She stopped, turning to glance back the way she had come, a frown drawing down her brows. He caught her look of misgiving before she turned and walked on.
What had concerned her? He didn’t need to remind her that even though her father was one of the wealthiest men on the island, his wealth was bound up mostly in his livestock. It didn’t take much to see that with all the profitable land being taken, the only way for their wealth to grow would be from outside sources.
It was the reason for this marriage agreement. His family would benefit from the land here in Iceland, and her family would benefit from his father’s resources. Their fathers had been friends for years, fighting and raiding together. It had been their greatest wish to join their families someday. Egil had yet to produce a male heir, and it was doubtful that he would this late in his life. He was afraid that his brother would by default become godar in his stead, taking Egil’s daughters’ inheritance. By marriage, Valdyr would take his place as chieftain when the time came and prevent that from happening.
At first, Valdyr had balked at the idea of an arranged marriage, but his dissatisfaction was fast receding.
Iceland would be a good place to raise a family, where the people were free to live their lives away from kingly rule. It had been one of the things that had drawn him here, a willing participant in an unwilling alliance. Unwilling at least as far as Mist was concerned. He brushed that thought aside. Winning her over would be a challenge, and he was definitely up for a challenge.
“When will you leave?” she asked him, turning his thoughts back to the moment at hand.
“Soon.”
She turned to face him before entering the house, and folded her arms while blocking his path. “Then, pray, do not let me keep you.”
He grinned. Reaching past her, he pushed the door wider to allow them both entrance. “I would not think of it. After I break the fast,” he told her, and with his body nudged her slight frame to the side, leaving her on the threshold. He could almost feel her fuming look pierce his back as she followed him in.
They both paused inside the doorway until their eyes adjusted to the darkness before heading in opposite directions.
Valdyr watched her cross to the fire, a slight smile curling his lips. He wondered, not for the first time, just what Mist would have been like in full, robust health. If the heat in her gaze at times was anything to go by, she must have been a force to be reckoned with.
* * *
Mist joined her sisters at the fire. Brita smiled at her, but Astrid turned away and hurried across the room to help Gudrun. She could run, and she could hide, but they would have a talk before this day was through.
Brita lifted a brow in question.
“I will explain later,” Mist told her.
Nodding, Brita placed the food out and called to the men. They quickly made their way to the table, hungry from the long night’s fast. Mist smiled as they fell upon the food with ravenous appetites. Her sister had done herself proud for their visitors.
When everyone’s attention was fixed elsewhere, Mist made her way to Astrid’s side.
“I need to speak with you outside.”
Seeing the objection on her sister’s face, Mist lowered her voice even further. “Now.”
Astrid reluctantly rose. Gudrun glanced at them curiously but remained silent, continuing on with her spinning.
At any other time, Mist would have reveled in the time of day, the sun still high above the horizon, washing the sky with bold colors of red and yellow. She turned to her sister. “Tell me about Balder,” Mist demanded, and the resolute set of her shoulders let her sister know that she would not be gainsaid.
Sighing, Astrid moved away from the open door, settling herself on a rock that overlooked the fjord. It was the very spot where she and Valdyr had had their conversation only last night. What was it about him that affected her so? Perhaps it was the desire to conquer what she saw in his eyes that in one way thrilled her, yet at the same repelled her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t deny that the attraction was there. His very presence had set her senses to tingling in a way they never had before, as though they had suddenly taken on a life of their own. She had to pull her mind back from that memory to focus on what her sister was saying.
“I met him one day when I followed you to that spot.” She glanced at Mist slyly. “I found the runes with the Christian cross. Whatever will Far have to say?”
Seeing the look on Mist’s face, Astrid’s eyes widened.
“Do not threaten me,” Mist told her, the very timbre of her voice a warning.
Astrid flashed a repentant look. “I beg pardon, Mist. That was not my intent.”
Mist allowed the falsehood to pass. “And what has that to do with Balder?”
“He was out that day exploring and stumbled upon me. We talked for a long time.” She glared at Mist with frustrated defiance. “It was nice to be so admired.”
Probably so. Mist could not say as she had never been the recipient of the kind of looks her sisters garnered.
“When we found that our farms were so near, we agreed to meet there again on that same day.”
So they had met every Tirsdag. But for how long had it been going on?
Since her sister rarely stepped beyond the boundaries of their farm, she was surprised. Mist’s irritation was a direct result of the fear that shook her. So much could have happened to her sister, especially so far from home. And she had her doubts as to whether Balder was exploring, or just searching for stray livestock that he could easily abscond with.
“And you told him that you will not see him again?” Mist asked.
Astrid nodded.
Mist smiled sadly at her sister’s innocence. She doubted that Astrid knew the depths of obsession beauty like hers brought out in men.
“Does this have anything to do with Bjorn?” she asked.
The look that transformed Astrid’s face told her that she had hit the mark. Her sister’s blue eyes glowed more vividly than the morning sky.
“Truly, he should be called Bjorn inn fagri!” Astrid breathed softly.
