Chapter Two
Solstad Hall, Northumbria – 943 A.D.
Familiar faces greeted Hella as he walked the path to his father’s longhouse. The village hadn’t changed in the year he’d been gone. It remained his home, and he delighted in the return. Dozens of thralls carried items and supplies from the longships to the hall. He searched for the dark-gold hair of one woman in particular but couldn’t place her among the many villagers crowding the path.
His joy dampened. If Ealasaid wasn’t among the slaves helping stow away the goods, she might be serving Ingvar. He hoped to have a discussion with his father about the slave girl without her in attendance. With a fortune at his disposal—and plans to remain in Northumbria for the foreseeable future—he intended to declare his desire to purchase Ealasaid from Ingvar. When he built his own longhouse and set to farming, he’d need the help of a thrall. She’d served the king long enough.
While he’d spent hours with Slavic concubines, he couldn’t put Ealasaid out of his mind. The day he and his men sailed east, she’d come to see them off. She’d singled him out, given him stern orders to return unharmed, although her gruff manner suggested she didn’t much care if he did. They were two stones destined to create a fire between them. Both were rough, but he knew they belonged together.
“Hella!”
His name carried over the chatter of hundreds of other people. He turned as Ealasaid forced her way through the crowd.
Joy brightened her face. “You’re home at last. All in one piece?”
Under the sunlight, her hair—longer than he remembered—glistened like polished wood. Her features were too bold to be beautiful, but there wasn’t a woman in Novogrod who compared.
“It seems so. You?” No bruises or cuts marred her face, which meant she couldn’t have displeased Ingvar much in the past few days.
“Well enough. Come, you must be ready for rest. Your father will want to see you, and you’ll be telling tales about your stay in Rus for weeks.” She gestured for him to follow, but he grabbed her hand.
“I know. I want a moment alone with you.”
Her smile turned into a puzzled frown. “Why?”
“Come with me.” He tugged her hand, and they pushed through the villagers toward Solstad Hall. He waved off the greetings from people he hadn’t seen in months. There would be time to talk with them later.
He pulled her into his bedchamber and drew the curtain across the doorway. Semi-dark and cool, the perfect hideaway to discuss the future with her.
She folded her arms. “I should light a fire for you, m’lord.”
“Not yet.” He smiled. “I’ve given what I’m about to ask you much thought since I settled in at Novogrod. There were women, concubines, the daughters of chiefs and traders there. Not one caught my eye. I’ve taken two thralls, both male to help set up my own longhouse. I want to purchase you to run my household.”
Her mouth opened, but she didn’t speak.
“When I go to my father, I’m going to offer him gold for you. I don’t expect you to serve as my concubine.” Not because he didn’t find her attractive, but she’d been used by Ingvar since her fifteenth spring. He wouldn’t force her into his bed.
“He’ll never...” She lowered her gaze. “Thank you for thinking of me, m’lord, but the Bloody Raven has received offers before and refused them each time.”
“I’ve brought back more riches than you can imagine. I don’t believe he’ll refuse.” He needed materials for building his house and seed for crops, but he would have plenty of gold to trade for everything, Ealasaid included. “Don’t fret. I’ll speak to him about it soon. You’ve spent your last night as Ingvar’s thrall.”
Her lower lip trembled. “Why, Hella?”
“To make up for losing you to him after Suibhne.” He held her gaze, ashamed of the part he’d played in allowing her to fall into Ingvar’s clutches. Because he hadn't killed her as his father demanded, to punish them, Ingvar had demanded Hella give her up.
“You don’t need to. I’m used to my lot.”
“I want to.” He stroked her hair. “I’ve waited for this moment for years, Ealasaid.”
The small scar at the corner of her right eye crinkled as she smiled. “How will I repay this kindness?”
He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers.
Ealasaid sucked in a breath. “M’lord.”
“I won’t force you into anything. If you’d rather stay in Solstad Hall, I’ll honor your wish.”
