by Mariah Stone
He shut that part down.
CHAPTER THREE
T he mouthwatering aroma of stew steamed from a clay bowl in front of Mia. She sat alone at a long table, her whole body tense, her shoulders aching.
She looked around the room. Women cooked food on open fires, throwing prying glances at her. Hakon talked to a plump woman so short she only reached the middle of his chest, who looked up at him as if he were as tall as an electric pole.
There was no electricity here, she realized. The dark house had no windows; the only light came from the oil lamps chain-hung from the beams. The building was wooden and crude, so was the furniture. Most people were blond. Women wore long, square woolen dresses. Men wore tunics and trousers tucked into stockings at the knee.
Where was she, and how did she get here?
She had been in Mass Gen. Dan had dragged her away, and that lady had come to her rescue. Then Mia had touched the golden spindle, and her body had disappeared right next to Dan.
And then she had opened her eyes in a clearing in the woods, and a bear had roared, and then a huge man on a horse, with an ax and a sword, had grabbed her—Hakon, she now knew.
The strangeness of this place terrified her. The fact that she spoke a foreign language she’d never learned terrified her. Hakon terrified her—the sight of him, giant, powerful, intimidating, and that birthmark that made him look as if one side of him was dark and the other light. As if two creatures lived in him. One man, the other beast.
And the second reminded her of Dan.
She needed to get out of here, but she had to figure out how first. She rejoiced at the chance to be left alone, to try to understand what had happened to her.
She lay a hand on her still-flat belly. “We’re okay,” she whispered. “We’ll survive.”
Her stomach growled. How could she be hungry after vomiting? But she was, and she scooped up a bit of stew with the wooden spoon and brought it to her mouth. She closed her eyes in sheer bliss as she savored the rich taste.
The woman with the golden spindle had said something about—
Viking.
Mia choked, spraying a mouthful of stew across the table as she jumped up. Everyone looked at her in astonishment.
“Is the food not to your liking, Princess?” Hakon asked.
“Are you a Viking?” she gasped out.
Hakon frowned. “I did not go Viking this year yet. I did not want to miss meeting you.”
“Go Viking?”
His frown deepened, danger written all over his face. Crossing the room towards her in a few quick strides, he stood right in front of her, and all the air was sucked out of her lungs.
He spoke in that husky, low voice of his, and it sent hot shivers through her skin. “Going Viking. Raiding. Pirating. Are you testing me again? Asking your pointless questions, as if you hear things for the first time.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to his chest—it felt like hitting a warm brick wall. “Is it my patience that you are testing? Because I don’t have a lot of it. Go on a little, and you’ll find out.”
His face was so close to hers, she could see the green in his pale golden eyes. They were magnetic, the eyes of a conqueror, someone who would not stop until he got what he wanted.
Dan looked at her like that.
Memories came rushing through her. Pain, helplessness, fear closed her lungs and choked her throat.
No!
She had just escaped Dan, and she would not let another man do to her what he had done: abuse her body, take away her freedom, and break her spirit.
Threaten her baby.
She jerked her arm from his grip and shoved him away. Startled, he swayed back, face alarmed.
“I already told you to get off me!” she yelled, and headed towards the exit in broad strides.
She’d be damned if she stayed one more minute with a man like Dan. What was Hakon’s deal? She didn’t want to know. All she wanted, was to take her baby to safety.
She stepped outside, and fresh, sweet air filled her lungs. All around the village, mountains shot like walls into the sky, and at the other end of the village, a giant, still inlet of water curved between them. Ships were docked by the shore—long wooden ships with high curved bows and round shields along the sides. Cows and sheep grazed, chickens squawked. One house down, a blacksmith hammered at a giant anvil.
Mia shuddered and looked down at her stomach. “Where are we, peanut?” she whispered, still not able to believe what her senses were showing her.
“You will not escape,” Hakon said next to her, and a mixture of fear and excitement ran over her skin like a shower of sparks. “And if you want me to stop touching you, you need to stop behaving as if Loki took your mind.”
He was like a mountain made of human flesh. He did not grab her or shove her or move a finger towards her this time, but his body heat touched her gently.
Tall and muscular, he moved with a predatory grace, every action efficient, economical. Even though Dan was also tall, he was still much shorter than Hakon, much less muscular, too. Where Dan was sophistication and style with his tailored Italian suit and perfect haircut, Hakon was simplicity and roughness. It was like comparing an aristocrat to a barbarian.
Hakon’s gaze pinned her to the ground. Might and a power of will seeped through him. His scent…god, his scent. Hay, leather, and sea. And his voice…deep, melodic, sexy, the perfect voice to read erotic audiobooks.
The pinkish-brown birthmark around his eye made him unforgettable, mysterious, like a dark superhero who hadn’t decided if he was fighting for good or evil. Did he feel self-conscious about it? Most people probably would. But Hakon radiated anger, like an invisible force field around him.
“Do you not want to marry me?” His voice rung like steel. Did she hear an edge of vulnerability in it? He looked pointedly in front of him, his profile stern.
What would Princess Arinborg say to that?
