The Northman's Bride (A Sons of the North Romance Book 3)

by Sandra Lake

  “Is that so,” he said as he began leading her to her cabin. “And how would this Hunt know the difference? Is scaring the village children part of his assigned duties?”

  “Hunt told me he had not seen the whole of a larger Kraken, but he had once seen one of its arms on shore. The arm was three times as long as the babe Kraken I saw, the length of an entire karve, and he said that every Kraken has at least eight arms and a hundred sharp teeth.”

  “Your Hunt has quite the talent for telling tales.”

  Sovia ignored his jab at her dear Hunt and turned back one more time to take in the view that came closer and closer with each passing gust of wind. “You must agree that this coastline is more beautiful than any you’ve seen in your travels of the Baltics.”

  “Aye. ’Tis as green as any I’ve seen before.”

  “Not just green surely, but it has a rare beauty—look at the cut of the mountain to sea. It is majestic. It raises your spirits and makes your heart think that you too could climb so high.”

  “Have you risked your neck scaling those peaks as well, wife?”

  “Nay, only a few smaller ones closer to Toraslotte. I will be glad to take you. From there you will see all the outstretched fields ready for harvest and the cattle fattening in the valley, the black Spaelsau sheep in the east hills, and the white Spaelsau down by the riverbanks.”

  “You are well versed in the goings-on of your serfs and tenants and their livestock?”

  “Of course. Someone has to be.”

  “Is this Hunt not the overseer?”

  “Hunt has far too much responsibility. I help out where I can.”

  “Aye, like spinning tales of sea monsters to frighten young maidens.”

  Sovia would not take the bait. They were too close to home. She would just have to hope that Hök would come to see the true treasure he had in the people that served Toraslotte.

  She would try to explain sensibly. “My father, as you are aware, had no use for furthering the interests of my—your holding. Hunt would not let him bleed the storehouses dry, so my father shrugged his responsibility to the holding entirely. He spent very little time there. I do what I can to aid Hunt. He is not getting any younger, poor fellow.”

  Hök stared at her for a good long while, then tightened his grip on her upper arm and tugged her possessively into the cabin. “You have strong feelings for this Hunt?” He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. They had had few arguments over the last month while she had recovered her strength from her ordeal in the mountain. He had been gentle yet firm with her, personally seeing after her needs each day, taking his meals with her, and joining her on long walks, but she now felt a new storm brewing between them.

  “Hunt is dear to me, yes.” She answered cautiously. She needed to tell Hök about Leif, but when? It was never the right time.

  “And what will you confide in this poor fellow about our union?”

  Sovia crouched down and opened the cage to let the kittens out to stretch their legs. She placed Zora on her lap and stroked her gently, more for her own comfort than the cat’s. “Hök, you need not be concerned about what I will say or not say to my loved ones upon my return. I truly believe Toraslotte is in safe hands under Tronscar’s protection. I have no interest in usurping you and placing another master at the helm. I made an oath to you. I will not break it.’”

  “I would have your men-at-arms’ concerns laid to rest,” Hök said sternly. “They may look to me to exact vengeance for their injured pride—several were in Bergen the day of your trial. I will not put up with dissent in my ranks. You best be convincing if you are sincere in your desire for me to remain as the master of your lands.”

  “Our lands.” She nodded briskly. What more could she say to put his mind at ease, to build his trust in her? “Once trade with Lübeck and Tronscar begins, no one will care about my silly old bloodlines. Secure commerce and prosperity will rule the day.”

  “Hmph.” Hök stood in front of her, craning his neck to look down, his eyes on her in the hungry way they had been for weeks.

  “You best practice that speech for Hunt and his men.”

  Sovia set her cat aside and moved closer to him. It had felt like eternity since he had last taken her. Sovia stood, silent and motionless, Hök’s eyes were burning into her with fierce warning. She was hungry for his touch and his approval.

  She placed her hands lightly on his hips, slowly sliding under his tunic and finding the laces to his leather trousers. She did not raise her eyes to look at him—afraid of what she would see, afraid of rejection.

  Chapter 27

  She would take any part of him that he would gift her. In that moment, she decided she would do all in her power to make him want her, if only for a few fleeting moments—or hours. Excitement swirled inside her.

  Suddenly, his control seemed to break. His hand went into her hair and he made a fist, tugging at her short curls. He tore at the laces to her dress, stripping her clothing with such aggression that she could do nothing to help. Her gown was tossed to the floor, her under-tunic torn down the center. Her small touch had awakened the passionate beast that slept inside him.

  His breathing was ragged and he pushed her to the small bed, dropped to his knees on the floor, and lowered his head between her legs.

  Letting go of her concerns and fears for tomorrow, she arched her back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed this blissful moment with the man she had come to deeply love. No one before had even given her such hope, such joy, and such fear.

  Hök leaned back on his heels. “We need to be quiet, Sov. There’s no need to entertain and frustrate the crew by making those noises.”

  “You caught me off guard. I promise to be quiet.”

  He smiled a devilish, mischievous grin, rose up, and kissed her mouth. She locked her legs around his waist. Her core ached with want.