Bjorn the handsome. Yes, Mist could certainly agree with that. They made an impressive couple.
A feeling of unease shivered through her, a dark premonition of impending doom that sent chills dancing along her nerve endings. Although he had retreated, she somehow doubted that Balder would give up so easily.
Chapter 4
Mist watched from the open door as Valdyr left the farm after breaking the fast. He and his men had settled down into a regular routine on the farm. Each day they went searching for the white bear. It seemed the creature was moving in a more northerly direction, probably heading back to the water from whence it came.
Iceland was a very large island so searching was taking more time than expected. Little by little they were covering ground in their search, the signs becoming fresher and assuring them of a catch. If the animal did make it back to the water, it would probably disappear and the possibility of retrieving the valuable fur would disappear with it.
A part of her yearned to be in on the hunt, but that part of her was diminishing daily. It surprised her how much of a homebody she truly was. With Valdyr and his men here, she had been able to relax, and she found that she enjoyed helping Brita around the farm.
Mist had surprised Ari by joining him in milking the cows. It was hard, backbreaking work, but Mist was determined to quietly rebuild her strength.
At first, carrying the heavy buckets of milk they used for making cheese and butter had sent her to bed each night with arms and back aching. Now, the pain had lessened and she could see a change in her arms. Muscles that had once been like forged steel were once again taking on definition.
When no one was about, she would secretly take a sword and retreat to an area far
from the farm so that she could not be seen. She refused to take the weapon to her favorite spot, feeling that it was sacrilege to desecrate the place with a weapon of war.
At first, it took everything she had just to lift the weapon, even though it was smaller and lighter than her normal sword. Now, after several weeks, she could once again jab, parry and thrust it. The whooshing sound of the sword as it cleaved the air started her blood singing in a familiar way. Her breathing deepened at the sense of power that once again surged through her.
“Impressive.”
Startled, Mist turned, ready to strike.
Valdyr stood unmoved, the blade mere inches from his chest.
A frustrated growl emanated from Mist’s throat at having been taken unawares. Only years of training had kept her from piercing the blade through Valdyr’s body. She went cold at the image of him impaled and bloody. “I could have slain you!” she gritted between clenched teeth.
The small smile he gave her spoke his doubt, which only increased her ire and the longing to prove him wrong. It was so often a struggle to remember that she was now a child of the Christ. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the sword.
“What are you doing here?”
Valdyr lifted one eyebrow at her still surly tone. “I tracked the white bear this way.” He allowed his gaze to slide over her before fixing once again on her eyes. “You should not be out here alone.”
She clenched her teeth again. How was it that a man of his size and stature could move with such stealth? Surely his name fit him well, for he was as silent as a wolf, and she was very much afraid, just as dangerous. “And you should?”
He lifted the spear he held in his hand. “Hand-to-hand combat with a bear is not wise. A spear is a much better weapon of choice.”
She knew that, but although she was gaining strength, throwing a spear with enough power to slay a white bear was still beyond her ability. Especially a spear the size of the one he carried. And if that didn’t work, the ax tucked into his belt would surely bring down the largest animal. That was, if he threw it with accuracy, which she had no doubt he would.
He settled himself on a rock and studied her curiously, and she shifted uneasily. “How is it that you can face a thousand men fully armed for battle, and yet you scurry away like a fearful mouse whenever I come near you?”
Now how to explain that one! There was no way that she was about to feed his ego by letting him know that whenever he came around, her senses that warned her of imminent danger in battle came singingly alive.
“I do not scurry,” she rebutted testily.
He got up off the rock and came toward her. Instinctively, she took a step in retreat until she saw his mocking smile, and then she firmly stood her ground, although it took every ounce of willpower she possessed. Her heart was thrumming at an alarming rate, matching the pulse she could see jumping in his throat.
She glared belligerently up into his face, despite the fact that, as tall as she was, she had to look a long way up to do so. This man would soon be her husband and yet he brought out in her the worst desire to be contrary. She felt it had something to do with the strength and power he emanated, making her feel weak in comparison.
Without saying a word, he slid a hand behind her neck, allowing his thumb to caress her lips. The icy-blue of his eyes was dwarfed under the expanding pupils until they were like shimmering onyx stones. Mist felt as though the very air around her had thickened and warmed.
He lowered his head toward her, and she felt a panicky need to flee, but another part of her kept her firmly rooted in place. Flee or stay? The decision was made for her when a voice called Valdyr’s name.
He slowly allowed his hand to slide away and turned to face the intruder. Valdyr’s face showed irritation at the interruption, but Mist offered up a thankful prayer for the timely intervention.
“Bjorn.” Valdyr’s voice was hardly encouraging. “What are you doing here?”
Bjorn glanced curiously from his brother to Mist. Seeing the sword in her hand, his eyebrows lifted upward in question.
“I saw you come this way and thought you might need a hand tracking the bear.”
