The Viking's Bride

by Darlene Mindrup

  “His mother and father are good people,” Mist told him, though he had probably figured that out for himself.

  “It would seem his choice of friends is not.”

  Thinking of Balder, she couldn’t help but agree.

  “God’s holy word says that bad company spoils good morals.”

  Valdyr straightened, a frown drawing down his brows. “Their holy book truly says that?”

  She gave a nod, a frosty haze forming where her breath met the cold air. The problem was, where her people were concerned, morality was a matter of interpretation.

  Valdyr pulled a strange face. “It would be a happy circumstance if we could be certain that what they say is true. I once heard a priest talk about this heaven where their God lives.” He turned to stare at the sinking sun. “It sounded like a...a peaceful place.”

  Mist straightened, all at once forgetting the cold. Had that been longing she heard in his voice? She surreptitiously studied him from beneath lowered lashes. His face in profile looked less intimidating than when confronting him head-on. She had the strongest urge to reach across and touch his jawline, his blond beard tinted with a red reflection of the sunset.

  “I saw the words myself,” she told him quietly.

  He glanced at her sharply. “You can read their language?”

  Discomfited at her unintentional blunder, Mist shook her head. “No...but Drustan read them to me.”

  She wondered at the sudden darkening of his eyes.

  “You spent a lot of time with this Drustan. Perhaps he had ulterior motives in convincing you.”

  She realized what he was suggesting. “He is a man of God,” she told him.

  “But still a man,” Valdyr warned in a soft voice.

  Mist recognized the jealousy threading through his words. The thought that Drustan could be like other men almost made her chuckle. His bald pate and wrinkled features came clearly to mind. She gave Valdyr an amused smile. “He is older than my father.”

  The return smile on his face took her aback, for it hinted at hidden secrets and meanings that she, as a woman, could not possibly understand.

  “Age has nothing to do with it,” he told her drily.

  She blinked at him, the confident smile sliding from her face, her mind uneasily accepting and discarding various thoughts that chased through it. The one that finally settled brought a return to equanimity. Drustan was a man of God, who had freely taken vows of celibacy to serve the God he loved so much. Unless Valdyr could meet the man, he wouldn’t be able to understand that. She decided to change the uncomfortable subject.

  “I do not believe that Knut came here to see Iliana.”

  Valdyr didn’t answer for a moment. His face set sternly. He pushed one fist into his palm, the cracking of his knuckles loud in the stillness around them. “Those were my thoughts, as well.”

  “I believe that Balder convinced him to come so that Balder could see Astrid.”

  Valdyr turned toward her, and she saw his shoulders relax slightly. “I had not considered that.”

  “Why did you think he had come?” she asked.

  He didn’t immediately answer her question. When he did, the heated words took her by surprise.

  “To bring you harm.”

  Strange that that thought had never even entered her mind. Knut might hate her, but she couldn’t imagine him ever following through with that hate. He was singularly lacking in courage. She shook her head. “You see threats where none exist.”

  He took her by the chin and turned her to face him. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. “And you do not see what is right in front of your eyes.”

  She had the distinct feeling that he was no longer talking about Knut. When his gaze focused on her lips, she could feel them begin to tingle. He moved closer, dropping his arm until both hands rested on either side of her hips.

  As Valdyr closed the distance between them, Mist found she was imprisoned by her own mounting feelings. Despite her admonishments to herself to keep a distance, her defenses crumbled beneath the look of his glowing blue eyes.

  When his lips touched hers, she forgot all her reasons for denying him. Despite her resistance, she was falling in love with him and longed with all of her being for him to love her, as well.

  It was Valdyr who suddenly brought a halt to their escalating encounter. He pulled back, stroking a thumb over her trembling lips. “Know this, Mist,” he told her huskily. “I will let nothing happen to you or your family.”

  What was he thinking that turned his eyes to ice and brought such a deadly look to his face? She shivered, and he tugged her mantle closer against her chin. “You are cold,” he said. The look on his face changed to one of amusement. “Mayhap you would like to share the sowna with me?” he teased.

  Hot color rushed into her face at his suggestion, and she jumped to her feet, brushing the icy snow from her mantle to keep from looking Valdyr in the eyes. “I think not,” she told him firmly, and felt her face warm even further at his rich chuckle. He was amused; she was not.

  He got to his feet, as well, and captured her face with his palms before she could make her escape. His dancing eyes slowly studied her flushed face.

  “Mayhap there is a better way to warm you up,” he told her in that throaty voice that made her weak in the knees.

  Pasting on a flirtatious smile, she slowly slid her hands up his chest, placing her palms against his rock-hard torso. His eyes widened, his amusement replaced with uncertainty. Taking him unaware, she tucked a leg behind his and shoved against his chest with all her might. She stepped quickly backward as he was caught off balance, flailing the air helplessly before tumbling into the frigid waters of the fjord. The sheer size of him caused the water to surge upward, and Mist had to jump out of the way to avoid being drenched herself. Valdyr came up spluttering and wiping the water from his face. He looked up at her in astonishment, amusement gleaming from his eyes that promised retribution.

