by Alexa Aston
She gently folded them and laid them in her lap, but then sat silent for so long he had to fight not to squirm. Did she not like them? He would not beg for approval, but as he reached for the items to replace them in their protective cloth, she looked up.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. “Never have I owned such riches, Elrik of Breda.” Her lips trembled in a shaky attempt to smile. Something close to awe shone from her gaze. “These things are beautiful beyond aught I have seen.” She gave a happy, breathless little laugh and shook her head. “I have not the words to thank you.”
Her delight in his gift should not have mattered, but an odd glow of pleasure warmed hidden inner places. How would she look in the elegant new clothes? What would she say when she learned he bought them on the chance she might one day wear them to wed him? How would she look wearing naught at all after he slowly peeled them from her sweet body, one piece at a time?
So vivid was the image, his breath first hitched and then sped up. His body tightened, forcing him to shift his position. Ah, but he wanted more than aught to lift her into his lap and kiss her breathless, and that would only be the beginning. He would—
“Elrik?”
She tilted her head to the side and offered a slow smile. The tip of her tongue slid over her lips to leave them wet and inviting.
He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Yrsa, please.”
With an effort, he brought the lust under control. What had she asked? Oh aye, something about not knowing him, though he had little to tell. “What would you hear first?”
“Tell me of these dark dreams you have.”
The question effectively dampened the sensual haze. Inside, he withdrew, though he moved not a hair’s breadth from her side. “Nay, I will not speak of them.” His tone cut sharper than he meant. She looked away, but not before he caught a glimpse of hurt in her gaze. “Yrsa, I have not had the dreams since…we met.” Since he began to sleep with her in his arms at night. “They are but sleep thoughts with no meaning. Ask what else you will and I will tell it.”
“As you wish. What of your youth? Your family?”
“I have five and twenty summers. I never knew my father, but I had a sister, Heiga, older by four summers. Mother did her best for us. She worked hard with Heiga, sewing shirts and braies for the soldiers who guarded the town.” He paused to stroke Yrsa’s cheek. “I rarely speak of Heiga, though I loved her as only a small boy can love his sister. She had such laughter in her heart, and I thought her more beautiful than anyone in the world. I had but eight summers when she suffered a cruel death.”
“Elrik, I am so sorry,” Yrsa said. “I always wished for a sibling.” Her tone was wistful. “Will you tell me?”
“She delivered a packet of clothing to the fortress, but night fell before she finished. On her way home, men from another town caught her alone. They stole our wages, but they beat her and…hurt her in other ways.” He felt her stiffen, but she did not speak, so he continued. “In body she survived the assault, but it damaged her mind. While mother worked I looked after her, but she was never the same. All her laughter went away. A few months later, mother fell sick with a fever. She died after but two days of illness. Methinks that is when Heiga lost the will to live. She stopped eating. I stole food, her favorites, but no matter how hard I coaxed or begged she refused it. Then she succumbed to a fever, mayhap the same that killed our mother.”
Yrsa leaned into his side as if both seeking and offering comfort. “My heart aches for Heiga, and for you. What those men did to her is a horror. It leaves a woman—”
He long ago came to terms with Heiga’s loss but accepted Yrsa’s generous offer. He slid an arm around her. Yet what lay behind her quiet comment? “Had I been older, I would have tracked them down and killed them.” He paused, but had to know, had to ask. “Yrsa, what do you know of…how a woman feels when a man hurts her in that way?”
She angled her head to look into his eyes. “Would it matter to you if I knew much?”
“Aye, ’twould.” The words held strong passion. “But not, sweet one, as you might fear, to belittle you or lay blame upon you, only to wish, as I do with Heiga, I could take away your pain and kill the man responsible.”
“I faced a similar trouble, but not like what happened to Heiga. I will speak of it, but not now.” She rested her head against his shoulder, right where it belonged. “What happened after Heiga died?”
He had nigh lost his mind from grief, terror, loneliness and the shame of failing to protect her. Worse, of not avenging what was done to her.
