Sent as the Viking's Bride

by Michelle Styles

  She slipped her hands under his tunic. His flesh was warm and sinewy. Indentation from long-ago injuries criss-crossed his body, proof if she needed it of the life he’d endured. She moved her fingers upwards and played with his nipples as he had played with hers. They hardened immediately against her palms.

  ‘Am I doing it right?’ she whispered. ‘Does this feel good?’

  He groaned in the back of his throat and then buried his head in the nape of her neck as his fingers moved lower, exploring towards the apex of her thighs. His palm skimmed her nest of curls, hovered above and his fingers quested deeper into her folds.

  Her body surged upwards when they touched her sensitive core, lingering and playing. Round and round his fingers moved until one slipped inside her, making her back arch.

  Wave after wave of hot pleasure washed over her. Nothing had prepared her for this. The world slowly righted itself and she was dimly aware of him watching her with an intent expression.

  ‘Was that good?’

  She smiled up at him, cupping his face with her palm. ‘Beyond imagining. Is there more?’

  He captured her hand and moved it to the bulge in the front of his trousers. ‘You see how much I want you,’ he breathed in her ear. ‘Here. Now. In the daylight, not the dark.’

  She undid the fastenings of his trousers and his erection sprang free. Hard, hot and silken to the touch. Ready for her. She ran her hand down the length of him.

  He groaned. ‘Please. Please, Ragn.’

  She nodded, knowing that he needed her as much as she wanted him.

  She opened her legs, teased his tip with her groin, circling her hips. He rose upwards and she met him, driving him deep within her. Her body was wet and eager for him, expanding to fit his length inside her. She shuddered and collapsed on to his chest and his arm held her. They lay together and then he slowly began to move until the wave she’d been riding crested higher and the clearing rang out with intermingled cries.

  * * *

  Gunnar slowly came down to earth. Ragn had surpassed his very erotic dreams. His joking quip vanished from his lips when he saw her face. He reached out and wiped the single tear from her cheek.

  He’d been wrong to take her in the forest. It had been too soon. He offered up prayers to Freyr and all the other gods that he would get a second chance to give this woman pleasure and make her smile. ‘What is wrong, Ragn?’

  ‘I never knew it could be so good. You have made me happy.’ She wiped away a few more tears as her smile broadened, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. ‘Will it always be this good?’

  ‘I intend to try.’ He kissed away the last tear. ‘Do you understand the difference now?’

  Her soft laugh ran down his spine. She raised herself on an elbow. ‘You might have to show me again tonight, in our bed.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  He pulled her to standing. Her beauty made his breath catch, but he swallowed the words. ‘We should get back. In case Svana decides to send out a search party.’

  She gave one of her crooked smiles. ‘That would never do. She will be smug enough.’

  He reached over and kissed her on the nose. His growing feelings for her scared him half to death. He had not been able to protect his family before. How could he hope to protect Ragn?

  He screwed up his eyes. Ragn was right—it was what you did after you knew you were cursed which mattered. In his case, he had kept his heart buried. The curse had no power over her as he didn’t love her and would never love her. He had learned from his mistakes. This time he would be worthy of those who depended on him.

  ‘We need to return,’ he said, instead of explaining. ‘I can’t abandon my men for the rest of the day.’

  Her teeth worried her bottom lip. ‘I see.’

  Unable to resist, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. ‘I doubt you do. My plans are in disarray. I shall be longing for the evening. Do you think we might be able to skip the tafl match and go straight to the forfeit?’

  Her smile lit up his world. ‘Pardon me for altering them, but the forfeit will be far more pleasant after I have won.’

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Ragn! Ragn!’ Svana called out, running up to where Ragn was putting the finishing touches on the wheel which they would light on the solstice tomorrow night and send down into the lake. Afterwards they would have mugs of Jul ale. Ragn had already had several tastes and thought it one of her best efforts.

  She had made sure the hall had been cleaned top to bottom. Constructing the wheel was her final chore before they would have a few days of rest as the days were far too short to do anything practical. She wanted things to be perfect for the first Jul she would spend with Gunnar. It would set the tone for Juls to come. Ragn hated that her heart was unable to stop spinning dreams, but she also wanted desperately for those dreams to come true.

  In the days and nights since they had come back from the woods, Gunnar had found excuses to be with her and Ragn had discovered that the memory of Hamthur’s words and violence had subsided under Gunnar’s patient tutelage.

  On one memorable occasion, Gunnar had shared the bathing hut with her. However, Ragn still did not feel comfortable with initiating anything, even casual touches. She knew Gunnar was not in love with her, but she kept finding reasons to care about him.

  She should be content with what she had, instead of longing for something he couldn’t give. And yet, she sometimes wondered—what if she told him how she felt?

  Svana had continued to get better and Ragn found despite everything that she wanted to believe. Every time she thought it, she redoubled her efforts to make the hall a better place, to prove herself worthy.

  ‘Ragn, pay attention!’ Svana shouted.

  ‘Is there a problem? Have the dogs eaten the nisser’s porridge again? I have kept a few berries back for the Jul porridge so your wish can be granted,’ she said with a laugh. ‘But it would be helpful if you confided what it was.’