  Placing her fists against her hips, she shot back, “Mayhap it would be better to cool you off instead.”

  She hurried back to the safety of the house, his laughter following after.

  Chapter 12

  Valdyr, shivering after his unexpected swim in the fjord, headed straight for the sowna. Thankfully, it was bath day, and the small room was already steaming.

  His lips twitched as he pictured Mist’s amused face. It bothered him more than a little that she had been able to take him unaware, but after kissing her, his mind was foggier than the fjord on a murky day. The stories her father told about her were nothing like the woman he had come to know.

  He leaned back against the paneled wall and thought about everything she had said about her God. What could possibly make a powerful Viking warrior who could wield a sword with deadly intent into a sweet, untried maiden? Was it this God of hers? If so, he wasn’t willing to follow such a God. He had no desire to be so emasculated.

  Mayhap under that quiet exterior she was not quite as innocent as she seemed. She cared for him; he could see it in her eyes whenever he touched her. But every time he tried to draw her closer, she managed to pull away. He wondered just how much of that had to do with her God.

  The men of the farm joined him in the sowna intermittently but, busy with his own thoughts, he didn’t join in their conversations. He wondered if he agreed to be baptized, would Mist then act differently toward him?

  He could hear the yells of the men who had just left the steam bath as they jumped into the frigid waters of the fjord. Smiling wryly, Valdyr lifted the ladle and poured more water over the hot stones. Hissing steam rose into the air and swirled around his head. Thanks to Mist, the regular order of his bathing ritual—hot first, then cold—had been reversed today.

  Bjorn joined him moments later. “I wondered where you had di
sappeared to.”

  Valdyr smiled. “I am surprised that you left Astrid’s side.”

  “The women and children are bathing in the house. Egil is inside.”

  Enough said. Egil might be advanced in years, but even Valdyr would hesitate to challenge the older man in his own home.

  Bjorn seated himself next to Valdyr and leaned over the heated rocks to soften his beard. Like many men, Bjorn and Valdyr preferred to keep their beards clipped short around their mouth and chin and shave their cheeks. They did the same with their hair, keeping it close to their neck so that in battle, the hair would not get in their face and blind them.

  Wondering if he should warn his brother of Mist’s suspicions in regard to Balder’s reasons for coming to the farm, he finally decided against it. Having been forewarned himself, Valdyr would keep a close eye on the two men. He didn’t want his brother looking for a reason to start a fight.

  Bjorn glanced his way. “Since Egil has given his permission for Astrid and I to marry in the spring, what will that mean for you and Mist?”

  Valdyr looked at him. “Nothing has changed, as far as I am concerned. The contract between Egil and I was garnered long ago and would take both of us to change it. Egil has said nothing to me, and I, for my part, see no reason to change it, either.”

  “And Mist?”

  And that was the rub. Would Mist refuse to marry him now?

  Valdyr didn’t answer his brother, and Bjorn was wise enough to let the matter rest.

  * * *

  Mist found a moment to be alone with Iliana after the woman had taken her bath. She offered to comb her hair while Knut was in the sowna. It surprised her that Knut refused to have his wife stay in the barn with him. Mist hadn’t believed him capable of such consideration and wondered if she had been wrong about him after all. To travel as far as he had during the cold months of darkness showed at least some concern.

  She hadn’t missed the fact that Iliana had been subdued ever since her return from walking with Knut.

  Remembering her conversation with Valdyr, Mist began to gently untangle Iliana’s mass of dark hair. If Knut meant her harm, would he tell Iliana? She asked, “Is everything well with you, Iliana?”

  After some moments had passed, she answered on a whisper. “Everything is well.”

  Mist noticed that she was clutching something in her hand. Separating the dark locks into three pieces, she began a braid. “What have you there?”

  “Nothing! It is nothing but a stone!”

  Surprise at Iliana’s angry reaction rendered Mist speechless. Iliana turned quickly, instantly contrite. “I beg pardon, Mist. I...I am not myself tonight.”

  That was for certain, and it didn’t take a prophet to understand why.

  “I didn’t mean to pry,” Mist soothed.

  “I know.” She got to her feet after Mist tied the end of the braid. “Thank you for doing my hair.”

  Mist watched her go to Brita to retrieve her daughter. The two spoke for a moment before Iliana went to feed little Cecilia. What had caused such a violent reaction in the woman? Mist shrugged off her feeling of unease over the matter. If Iliana wanted to share her thoughts, she no doubt would in time.

  At the end of the day, after everyone had bathed, Mist asked a couple of the men to empty the tub outside. She would then place it back in its place at the back of the house until next Lordag. Tomorrow was Sondag, or sun’s day. Christians revered it as the Lord’s Day. She had spent many such days with Drustan after she had been baptized and recovered from her injuries. The breaking of the bread and sharing of the wine that represented the Lord’s body and blood had been a special time for her.

  Since her return to the island, she had taken to going to her special place with some bread and wine that she had confiscated from her father’s private stock. She longed to hear the words again that Drustan had read to her each Lord’s Day from his copy of the Holy Scriptures.