“I met Betek. He also had no family. He was older by a year, but born of the streets. I survived because he knew what to do. From the start, we were friends and then became as brothers. We had little hope for a future, but he heard of a man who sometimes took in youths with no prospects and no ties to train to become soldiers. We found our way to him. He became our liege lord. ’Twas a hard life, but we had clothing, meat and shelter and most importantly, a purpose. We thrived.” He bent his head to look into her face. How did a man speak of intimate thoughts, especially to a woman? Mayhap, one simply said the words. “I never imagined I would weary of that purpose, Yrsa. Never did I give thought to the lives I took, only carried out the task for which I was paid. Then, that day we met I hesitated to kill. Never had such happened before. It confirmed what I already suspected from the dreams, that time for change had come and I must heed the warning or die.”
Her eyes were wide and earnest. “I learned the same about you, from my dream. Elrik, you will succeed in your quest to find peace.”
“Only if I may do so with you. I want you with me, Yrsa, but you should also know, since the days of our youth, Betek’s and mine, the only females in our lives have been those who…met a specific need. They were not bad women, only those to whom life gave no other choice, but we had no wish to be with them beyond that use. We know little of the other kind.”
Her face lost its somber expression and lit with mirth. Her eyes smiled, though not unkindly. “You do not know what to do with me.”
Heat touched his cheeks. He ducked his face to the side, but she stroked his jaw and then drew his gaze back to hers.
The gentleness enchanted him. Not since his childhood had anyone touched him with such tenderness. Until this moment, he was not aware of how much he missed it.
“Do not worry,” she said. “I know little of men. I will be patient if you promise the same. Besides, ’tis meant we learn together.”
He grinned. “So you have oft said. I believe you, but would know more of why I should.”
Chapter Seven
Yrsa nodded. “Very well, Elrik.”
The request was fair despite the hurtful withdrawal she earlier sensed from him. Why would he hide from her his dreams?
“To understand,” she said, “you must know somewhat of my past. My mother’s name was Valgertha. She met my father, Támhas, at the market in Penrhudd. They loved from that same moment. Fadir visited her home oft and they pledged to marry. My grandfather approved the betrothal. Fadir left the same day, promising to return soon, but came never back. My grandfather sent a man to learn of him. Many raids took place that summer from Scotland into England. Fadir joined them. He was killed. Módir never understood why she had no dream of her beloved’s death. It grieved her deeply she had no chance to warn him.
“Yet, she did see her brother Gunnarr’s fate. When she was discovered with child, grandfather was shamed. He ordered Gunnarr to escort her over the mountains to Jorvick to bear her child with distant kin. She told of her vision, but grandfather was very angry. He would not listen to reason but instead insisted. Her brother obeyed. As they traversed a steep slope Gunnarr lost his footing. He fell and died. Módir buried him—no easy task, that—and carried on alone, but ’twas the month of hunting with falcons and the weather turned cold. She became ill but stumbled by chance into the village of Ottham.
“The headman and his wife were good people and
took her in. She lay sick for a long time, but eventually, was well enough to travel again. The headman sent word to the liege lord who informed her family in Jorvick, but they did not want her. At my birth, the headman and his wife asked her to stay. Their kindness was such, she agreed.”
Idly she pulled a tall stalk of upland grass with a head of seed and began to stroke her fingers along its length.
“She regretted not her choice. All was well for many years. Then came the terrible time when King William sent his soldiers to destroy Jorvick and the north. Módir warned of the peril. The people of Ottham packed what they could carry and fled to safety. When the danger was over, they rebuilt.
“Then five years ago, I was betrothed to the headman’s son, but he did not wish to marry. He found excuses to put off our wedding.”
Elrik gave a small start. “Betrothed?” Scowling, he picked up a pebble and hurled it far across the moor. “What happened?”
“The headman died a year later. Ottham’s liege lord appointed a new headman. Bercthun was weak and his wife, Eanfled, very religious. She hated módir and me because we did not serve her god. She also tormented the old headman’s wife because of the love the people had for her, so my betrothed took his mother away to live with family. I expected to go with him, but Bercthun demanded I stay and my betrothed would not fight him.”