  Despite her explanations, Svana seemed more convinced than ever that the nisser existed and would grant her wish. However, she refused to say why she persisted in that particular belief and Ragn found it easier to go along with it rather than criticise. Her belief in this creature made Svana work harder and not grumble about the chores.

  ‘Two men are here, seeking food.’ Svana paused. Her teeth worried her bottom lip. ‘I think.’

  Ragn wiped her hands on a cloth and tried to ignore the sudden tightening of her stomach. Travellers here? At this time of year? It sounded wrong. Most people would be home with their families. ‘Did they come from the sea?’

  ‘No, from the land.’ Svana put a hand on the nearest wolfhound. ‘Kolka and Kefla didn’t like them, so we came back here before they spotted us.’

  ‘Where were you?’

  ‘Up on the ridge. Don’t be angry with me. I know I shouldn’t go far from the house, but I wanted to watch the deer.’

  Ragn put a hand on her stomach. It was good that Svana had decided to test her boundaries, rather than hugging the house like a shadow. ‘You had the dogs with you, didn’t you?’

  ‘They are my best friends. We go everywhere together as Gunnar is too busy with his lands and you to look after them properly. He told me this. Ask him.’

  ‘Then it was fine. And they are coming this way and want food?’ Ragn drew a steadying breath and tried not to panic. She had to wait for real danger, instead of jumping at shadows.

  Svana gave a slow nod. Her shoulders twitched. ‘Northmen. Two warriors, but dressed like travellers. Shall I fetch Gunnar?’

  ‘Gunnar has taken the boat out fishing with his men. Last trip before Jul properly starts. He wants to make sure we have enough salmon.’

  Ragn focused on the nearly finished wheel and how the kitchen needed tidying, little things so she avoided thinking about the much larger proble
m—how had Vargr found them so quickly? She had considered that they were safe until the spring. She pushed away the thought and concentrated on the fire. She had no idea if they had come from Vargr. Why would they? She’d been careful.

  ‘I’d feel better if Gunnar were here,’ Svana said in a small voice.

  Ragn reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. ‘Me, too, but we shall have to greet them on our own. It would hardly do to be inhospitable at this time of the year. How would the nisser react if we were less than hospitable? We want him to stay.’

  She waited for Svana’s answering smile, but the girl’s face grew graver. ‘Will it be like before? Like when the men came? Vargr pretended he wanted to protect us. That ship would have returned to Kaupang by now.’

  Ragn cursed under her breath. Even if someone from the crew which brought them here had reported back to Vargr, she doubted that he would have sent anyone this quickly. ‘We are on Jura now. Gunnar has a strong sword arm and a good reputation.’

  Svana lifted her chin. ‘Besides, we have the nisser. He won’t allow bad things to happen to this land, or where would he get his properly made porridge?’

  ‘If you wish...but there are other reasons like the wolfhounds. Remember how they scared you at first with their teeth.’

  Svana laughed and threw her arms about Kolka’s neck. Kolka gave Svana’s face a lick. ‘They are my friends now even if they do eat the porridge!’

  Ragn heaved a sigh of relief. Only a few short weeks ago, Svana would have been cringing in a ball rather than even looking at the dogs. Now she ran with them, vaulted over them and slept with them on her bed.

  Some day maybe she, too, could stop worrying about strangers. It was that little thing called security, something she hadn’t appreciated until it was lost for ever.

  Ragn carefully put a poker in the embers of the kitchen fire before filling two horns with ale. One lesson she had learned was it was better to think ahead than wish she had. Ultimately all she had to do was to play for time and wait for Gunnar and his men to return. They were Gunnar’s problem, not hers.

  ‘Are you going to give me one to carry?’ Svana asked.

  Ragn shook her head. ‘You keep with the dogs. Out of sight, but close at hand unless I call you.’

  ‘Is it because I spilt the ale the last time? I want to be with you, Ragn.’

  ‘Keep close, but stay in the shadows, Svana, you and the dogs. If anything should happen, anything at all which makes you uncomfortable, you go outside and wait for Gunnar to return. Promise.’

  Svana smoothed the pleats in her apron. ‘I wish Gunnar were here.’

  Ragn forced a smile. ‘He will get here in time. In the meantime, keep to the shadows and you will be safe.’

  Her words seem to mollify Svana and Ragn hoped that they would be true.

  Ragn went out, carrying the horns. Two ill-favoured men loitered near the entrance way, obviously working up the courage to knock on the door or perhaps checking out where people were and what the defences were.

  Ragn tried to think where she had seen the one with a half-shaved head and ponytail disappearing down his back before, but she couldn’t be sure. Until she was sure, she waited, watched and was pleased to have the two wolfhounds lurking in the shadows.

  She was pleased to see that Svana had turned up her hood and stood beside the dogs in the shadows, rather than being anxious to greet the men.

  And so it begins.

  Ragn held out the horns and made a ritual gesture.

  ‘A Good Jul to you both,’ she called out. ‘Are you lost or travelling somewhere in particular? We seldom have visitors here, but you are all the more welcome for it, provided you come in peace.’

