by Asa Maria Bradley, Gina Conkle, Lisa Hendrix, Anna Markland, Emma Prince, Harper St. George
“Ah. No games, then.” Ulfarr propped his elbows on the table, leaning in so that he didn’t have to shout over the boisterous merrymakers. “Of course, if I were trying to charm you, I’d start with the smile, ja, but there would be more. I’d praise your beauty, but I’d also say that nothing captivates me more than a woman who knows her mind and isn’t afraid to speak it. I’d tell you that you intrigue me like none other I’ve ever encountered, that I am free to spend my time in any number of ways, but that I would choose to spend it with you. I’d say that I hunger to know more about you—everything about you.”
He shrugged, holding her with his gaze. “But since my charm is wasted on you, instead I’ll confess that I only have this night here in Orkneyjar. I depart tomorrow with the first gust of wind. I am the captain of the Black Boar, a small trading knarr, and I plan to take her out for another adventure before winter forces me from the water.”
One of her dark brows lifted with curiosity. “So late in the season?”
“Ja,” Ulfarr replied, emboldened by her warming attention. “For you see, although my…charm leaves all the women who welcome it more than satisfied, I have yet to meet a woman who can understand and accept my love of the sea. But since I am not trying to charm you, I can confess that I find it tiresome to sit by a fire, a roof over my head and a soft bed waiting. I would much rather sail through a storm, sleep on hard planks, and wake up to thank Aegir the sea god for another sunrise on the open waters.”
He lifted his shoulders in mock ambivalence again. “Perhaps it is my fate to court one of Aegir’s daughters rather than a mere land-bound mortal. And yet here I sit before you, enthralled.”
Her eyes flashed with green fire as he spoke. She quickly lifted the cup to her lips to hide the smile she so fiercely fought. “Is that so?” she drawled once she’d lowered her cup, though her dancing eyes betrayed her feigned disinterest.
He let a suggestive smile lift his lips, leaning even closer. “Indeed. So, given the fact that I only have tonight, and given the fact that you aren’t interested in games or charm, I’ll be honest with you. I’d like to spread you on this table and find out exactly what’s under those men’s clothes. I’d like to take your mouth with mine, tease you with my tongue until you are wet for me, begging me. And I’d like to let you ride me until you come.”
To his satisfaction, those green eyes blazed again with the same intriguing flame, and her lips parted slowly. At last, she broke their stare and pretended indifference as she weighed his words. “Well, since we are being straightforward with each other, Ulfarr the Blunt,” she said, “I’ll tell you that I, too, depart tomorrow at first light.”
“Is that so?” he echoed.
“Ja. Like you, I have yet to find a compelling reason to stay on land more than I am forced to, though men seem bent on keeping me from the sea.” Her voice hardened as she spoke the last words, and her playfulness vanished for a brief moment before her lips once again curled subtly.
Ulfarr barely had time to interpret the flash of her darker mood before her words sank in. His pulse hitched even as the flames of desire fanned hotter. She was drawn to the sea as well?
He registered suddenly that her skin was bronzed like his, which spoke of outdoor labor. Her clothes, too, made sense if she were some sort of dock hand. Though almost all men believed that Aegir would frown on a woman working aboard a ship—it was thought to be bad luck—Orkneyjar was a hub of trading and sailing activity, and all manner of people passed through. Why not a female dock laborer?
“You work on the docks then?”
At his question, a shadow crossed her eyes before being replaced with a challenging, curious glint. “Something to that effect. But it matters not. This night is only that—one night. If there are to be no games between us, there need not be questions, either. I think we both want the same thing. Surely you know not to confuse this with something else.”
“Ja, no confusion,” he said with a slow nod. “I would have your name from you, though.”
At last she allowed her lips to break fully into the smile she’d been fighting. “Bára.”
He coughed into his mead, which he’d just raised to his mouth. “Bára? As in the sea god’s eldest daughter?”
Her grin was wicked as she nodded slowly. Clearly she was enjoying this.
“Ja, the same. My father was a sailor, and devoted to Aegir. He must have known his daughter would inherit his love of the sea.”
