Their destination was an island, larger than the rest, and screened by spruce trees and clumps of bushes. As they approached she could see a mooring place and, through the trees, glimpsed the low roof of a building. Her heart sank. The rowers shipped oars and the ship glided in to a wooden jetty. A couple of men jumped ashore and then their companions threw them the lines to make the ship fast. The deck became a hive of activity as the rest of the crew prepared to go ashore.
Astrid watched it all but didn’t move. Then a man’s shadow fell across her and she looked up quickly. With hammering heart she saw Leif standing over her. Leaning down, he seized hold of her arm and hauled her to her feet. Astrid stumbled, wincing as her cramped muscles protested.
‘Where is this place?’ she demanded.
‘It’s called Long Isle.’
The name meant nothing and she had no time to ponder it anyway as he led her across the deck to the side of the ship.
‘What is it?’
‘Your new home for a while, my lady.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will, soon enough.’
Neither the tone nor his expression was calculated to inspire confidence and, irrationally, she hung back, resisting the hand on her arm. Leif said nothing. Lifting her with insulting ease, he called to a crewman on the jetty. Astrid gasped as she was tossed across the intervening space and deftly caught again. Leif vaulted the gunwale and joined them. Taking possession of his struggling burden once more, he set off along a narrow pathway through the trees. It led to a clearing on which was situated a large hov and several smaller ones. It was towards one of the latter that he headed now.
As they reached the threshold he set her down and then threw open the door. One glance at the baskets and sacks beyond revealed a storage shed. Before she had time to examine it further he drew the dagger from his belt and cut her bonds. Then a hand in the small of her back propelled her into the shed. The door slammed behind her and she heard a heavy bar drop into place.
She ran to the door, beating on it with clenched fists. ‘Leif? Leif! Let me out of here!’
He made no reply. The only sound was of retreating footsteps.
Astrid leaned against the rough planks, listening. ‘Damn it!’
For a while indignation kept apprehension at bay but, as time went by, it returned and more strongly than before. The warlord who had kidnapped her was a stranger. His coldness and indifference were frightening. There was no discernible trace in him of the man she had known. His treatment of her revealed that he no longer thought of her in those terms, and if so, there was only one reason for it: the act she had put on to satisfy her uncle had been entirely convincing to Leif. She shivered inwardly. Betrayal, real or perceived, was an unpardonable crime, and it carried dire penalties. His bringing her here could only have one purpose.
* * *
Another hour went by before the shed door opened again, only this time it wasn’t Leif who stood there. The stranger halted on the threshold, a big, burly individual almost as wide as the doorway.
‘You’re to come with me.’
‘Come with you where?’ she demanded.
‘The chief wants to speak to you.’
Her heartbeat quickened. The thought of having to face Leif filled her with dread but it was inescapable. Indeed any attempt to avoid it would only compound her guilt in his eyes. The only possibility now was to adopt a bold face.
‘Very well,’ she replied.
‘This way.’
At first she thought they were heading for the largest of the hovs but he skirted it instead. As they passed she heard men’s voices from within. Perhaps Leif wished for a more private conversation than would be possible there. Her escort brought her to a smaller building behind the central hov. Like the others it was made of wood and had a shingled roof. The stout wooden door was open. Astrid hesitated on the threshold, but her companion pushed her firmly across it and closed the door behind her.
For a few moments she and Leif faced each other in silence. He had changed his clothes since their last meeting, the dirty homespun replaced by a shirt and a tunic of dark blue wool, girded at the waist by a leather belt. The iron bracelets were gone from his wrists now and the leather collar from his neck. He had bathed too, since every last trace of filth was gone. Only bruises and cropped hair remained to tell of his ordeal.
The blue gaze swept her from head to foot, cool, appraising and unnerving, a reminder of just how scantily she was clad. In the relatively confined space he looked bigger than she remembered and, just then, utterly intimidating. Unwilling to let him see it she lifted her chin.
‘Why have you brought me here, Leif? To hold me to ransom?’
He drew nearer, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘I have no doubt that the thwarted bridegroom would pay a great deal to get you back. However, I have no interest in gold or silver.’
‘What, then?’
‘Don’t you know, Astrid?’ He halted in front of her. ‘I’m sure you do, whatever you may pretend.’
Her mouth dried. ‘Revenge.’
‘Quite so.’
‘I understand why you wish for it, but the people who sought your downfall are not here.’
‘Do you now deny your part in it?’
‘I do deny it.’
‘You colluded with my enemies in every possible way, even to agreeing to be the bait in their trap.’
‘I knew nothing of what was planned, Leif. I swear it.’
‘You cheating little bitch. You betrayed me and now you lie to save your own skin.’
‘I’m not lying. The first I knew of treachery was when the prince’s men surprised us that night.’
‘No, you were in on it from the start. You never had any intention of leaving Gulbrand.’ The blue gaze bored into hers. ‘You never had any intention of rejecting so exalted a marriage in order to become my mistress. I only wonder that I was so simple as to believe it.’
‘I did intend to leave! I never wanted to marry him.’
‘A likely tale.’
‘It’s the truth!’