  Hök kissed and nipped along her neck, making his way to each breast before returning his wicked tongue between her legs. It was so hard not to cry out. No man had ever bothered with her pleasure before. A renewed moan and then a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips.

  “This isn’t going to work if you keep making so much noise.”

  “I can’t help it.” Her heart raced faster.

  His eyes were intense, his jaw was set in a hard line, and she anticipated and feared what was to come next in equal measure. He reached for the lace of his trousers as he stripped his tunic over his head.

  He grabbed her ankle and spun her around on the bed, until her head hung off the edge just a little. Before either of them could think too much about it, she took him in her mouth as he continued exploring her with his tongue, muffling her moans of pleasure beneath him.

  Her orgasm felt never ending. She felt the erotic, throbbing pleasure everywhere in her body—in her arms, legs, spreading out through her toes.

  He spun her on her back around, grabbing her legs to lock around his tapered waist and plunging deep into her. She clung to him as she came again—she was lost inside him, unable to find her way back into her own head.

  His callused hand pressed over her mouth as his powerful hips pumped into her. “Bloody oath, Sov, be quiet!” He chuckled into her ear briefly before he went stiff and still on top of her.

  “’Tis not my fault. I tried to be an obedient wife, but you give me a lot to moan about,” she said, panting for air, a witless grin on her face.

  His laughter shook his entire body, his chest hair tickling her breasts. It felt glorious to be held in his arms, skin against skin, sweaty and happy with laughter.

  “I didn’t hurt you? I wasn’t too rough? You still look so frail.” He gently stroked her face, and she closed her eyes at the tender touch.

  “Sometimes I like it rough.”

  He pushed up off her and, much to her disappointment, began to readjust his clothing.


  “But I like it any way you wish to have me,” she said. She regretted her words immediately when a look of mild disappointment came over his features.

  The cats climbed up on the bed and coiled like balls into her side, as they usually did while she was in bed.

  “I wish simply to please you,” she said, tossing her pride and insecurity to the side. “You please me greatly and I wish to return the favor.”

  He arched his brow high, questioning the validity of her words. “Please you? I treated you as my enemy—judged you unjustly for things in which you had no willing part. How do you see that as pleasing?”

  “Well for a start, you take marvelous care of me these days.” She shrugged and turned over on her belly. Usually after sex, she felt filthy, like she needed to scrub every bit of skin her partner had touched with a pumice stone. But not with Hök—with him, she would lounge. “And I know you will take good care of my people. Your mother and father are too generous in spirit to have raised a selfish son who will not work hard to make them proud.”

  Hök sat down on the bed and traced his fingers lightly down her spine. She felt like purring.

  “You hold no ill will toward me . . . for . . .”

  She turned over on her back and he caressed her breast. Having his eyes on her, consuming her, made her hungry for him again. “I disagreed with you, but I did understand your reasons. You had to think of your security and your men’s security. I did not give you cause to trust me in our past dealings.” Now might be the right time to tell him of Leif, while he was pleased with her and gentle . . . but she was naked, and speaking of her son so soon after . . . well it just did not seem right. But she must tell him soon. “Hök, there is much of my past that I feel I must share with you.” The words got stuck in her throat as anxiety set in. “I must tell you things, things that will be unpleasant for you to hear—things I fear . . .”

  “Shh. I will not have you make yourself ill when we are so close to the king’s court.” He swept his hand from her cheek into her hair. “You tried to end your life twice because of my failing as your husband. For that I shall forever be ashamed. We have both done things in the past that we may not be proud of. Let us leave our pasts behind and begin a new life, in our new home, together.”

  “It was not your fault at all that I risked my life twice in attempts to return home. I was gravely worried and—”

  “Sovia, I have not always been truthful with you. When I saw you on that platform in Bergen, I . . . You belonged to me, there is no other way to say it, and a part of me has always belonged to you.”

  The tiny hairs on her arms stood up. Sovia looked Hök directly in the eye. His hair was pulled tight in the braid he always wore, his beard trimmed and well groomed to meet the king, but something was so strange, so different in his look. His eyes were yearning, piercing her with an intensity that was not born from anger or hate or even lust, but rather reverence and uncertainty. He suddenly looked years younger.

  “I swore an oath to God when we wed that I would obey you, which I broke when I left Tronscar,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for that and beg your forgiveness. Whether you trust me or not, I now wish to swear loyalty to you, Hök Magnusson.” She pushed up off the bed and crawled into his lap. She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare breasts into his wool tunic, the steel from his sword belt biting into her belly.

  “I would much rather know I hold your heart rather than your obedience. I love you, Sovia. I always have.”

  “But how—but why would you love me?”

  He swept her hair behind her ear and rubbed her earlobe gently. “I love you because we breathe the same air. I love you because we sleep under the same stars. My love needs not logic or reason, it just is, and it is as certain as the sun will rise and set, as certain as the tide will come and go. I love your soul for the pure goodness you deny carrying but that cannot be hidden from me. I love your mind for preserving and protecting your spirit through all the suffering you have endured, and I love your heart,” he placed his large, warm hand over her breast, “for pledging your life to me and accepting me as your husband.”

