“I’ll do that.” His voice is harsh as his gaze darts to her grease covered fingers. Before she can ask what he was talking about, her fingers are in his mouth, his tongue swirling around them quickly and deliberately. His fingers massage into her palm and as he pulls her fingers from his mouth a loud lip smacking sound fills the air. She smiles as his eyes close and he makes an overzealous Mmmm sound, licking his lips. “Delicious,” he whispers, winking at her.
“Thank you,” is all she can think to say, grabbing a raspberry from the bowl closest to her and popping it in her mouth, turning her gaze back onto the rest of the room. She lets her fingers linger on her lips, the fingers Asgar had just successfully molested, and she inhales deeply, her mind playing the scene over in her head; changing the background to a small cabin, her chair to a bed, and moving his mouth from her fingers to be positioned teasingly between her legs.
A shiver runs over her core and she can’t help but let some of the stories her married female friends have passed down run through her head. Stories of the pleasures that a man can give with his mouth, his fingers, and his manhood. She can feel the cold sweat start on her palms and she shakes the thoughts from her head; knowing this is neither the time nor place to let fantasies roll around in her mind. There is just something about this man; something she has never felt for any of the crushes she has had.
***
From his spot in the far back corner, hidden from Freya’s sight in the shadows, and behind the rowdy men, Eska watches in disgusts as Asgar has kissed her lips. Those are supposed to be his lips to kiss, his cheek to caress, not Asgar’s. The blush that runs over her skin as Asgar sucks on her fingers almost does Eska in and he has to use all of his willpower to not storm up to the dais and stab that barbarian bastard in the throat. He is ruining everything; every dream that Eska has had, gone in less than twelve hours.
He needs a way to show them that he can take care of Freya. He needs to show her that she really loves him and that Asgar will never love her. He knows he can make her happy. Taking a long drink from his mug and finishing his fourth cup of ale, Eska tosses the empty vessel down and pushes his way out into the darkened world.
He is determined to go with her and he needs time to think out his plan. He certainly just can’t walk up to the boats tomorrow morning and announce that he is going along; he needs to come up with a reason. He knows she’ll want him to come along. Even if, at first, it’s only for companionship, she’ll come to love him.
***
The fires in the hearths are down to embers as Asgar pulls her to her feet, tucking her hand into his elbow as he moves to stand behind Ivan. “Thank you for the feast, Chief.” Asgar smiles down at her father, who grins widely, Freya knowing the ale he has consumed must be warming his blood and she smiles. “I will walk Freya home.”
“That is fine, Son,” her father stands and hugs her tight, lifting her off her feet slightly as she wraps her arms around his neck. “Goodnight, my daughter,” he whispers, kissing her cheek and setting her on her feet again. “I will see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Father,” she tries to stifle the sob that wants to break out, but she knows it’s evident in her voice. His large hand cradles her cheek as he smiles down at her, trying to convey to her that he will always love her and that he has done this out of love. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispers in his ear, “I know why you did this, Father, and I love you.”
The emotion of the situation takes the normally controlled Ivan by storm and he wraps his arms around his daughter, hugging her tight once more for the night. “I love you too.”
Releasing her father, she smiles to her brother, Arik, and wraps her hand in Asgar’s once more, making their way from the great hall into the black night. The only thing lighting their path are torches placed sporadically and they are silent, having talked non-stop during the meal, and the only sounds are that of bugs and animals as they pass. Asgar’s hand squeezes hers and she leans into his shoulder more; the thoughts that are running through her head being ones not suited for a maiden such as her.
Reaching the door of her small cabin, detached from her father’s great hall, she releases a heavy sigh, her body wracked and shaking from the thoughts playing in her head. Looking up in his eyes, lit from the small torch burning beside her door, Freya finds herself rising up on her tiptoes, her eyes flicking from his to his lips as his hands find her hips.