‘You are a stranger to truth. If anything, you are more treacherous than the others.’
Tears pricked her eyelids. ‘You cannot believe that.’
‘You cannot imagine that I don’t.’ His lip curled contemptuously. ‘You took as much pleasure in my humiliation as they did.’
‘You’re so wrong.’
‘Perhaps you’re going to try and tell me that I imagined what I saw; what I heard.’
‘You did not imagine it, but you interpreted it wrongly. I was forced to say those things.’
He uttered a low and savage laugh. ‘There really are no depths to which you will not sink, are there?’
‘If you believe that, then why didn’t you kill me at the first opportunity?’
‘Because I don’t want you dead, my sweet.’ The tone became chillingly soft. ‘I have a very different plan for you. Don’t you want to know what it is?’
Her heart thumped so hard she was sure he must hear it but she continued to meet his gaze. ‘You want to tell me.’
For a moment something like grudging admiration flickered in his eyes. ‘Very well. We are going to exchange roles, you and I.’
Astrid stared at him in shocked and speechless silence. However, he had no trouble reading her expression at all. He smiled; an expression that stopped well short of his eyes.
‘From now on you belong to me—body and soul. You will do whatever I command.’
Anger momentarily displaced fear. ‘I will not!’
‘What will it take to convince you that I mean it, Astrid? A shaven head and a collar round your neck, with a beating thrown in for good measure?’
‘You’re just low enough to do that, aren’t you?’
‘Don’t be in any doubt about it.’
At that moment she wasn’t in any doubt, and didn’t care to push the matter either. Holding down the lid on simmering indignation, she forced herself
to remain still and continued to meet his gaze. ‘And just what duties would you have me do, my lord?’
‘You will undertake all routine domestic chores,’ he replied. ‘You will clean my quarters, wash and mend my clothes, prepare food as required, fetch water and chop firewood. From time to time I may require you to carry out additional tasks as occasion arises.’
Her jaw tightened. ‘I see.’
‘And at night you will share my bed and you will do whatever it pleases me to command.’
Astrid felt as though all the air had been driven from her lungs. ‘You can’t mean it.’
‘I assure you I do mean it. By the time I send you back to Gulbrand he’s going to know how thoroughly I have pleasured you, my sweet.’
‘You mean to send me back?’
‘Eventually.’
As the ramifications sank in and the full extent of his revenge became apparent, she felt sick. That had nothing to do with the thought of being returned to Gulbrand. It was about understanding for the first time just how deeply Leif hated her.
He strolled past her to the door. For a moment or two she thought he was leaving her to sweat awhile over what he’d just said, until she heard the soft thud of the bar dropping into place. As its significance dawned she turned quickly. What she saw in his face then caused her stomach to lurch.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘I thought I’d just made that clear.’
Astrid paled. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
The blue-grey eyes surveying her now were the colour of a winter sea. ‘I mean to do a lot more than just think about it, my sweet.’
Chapter Ten
Unhurriedly he advanced on her. Astrid’s throat dried and she retreated, darting frantic looks around for a weapon, anything with which she could defend herself. Edging round the hearth, she grabbed a piece of firewood and hurled it at him. He dodged it, and the second piece. The third found its mark, but it might as well have been a cushion for all the effect it had. Still he came on. The room seemed to shrink around him. Astrid backed further off, desperately seeking other missiles and finding none. Once she tried to dodge around him to the door, but he countered the move, staying between it and her while still pushing her inexorably in the direction of the bed. She could see it out of the corner of her eye...the bed, the wooden chest, the pile of war gear...the sheathed sword.
She raced for it, grabbed the hilt and drew the blade free. The point swung round just in time to stop Leif in his tracks. Astrid glared at him.
‘Get away from me!’
‘Are you going to kill me, Astrid?’
‘If I have to. Now back off.’
He shrugged and stood off a pace. ‘It won’t do you any good. There’s no way off this island except the way you came.’
‘I’ll swim if I must.’
‘I believe you’d try at that.’ The blue-grey gaze locked with hers. ‘First, though, you still have to get past me.’
‘Get out of my way.’
‘No.’
‘I don’t want to injure you, but I will if I have to.’
‘You overestimate your ability.’
‘Do I so?’
Astrid swung the sword and he sprang aside so that the blade went wide.
‘You’ll have to do better than that if you’re planning on reaching the door.’
‘I’ll carve my way out if need be.’
She swung again and he dodged. Chips of wood flew from the window shutter and she heard him laugh. Gritting her teeth, she came on but he danced out of the way, evading the blows with ease so that the blade found only empty air.
‘You’ll tire before I do, my sweet.’
‘We’ll see about that.’
Instead of swinging she thrust. This time the point came much closer. Leif’s eyes glinted. That was all the warning she got. As the momentum of the next lunge carried her forwards, he dived and the pair of them crashed to the floor. Wood slammed against her back. Breathless, half pinned by his weight, she twisted, trying to lift her arm. A hand like a vice closed round her wrist and tightened relentlessly until the weapon fell from her grip. Astrid writhed and kicked, her free hand clawing at his face. He caught that wrist too and then one large hand imprisoned both while the other grasped the hilt of the sword. Seconds later the edge of the blade was against her throat, its touch every bit as cold as his eyes.
