The Pagan's Prize

by Miriam Minger

  "No, you're wrong!"

  "I'm right, Zora, so spare me your denials! At least now I know you can produce heirs. I was beginning to wonder how long it would take before you'd be breeding and I could return to my concubines, but I see that once we're home in Novgorod, my life will finally be as it was before I wed!"

  Incredulous, Zora's eyes filled with tears. How could he be so blind? How could he say such terrible things? Then another, more chilling thought struck her.

  Perhaps she had been the fool all along to believe it might be possible that he loved her. If he cared, he would never treat her this cruelly. Surely he could see that she was telling him the truth.

  "Do you love me, Rurik?" she demanded, her voice hoarse with pain. By God, she would know! "Do you love me?"

  He didn't answer for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, her heart sank, his tone as biting as the smell in the room.

  "I told you once before that the word holds no meaning for me, Princess, and nothing has changed. You've become confused by lust."

  "No . . ." Zora breathed, shaking her head. "No!" Rushing at him so suddenly that she caught him by surprise, she struck him across the face with such force that her palm stung, but she didn't care. Nor did she care when he grabbed her by the wrists and shook her hard. "You deceived me!" she cried, anguished tears coursing down her face. "You put trust in me . . . led me to think . . . Monster! You hard, unfeeling—"

  "Pagan? Brute? Barbarian?" he finished for her as he swept her fighting and kicking into his arms. "We've come full circle, haven't we, wife? Yet if anyone here has been deceived, it was me and not you!"

  "Release me!" Zora demanded through her wracking sobs, her world crumbling around her. How could she ever have thought she could warm this man's cold heart? Fool!

  "Release you?" mocked Rurik, easily subduing her struggles by holding her so tightly that she couldn't move. "I should send you under guarded escort back to Novgorod but I'm not going to let you out of my sight. I'll not grant you another opportunity to escape me, Princess. I've learned my lesson too well."

  As Rurik kicked open the storehouse door so violently that it flew with the splitting of wood from its hinges, Zora knew then that he was taking her with him. And despite never having felt so desolate, her heartache a raw bleeding wound, she could not deny that she wanted to be with him even as she swore that she would never forgive him for his cruelty. God help her, that made her twice the fool.

  Chapter 28

  Zora refused to speak to Rurik for the entire journey to Liubech, turning her face away from him whenever he addressed her. At first it hadn't seemed to affect him, but by her third day of silence, he could not hide his displeasure, his angry scowl there for everyone to see.

  Yet if he had wanted to rail at her, it was impossible on the warship that lacked any privacy, crowded as it was with fifty odd warriors, weapons, and all manner of provisions. She had no tent where they could be alone either, only an open lean-to thrown together with blankets where she slept while everyone else, including Rurik, took shifts sleeping under the stars.

  Even when she became ill, which thankfully had been less frequent upon the larger vessel, she refused to answer Rurik's brusque queries about her health. That seemed to anger him the most, yet she stubbornly held her tongue. After the horrible things he had said to her in Smolensk, he didn't deserve to know and what did he care anyway?

  Whenever she asked herself that question, she always felt a niggling that maybe, just maybe he might care, despite what he had claimed. But all she had to do was remember how callously he had denounced her, and the flicker of hope that refused to die would fade back into nothing. Nor did she trust any longer her memories of what they had shared, resigning herself that she must have misread everything no matter Nellwyn's assurances.

  By the morning of the fifth day they arrived in Liubech and if Zora had tried not to dwell upon the approaching battle, there was no way to avoid it now.

  As Rurik's ships drew into the bustling dock, she overheard him telling Arne that the imposing timber palisade that had been newly erected around the trading town would serve as a line of defense if Grand Prince Yaroslav's troops were forced to retreat. The ominous specter of war was brought that much closer when a senior warrior met them to announce that the grand prince had ordered an immediate march to a point more than halfway between Liubech and Chernigov where they would make camp.

  "Why there?" Her growing anxiety caused her to break her silence as Rurik lifted her from the ship. If he was surprised that she had finally spoken to him, he gave no sign of it, his expression remaining as hard as before.

  "You didn't think your father would be fool enough to allow us to march to his gates, did you?" he replied, signaling for two strapping warriors to follow as he led her to a place out of the way of the ships being unloaded. "The location of our encampment will ensure ten miles between our armies, unless Mstislav decides to attack during the night. But I doubt he'll stray that far from his precious city for fear he might lose it."

  Zora wasn't given a chance to reply as Rurik left her with the two guards while he went to oversee his men. Although the wharf at first appeared a mass of chaos, in less than an hour not only his warriors but all those whose ships had recently arrived had begun to march, slaves and hired freemen bringing up the rear with the provisions.

  For a moment, Zora wondered why she and her guards hadn't joined them. Then Rurik rode up on a spirited gray stallion that matched him for size and power.

  She tried not to notice how magnificent he looked atop the huge animal, his thick blond hair swept back from his forehead and shining as brightly as the silver mail-shirt he had donned, but she couldn't help it. No matter what had happened between them, he still remained to her the most handsome of men.

  "Take my hand," he commanded, his eyes appearing a deep crystal blue in the warm sunlight.