Her hand fluttered to the neckline of her drab brown dress. “I would do nearly anything to be free from Ingvar.” The strings holding her collar closed fell apart with a tug.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Beneath her wool dress, a softer under dress brushed her creamy skin. “I missed you, hard though you may find it to believe.”
The swell of her breasts rose and fell with each breath. Hella’s gaze fell on the cleft between them. His cock hardened at the thought of burying himself inside her.
“No woman in Rus tempted me as much as you have.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then moved down to her chin and across her cheekbones before he took her mouth.
She hesitated a moment before returning the kiss. A trembling rocked her frame, but she pulled at his lips with her mouth.
He grabbed the hem of her dress and tugged it up, baring her body to the hips. Hella grasped her waist and pulled her to him. He pushed her lips apart with his tongue. She tasted of the mulled wine she must have drunk with her midday meal—spicy and sweet, with the faintest hint of honey.
He cupped her sex, wiggling his finger so she parted for him. She sucked in a breath when he slipped one finger inside her tight core. He bit his tongue, resisting the urge to drop his trousers and push his cock inside her. In the past his father treated her viciously—he wouldn’t do the same.
Ealasaid gripped his shoulders and buried her face against his chest. A soft moan left her throat, muffled by his shirt.
He teased her opening, then slipped his finger free to give her nub a gentle tug. He rolled it between his fingers and grinned when she tightened her hold on him.
“Hella.” Her voice cracked. She fisted the front of his jerkin and stepped toward the bed.
He followed without hesitation.
Ealasaid adjusted her skirt again as she settled on the blankets. Her eyes, blue as the morning sky, glowed bright.
Hella freed himself from his breeches, leaving his shoes and trousers at the foot of the bed. He discarded his shirt as he lowered himself beside her. “Let me love you.”
She folded her arms around him and silenced him with a kiss. The silk of her hair tickled his neck and collarbone. He wanted to bare all of her smooth skin and touch her everywhere. With care, he helped remove her dress as he drank in her body. Rosy nipples hardened into peaks under his gaze. He ran his hands down her shoulders, over her arms and to the curve of her waist before he cupped her full breasts.
The soft thatch of curls drew his gaze at the same moment she reached out to caress his shaft. Her small hand curled around him, and she ran her fingers over his length.
“I desire you, m’lord.”
He helped her recline, then nudged her legs apart. When he pushed into her slickness, he couldn’t smother the moan on his tongue. She wasn’t an innocent girl, and she pressed her hips up to meet him before he completed a stroke.
Hella kissed her neck as they moved together. Her hands swept through his hair, tugging, sending tingles down his spine and driving him to move faster. He tried to hold back, determined to give her the love he’d promised.
Ealasaid cried out and slipped her hands down his back. She held him close in the embrace, arching against him, pushing him deeper inside. He slid his tongue into her mouth once more, matching stroke for stroke.
Her walls clenched around him, and he couldn’t help his release. Lightning flashes of pleasure tore through him. He spilled into her, buried to the hilt, and
she held him close as though she feared he’d float away.
It took him a moment to regain his sense. He kissed her before he rolled away and laid beside her. For years, he’d coveted her. At last, he’d claimed her.
“I’ll speak to Ingvar. You should dress and return to you work before you’re missed.” He brushed a kiss over her brow.
* * * *
Cooking fires lit Ingvar’s hall and choked the air with acrid smoke. Hella nodded to the thralls as they carried in exotic foods he’d brought from Rus. Basking in the warmth of his lovemaking, he approached his father’s throne.
Perched on the chair carved with stag heads and a single raven with its wings thrown wide at the crest, Ingvar bent over a plate of rare meat. He picked it apart with his fingers and pressed pieces into his mouth. When he saw Hella, he stopped eating. “You’ve returned. With all my ships in one piece, I hope.”
“They may be in need of a little repair, but they are all docked, Father. We lost one man to illness over the winter. The rest are glad to return home.” He smiled. “Better still, we’ve come with items to trade, eat, and glory in. A journey well worth the time away from Solstad.”