“That is not for me to decide,” she said.
She and Arinborg must have that in common, she thought.
“Let me suggest that you follow your own wisdom. The decision was made for you. All you need to do is obey.”
Arinborg might have done just that, but Mia wouldn’t. She looked around. How could she escape? Hakon watched her like a hawk. Maybe when he was asleep or busy with something else… She glanced at the forest visible behind the roofs. Somewhere there, was the path they had followed when she arrived.
If she had traveled back in time—and oh, how ridiculous it sounded—maybe returning to the clearing where Hakon had found her would help her find some way back to Boston. She had been touching the rock when she arrived, its surface sending a strange buzzing sensation over her body, her fingers almost sinking into the stone. If she touched it again, would she return to her own time?
There were two problems with going back to the grove. One, the bear could still be there. Two, Dan could be waiting for her on the other side.
Yes, the old lady had helped her escape. But was her solution better than being under Dan’s control? If she got back, Dan would find out. If she lived on the same planet, he’d find her. He had a vast network of mafia connections, but sometimes she felt as if she lived in a sci-fi movie and he’d implanted a chip in her body. He always knew where she was.
Technically, being here with these Vikings would be the best place to hide from Dan.
But no. She was pregnant. Mia put her hand on her lower belly. Are you all right, peanut? Did all this time traveling hurt you? Mia focused inward, trying to feel a life inside of her, although as a doctor she was aware that there was no way she could really know. But a little needle pricked in her lower belly again like it had during the whole first trimester.
Yes, he was fine. She knew it.
Now that she was a little over three months pregnant and in her second trimester, the chances of something going wrong were much smaller. She also felt better now: no nausea, no tiredness. But there was another thing to consider. She co
uld not possibly give birth here. Childbirth without modern medicine was dangerous, and the threats to health were enormous. Not to mention the unsanitary conditions.
First, she needed to get back to Boston. Then, she’d find a way to escape Dan.
So she would continue to be Princess Arinborg until tonight. Anything to save her baby. When Hakon fell asleep, she’d sneak out and get back to that clearing.
“You’re right,” Mia said. “I’ll follow my wisdom.” Her voice jumped and betrayed her.
Hakon glanced at her. “Good. Finally.” But he frowned as he said it.
She would follow her wisdom. The wisdom of not letting another man rule her life, no matter how powerful he was…or attractive.
CHAPTER FOUR
M ia listened to the night. The house was silent beyond the door of Hakon’s bedchamber, and the man himself wheezed peacefully on the floor by the bed. Mia rose on one elbow on the mattress, fur blanket sliding down her arms. Even though a female servant had brought her a night shift, Mia had refused to change into anything before going to bed, so she was fully dressed.
Hakon had informed her that she would sleep in his bedroom, the only room besides the huge main hall. Usually guests stayed in the sleeping alcoves in the giant hall, as far as Mia understood. But he had assured her he had no intention of touching her before they were married. And even though she had said she would listen to her own wisdom earlier, she knew he did not fully trust her.
She needed to take this chance to escape. Heart thumping, she let out a long, quiet breath, threw the blanket off and stepped onto the wooden floor. She found her sandals and put them on, careful not to make a sound. Despite her soft steps, one plank of the floor creaked slightly.
Mia froze. Hakon stirred and turned onto his side. Mia swallowed. She took her purse and put it over her shoulder like a messenger bag.
Her pulse drummed in her ears. She unclenched her hands and shook them to relieve the tension. “We’ll be okay, peanut,” she mouthed and patted her belly.
Then she continued across the room, cold sweat streaming down her back as she passed right by Hakon’s head. He slept on a sheepskin, so handsome, his face calm, relaxed. She had not seen him like that when he was awake. She wondered what it would be like to be his wife, his strong arms wrapped around her as they slept.
Silly.
By some miracle, she made it to the door without waking him up. She cracked it open a little and peered out, but nobody was up and moving around.
Mia slowly opened the door. Her pulse raced, as if she had just run a marathon. Sweat dampened her whole body, and her hands shook.
Mia entered the great hall and closed the door behind her. People snored from the corners of the hall, hopefully masking any sounds as she headed for the entrance.
When she reached the double doors, she opened one a little to peek outside. Nearby, a man sat on a stool leaning back against the wall, his chin on his chest. He looked like he was asleep.
So Hakon had left a guard. Mia needed to be careful. She opened the door bit by bit, and it made a low screeching sound. Mia’s heart stopped. She froze, her eyes pinned to the guard.
The man stirred, straightened, scratched his face, and looked around. Mia hid behind the door and waited, panting.
After a while, she glanced at the guard. He had nodded off again.
On heavy legs, she slid through the opening. Outside, the night was chilly, and her skin was soon covered with goose bumps. The dry ground muffled her steps. The guard continued to wheeze, and Mia glanced around to make sure no one noticed her.
But the only movement was the wind rustling through the trees around the village. Her chest heaving with hope, she rushed towards the forest and the path that led up the hill to the clearing and the strange rock with the runes.
HAKON LOOKED at his empty bed in the darkness.