  The pair exchanged shifty glances. Ragn’s heart hammered. She tried to tell herself that she was overreacting and seeing shadows where there were none.

  ‘We are passing through on our way to another place,’ Ponytail said. His eyes seemed to alight everywhere but on her face.

  ‘We are a long way for anywhere. It is unusual to see strangers, particularly strangers arriving by land and at this time of year.’ She waited for him to deny it.

  ‘Have you been here long?’ Ponytail asked, taking the horn from her without the usual pleasantries.

  Ragn held on to her temper. Bad manners indicated nothing. ‘Long enough.’

  ‘And is this your daughter? A pretty little thing she is.’ Ponytail hunkered down and reached out a paw. ‘Are you going to come out into the daylight, Sweetheart? Let me have a good look at you. It has been a while since I’ve seen silver hair like yours.’

  Ragn gestured to Svana to stay still. There was no way Ponytail glimpsed Svana’s hair. He must have seen it before. Or worse, he was looking for a girl with silver hair, inward-turning eyes and a slight limp.

  Her mind raced. She had to hope that these men were stupid in their arrogance and assumed that she was an idiotic woman. She had to work with what she had, rather than waiting to be rescued.

  ‘She is shy.’ Ragn forced her voice to sound eager. ‘My husband will return soon. He will want to hear the latest news. He misses such things living all the way out here. You must stay and raise a tankard of Jul ale.’

  ‘Gone fishing?’ the other man asked as Ponytail scowled at him. ‘I hear the salmon are running well.’

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled. The pair had obviously been watching the house. They knew Gunnar was not here, that he and his men had gone out in a boat. Silently she prayed he’d unexpectedly return. If they had watched the hall, they also probably realised there were no other warriors in the hall and that she had sent the servants home early to start their Jul preparations in earnest.

  ‘He will be back sooner rather than later. The days grow short as we get close to Jul.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘I’m sure he will be interested to hear all the gossip from Viken.’

  A muscle jumped in Ponytail’s cheek. ‘There isn’t much to say. Life remains much as it was.’

  ‘That is good to know.’ Ragn took a step backwards. Running wasn’t an option, not in this skirt. She would have to use her wits and trust Gunnar would arrive before these men acted. Whatever they were up to, it did not bode well for anyone else. ‘You must rest a while before continuing onwards.’

  The pair exchanged evil looks and she knew that they considered her a naïve fool. ‘It is very hospitable of you. We don’t want to trouble you.’

  ‘The gods take it amiss if one is inhospitable at Jul. I would hardly wish to anger the gods.’ Ragn made sure she batted her eyelashes as if she was a woman with no brain.

  All she had to do was to contain the men until Gunnar arrived. It would be far easier to keep them in the kitchen, rather than in the hall.

  If they intended harm, she hoped that Gunnar’s words about his wolfhounds that first night proved accurate.

  She whispered one more prayer and turned towards the men. ‘The hot food is in here and the rain has begun again. Of course, it is up to you if you come in or not, but the stew is bubbling away on the hearth.’

  The men took the bait and went in, swaggering as they did so. Svana gave a small gasp and pointed towards Ponytail’s cloak.

  Ragn narrowed her eyes. The silver brooch fastening Ponytail’s cloak looked very similar to the device her brother-in-law’s followers had used when they had attacked.

  She made a little gesture toward Svana, indicating that she should keep to the shadows. Svana’s eyes were big, but she did not seem to be in any danger of a fit as she solemnly nodded.

  Ragn silently prayed to any god who might be listening that she would be able to solve this problem without endangering Svana. And that Gunnar would arrive back. She hated that she wanted him here, that she wanted to believe he’d solve this problem for her.

  She shut the door behind them and quietly motioned for Kefla to
lie across the doorway. Svana stayed next to Kolka in the shadows.

  ‘The winter weather can be changeable on Jura. Best to be inside,’ she said, walking purposefully over to the hearth. ‘Travellers such as yourself must be hungry.’

  The pair glanced at each other and shrugged. The muscles in her neck relaxed slightly. They considered her an idiot.

  ‘All right,’ Ponytail said. ‘It would be a shame not to taste it and see if it lives up to expectations.’

  She made a show of dishing out the stew and passing the bowls over. All the while, sweat dripped down her back.

  The pair wolfed the meal down, barely saying a word. Her fingers itched to grab the poker, but she fought against the impulse. Wait and watch. Hope for Gunnar and his men to show.

  Wiping his mouth, Ponytail made a whispered comment which made his partner chuckle.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.’ Ragn reached for the poker and placed another in the fire to heat.

  Ponytail smiled. ‘I merely said that Vargr Simmison sends his regards to his sister-in-law. He wants to know all is as it should be. He worries about you. Wherever you go, he will find you.’

  ‘Does he send his regards indeed?’ Ragan said, forcing her voice to stay even as her knuckles shone white against the black of the poker. Worried about her? Worried that she remained alive, more likely. She’d been wrong. Her past was not behind her yet. ‘I shall have to send them back to him with interest. Tell him I am no threat to him, as long as he leaves us in peace. I have no plans to return to the north. Go now and tell him.’