Right before her lips meet his, he stops her, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. “Till tomorrow, Freya,” he whispers, leaning in and touching their lips for a split second, leaving Freya craving more as he takes a step back. The smile on his lips gives away that he wishes the same thing she does; to go further, to invite him in, but they just can’t.
“Till tomorrow, Asgar,” she breathes out, taking a step back and reaching behind her for the door, feeling the rough hone wood beneath her fingertips. She pushes it open slowly, wanting more than anything to grab the front of his tunic and tug him in with her, but she just smiles, waving to him as she shuts the door.
Hearing his footsteps fade away and seeing his shadow disappear, Freya lets out a strangled sigh and sinks down onto the floor with her back against the door. It confuses her, the feelings she has for this man. And they have all happened within less than a day. But his eyes, they do something to her, burning a path right to her soul. Closing her eyes, she silently prays to Odin for his never failing wisdom and then she prays to this new God, the one of the monks, this Christ, and she asks him for guidance as well. She feels as if she will need all the help she can get to survive what is to come.
CHAPTER FOUR:
The sun is just peeking over the horizon as Freya stands on the cliff, her trousers and tunic moving with the wind blowing in her face. She runs her hands back over her hair, glad that she decided to do one big braid this morning instead of anything fancy. It is just going to get messed up, anyway, when they set sail. So, what is the point in trying to impress anyone? Right now she is just trying to keep it together, escaping from her small cabin to let her tears flow in solitude.
She is still angry that her father hadn’t told her of this threat before it had come to this, but she understands his reasoning. He wants her safe from harm and, as far as she can tell, Asgar and his people will take good care of her. Just thinking of the handsome man, her body starts to quiver, her eyes closing and her mind letting one of the rampant fantasies that had kept her up all night play through her mind.
The thought of his lips caressing her skin, from her mouth down her neck and across her breasts and down her stomach to the most sensitive and intimate spot on her body. The way his eyes would look staring down at her and the way his bare chest will feel under her fingertips as she runs them over his muscles as he lowers himself down onto her, connecting them completely.
Even now, standing on the very edge of the cliff with the sun slowly rising in front of her, the slow heat fills her limbs, burning deep inside. She feels as if she is going crazy with all of this desire and lust that she’s experienced in the last day; and for a stranger. It is all new and confusing to her, but she has no choice but to try and sort it all out.
“You shouldn’t stand so close to the edge, Lass.” The familiar voice comes from behind her and she spins to see Eska standing before her with his hands shoved into the front pocket of his tunic. The bag over his shoulder, along with the sword at his side, tells her that he’s planning on going somewhere and she gives him a confused look. “Ahh, Lass, don’t look at me like that.” He smiles and shakes his head, turning his eyes to the ground before him.
***
If only she knew how his heart beats for her, the way just a raised eyebrow undoes the manly mask around his heart. He knows he needs to apologize for the way he acted the night before, even if he didn’t mean it, just so she would forgive him and think that he is back to his normal self. “I’m sorry about my behavior. I’m just worried that I’m losing my best lass.”
S
he gives Eska a sweet smile and jumps into his arms, hugging his waist tight as his arms circle her shoulders. “I’ll miss you, Eska,” she says, burying her head into his chest and it pulls at his heart, but he just smiles, knowing his plan will work.
“Oh, I’m coming with you, Lass.” He grins as she pushes away from him, her green eyes looking right into his, questioning him. “I’m coming with you to make sure you have no problems and then I’ll return home.”
***
“Oh, Eska,” she squeals, her heart lifting at the thought of having her best friend at her side, instead of having to do this all on her own. “But, what about my father? What will he say?” Eska’s hearty laugh in return makes her smile and she turns to head back into the village as he follows.
“Your father has already agreed. I was up before the sun, demanding that I go with you.” Freya just smiles, knowing that her friend tells the truth. He was always one not to leave important things to the wayside when he needs an answer now.