Ingvar straightened his spine and wiped his fingers on his long cloak. Iron gray hair flowed down his collar, but his beard still held dark threads. His eyes were foggy with age and his teeth sharp and broken. His gnarled hands shook as he pushed his plate aside. “We’ll see. While you were away, we’ve come under the threat from our Frankish neighbors. They’ve sailed across the sea and raided the neighboring villages. Many early crops were ruined because of them. It’s my order that you sail for their coastal villages at once and return the havoc they’ve created for us.”
Home but for a handful of moments and Ingvar plotted to send him away again. Hella’s joy vanished like a mote on the wind. “We’ve just returned. The men could use rest. Some are planning their fields, others are anxious to see their families. Can you not call a treaty?”
Ingvar pushed himself up then leaned on the table. “There will be no treaties with those savage bastards! You get your horse, gather your men, and sail to the Frankish coast. I want their chief’s head. I want their villages burned, do you understand?”
“Yes, sire.” Hella bowed. His gut burned as he held back his anger. “Before I go, I would speak with you about the thrall Ealasaid.”
“What of her?” Ingvar sank onto his throne again.
“I wish to purchase her. In addition to my tribute to you, I’ll pay for her release.”
Ingvar laughed and clutched his stomach. The sound turned into choking. “The Saxon whore who warms my bed? You would take my castoffs after experiencing the women in Rus? Are they so ugly you had to come back asking for that battered shrew?”
Hella clenched his jaw. “I will pay you a fair price. My dealings with the Rus people left me with much gold, Father.”
“What of the payment you owe me? I have long expected you to offer your earnings to keep Solstad Hall strong. This year is no different, boy.” Ingvar’s eyes were cold, his mouth turned down.
“Before I left, I offered you three fine stallions. They are battle proven, gentle enough a child could ride them. They were my gift to honor you.”
“One of them is dead already, lost in skirmishes with the Picts. Another was traded to the Britons for weapons.” Ingvar waved his hand. “The third, bah, he’s ugly. No one wants to cast their gaze on him. They were poor examples of devotion to your king.”
“You chose to send the horse to battle, to trade the other. I will not fill your purse when you are doing well enough for yourself. I will pay for Ealasaid and nothing more.” Hella gripped the hilt of his sword, but if he drew it, it would be treason.
“The whore is not for sale. You have Franks to kill, boy. Get out of my hall.” Ingvar leaned back in his chair and lifted his cup from the table.
Hella bit back a curse. Of all the things his father could have said, he hated being called a boy the worst. He’d long earned the right to be a warrior and a jarl among his people. “Why do you refuse my request? Have I not done what you’ve asked of me? I am requesting the sale of a single slave, one you clearly hate. It makes sense for you to rid yourself of the trouble.”
“I will speak of it no more. Out, or I will call your brothers to remove you.” Ingvar flicked his fingers toward the doorway. “Do your duty to me.”
“If I do this, will you allow me to purchase Ealasaid?” Hella tightened and relaxed his hands.
“And allow you to soil my line with the blood of Saxons?” Ingvar’s barking laugh echoed against the walls. “Out, out, out! Never speak of her to me again or I shall split your tongue with a hot knife, boy. I don’t expect you to call on me until you return with my enemies’ heads and their gold, am I clear?”
“I will take her and leave. You can have Solstad and every cursed thrall in it.”
“If you try, I will strip her naked in the village center and tie her hands and feet to four of my finest horses, then tear her apart while I make you watch. You’ll hear her screams in your nightmares.” Ingvar pounded the tabletop with his knife. “If you ever threaten to leave without my consent again, I’ll disown you. Every Norse village in this country will turn you away. I will put a bounty on your head and sic the Picts and Saxons on you all at once. I won’t tolerate any more talk of the thrall!”
Hella bit the end of his tongue to stifle a curse. He turned on the ball of his foot and walked out of the longhouse, into the sunlight.
An old thrall called Ulrika passed by him. He reached out and snagged her arm.
“My lord.” She inclined her head. “I trust you are well after your long journey home.”
“Well enough. I wish for you to send Ealasaid to me.” He tightened his hold on her arm but not enough to hurt her. “Do it quickly. I’m preparing to leave again.”