“Bára,” Ulfarr repeated, toying with the name on his tongue.
Her mead cup forgotten on the table between them, she rose slowly, her eyes blazing with green fire. “Are you coming, Ulfarr the Charmless?”
He stood, shoving back his bench so hard that it nearly toppled over. Taking her hand in his, he guided her through the throng of revelers until he noticed a wooden door along one of the longhouse’s walls.
Ulfarr would have to thank Jarl Sigurd, and not merely for the lively harvest celebration. The Jarl had gone to the effort and expense of sealing in the normally open alcoves used for sleeping—and other activities. Though Ulfarr wasn’t prone to shyness among his fellow Northmen, tonight he didn’t want any distractions. He wanted Bára all to himself.
Flashing her another smile, he eased open the door and slipped into the private little chamber, pulling her in after him.
* * *
When weak pre-dawn light began turning the chamber from black to pale blue, Ulfarr reluctantly cracked an eye. The down mattress next to him still held faint traces of warmth from Bára’s body. She must have slipped out not long ago while Ulfarr had been sleeping like the dead.
Or rather, sleeping like the well-satiated.
By all the gods, what a night—what a woman.
Ja, Ulfarr knew the gods smiled on him, perhaps even more than he deserved. His life had already been filled with adventure, plenty of coin, and most importantly the opportunity to sail across endless glittering oceans. But after last night, he knew there was no way he was worthy of such good fortune.
Bára captivated him like none other. Though they hadn’t spent a great deal more time verbally sparring, she’d proven that her mind truly was as sharp as her tongue—and gods, the things she could do with that tongue. She was bold and direct, challenging him and then rewarding him when he rose to meet her.
Exploring every inch of her bronzed skin had proven to be its own adventure. The toned yet feminine strength of her long, lean limbs, the subtle pinkening when he discovered a particularly sensitive spot, the pleasure she took from him with unashamed abandon—even now he felt himself harden at the mere memories.
For the first time in his life, Ulfarr wished he wasn’t setting sail this morn. If he could have another hour with her—but nei, nothing he could do in an hour would ever satisfy him completely. He needed a sennight, or a fortnight, or an entire season to explore every corner of Bára’s intriguing mind and delicious body. Hel’s realm, perhaps a long winter cooped up indoors wouldn’t even be enough.
Cursing himself for a fool, Ulfarr scrubbed a hand over his face. He was leaving, and so was she. Where might a dock laborer travel to for the winter? Her pitch-dark hair suggested that she was from the eastern Northlands, or perhaps even beyond. Would he see her again if his travels and the wind carried him east?
He shoved the thought aside, silently cursing himself again. Though she claimed a fierce love of the sea, she would no doubt prove to be like most women he encountered. Once he’d shared in a bit of bedsport with them, they inevitably wanted him to settle down under a roof, and forget his ship and the sparkling oceans that called to him.
Mayhap it was better this way with Bára. They’d never see each other again, so they’d never have to learn that they weren’t as compatible as it had seemed last night. It wasn’t possible to feel such a strong connection so quickly—was it?
An urgent thumping on the little chamber’s door snapped him out of his musings.
“Captain!”
Gamell’s harsh whis
per on the other side of the door had Ulfarr sitting bolt upright. Judging from the lad’s tone, something was very wrong.
“Enter,” he called.
“Captain,” Gamell panted, slipping inside the door and closing it behind him. “Jarl Brunn is on the docks.”
Cold shock slammed into him. “Jarl Brunn? How did he…? And why?”
“I’ll explain as best I can, captain, but you’d better get dressed—fast.”
As Ulfarr began rummaging for his trousers, Gamell launched in.
“The Jarl must have set sail not long after we fled Morndahl. He knew you used Orkneyjar as your base, did he not?”
Ulfarr muttered a curse of confirmation as he yanked on his trousers and snatched up his tunic.
“He arrived at the docks not long ago, demanding to know the whereabouts of Thorolf the shipbuilder, his thrall girl, and the man who helped them escape.”