Mist saw her excuse to leave. “I must get back to the farm,” she told them, brushing by Valdyr without looking up at him. She threw Bjorn a brief smile before she slipped the sword back into its baldric and made a hasty escape.
* * *
Valdyr watched her go with equal amounts irritation and admiration. He had looked into those shimmering green eyes and it was as though a lightning bolt from Thor’s hammer had coursed through his entire body. His heart rate had yet to slow from their encounter. A cough from his brother only increased his irritation. He turned on him a look that in Bjorn’s younger days would have subdued him. Bjorn only grinned.
“I take it that I interrupted something.”
“You could say that,” Valdyr replied.
“The question is,” Bjorn continued, his tongue firmly in his cheek, “whether you were about to be decapitated, or whether you were about to steal a kiss.”
Valdyr cocked a brow, letting him know in no uncertain terms that brothers were more a nuisance than a gift.
Bjorn chuckled, but then the humor fled his face. “Be careful, Brother. This Mist is not like other women.”
Valdyr had come to that conclusion on his own. The more he was around her, the greater his desire to possess her. That the woman seemed reluctant only fueled that desire.
Bjorn changed the subject. “You saw signs that the bear came this way?” he asked.
Valdyr lifted a tuft of white fur that was clinging to a rock and handed it to his brother.
“He is heading for the ocean,” Valdyr told him.
The thought of tracking the bear across the sea to some heretofore unknown land sent a thrill through Valdyr. The desire to be at sea instead of holed up as a farmer for a year left him gritting his teeth in frustration. The only thing that made the thought even close to palatable was knowing that at the end of that time, Mist would be his.
“Should we go after him?” Bjorn asked.
The feral gleam in his brother’s eyes at the thought of the hunt matched the quickening of Valdyr’s blood. He hefted his ax, giving his brother a grin.
“What are we waiting for?”
* * *
It took Mist the entire hour-long trek back to the farm to get her roiling emotions under control. Even then, if she thought about that look in Valdyr’s eyes, her heart stalled and then started pounding all over again.
What would have happened if Bjorn hadn’t interrupted? Would she have surrendered to this almost overwhelming desire to be the kind of woman she saw in Valdyr’s eyes? It gave her an elemental feeling of power to know that a man finally found her not only attractive, but enticing, as well. It brought out the female in her that she had kept suppressed for so many years.
Too long she had denied herself and tried to be the son her father was lacking. Although the men of her acquaintance were impressed by her skill as a warrior, it was to women like Astrid that they turned when seeking a wife and companion. She had recognized early that many of them felt threatened by her. Not so Valdyr. She had the feeling that he saw her as a challenge, which just made her want to deny him that conquest. She didn’t want to be conquered; she wanted to be loved, and she couldn’t imagine Valdyr succumbing to such a weak emotion.
She entered the great hall and crossed to the far side of the building, where she hung her baldric on the peg made just for that purpose. She allowed her hand to slide over the sword and its case, memories of battles filling her mind. Although she had never slain just for the sport of it, like many of her people, she had been fiercely proud of the lives she had taken and survived to tell about it. After learning of God’s love for mankind, guilt had weighed heavily on her, increasing immeasu
rably as she drew closer to the Christian God.
After Drustan had baptized her, she had been relieved of much of that burden, but she still felt guilt when she thought of all the men she had slain. She knew that God had forgiven her, but she was having a hard time forgiving herself.
So absorbed was she in her thoughts that when her sister Brita touched her on her shoulder, she nearly jumped from her skin. Startled at her response, Brita stepped back, one hand to her chest.
“Well, that is a first! I do not think that I have ever taken you unawares.”
Mist frowned at her, irritated that her usually keen senses were so often clouded by her thoughts. “What is it you wish?” she asked testily.
Brita’s eyebrows flew upward. “What ails you, Mist? You needn’t be so sour,” she remarked impatiently.
Instantly contrite, Mist gave a wry smile. There was no sense taking her frustration out on her sister. “I beg pardon, Brita. You are right.”
Brita awaited an explanation that Mist was reluctant to give. Ever since the arrival of Valdyr and his men, her whole world seemed suddenly topsy-turvy. Or had it started even earlier than that? If she gave it thought, she realized that she had felt out of place ever since giving her life to the Christian God. Nothing was the same, and yet, nothing was different. Except her.
Suddenly feeling the need to be alone, she told Brita again, “I beg pardon.” Picking up her cloak where she had dropped it, she headed once more for the door.
“Mist!”
Ignoring her sister’s demanding voice, Mist hurried outside. She glanced around to see if anyone, and by anyone she meant Valdyr, was about. Relieved to see no one except her kinsmen and servants doing their daily chores, she made haste to disappear before anyone could stop her. She ignored the twinge of guilt at abdicating her responsibilities to others, her restlessness driving her on.
She hadn’t gone very far before she realized that she had done the very thing she had chastised her sister for; she had journeyed from the farm unarmed, except for her small dagger, which was strapped to her thigh and hidden beneath her tunic. She hesitated, but then chose to go forward. She needed time to think.
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