“Hmph. ’Tis just as well. You are better off with me.”
She grinned and kissed his cheek. How good he smelled, as if he belonged in the crisp outside air.
“I agree, but I thought him a coward. Later I understood ’twas best. Módir needed me. She was very beautiful, and Bercthun lusted after her. His wife became jealous. She brought much trouble upon us. When módir became very ill, Eanfled killed her. Oh, not directly,” she said at his startled look, “but on her order we were not allowed to receive help.”
She paused to look at the stalk of grass she had ripped into shreds. She brushed the remnants off her lap.
“I… I had no skill in healing. A widow, Old Truda, did know somewhat of healing and would defy the order, but Eanfled locked her in her cottage. The others, people I had known all my life, feared Eanfled. I could not help, but they would not.
“That night, módir called me to her. She knew her time had come. She said not to allow bitterness and hate to take root in my soul as Eanfled had done, but I did not listen. I could not. Anger ruled my heart. She warned about Bercthun and cautioned I should heed the messages of my dreams. With her last words, she told of her love for me. I had to dig her grave with my own hands, far from the village burial plot. Old Truda took me into her home. For a time, after the grieving, life was bearable.”
Elrik’s fingers slid beneath her chin to raise her face. “What mean you, she warned about Bercthun?”
Her cheeks heated.
“What did he do, Yrsa?”
“He turned his lust upon me.”
Contempt for the headman, hard and cold, muted the gold flecks in Elrik’s gray gaze. “Did he hurt you?”
“Nay, not as those men hurt Heiga, but he—” Her embarrassment deepened, but this was Elrik, the man she would marry and to whom she would one day yield her body. She trusted him. “He caught me in the garden behind Old Truda’s cottage and tried to persuade me to become his kept woman. He promised plentiful food, better clothing and coin when he had it to spare. I refused. He became enraged. He forced me against the cottage wall and began to, to push himself against me, but only through our clothing. I tried to fight, but he was too strong.
“Someone told Eanfled Bercthun had entered Old Truda’s cottage in the widow’s absence. She became suspicious. She arrived in the garden as the fullness of his pleasure came upon him. She heard his grunting and started to scream and beat him over the head with a stick. He jumped away and ran. Eanfled blamed me. She took revenge.”
“How?”
“Earlier, it had angered her I left not with my betrothed. Bercthun overruled her wishes in the matter, but after what he did in the garden, she said he would give her what she wanted. She wished me gone, so she banished me. At first, she tried to force me to leave Ottham. I refused. I had nowhere to go and no coin to pay for a journey. Old Truda appealed to the lord on my behalf. I am a freewoman, so he gave permission to leave if I wished but refused Eanfled authority to make me leave. Still, he intervened not when she moved my belongings, those she did not steal or destroy, to the abandoned cottage on the hill. She decreed I must never again come into the village, and no one could offer me aid. Methinks she meant to starve me to death or hoped villains would find me alone and kill me.”
Elrik surged to his feet, fire in his eyes. He said something hot and angry in his own tongue and turned to pace in front of her. “’Tis good the vile woman is already dead, else I would leave this moment and return to kill her and her filth of a husband.” He stopped. The fire remained, but tempered now with curiosity. “What happened then?”
“Old Truda defied Eanfled. She gave me food, but she paid for her defiance. The people shunned her. Six months ago she died—I was certain by poison, though I could not prove it. Were it not for my garden and a kind-hearted pig farmer’s son from a neighboring hamlet who shared his food, I would have starved. Then I dreamed of you and the coming death.”
She looked away. “I am ashamed to say I almost failed in my duty. I was enraged by the people’s betrayal and their treatment of my mother and Old Truda. I did not wish to warn them. I believed they deserved their fate.” She stared across the moor where the wind bent the tops of the grasses. “I still do.”
“But you did warn them?”