Ulrika frowned. “I haven’t seen her in some time, my lord. I’m sure she’s hard at work right now.”
“It was not a question, old woman. I will see her.”
“I’ll find her, Jarl Hella.” Ulrika slipped free of his grasp.
He paced along the wall and thrust his hands into his hair. A short while ago, he’d been besotted with dreams of his own longhouse and farm. Ingvar ripped his plans away and denied him Ealasaid. He shouldn’t have expected any less from his father.
The moments stretched long. She’s not coming. Had one of the thralls from the main hall told her about his confrontation with Ingvar? Impatient, he stepped into the path for the longhouse as she came through the doorway.
She approached with her head hung. “You wished to see me, m’lord.”
“I did. I do.” He’d given her joy and a reason to hope—now he’d snatch it away again. It pained him, knowing he’d cause her new pain. “I’ve spoken with him.”
Ealasaid twisted her fingers together. She turned her face, letting her shoulder-length hair conceal her features. “Was he pleased with your success?”
Hella snorted. “Who could tell? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Hella brushed her hair back. A fresh cut split her lip, and a small purple bruise blossomed on her cheek. “He did this. Not moments after I left.”
“It’s nothing. One day I’ll learn to mind my mouth.” Her voice softened, and she winced in the sunlight. “I should return to my work, m’lord.”
“I tried, but I’m afraid he—” He shook his head. If he spoke ill of the king and someone overheard, it would be bad for both of them. “What made him strike you this time?” He ran his finger over the bruise. “Does he know about us?”
“No. I don’t believe he suspected anything. He ordered me to cut my hair.” To remind them of their place in the caste, thrall women weren’t allowed to wear it past their chins. Hers brushed her shoulders.
“Would it hurt you, Ealasaid?” He already knew the answer. The smooth strands of golden brown drew the eye.
“It is mine and I should be allowed
to wear it any way I choose.” Some of the fire returned to her eyes. “I will not cut it.”
“Then he will not cease to abuse you.” They both knew it. She could be stubborn and prideful. If she wouldn’t bend, he could do nothing to protect her.
“So be it.” She crossed her arms. “I knew in my heart he would never allow you to buy me.”
“I’m leaving again. The Franks are raiding, and we must remind them of our strength.” As he said it, new weariness descended on him. “Will you tell me to come home safely again?”
“Do return unscathed. Solstad wouldn’t be the same without you here to temper your father’s command.” Her lips turned up, but her eyes were sad. “My work is dull without a vikingr lord to argue with.”
The hot hatred around his heart cooled a little. “You take too much liberty with your words in front of your lord, thrall.”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “You would have it no other way. I’ll pray for your safety, Jarl Hella.” Ealasaid’s smile failed. “You may find something worth staying for across the sea. Something better than a thrall. Think on it while you sail the crossing. Do not let your father rule everything you do, m’lord. One of us should be free.”
She left without another word. His feet turned to stone, leaving him rooted on the path. She’d told him to go, sent him away as though he was the slave and she the master.
His closest possessions were his armor and sword. He would sail with his men to Frankish lands and visit his cousins in the south. The farm and thralls meant nothing to him without Ealasaid there too. There were lands to be bought and conquered all over the world.
He walked toward the landing without looking back at Solstad.
Chapter Three
Solstad Hall, Northumbria – 950 A.D.
Good riddance to Ingvar the Bloody Raven of Solstad.
Enjoy Náströnd. May Nidhoggr gnaw on your soul forever. A man like Hella’s father deserved far worse things than an afterlife in a hall filled with venomous serpents.
He drank his ale, swishing it in his mouth before swallowing. On the table before him, in the king’s longhouse he believed would one day be his, a runestone detailed his father’s orders for Hella’s inheritance. Unless he took a bride in the next month, all the possessions his father hadn’t required for his burial would become property of the clan. The kingship would fall to his adopted brother Erik Agmar. Hella would be forced to make his own way with nothing but a sword and his good name.
Her Heart's Surrender Page 2