  "Perhaps I prefer to walk," she countered, bristling at his harsh tone that reminded her all too unhappily of how cruel he had been to her in Smolensk.

  "You have no choice, wife. Do not force me to humiliate you before your uncle's troops."

  Thinking that he would probably relish embarrassing her much as he had the time he threw her over his shoulder, Zora accepted his hand with reluctance and he hoisted her up behind him.

  "Hold on tight," he ordered. "I don't want to risk your falling off."

  You mean you don't want me to threaten your heir with any of my foolishness, Zora thought resentfully, although she couldn't deny that it felt wonderful to wrap her arms around him again.

  They had scarcely touched since he had carried her to the ship days ago, yet she hadn't allowed herself to admit how much she had missed it until now. As they galloped to the front of the formation to join Grand Prince Yaroslav and other senior warriors, she could feel the sinewed strength of Rurik's body with his every movement, and she wondered if he was affected in the slightest by having her so close . . .

  Rurik cursed to himself. It was all he could do to keep his mind on the grave matters at hand with Zora hugging him so tightly, her womanly softness a seductive warmth against his back.

  By Odin, despite her treachery she inflamed his senses like no other! How could one female so sorely tempt him and try him at the same time?

  With great effort, he reminded himself of her deceit, which helped to put matters in perspective, if not as much as he would have liked. It seemed the harder he tried to bury his feelings for her, the more impossible the task became, and he had already given up trying to suppress the memory of what had happened in Smolensk.

  He still couldn't believe that she had struck him. Perhaps that had stunned him more than anything she had said. Words were easy to discount but actions not so easily. He had never seen such hurt in her eyes, such pain, as if he had broken her heart—

  More likely it was despair that her attempt to escape him had failed, Rurik amended bitterly, thinking back on how she had refused to talk to him since th
at day. She had spurned his every attention, his every query about her welfare, no longer bothering to hide the fact that she wanted to have nothing to do with him or to pretend that she might care.

  Yet the moment they had landed in Liubech, he had sensed her agitation and had surmised at once that she was plotting all over again. He would wager a thousand gold grivna upon it! Why else would her first words to him have been a question about where they were bound?

  That had sealed his decision to take her with him rather than leave her at the trading town. He wanted to keep her from the battle, but the thought of leaving her somewhere less secure seemed a worse evil.

  If Zora was left well guarded at the camp, she would still be there waiting for him when the victory was won, although he imagined that she would try anything she could to return to her father. He would have to warn the men he entrusted with her care to be especially vigilant, for she would outwit them if given half a chance.

  "And she said she wanted to walk," he muttered, wondering if Zora really thought him that much of a fool. So she could have escaped into the woods?

  "Did you say something?" Her breath was a soft, stiffing warmth upon his neck.

  "No!"

  Rurik heard her sigh but he ignored it, forcing his mind to what lay ahead.

  ***

  Once a tent had been constructed for her and she had been ushered unceremoniously inside, Zora didn't see Rurik again for hours. When it grew dark, she began to believe that he wasn't planning to come back at all, which wouldn't surprise her.

  He had said little else to her during the long ride to the camp other than his last outburst, and she had sensed in him an irritation that she could only suppose was directed at her. Although she didn't know what she had done to deserve this latest display of temper, it really didn't matter. It seemed that hurt was only piling upon hurt between them and there wasn't any way to stop it.

  Finally she lay down and turned her back to the two stone-faced Varangians posted just inside the entrance, having grown weary of looking at them and no doubt they of her. There were also a half dozen or so warriors pacing outside the tent. She had watched their shadows moving across the canvas walls all afternoon. She couldn't see them anymore but she could hear the low drone of their voices, an occasional laugh surprising her considering the gravity of their presence here.

  These men of the north seemed so confident, so fearless. She already knew they believed that God and right was on their side, victory assured over a foul usurper. To her, the imminent future was too uncertain to even contemplate. She closed her eyes, willing herself to try to get some rest despite the hungry rumbling of her empty stomach.

  "You could rouse the dead with that growling."

  Rolling over, Zora stared up at Rurik in surprise. In the oil lamp's flickering light he appeared as much a giant as the first time she had seen him, his head grazing the ceiling, his formidable size dwarfing the tent.

  Her heart pounding, she noticed then that her guards were gone and she no longer heard men's voices right outside. She realized Rurik must have sent them to help themselves to food for he carried a round loaf of bread under one arm, a wineskin under the other, and in his hands a steaming bowl of something that smelled wonderfully of lamb stew.

  "I thought you might be hungry, Princess, but if I'd known how much I would have brought more food." He went down on his haunches and set everything in front of her, then he sat upon the ground and rested an arm on one raised knee. "Go on. While it's still hot."

  "Aren't you going to have any?" Zora's face grew warm under his scrutiny. She broke off a piece of bread and dipped it into the stew.

  "Not tonight. I never eat before a battle."

  Her eyes widening, Zora suddenly didn't feel very hungry. But if Rurik had noticed her reaction he made no comment, reaching instead for the wineskin. She thought he was going to drink but he simply removed the stopper and then handed her the leather bag. She didn't ask if he wanted any, sensing his answer would be the same.