“Only because I feared ’twould displease Freya did I not.” She shrugged. “It did no good. Bercthun did not believe. Eanfled reviled Freya and declared me evil. They swore if anyone left, their cottage would be burned or given to another. No one dared flee.”
He sat beside her and pulled her close.
His embrace felt so good, as if comfort and peace flowed from him into her heart to erase the corrosive bitterness. Aye, the long years of bloodshed had wearied his soul, but goodness dwelt there, also gentleness and warmth. It augured hope for them both.
She reached for his hand and cradled it in her lap.
For a little while they sat in silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Then he said, “You are still troubled. Did your dreams last night show of more than you spoke?”
“Much appeared vivid, like where the Norman knight is held.” She looked into his face. “Oh Elrik, we will come soon upon a valley, a dale uncommonly green and beautiful and meet a people who have known only peace for so long, none living among them remember it otherwise. But great danger will come upon them and I fear, much death. ’Twill coincide with our arrival. I know not if that means we bring trouble with us, but whether or no, they cannot avoid it.”
“Would it not be wiser to pass it by?”
“Nay, we must go. They will need us, and I believe ’tis also necessary for us. Yet I cannot discern the outcome. ’Tis swathed in gloom.”
Clouds formed shifting patterns of moving shadow across the rolling moor. The scenes in her dreams had faded in and out in a similar way and thus much remained undisclosed. ’Twas disquieting.
“So, we find a hidden vale.”
His faith in her word reassured her. A smile tugged at her lips. “Aye, the three of us, and…Sir William and Sir Estienne.”
Her smile broke free as his head jerked back. That startled him.
He fairly scowled. “Why the Normans? I thought we would see the last of them when they returned to Duresme.”
’Twas clear from his tone he preferred their absence.
“They will seek someone. I know not who, but ’twill be important. They will become our companions for a time.” Her humor faded as she remembered the last part of the dream. “There was more.”
“The darkness before you woke?”
“I understand it not, nor what it portends or when it may come, only th
at we may both be lost in it. For now, I will worry not for its meaning.”
He got to his feet and pulled her with him. He stood beside her, tall and powerful. His pensive gaze moved over the landscape. The sun picked out strands of gold in his tousled hair and glimmered in the gold flecks that gave his gray eyes such distinction.
He must have sensed her look, for that far-seeing gaze focused on her. In the space of a blink, his expression shifted from thoughtful contemplation to sensual hunger. Scorching heat blazed from those eyes and his skin flushed. The lines of his face went taut.
They did not yet touch, but she felt his desire for her. It stroked her skin like a physical caress and stole her breath. To gain more she would freely give aught he asked, but she knew not how.
With trembling hand, she caressed his unshaven jaw. “Hold me, Elrik.”
Slowly, oh, so slowly he pulled her close, until so tightly did he crush her to his hard form she felt him the length of her body. One big hand slid up and down her back, the sweet pressure igniting a conflagration in her veins. He growled, deep in his throat. “This does not frighten you after what Bercthun did?”
“Nay. I know ’tis you, Elrik, only you. Ah, Elrik.” Consumed with a joyous desire, she sighed his name. She slid her arms around his neck and hung on as he adjusted his stance, lifting her off her feet and leaning slightly back so her belly cradled his loins. She straddled his hips with her thighs.
His breath hitched and he muttered something she did not understand. The fingers that fondled her back lifted to thrust into her hair.
“Elrik.” Was that throaty whisper her voice? She laughed and set her mouth to his. “Teach me. Show me. Love me.”
“Yrsa.” He moaned her name and cupped her head in his palm to hold her. He kissed her.
Ecstatic, she kissed him back. His lips coaxed and plundered, both at once, tasting, teasing, instructing, before moving from her mouth to seek the exposed skin below her jaw. Fire scorched mind and body and a heavy pressure settled in her belly. Oh, she wanted this. She wanted him, desired to please him and be pleasured, but oh, ’twas hard to think when her world rocked on its foundations every time he touched her. She longed to learn where the urgency led, what sweet release she might find did she follow his lead.
