In Bed with the Viking Warrior

by Harper St. George

  ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  His brow furrowed again as he studied her mouth, making her think he didn’t understand her words. ‘What is your name?’ she asked again, keeping her voice steady.

  When he still didn’t answer, she worried that perhaps she’d been wrong and he wasn’t a mercenary at all. She’d seen them before and they knew her language. They had to know it if they were to earn a living. If he didn’t know her language, then he was truly a foreigner and one who had no business here. She scanned the edges of the forest looking for others like him and tightened her grip on the sword, raising it again. He wouldn’t be alone if he was here for nefarious reasons.

  ‘Nay.’ He reached out towards her but stopped short of putting himself any closer to her. ‘I won’t hurt you.’ His voice was rough as if his throat had been damaged and he spoke in a halting accent. A quick glance showed his neck appeared fine and uninjured. ‘I don’t know who I am.’ He gestured to his head injury.

  He did appear badly injured. Aside from the gash and swelling, now that she studied him closer, his flesh held an unnatural pallor and a fine sheen of sweat beaded on his skin. She’d once heard of a man who had been kicked by an ox and had forgotten how to talk, but could such a blow make someone forget his identity completely? ‘You don’t know your own name?’

  He swallowed once before giving a quick shake of his head that caused him to close his eyes as if in pain and his whole body to waver. When he opened them again, their intensity caught her gaze and held tight. ‘I only know that this man was going to kill me and you gave me an advantage. Thank you.’

  Satisfied that he wasn’t a threat, she lowered the sword and said, ‘You saved me. I should be thanking you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have been a danger to you had I not led him here.’ The husk of his injured voice was not entirely unpleasant as it raked across her senses. ‘I’ll be on my way. There could be others following me and I don’t want to put you in more danger.’

  He retrieved his sword and took a few wary steps backwards before giving her a nod and turning away. As he walked back the way he had come, she noticed that his graceful steps had deserted him. He walked heavily as if he was exhausted and stumbled once, though he caught himself quickly. He meant to continue on his way as if he hadn’t just saved her life. Despite herself, she admired his shoulders as he slung the sword into the scabbard strapped between his shoulder blades. They were broad under his tunic and thick like a warrior’s. And his hand around the sword’s grip was large and strong. A warrior’s hand, marked with small white scars near the knuckles.

  ‘Wait!’

  He paused and turned only his head to look at her, giving her a view of his uninjured profile. It was a fine profile. She didn’t want to think about why the sight of his handsome brow and strong nose made her stomach clench pleasurably.

  ‘You should rest before moving on.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’d be in your debt if you could tell me where I am.’

  How could such a strong warrior not know where he was? The idea was baffling. ‘The stream leads to the River Tyne, a few leagues down the way, I assume. We are near my village, Heiraford.’ She’d never been further than the few miles it took to reach Lord Oswine’s manor and the occasional visit to the abbey. The Danish settlement was just south of that, where the Tyne forked with another river, but she wasn’t sure it was necessary to mention that to the stranger, as he’d been headed north. When the man only nodded his thanks, she continued, ‘Did that Dane harm you? You’re badly injured.’

  But he ignored her question and swayed a bit when he turned forward, his feet slipping on the rocks. Fearing that he’d fall and injure himself even worse, she pushed her sword into its short scabbard at her waist and ran forward to his side, slipping an arm around his lower back. The muscle there was solid and dense.

  ‘When did you last eat?’

  He exhaled roughly. A laugh? ‘I’m uncertain,’ he admitted. ‘I awoke two evenings past after having been injured. I can only assume I ate that day.’

  ‘And you have no memory of that man? No idea why he would want you dead?’

  He gave her a wry grin, flashing white teeth. ‘One would think I’d remember the brute, but there’s nothing familiar about him.’

  She took a deep breath and pondered for a moment the wisdom of inviting him into her home. He was injured and he had saved her. But everyone had been wary of strangers since the attacks had begun. Helping him was the right thing to do—he clearly needed it—but the village elders wouldn’t agree. She couldn’t afford to stir up any trouble with them.

  Nay, it was best to do what was right. ‘Come with me. You saved me. A meal is the least I can do.’

  Before she realised what he meant to do, his hand came up so that his fingers very lightly touched her jaw. A pleasurable heat prickled through her from the simple touch. ‘I refuse to put you in further danger, fair one.’

  So unexpectedly pleasant was the touch that she moved her head away just enough to break contact. But she couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were a rich brown with tiny flecks of gold in their depths. It took her a moment to gather her words. ‘I won’t be in danger. My home and village are just through the trees there. We have warriors for protection.’ Nodding back towards the man on the ground, she said, ‘The rebel Danes have been plaguing us for months. Thank you for making it one less.’

  He seemed so hesitant to accept that she took the choice from him and affixed herself to his side again, her arm going back around his back. ‘At least stay for a meal and a bit of rest. You need your strength.’ If it were only a meal, she could bring it to him outside the gates and then he could be gone before Wulfric and the other elders even found out about him. That would make things simpler. No explaining why a strange man who could possibly be an enemy was in her home. No worrying that Wulfric would use him as an excuse to take her home from her.

