by Jianne Carlo
Ainslin admired Greta’s tender treatment of her daughter. She, too, believed in explanations to children to urge them into good conduct. Though the parish priest preached his and the church’s philosophy of spare the rod and damn the child, she had refused to allow anyone to administer corporal punishment in Hadrain’s castle.
“She is a lovely child,” Ainslin commented. “Such a cheery disposition.”
“Aye, she is a lively one, but she is easily distracted and wanders off in pursuit of some bunny or puppy.” Greta cupped her hand over her mouth and yelled, “No catching butterflies, Helene. Remember what happened last time you did that?”
Helene stopped skipping and turned around to face Ainslin, Greta, and Thora. “Aye, Mamma. I recall. ’Twas naughty of me. No chasing butterflies.”
They all watched the little girl hop her way to the rock.
When Helene scrambled to the top of the boulder, sat cross-legged, and settled her tunic, Greta puffed out a sigh. “That’ll keep her occupied for a while.”
“Aye, I agree ’tis better for young ears not to hear our conversation.” Ainslin allowed. “But, I will have both of you answer my question regarding Helga’s power over you.”
Determined to wring an honest reply from each woman, she held the stare of first Thora, then Greta.
“The jarl bid me to attend to you, milady. I waited for you this morn and followed you to the hall and the kitchens.” Thora averted her eyes from Ainslin’s.
Shocked that she had not noticed Thora following her, Ainslin asked, “Why did you not walk with me? I would’ve welcomed your company.”
“I did not know what to do, milady.” Thora clasped her hands together and shot Ainslin a beseeching look. “You didn’t speak to me last night. I didn’t want to offend you.”
Ainslin recalled her fear and nervousness during what seemed like an eternal walk to the lodge. “You have my regrets for being so rude, last eve. I was too terrified to think, far less speak.”
Greta took a step closer to Thora and Ainslin. She cleared her throat. “My mother is Wilma the Wise, the healer of Stjórardalr. There is to be a feast on the morrow to celebrate your marriage. This day and the morrow, every female works in the kitchens.”
Ainslin breathed a little easier. “Then Helga cannot punish either of you?”
Thora and Greta exchanged rueful grimaces.
“All the stores are in her keeping. The soaps, the provisions, the flints. She dispenses to all and sundry.”
Understanding the implications of Greta ’s explanation, Ainslin closed her eyes. “She will short you on everything.”
“Or forget entirely. At least I am too tall to be slapped or whipped.” Greta stared at Thora. “Lady Helga wanted her daughter, Camilla, to be your maid. The jarl overruled her and picked Thora instead. Lady Helga was furious and she took a birch branch to Thora.”
Thora shook her head and twined her fingers together. “’Tis of no import, Greta.”
“Nay, milady needs to know. Lady Helga is swift to slap or whip or kick. Howbeit, she has improved the meals, the rushes are always fresh, but none dare disobey her every command. I am in favor of cleanliness, but would not paddle a toddler’s arse blue for spilling milk. Helene knows she is never to be alone with Lady Helga.” Greta folded her arms and regarded Ainslin with a wary expression as if expecting a rebuke from Ainslin.
If she could, Ainslin would’ve breathed fire. She stamped a foot. “Only a bully would beat a mere child. I will not tolerate Helga assaulting anyone, be he or she warrior, babe, old, or infirmed.”
Greta grinned. “Then let us put our heads together, the three of us, and devise a way to hasten Lady Helga’s departure.”
“Agreed,” Ainslin avowed. “Thora?”
“I will do what I can to help, but milady, I am fearful of Lady Helga.” Thora’s plump lips quivered.
Ainslin gave Thora’s arm a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Of course you are. She beat you. We will first enforce the same edict that Greta has with Helene—you are never to be alone in her presence from this moment on. Agreed?”
A rosy hue dusted Thora’s pale complexion. “Aye, milady.”
“Call me Ainslin, Thora. And you, too, Greta.” Ainslin decided ’twas not much of a risk to plead for their friendship.
“Milady, ‘twould be improper for us to do so. At least if others are around.” Greta winked. “Since no wagging ears around, I would be proud to call you my friend, Ainslin.”
Ainslin clapped her hands, surrendered to her elation, and hugged Greta and then Thora. “Shall we call Helene and hurry to the lodge? I am anxious to begin planning how to unseat horrible Helga.”
Greta chortled. “Horrible Helga, indeed, Ainslin.”
“’Twas my first thought when I first met Helga,” Ainslin explained, unable to stopper the smirk quirking her lips.
Greta raised her voice and waved to her seated daughter, “Helene! We are ready to go onto the lodge. Run to us, sweeting.”
Ainslin linked arms with Greta and Thora and they all waited for Helene to join them.
“Can I skip ahead of you, Mamma?” Helene craned her neck to see her mother.
“May I. And yes, you may, but stay where we can see you. No darting into bushes. Hie yourself off, then.” Greta tapped a finger to Helene’s nose.
Helene skipped ahead of the three women.
“I seem to recollect the jarl telling me that Helga is to remarry. Is this so?” Ainslin wondered what type of man would willingly wed the termagant Helga.
Thora’s reddish-brown eyebrows snapped up. “Lady Helga is to wed? I have never heard of any such plan.”
Greta snorted. “I can scarce believe horrible Helga has a suitor. I know naught of such an arrangement. And there has been no gossip of it.”