Something had awoken him a moment ago, an instinct to check if his bride was all right. But she had disappeared. He sat up. Had she gone out to relieve herself?
No. He knew in his gut that she had run away again.
A low growl escaped his throat.
“Wake uuuup!” he roared as he flew into the mead hall, the door slamming behind him.
Men and women stumbled wearily from their sleeping alcoves.
“Search for the princess!” he shouted.
He ran towards the entrance, looking for her. How could he have trusted her word? He had sensed something was amiss, her reluctance, her odd behavior.
She had fooled him.
No, he had fooled himself by letting his guard down. She had told him she would accept her fate, and he had believed her. Oaf. He had wanted to believe her because a tiny part of him wanted her to be his wife, even though his curse clearly terrified her.
He should not have taken his eyes off her for a moment. He should not have fallen asleep. He should have put more guards at the entrance.
She had chosen to escape him—to escape the curse. Too bad, he thought, clenching his teeth. The curse was coming for her.
As he walked outside, Loker, who he had put on guard duty, looked around with the bewilderment of someone who had just woken up.
“Thor strike you with his hammer, you were asleep!” Hakon roared.
“Jarl—”
“Go wake up the men. And you better hope we catch her before she gets too far.”
Loker paled and rushed towards the next house.
Hakon put his hands around his mouth. “Wake uuup!” he thundered.
Soon, his men scattered on the streets of the village, their faces concerned, their ax blades glistening in the moonlight. “Take horses, take hounds. Princess Arinborg ran away. Find her. Look in the woods, on the water, under tree stumps, in caves. If she disappears or comes to harm, we invite an angry enemy to our doorstep.”
His men nodded, their faces stern. They split into groups and went in all directions.
Hakon took Wind and straddled his back. He looked around. The princess could be anywhere. But something—instinct or destiny—made him look at the footworn path into the woods. She could have headed home, and the easiest way would have been by water if she had wanted to hide the traces. She could take one of the small fishing boats; a woman could easily row one.
And yet Hakon wanted to take the same path that had brought him to her in the first place.
He led Wind there.
Two men accompanied him. The way through the dark woods was slow, and Hakon’s gut knotted. He could not let her slip through his fingers. And if the bear was still there…or wolves?
His heart chilled at the thought that Arinborg could face the same fate as his mother.
Why had she escaped? She could not stand him. The pain of being unwanted, rejected squeezed his core like a fist made of ice. He felt like a dirty dog nobody wanted. The thought of being his wife, spending her life with him, sharing his bed must have been so repulsive to her that she decided to break her father’s word.
She had slid out alone into the woods. Or maybe she had help. Maybe she had another man.
Even though he had just met her, the thought of her with another made his blood seethe like hot oil. He would not tolerate a betrayal.
And then he saw her.
The white of her dress flashing between black trees, its pattern of spring flowers now dark at night. It was not possible to run up the hill, but she walked as fast as she could.
And further to the left, he saw the opening to the sacred grove. It was clearly her destination.
Why?
Did someone wait for her?
Was she supposed to give a message to Nyr’s spy? Had she found out something about Hakon’s plan?
His teeth clenched. Gods, he would not let this happen.
“Ha!” he hurried Wind, and Arinborg glanced back, startled.
She sped up, heading towards the center of the grove, her arms stretched out in front of her as if she wanted to grab something.
Hakon reached the c
learing, but he could not see anyone besides his bride, just the rock. Did someone hide behind it?
He stopped Wind, jumped down, and ran after her, ax in his hand in case someone appeared.
“Arinbooorg!” he called.
He was catching up with her, but she was almost at the rock. He pressed on, and just before she could touch it, he grabbed her by the waist with one arm and they both rolled on the ground. He lay on top of her, pinning her down, her face astonished, then furious. She hit his chest with both hands.
“Let me go!” she yelled, her cheeks flushed, her forehead glistening from sweat. He became aware of her soft, warm body under him, her squished breasts against him, her legs that warmed him. He imagined her wanting him. He imagined that she sweated not from running from him, but from not getting enough of him. He imagined her long legs spreading for him, hugging his waist, urging him inside of her.
But these were dreams.
Her face tensed. Desperate. Disgusted.
“No, you will not escape,” he growled. Her expression stabbed him, and he pushed down the pain. He glanced at his men. “Check the grounds. There’s someone she must have wanted to meet.”
His men galloped around the clearing and rode into the woods.
When he looked back at her face, he could not breathe. She was so beautiful. Her cheeks flushed, her lips like rubies, her hair like honey. Her eyes…it pained him to look at her eyes, they were so pretty. And so full of fear and anger.
“Who were you meeting? What did you want to tell them?”
Tears streamed down her face.
“No one. I wanted to run away from you.” She spat the words into his face like poison.
He had never felt so unwanted, so ugly. So much like a beast.
“You leave me no choice. You are a prisoner now. We will marry as soon as we get back to the village. And you will be under guard until you accept your life here. And if you are afraid that I will touch you as a man touches his wife, if it is my ugliness that bothers you, I give you my word, I will not claim you in that way until you ask me yourself.”