  "Eat, Zora. For strength."

  She did, understanding his unspoken reference to their child, which for the past days had been the only thing to sustain her spirits.

  Whether Rurik loved her or not, she knew in her heart that she wouldn't want to live if anything happened to him, but she must for she no longer had just herself to consider. Yet right now, that didn't make it any easier to swallow the food and she had to wash it down with wine for fear she might choke.

  "The guards told me you never strayed from this corner," he said, glancing at the straw pallet on which she was sitting.

  "Where else could I have gone?" she asked, wondering at his sudden frown. Then it dawned upon her that he must still think she was going to try to escape and she gave a sad laugh. "I'm no match for your Varangian warriors, Rurik, even if they lacked an ounce of sense. Those two stared at me all afternoon as if they were afraid I might disappear right from under them."

  "You have a history of doing just that, wife." Rurik's jaw tightened visibly.

  "So I do," she admitted softly. This seemed to startle him. He had obviously expected her to hurl some retort.

  Silence reigned for long moments as Zora ate her meal, but she drank little wine. She wanted to have her wits about her for whatever the next hours might bring. At last when she could eat no more, she pushed the remainder aside and met his eyes.

  "Thank you for thinking of me. I feel much better now."

  "Good. I suggest you eat the rest when you're able for I cannot say when hot food will be prepared again."

  Feeling a chill at the import behind his words, Zora sighed heavily. She was so worried about him. If only he could give her some reassurance. "Are you and your men so confident that you will win?"

  "If a man hopes to live, he doesn't go into battle expecting defeat," Rurik replied, wondering why she had asked him such a question. Irritation gripped him as he imagined it was because she feared for her father and his men. By Thor, even with his child growing in her belly, her loyalty to her countrymen had not wavered! "Your father's forces and ours are well matched, Zora, if that gives you any comfort. They have enough men that they will not fall like spring lambs to the slaughter."

  "That's not what I meant!" she said heatedly. Then she shook her head, her shoulders slumping. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. You would twist whatever I have to say anyway. I learned that well enough the other day." She rose as if she didn't want to be near him and went to stand at an opposite wall, her back to him. "I'm tired, Rurik. If you don't mind, I wish you would leave—"

  "So you dismiss me, Princess?"

  Hearing the restrained anger in his voice, Zora glanced nervously over her shoulder to see that Rurik had risen to his feet, his eyes black as coals in the hazy light.

  "I—I didn't mean it as it sounded . . ." she began lamely, then her own indignation was pricked as much at herself as at him. Why shouldn't she ask him to leave since he thought the worst of everything she had to say? She had had enough of his callous treatment!

  "Yes, I did mean it," she continued, lifting her chin as she turned to face him. "You brought my meal and I have thanked you for it, but I'm sure you have other things to do."

  "Nothing that cannot wait, wife." Rurik glared at her as he came closer. "Or have you forgotten that you still bear that title? Perhaps you're already thinking ahead to your father's victory, for surely that is the outcome you hope for in your heart—"

  "That's right!" Zora shouted, losing all control in light of his preposterous statement. "That's exactly what I want! Why hide it any longer? You've read me so well, Rurik Sigurdson, I see no reason to keep my true feelings from you. Yes, I hope my father wins and I hope you soon find yourself without a wife!"

  He grabbed her so suddenly that she gasped, his fingers tunneling in her hair to yank her head back.

  "So this is how I will remember you as I go into battle," he breathed, his gaze ablaze with fury. "Treason like venom upon your lips."

  T
ears springing to her eyes, Zora could barely answer for the emotion threatening to choke her. "You have made it so, Rurik. You can only blame your—"

  She didn't finish, Rurik's mouth coming down so brutally upon hers that it hurt . . . and she knew he wanted to hurt her. His embrace was so crushing that she could hardly breathe and her neck felt ready to snap, her scalp stinging.

  But she would not let him hurt her, no, she wouldn't let him! She returned his kiss with a fury that equaled his, determined that he would remember not the lies she had just hurled at him but the blinding truth of her passion.

  I love you, Rurik! she cried in her heart as she threw her arms around his neck to hold him tightly, to hold him like she would never let him go.

  As if she had surprised him, his embrace eased and became not cruel but wildly possessive, and with a ragged groan he deepened his kiss to ravage her mouth while his hands grew frantic in their caress. She clung to him even as she felt him wrench her tunic over her hips and tear away her undergarment, then lift her and wrap her legs around his waist.

  His breathing was hot and desperate against her lips as he yanked at his trousers and she pressed eagerly against him, knowing his intent and wanting it as much as he. She felt his hardness poised for an instant against her moist flesh, then she was riding upon it, his hands gripping her bottom as he thrust inside her like a man possessed, fast, hard, relentlessly, until she was shaking with her need.

  She locked her ankles behind him, not caring that the iron mesh of his mail-shirt was biting into her thighs or the insides of her arms as she clutched wildly at his back. All conscious thought was centered upon that wet, throbbing place where they were joined, upon the incredible heat, the friction, the rapture rising up to consume her . . .