The pair fall silent as they take their time walking back to her cabin and Freya tries to take in and remember everything she can, her heart racing as they near the worn out cart path leading toward home. Well, not her home anymore and the thought makes more tears flow down her cheeks that she quickly wipes away. Eska’s hand on the small of her back gives her the strength to keep walking and she smiles over her shoulder at him.
Coming around the corner from the field and into view of her front door, Freya gasps as she sees her father and brother standing there looking very angry. Arik spots her first and his brows furrow as he rushes to her, frustration evident in his gait.
“Where have you been?” He angrily whispers, wrapping her upper arm in his massive hand and basically dragging her to her front door with Eska’s quickened footsteps behind them. Arik looks over his shoulder and scowls. “What are you doing here?” he growls.
“I am accompanying her,” he says, lifting his chin and showing a bit of defiance to the son of his Chief. Seeing Arik look from his father back to him, Eska smiles, knowing the man is astonished at the revelation.
Trying to pry her arm from her brother’s grasp, Freya is pulled to face him with both of his arms holding her still. “Why are you acting like this, Arik?” She asks still trying to squirm from him as her father comes up and places his hands lovingly on her shoulders.
“We thought you had run off, Lass,” Ivan smiles down at her, laughing to himself at his rash thoughts of her running off with Eska. Once again, she has proven him wrong and he relaxes as he sees her smile and nod in disbelief.
“I would never,” she says as Arik releases his hold on her.
They both hug her at the same time, surrounding her with their massive builds and she tries to wrap an arm around each. She takes turns breathing in their familiar, yet distinctive, smells. Her father smells of smoke from the morning hearth and of hay from feeding his horses, but Arik, on the other hand, smells of the ocean; salty and fresh; as he spends most of his time on his fishing boat where he can drink in his love of the water. She smiles, letting a small tear slip out and soak into her father’s tunic and then releases them, laughing to try and keep the sobs from taking over.
“Alright, Lass,” her brother says quietly, stumbling over the words and Freya spies a little moisture in his eyes as he pats her on the back. “Go get your things.”
She nods and as if her limbs aren’t attached to her body she walks into her little cabin and the door swings shut behind her. She takes in the small stone fireplace where she has sat on the floor so many times, reading scrolls that the monks had brought. The tiny fur covered mattress where she spent the sleepless night before, dreaming of Asgar. Swinging the small pack of food and bladder of water over her shoulder she grips the handle of the bag containing her favorite clothes, including last night’s gown. She only packed a few items, the ones that fit the best and were the most useful to take with her, including three more pairs of trousers and tunics. After the more than a week she’ll spend at sea getting to Asgar’s fishing village, she will probably have to throw what she has on out, so she wants to be prepared.
Tugging the sheep’s skin bag from her favorite chair, she takes one last look around at the single room she has called home for the last eight years. It is small, but it was hers. Smiling to herself through the slight tears, scenes play through her mind of the many nights her friends would keep her up late, telling tales of their married life and drinking copious amounts of cherry wine; laughing loudly until her father would storm in, in nothing but his sleep shirt, and sleepily scold them. She takes a deep breath in and remembers all of the well wishes her friends issued the night before, telling her that they would pray for her and that they know she will be happy.
She hopes they are all right. As she pulls the door open, she plasters a smile on her face while her heart breaks. The sun is just over the water and the sea gulls are busy calling their morning hellos as she smiles up at her father and brother, then looking through them to see Eska standing silently nearby, being a pillar of strength for her when she needs it.
“I’m ready,” she nods, slipping between her kin to walk down the path first.
It’s then that she stops; noticing that pretty much every villager is out on the street calmly waiting for her to pass and to issue their well wishes. As she feels her father’s hand on her back, she keeps going, doing her best to keep her chin up and look them in the eyes as she passes; saying thank you to everyone she can. She sees a group of children that she always played with hanging toward the end and she can’t fight the tears away anymore; speeding her steps to reach out and pick up the smallest of them, a toddler named Elga.