  She kissed him fiercely, witless to reply.

  He tore his lips away from her and grinned boyishly. “And if I’m being honest, I love your breasts—well, your entire body in all truth. I lust for it every waking hour of the day, and night.” He returned her kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth. He lifted up her bottom and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  She was giggling louder than a maid around the maypole, unable to help stem the flood of joy she was feeling. They fell to the bed, nearly squishing poor Hercules beneath them.

  “Beg your pardon, cat,” Hök said as he swept her pets from the bed.

  Chapter 28

  Standing at the helm, Hök tightened his grip on the handle of the tiller and thought about the questions he had been avoiding. What would have become of them all if Losna had asked a price for Sovia’s hand when they had first met in Polotsk? Would Hök have lived all the years since then in wedded bliss, as the last few days had been?

  They were getting close to their destination now. The hilltops that housed the greater part of the village of Nidaros were visible from a mile away. The village walls, cut out of bedrock and fortified with gray stone, would need to be built higher. Hök thought like an invading commander—it would take only a few arrows that carried fire and the city would be destroyed. Higher walls would be his first suggestion for the new king. And perhaps a stone structure, a battlement at the opening of the harbor that would house a catapult to sink an invading fleet before it even got close to the harbor.

  The idea of protecting Toraslotte was taking on an entirely new meaning for him. He had claimed to have petitioned for Sovia’s hand due to Tronscar’s vulnerability as a neighbor of Toraslotte, but the truth was, upon seeing her again on the platform in Bergen, he had wanted her as desperately as he had at seventeen, and yet he had denied this truth to all, to the point of nearly slaying the one he loved because of his wounded pride. Her past had blinded him with jealousy and bitterness, but never again.

  The harbor was congested with ships at mooring. A large fleet of foreign ships choked the entry to the wharf, which led directly up to the Cathedral of Nidaros. Bishop Absalom’s banners flew high off a dozen warships. Bishop Absalom was a forceful advisor to the King of Denmark. His presence here in Nidaros would not be a simple friendly visit to a new king. This visit north would be calculated to strengthen the young monarch’s throne.

  Aleksi inched in closer to Hök’s side. “Absalom feels untouchable after his win over Boleslaw.”

  “He has good reason, I understand. They say he took on five hundred ships in the fog and did not lose one of his own.” Hök said.

  “He will have his Kievan Rus lapdogs with him,” Aleksi said. “Prince Jon’s mother will do about anything her Kievan Rus father and uncles ask.”

  “Be at ease, my friend. I have no intention of becoming a pawn. We bring King Sverre much by way of military support, and if he chooses to side with our enemies, he will lose that support. Holding Toraslotte would be nice, but I will not compromise my family’s honor over it.”

  Aleksi nodded solemnly into the wind. “I do not envy you, my friend. Having to choose between your family and your wife’s land would be enough to test the will of any man.”

  Hök fixed his eyes on the harbor and signaled his men to drop anchor. His brothers’ ships flanked his on either side. They rafted the vessels together.

  Sovia was dressed in a gown he had never seen her in before. It was a pure white with gold embroidery. In it, she looked like an angelic creature sent to earth to beguile men. The purity of her heart radiated through her expression of joy at returning to her homeland. The wind ruffled the white fur that trimmed the new white cloak his mother had made for her to match her white and gold head covering. Chatt
ing merrily away with his men, she descended the ship’s ladder into the smaller skiff that would ferry them to shore.

  Hök put his hand on her waist, guiding her as she stepped into the smaller boat.

  “What a lovely autumn day in Nidaros,” Sovia said, beaming a smile to all ten men in the boat. “Not a cloud in the sky. Perhaps word may be sent to Hunt to have Aina brought to Nidaros—” Her exuberant banter was cut off suddenly as she spotted the Danish warships off the port bow. “What are the Danes doing this far north?” she said, her cheeks losing their color, washing out to match her gown.

  “Nothing to worry about, Sovia. Canute of Denmark most likely has sent emissaries to forge new trade and peace agreements with King Sverre,” Hök said carefully, not wishing to ruin her joyous moment.

  “Do you actually believe that, Hök?” She touched his hand. His wife was far too familiar with the sinister plots and schemes of warring kings.

  “All will be well, wife. Remember, you are of the House of Tronscar now, wed to a Magnusson. You are no longer any king’s concern.”

  She nodded submissively and then touched his hand again to get his attention. “But you don’t actually believe that either, right?”

  ***

  As they entered the recently repaired northern palace, the court crier pounded an iron staff on a steel plate embedded in the floor, drawing attention to the announcement of the newly arrived envoy from Tronscar. “Earl Hök Magnusson and Lady Sovia of Toraslotte. Lord Stål Magnusson and Lord Aron Magnusson of Tronscar. Commander Aleksi Ekstrom of Norrland.”

  “Welcome, my comrades. Welcome.” King Sverre opened his arms, quickly maneuvering through the large crowd. “We have been expecting you for many weeks, Earl Hök, yet I did not think we would have had your wife’s presence for some time to come.” Bluntness was a quality that Hök once admired about the king.