Astrid glared back. ‘What are you waiting for, Leif?’
‘I told you, you’re not going to die; at least not in the way you think.’ He rolled on to his feet and stood over her. ‘Get up.’
Slowly she obeyed. The blade hovered over her breast, forcing her to retrace her steps. When she reached the end of the bed she stopped.
Leif nodded. ‘That’s better. Now take off your shift.’
‘No.’
The point of the blade came to rest against the base of her throat. ‘I said take it off.’
‘Never.’
The blade pressed a little harder. A bead of blood welled at the tip. Leif’s gaze locked with hers. ‘Do it.’
She made no move to obey. ‘You’ll have to kill me first.’
‘Death before dishonour, Astrid? Is that it?’
The violet eyes blazed anger. ‘No: death before any man will do that to me again.’ It was stretching the truth but this was war.
He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I was twelve years old the last time a man decided to have his way with me. He had thrice my strength and no qualms about hurting me either. I fought then and by all the gods I’ll fight now.’ She leaned a little closer to the sword point and the bead of blood became a trickle. ‘So, use the blade if you will, Leif, and then take me after. I won’t know or care but your revenge will be complete and you can boast about it to your men afterwards. Perhaps you’ll even let them take turns as well before you return my corpse to Gulbrand.’
For the space of several heartbeats he didn’t move or speak. Then, slowly, he lowered the sword, his expression a grimace of disgust. Without a word he turned away and strode to the door, unbarred it and flung it wide. Moments later he was gone.
Trembling now, Astrid sank down on the end of the bed and let out a long breath. He was terrifyingly strong; the marks of his grip clearly visible on her wrist. He could have done anything he liked and she wouldn’t have been able to prevent it. He could still do anything he liked. She had only her wits to defend her. Her words had been a partial truth only but they had carried weight. She hadn’t missed the expression of disgust on his face just before he left. No doubt the tale of her past had only reinforced his opinion of her. Not only was she treacherous in his view, she was soiled goods to boot. Did he find the thought distasteful? Was he disappointed to think that he wasn’t going to have a virgin? She hadn’t thought him hypocritical, but the evidence tended that way. Once she would have felt badly about using subterfuge with him; now she couldn’t regret it. In a battle any weapon was better than none. Of course, whatever personal benefit attached to that it was attended by disadvantage too, because he would now feel justified in treating her with contempt. Punishment had been deferred, not abandoned.
* * *
It was almost an hour before Leif returned. For a moment he paused in the doorway, blocking out the light. Astrid rose at once and moved away from the bed, eyeing the naked sword in his hand. She was also keenly aware of her present state of undress and of the piercing gaze directed her way. Had he returned to finish what he’d started?
Leif said nothing at first. Instead he crossed the room and, retrieving the fallen scabbard, sheathed the sword and laid it aside. Then he turned to the wooden chest by the far wall. Throwing back the lid, he reached inside, drawing out what looked like a length of brown cloth. He doubled it over and then, using his dagger, cut a long slit along the centre section of the fold and a shorter vertical one in front of that. Then he tossed the fabric at her feet.
‘Put it on.’
Astrid eyed it disdainfully. She’d never worn anything so outlandish in her life. ‘What’s this?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘I’m not wearing that.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps you’d like some help to get dressed.’
Hurriedly she bent and picked up the fabric, then passed her head through the slit he had made. It formed a shapeless, sleeveless over-gown that reached to her ankles. A leather belt landed at her feet.
‘Use that.’
Wordlessly she fastened it around her waist, holding the makeshift garment together. For all her scorn, and in spite of its clumsiness, it did at least cover her, and she felt marginally less vulnerable. She still had no shoes, nor did he consider the point worthy of remark.
He surveyed her critically for a moment. ‘It’ll do.’
‘I’m sure you find it most pleasing.’
‘A naked slave would please me far more, though you might find it humiliating.’
‘Why, you...you...’
He raised an eyebrow, waiting. Astrid subsided into furious silence wanting, but not quite daring, to test him on the point.
‘Very wise,’ he said softly. He nodded towards an empty bucket by the door. ‘Now, go and fetch water and be quick about it.’
Astrid bit back the words she would have liked to utter, knowing it would be a serious mistake. Hefting the bucket, she headed out of the door and looked around. A grassy path led towards the fjord. She followed it and presently came to the rocky shore. Stones dug into feet and she winced, stifling a curse and mentally calling Leif all the vile names she could think of. Lowering the bucket into the water, she let it fill, looking surreptitiously around her. So far as she could tell the island looked to be about two hundred yards long and perhaps half of that at its widest point. Her captor had no need of chains or ropes or guards: she wasn’t going anywhere and he knew it. Nor was there anywhere to hide that he wouldn’t find her inside ten minutes flat. He could not have chosen a more secure location in which to hold her while he enacted his revenge. With a heavy heart she hauled up the bucket and began to retrace her steps.
* * *
Defiant in the Viking's Bed Page 9
