warm, wet rivulet of his cum runs down my inner thigh, pushing me right over the edge. I scream his name as an explosion of bliss spreads out through my body, a sensitivity so heightened it's almost but not quite pain and Eirik pushes his tongue into my mouth, breathing me in, holding me, waiting for me to float back to earth.