  Sighing, she put away the towels and the soap.

  Valdyr came into the house and went to his rolled-up sleeping pallet. He picked it up, motioning to two of his men to do the same, and went to retrieve his sword.

  Concerned, Mist hurried to his side. “What are you doing?”

  “I will be sleeping in the barn tonight,” he told her, the inflection in his voice warning her that there would be no gainsaying him. He lifted one of the walrus oil lamps from the table to light his way, careful not to spill the liquid that filled the stone well.

  In truth, Mist was relieved. With Valdyr there to watch over Knut and Balder, she would rest easier. And with all of the animals inside, the stable was nearly as warm as the house, so there was no need to be worried about Valdyr freezing.

  Valdyr watched as the two men carried the tub the women had bathed in outside to dump its contents. He glanced down at Mist, a sparkle lighting his eyes. “If you have not yet bathed, I know of a convenient location.”

  Mist pressed her lips tightly together to keep from grinning. She would have moved out of his reach, but she was no coward. Whatever she could dish out to others, she was willing to take on herself.

  Valdyr curled his hand behind her neck and lifted her chin with his thumb. The warmth emanating from his eyes once again melted her reticence. Surely if he looked at an iceberg in that manner, it would instantly turn into a puddle of water.

  “Do not distress yourself, my sweet,” he breathed, and she felt her face warm at the endearment. “I have something much different planned in retaliation.”

  He released her and motioned for the two men he had called to follow him. Mist stood there like a frozen ice sculpture for several long moments until Brita called her name.

  * * *

  Valdyr strode to the barn, Amund and Rolf following grudgingly behind him. The landscape was bathed in moonlight from the full moon, making the lamp unnecessary. Their footsteps were muffled by the thin layer of snow that was beginning to settle over the land as a curtain of white flakes fell from the sky.

  If he was alone, he would have taken a minute to stop and appreciate the white orb peering through the colorful lights spanning the dark sky. Realizing that his men wouldn’t favor standing in the cold while he did so, Valdyr instead made quick work of the distance to the stable.

  Reaching the door to the barn, Valdyr jerked it open and quickly ducked inside, his nostrils flaring at the intense smell that assailed him. Grumbling from his men assured him that they were not any more appreciative of the odorous atmosphere than he was.

  Whispering from the back of the barn turned to instant silence. The stillness was disturbed only by the cattle shifting uneasily at their intrusion. Moonlight slitting through a crack in the wall showed Knut and Balder as shadows slowly rising to their feet from the straw mound where they had made their bed.

  Valdyr lifted the stone lamp, its flickering flame barely penetrating into the darkness beyond. As he moved closer, he could see the surprise on the men’s faces. They glanced past his shoulder and saw Amund and Rolf seeking spots to take their rest for the night, their swords glinting from the small flame of the lamp.

  Noticing that Valdyr was similarly armed, Knut’s expression quickly went from surprise to anger. Valdyr lifted a brow, daring him to say anything.

  “Do not let us disturb your rest.” Valdyr tossed his blanket on the nearest stack of hay. When he could see that his men were safely ensconced, he blew out the flame of the lamp and settled himself for a long night of surveillance.

  He heard Knut and Balder resume their seats, and could feel their tension even from a distance.

  His eyes finally adjusting to the darkness, Valdyr stared up at the ceiling. When he heard the snoring of the others, he let his thoughts drift. Inevitably, they turned to Mist.

  He grinned to himself as he pictured her stunned expression at his last r
emark to her. The thought of dunking her in the cold fjord really held no appeal. He turned his attention instead to thinking about the future.

  The fact that Bjorn and Astrid were now free to marry changed nothing in his mind. He was determined to make Mist his, and may the heavens help anyone who stood in his way.

  That thought brought him up short. Had he just shaken his fist in the face of her God? A coldness that had nothing to do with the outside temperatures shuddered through him. Whether he was willing to worship him or not, he was beginning to respect this God who would give His only Son so that mankind could spend eternity with Him.

  “I beg pardon,” he whispered into the darkness.

  He lay thus, his mind unable to let go of thoughts of Mist and her devotion to her God until light shone beneath the barn door, telling him that the sun had begun its ascent.

  He heard Knut and Balder rise and make ready to leave. Allowing them to believe that he still slept, he watched them through slitted eyes as they carefully stepped over him and the others, and made their way outside.

  Valdyr quietly opened the door after they had left to see where they went. Not waiting to break the fast, they hurried though the gate of the rock fence that surrounded the farm and disappeared over the hill that led back to Straumfjord.

  Valdyr gave a disbelieving snort. So much for Knut being anxious to see his wife and child again.

  Chapter 13

  The days began to lengthen, a forewarning that summer would soon be upon them. Each day the sunlight intensified and the grass began to turn green after its winter dormancy.

  It would soon be time to shear the sheep and prepare the vadmal for trading when the trading ships returned to the island.

  Mist, Brita and Edda spent many hours making and packaging extra cheese while the other women carded and spun the remaining wool from last fall’s shearing, and then wove it into sheets of material.