  ‘Aye, I could use a meal. Many thanks, fair one.’ He put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against his side.

  They made a strange pair as they walked slowly towards her village. Aisly sent up a silent prayer that she wasn’t making a huge mistake.

  Chapter Three

  Magnus.

  As he put his arm around the woman at his side, the name pounded through his skull. It didn’t fit any more now than it had the first time he’d heard it, but he was becoming more certain that it was his name. There would be no reason for his captor to lie about it, particularly when he’d had no notion that his memories were addled. A twinge of guilt threatened to plague him at his lie, but he put it out of his mind. There was no need to reveal his name to the woman when he had no idea where he was or even who he was. Instinct told him to reveal nothing for his own safety, at least until he was sure these people weren’t enemies.

  He was certain the head wound had festered and he was fevered. His choice was simple. Either die slowly over the next several days or risk her village. At least if he risked her village, he would stand a chance. And if he died, he would die with the fair maiden at his side. He glanced down at the woman, his gaze catching on the way she caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she helped him navigate a small incline. His arm tightened around her, tucking her soft, well-formed body closer to his side.

  Once they were safely up the hill, his gaze travelled the curve of her cheekbone to her eyes. Long, dark golden lashes framed the light green gems. She felt his gaze on her and glanced up just to blush and look away. He continued his perusal, across the light sprinkling of flecks of colour that swept across her face from cheekbone to cheekbone, finally stopping to admire the little bit of reddish hair he could see shining from beneath her headrail. She was lovely.

  The vivid, mossy green of her eyes met his again and this time she didn’t look away immediately. They were kind and gentle as they swept
over his face before she dragged them away. He had to force himself to turn his attention to the trees around them, needing to stay vigilant.

  It bothered him how hard he had to turn the words over in his head before he found the ones he wanted to say. Her language was certainly not his native one. ‘How far is your village?’ They had moved further into the forest, away from the stream.

  ‘It’s a bit of a walk. We’ll stop frequently if you need to rest,’ she hurried to reassure him.

  Stifling his laugh, Magnus shook his head but stopped when it made his head ache. The woman had no qualms about wounding his pride. ‘I can make the walk, fair one. I merely wondered why you’d be alone so far from safety.’

  ‘I’m hardly alone. I brought my sword.’

  He didn’t want to say how the sword hadn’t saved her from the Dane.

  ‘You think I couldn’t have handled him.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘I think he was more than twice your size. Do you have no man to protect you?’

  The question made her step falter, but then she continued onward without looking at him. ‘Nay, I do not need a man.’ Her jaw clenched as she stared ahead.

  What would make a woman so young think she didn’t want a man in her life? The question was interesting, but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other without falling, his gaze scanning the forest for any sign of warriors. They walked in silence for a while, her softness fitting so naturally against him that he allowed himself to relish it. Apparently it had been a while since he’d enjoyed the nearness of a woman. Finally she stiffened beneath his arm, becoming more alert, meaning they must be getting close to the village.

  Pulling away from her earned him a puzzled frown, but he wouldn’t let anyone else know the true extent of his injuries. He couldn’t count on anyone to keep him safe, though he believed the woman would try. He trusted her.

  ‘Your village?’ he asked, spotting a break in the trees far ahead. A wall made of earth and wood rose up tall on the far side of a clearing. The thought that it was easily scalable teased the edges of his mind. His memory might be gone, but his warrior instincts were intact.

  The straw of a thatched roof could be seen just above the edge of the wall. It would make an excellent target for an archer with an arrow dipped in pitch. Trying to be mindful of his head wound, he turned his head left, then right to look for the sentries who must have seen them by now and saw no one. Though the movement caused black spots to dance before his vision, making him stumble with the next step, almost toppling the poor woman beneath him.

  She stifled a cry of surprise and he did his best to land on his other side, jarring his bruised ribs and grimacing as his head roiled with pain. It was a moment before the roaring in his ears died down and he could hear her speaking to him. It was a moment more before he could concentrate enough on her strange words to make sense of them. The grey at the edges of his vision cleared enough that he could see her lovely face as she stared down at him, her brow furrowed in concern.

  ‘Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die.’ She spoke the words like a mantra.

  He couldn’t say why she reduced him to a grinning fool, but the smile spread across his face just the same. It was as if now that he was so close to death, the complexities of life had ceased to matter. Somehow his hand found its way to her cheek. He saw his thumb caressing her cheekbone before he actually felt the sensation of her silken skin. ‘I’ll not die. Not yet.’

  Her smile was mesmerising in its beauty. He wondered if he’d found a nymph intent on leading him to his death, but he admitted that he’d happily follow her. He’d already followed her this far into the unknown.

  ‘That’s my village.’ She nodded towards the wall, though her gaze never broke with his. ‘It’s only a little further.’

  ‘I’ll stay here. If there are others after me, I won’t lead them to you in the village. It’s not safe.’

  She frowned. ‘We’ll be safer inside the walls.’