A new wave of panic crashed through Ulfarr before he could calm himself with logic. “Thorolf and his woman are safe in Pictland. None but we know that he returned there with her.”
Gamell nodded. “Ja. No one on Orkneyjar can help the Jarl find them. But you, captain—”
The lad swallowed hard, his dark blue eyes round with fear. “They are sweeping the docks as we speak,” he said. “They have already spotted the Black Boar, and…”
Ulfarr stilled in the process of tugging on a boot. Dread clutched his throat and his heart squeezed. “What is it? What have they done?”
“The Black Boar is…captain, they set her on fire.”
Just as Ulfarr had suspected, he’d exceeded his luck last night with Bára. And the gods were swift to rebalance the scales of fortune.
Ulfarr jerked to his feet and would have barreled through the door without even bothering to open it, but Gamell held him back by his tunic.
“Nei, captain, you cannot be seen!” he hissed. “Jarl Brunn has a dozen warriors with him, and they know your face from your dealings with them in Morndahl. Even now they are searching for you.”
“Odin’s bloody eye,” Ulfarr snapped. “What would you have me do, then, lad?”
“You need to flee. This island is too small to hide you for long.”
The haze of shock finally began to clear in Ulfarr’s mind at Gamell’s words. “I’ll need a ship—one that is small enough to sail on my own. Which means I’ll need to get to the docks unseen.”
“I’ll go to Jarl Brunn, captain. Perhaps I can distract him, or point him in the wrong direction, or—”
“Nei, Gamell.” Ulfarr took his young friend by the shoulders and pinned him with a dark look. “They’ve seen your face as well, lad. You were in Jarl Brunn’s longhouse when we completed our trade a fortnight ago. Go to your father’s farm and lie low. If you can, tell the rest of the crew to do the same. I trust in your loyalty to me—all of you. But I’ll not have you facing Jarl Brunn on my behalf.”
Gamell’s brows collided in desperation, but after a heartbeat, he nodded reluctantly.
“Good lad. Now go.”
Ulfarr shoved Gamell toward the door. Without waiting to make sure the lad followed his orders, Ulfarr turned to the little chamber’s one window and eased back the wooden shutters.
Even before his eyes landed on the docks, he caught a faint whiff of acrid smoke cutting through the briny air. Stifling a curse, Ulfarr slipped out the window and crouched next to the longhouse’s wooden siding.
As he inched along the exterior wall toward the front of the longhouse, the docks came into view. At the far end, a thick column of smoke rose from what he knew was the Black Boar. Someone had wisely unmoored the cargo ship from the docks to avoid burning the entire structure down. His knarr drifted aimlessly in the harbor, red flames rising from her planks along with the smoke.
Ulfarr dragged his eyes away. He could contemplate what to do about the loss of his ship later. Right now, he needed to get off this island.
Distant shouts drew his gaze back to the far end of the docks.
Orkneyjar boasted an enormous harbor, with five wooden docks spreading out from the island’s main village like fingers on a hand. At the tip of the farthest dock, where the Black Boar had been moored, a long warship now sat. Several warriors streamed down that dock and were turning up the next farthest one. A corpulent man strode in the lead, barking orders.
Jarl Brunn.
At the Jarl’s command, the warriors broke into groups of two and three and began boarding each ship moored on the second farthest dock, searching in cargo holds and large chests.
Ulfarr’s gaze darted to the dock nearest him. A few huts filled the rocky, sloping ground between the water and where he crouched behind the longhouse, but he could make out several large ships bobbing alongside the dock.
With another glance at Jarl Brunn and his men, Ulfarr darted to the closest hut. Once he’d made his way around the backside of the building, he checked on his pursuers again. As silently as he could move across the loose rocks, he slipped between the huts until all that separated him from the nearest ships was a long expanse of exposed wooden docking.
He weighed his options as his eyes skipped from one ship to the next. Longships for transporting warriors, large knarrs meant for moving goods—they were all too big to be manned with only two hands.
Then his gaze alighted on a small, narrow-hulled ship that could likely carry small loads of cargo both across short expanses of ocean and up rivers and shallower inlets. The tiller was near enough to the sail lines that he guessed his long arms could reach both at the same time. It could work—it would have to.