“We’ll miss you,” one of the older girl’s say and Freya smiles down at her, accepting the girls hug as she wraps her small arms around her waist. Elga tugs on her braid and Freya turns to look into the girl’s sea blue eyes and her perfectly chubby cheeks. The little girl smiles and hands Freya a crown made of wildflowers. She giggles as she takes it.
“We made it for you,” Elga’s older brother, Urich, speaks up, reaching to take his sister and Freya misses her as soon as she’s in his arms. Looking to the crown of daisies, ferns, and small roses she smiles, placing it lightly upon her head. The looks on their faces warm her heart and she drops down to her knees, throwing her arms out and giving them an open invitation that they all take, running into her arms and cramming themselves against her.
“Please don’t go,” one says as another kisses her cheek and she tells them over and over that she has to and that she’ll never forget them. Making sure to hug each one tight, Freya kisses Urich on the forehead, rubbing her fingers through his bright blonde hair and smiling at Elga as she clings to him.
“Take care of your sister,” she tells him, kissing his forehead one more time, before standing and wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I will, Freya,” he says, sniffling and scrubbing the back of his hand across his nose. His eyes are red and irritated and it makes her heart ache. As she takes a deep breath, nodding to Urich’s mother, she turns to continue heading to the beach, stopping only when she hears a small voice.
“Bye, bye, Freya,” Elga says, waving her tiny little fingers in the air.
Freya can’t help but laugh a little, waving back. She looks up to her father and sees the grin on his face as he makes the little girl laugh uncontrollably with funny looks. She waves one last time, to the entire group of villagers that she has grown up with, and with her brother’s hand on one shoulder and her father’s on the other she turns her back one last time on her home, headed for the beach.
The slightly crisp, briny sea air brushes along her face in a leisurely pace as the stones grow smaller under her feet. The sound of voices barking orders and the banging of wood on wood as things are being loaded onto the boats grows louder. Freya’s heart starts to race within her chest.
“Ivan,” Halvard’s deep voice booms over the noise and Freya turns to see the older man standing
at the bow of one of the beached boats, waving to them. Her hands are shaking slightly as she grips onto her bag and pack, trying to calm her breathing as Halvard and his sons make their way down the plank to meet them.
“Halvard,” her father says heartily, slapping the man on his back as they embrace quickly; their friendship having grown in the last twenty four hours. Ivan looks down at his daughter, noting her obvious nerves and wraps his large hand around her dainty one, smiling slightly as she squeezes. “A safe and fast journey to you all. May the Gods watch over you.”
“And you,” Halvard nods, smiling to the man and then to Freya. It’s then that she looks past his shoulder, noticing Asgar hanging back, their eyes meeting. A wave of tingles flows over her, followed by a blush, and she averts her eyes to the stony beach; her reaction not unnoticed by the jarl standing before her. He grins widely, reaching his hand out to her and saying, “Come now girl. Our home awaits your beautiful smile.”
Pushing aside the giddy feelings Asgar fills her with, fear grips Freya’s heart as her eyes focus in on the hand outstretched to her. She passes her gaze up to her brother; seeing Arik nod stings her heart.
This is it. It may be the last time she’ll see him, so she goes up on her tip toes, placing a light kiss on her brother’s cheek, whispering, “I with think of you often.”
Arik shocks her when his large arms surround her, picking her up and squeezing her to his chest as he hugs her. “I will tell your other brothers the same,” he says, kissing her cheek as she nods- closing her eyes and fighting away the tears at the thought of her siblings who could not be here due to their own duties in their lives. She will never forget them.
Putting her back on her feet, Arik spins her around still gripping her shoulders. “You will take care of my only sister,” he says sternly and Freya sees the men standing before her part, dodging his words as if they were a spear, until it is Asgar clear in her view. His ice blue eyes look up from the beach into hers and then over her head to her brother.
We Roam The Seas Page 4