  Shaking his head, he grimaced at the inevitable pain and stilled. ‘It’s close to the stream. There are no fortifications. Nothing stands between you and danger.’

  ‘There is a wall.’ She frowned. ‘We’re not that close to the stream and there are men always posted on lookout.’

  ‘It’s too low—that wall is no match for determined warriors. If there are sentries, they should have seen us already.’

  She chewed her bottom lip and gave him a searching glance. She was wondering how he’d know that and he couldn’t blame her. The need to run niggled at the edge of his mind, but it failed to give strength to his body and clarity to his vision. There was no help for it. He was at the mercy of her warriors, which was why he wouldn’t go inside the walls.

  ‘We’ve only approached through the back way and I know where they hide, so I avoided them.’ He glanced at her face at that admission and she gave him a shy smile. ‘I thought it might be best if others don’t know of your presence right away.’

  ‘Am I in danger from them? A danger to you?’

  ‘I vow no one will harm you while you’re in my home.’ Their eyes met and held and Aisly had to struggle to take a breath. Something about this stranger affected her more than it should. She didn’t know him at all, but she felt safe inviting him into her home. The danger in that would come from the elders, not the man himself.

  He broke the stare, looking back towards the wall of her village. ‘I believe you, fair one. It’s not my intention to make things difficult for you, but it’s best I stay outside. I’ll be on my way after the meal you’ve offered. If you could just bring it out, I’d be grateful.’

  She ignored the casual endearment and the fact that she liked it. ‘My name is Aisly. And I fear you won’t be going anywhere for a while in your condition.’ Whether he realised it or not, his wound was grievous. She was amazed that he’d made it two whole days without falling into the deep sleep that could sometimes claim people after such an injury. That sleep usually led to death and it would happen to him soon if she couldn’t figure out how to get nourishment into him quickly. Even that might not be enough. If only the warriors would see things her way and allow her to care for him before they tried to determine if he was a threat to the village.

  ‘I just need a short rest. I’ll recover quickly.’ He grinned at her.

  Typical warrior, refusing to admit to his weakness even when it was to his detriment. Even through the layers of his tunic and undershirt, the heat from his body had been unnatural and a touch to his temple confirmed her fears. He was feverish and wouldn’t last more than another day on his own, and that was if more of those rebel Danes weren’t after him.

  ‘You need sleep and a meal. Stay here. I’ll go and get you some food and a dressing for your wound.’

  He agreed and reached for the sword strapped to his back. When his face twisted in pain, she reached around to unfasten the scabbard so that he could lie back. He smiled at her again as he sat back against a tree trunk and held the sword tight to his chest with both hands. The way he looked at her, so intense, so admiring, made something flutter deep in her belly.

  ‘Many thanks, fair one.’

  She opened her mouth to remind him again that her name was Aisly but decided to let it pass. Rising to her feet, she gave him one last lingering glance. ‘Please stay here. Don’t try to go.’

  ‘You have my vow.’ His eyes were already half-lidded, making her wonder if that deep sleep would claim him before she could get back to him.

  Turning abruptly, she hurried through the woods so that she could approach the gate from the front. It wouldn’t do to have anyone wondering why she was meandering around behind the village, just in case someone got suspicious. She’d tell them about the stranger later, after she had done the minimum to help him.

  Paus
ing a moment at the tree line, she smoothed a hand down her headrail and then her skirt to make sure she didn’t look as harried as she felt. A quick glance at the sun confirmed it was nearing midday. A glance to the left showed movement in the fields. Men and women would still be there for a bit, so it’d be less likely for anyone to question her coming and going. Taking a breath, she took off at a sedate pace across the field towards the open gates. A warrior leaned back against one of the doors that had been blackened from a skirmish with the rebel Danes. He’d been one of the men who had served under Godric but hadn’t been at the settlement that deadly day just over two months ago. She gave him a smile and he nodded before turning back to the warrior at his side.

  No one was loitering about just inside the shadow of the walls. The autumn harvest required almost everyone to work, which was a great help to her just then. She breathed easier as she skirted around behind the row of small houses that lined the wall. In the small spaces separating each one, she could see Cuthbert’s hall in the centre of the village. Though most of the warriors were helping in the fields, some of the warriors were sparring. They wouldn’t bother her, but she didn’t want to chance drawing their notice, either, so she stayed mostly hidden until she made her way past the hall and the expanse of land around it.

  The blacksmith’s shop was also in the centre of the village; the constant fire meant it needed to be away from the wall. Once she passed it, she was sure the stone forge would help hide her from view of the hall, so she moved back on to the path. She was just in time to see the tow-headed curls of her best apprentice, Bryn, disappearing around a corner. Squeals of children’s laughter followed. It seemed her apprentices had run off, but she was glad of it for once.

  Now that she was close to home and didn’t feel like such an interloper, she hurried her pace. Her home was one of the larger houses situated in the western section of the village. Her plot of land was large enough for a small garden, the corral for the few sheep she kept and the structure that held her wool. The thought of it empty now still made her angry. The Danes had come close to ruining all hope of her gaining her independence.