Just then a groan and a loud snap rent the air. The mast on the Black Boar, burned through at one end, tilted and toppled toward the water.
This was the best diversion he could hope to get. With Jarl Brunn and his men’s heads turned away to watch the Black Boar’s mast splash into the harbor, Ulfarr darted from behind the hut and made a straight line for the little cargo ship. He kept his steps as light as possible lest his boots against the wooden planks draw attention, all the while forcing his heart from his throat as he crossed the open expanse.
He allowed himself one relieved sigh as he slipped into the little ship’s cargo hold, which was no more than an open hole on the narrow deck.
Within the dim confines of the cargo hold, he was safe—for now. He would still have to figure out a way to unmoor the ship and set out from the island without Jarl Brunn or his men noticing—or at least do so swiftly enough that he could outpace them. This little ship could likely outmaneuver the Jarl’s longship and—
Ulfarr’s thoughts ground to an abrupt halt as he felt the press of a blade against his back. Slowly, he lifted his hands in the air even as the dagger dug deeper.
“I think you have the wrong ship, friend.”
He froze at the low voice.
It was a woman.
“Bára?”
The blade didn’t immediately pull back, but the pressure eased ever so slightly.
“Ulfarr? What are you doing here?”
He turned cautiously, keeping his hands raised. In the low light of the cargo hold, her round eyes appeared as dark and unreadable as a Northland forest.
“I can’t explain everything right now, but men are after me. They destroyed my ship and are hunting me as we speak.”
Bára withdrew the dagger and spun it almost lazily against her palm. “And should they catch you?”
He would have roared with laughter at her gall, her cool composure in the middle of this crisis, if his life wasn’t hanging by a thread.
“I helped a friend and his woman escape the clutches of a man named Jarl Brunn not long ago. He wants revenge, and the only one he can find is me. He’s a man without honor,” he said quickly.
“And you planned to steal this ship?”
He should have known her sharp mind would miss nothing. “Ja, though I can arrange to pay its owner once I am away from here. Please, Bára. I don’t know what you’re doing on this ship,
but get back to the docks. Jarl Brunn and his men will leave you alone as long as you swear you know nothing of me.”
Her eyes narrowed, a hot challenge in their emerald depths. “Why would I abandon Aegir’s Daughter when I am her captain?”
Ulfarr felt his jaw slacken and fall open, but he didn’t care. “You…you are the captain of this ship…this ship called Aegir’s Daughter?”
“Ja,” she said evenly, though her lips tightened ever so slightly as she took in his stunned expression. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Mind reeling, Ulfarr attempted to make sense of what he was hearing. He’d never heard of a woman captain before. No doubt most men were openly hostile toward her for such an endeavor.
Something she’d said last night suddenly made sense. Men seem bent on keeping me from the sea. When he’d asked her if she were a mere dock laborer, she’d dodged the question, yet he remembered the flicker of angry fire in her green eyes.
But then again, why should he be so surprised? In the short time he’d known her, Bára had proven herself capable, decisive, and level-headed. The calluses he’d noticed on her hands last night, which he’d assumed had come from her work on the docks, confirmed that she was not playing at seafaring—nei, her hands proved her dedication.
Besides, he’d encountered plenty of shieldmaidens in his travels, warrior women who fought just as fiercely and powerfully as men. Why not a female captain? By all the gods, this woman was full of surprises. Regret skittered across his mind as he again realized just how badly he longed to know her better.
“Nei, I don’t have a problem with that,” he said, holding her gaze. “My only problem is a revenge-fueled Jarl searching the docks for me at this moment, and drawing closer with each passing heartbeat.”
“I’ll not abandon my ship to you,” she said, sheathing her dagger and crossing her arms over her chest.
The hull was shallow enough that Ulfarr could rise on his toes and peer out the cargo hold and across the ship’s deck. His stomach knotted at what he saw.
Jarl Brunn’s men had finished searching the second and third docks. Now only one dock remained between him and the Jarl’s warriors.