“I thought it might be too good to be true. To be fair, she has the shape of an overripe pumpkin, but many a man prefers a buxom woman. And she has proved herself a breeder. How did Helga come to Bear Hall?” Question after question peppered Ainslin’s mind.
Did Helga come from a renowned family?
Was she wealthy in her own right?
Or had she inherited vast lands? Wealth? And, if so, from her dead husband? Or through her family’s line?
An impoverished warrior or any man who craved wealth would not hesitate to marry an heiress.
“’Tis my understanding that Jarl Torsten’s father’s second wife birthed Helga. She came to Bear Hall last autumn. I wish I could say different, but she has transformed the holding. We are all warmer for the rushes on the floor and shutters on every window. Not one, but two hearths in the hall.”
Ainslin scrunched her nose. “These are all good and common practices. Why had you not had them before?”
“Because our men are Vikings and they disdain anything that speaks of small comforts. My Einar and the rest of the men will cut holes in the ice and play a game of who can last the longest in the freezing waters.” Greta rolled her eyes.
“Milady, the jarl awaits you yonder,” Thora warned and cast a fretful glance at the lodge.
Wondering why Thora’s voice wobbled, Ainslin shaded her eyes with her hand and glimpsed her husband standing on the landing before the lodge. She flinched at Torsten’s menacing expression.
Why was he so angry?
Had Helga spoken with him?
Had she spewed some sinister accusation about Ainslin?
Chapter Seven
Torsten’s fear for Ainslin swiftly transformed to anger when she strolled up the path laughing and ambling along without a care in the world.
For an entire hour he had not been able to find Ainslin.
Every warrior in his command had been reassigned from their normal duties to search for his errant wife. He had been out of his mind with worry. Afraid she had been mauled by the bears native to his keep. Or torn apart by wolves. Or abducted by Sigrid of Northdam.
Ainslin took one look at him and her face fell.
Good.
She should be scared.
By the gods, he would lock her in the lodge from this moment on to keep her safe. From the second he had laid eyes on his sweet and innocent Ainslin, all his previous ambitions and desires had collided into one single goal—to make her his. After securing Canute’s permission to wed her, he had wasted not a single moment, and travelled night and day to return to Mercia.
Once there, he divided his men into two legions. One legion would accompany him to Bear Hall, the other would form part of the troops Canute’s son, Svein Knútsson, commanded. The forces ordered to protect Ainslin on her journey to him.
Only when he had had her in his embrace last eve, had his ferocious obsession for her safety relaxed.
And not half a day later, she had gone missing.
Then his brother, Jarvik, not a day’s journey from Bear Hall, had sent a messenger to him to warn Torsten that Sigrid, Earl of Northam, journeyed to Norway. Whether Sigrid’s destination was Bear Hall, Torsten did not know, but he could not chance Sigrid stealing Ainslin. ’Twas essential his new wife be guarded and protected at all times.
When Helga informed him that Ainslin had refused his directive to rest and to remain at the lodge, he became incensed.
How dare she refute his order?
He had not anticipated Ainslin being contrary. She had been so shy and hesitant last eve—at the beginning of the night. By early this morn, her natural vivaciousness had emerged, and he recognized that his new wife had a quick wit and a keen mind, and held fervent opinions on any number of topics.
Never had he felt this way about a woman.
He had liked and respected his first wife, Dahlia. Her father and his had neighboring lands, and he and Dahlia had known each other forever. Dahlia had succumbed to a wasting sickness some three winters earlier. He had mourned the loss of his wife, and been saddened and embittered by the futility of her death.
He was a man who adhered to strict ethics, who valued discipline, loyalty, and honesty, and eschewed volatile emotions. Yet, Ainslin had felled him the second he saw her dearling face. The pure joy she took in caring for her sons had enchanted him. Never had he experienced such a frantic and obsessive compulsion to protect and cherish someone.
He had fought his feelings for a sennight.
Avowed to purge his craving to smell her, see her, touch her, and taste her, but each furtive glimpse of her had only increased his determination to make her his. He had thought once he claimed her, once he sheathed his cock in her channel, his yearnings would be satisfied, would subside.
Nay.
Taking her last eve, the fact that he had breached her maidenhead, had only served to ratchet his possessiveness and desire.
Not being able to find her this day had driven him to the point of madness.
Mayhap Ainslin had realized the power she wielded over him.
She would not lead him by the cock.
For a certainty, this unholy tenderness bruising the insides of his ribcage did not mean he had lost his heart to her.
’Twas his pecker thinking for him and not his mind.
Once he’d had his fill of her, his normal rigid control would return. And he would never let her know of his fanatical need for her.
Arms crossed, legs spread in warrior stance, he watched and waited as Thora and Greta and Helene took their leave of Ainslin.
Head bent, hands folded at her waist, she trudged toward him at the pace of a slug. She glanced up, flinched visibly, and then stumbled. Torsten vaulted the steps and caught her just as she toppled. Heart racing at her near miss, for her forehead would’ve hit the corner of the second step, he tightened his hold on her and huffed a relieved sigh.
She trembled in his arms.
Guilt assailed him.
Though he had been glad of her terror of him not minutes before, now he felt her shaking and struggling not to let her body touch his, and he could not hold onto his rage.
Climbing the four stairs at a slow speed, he freed a hand to open the lodge’s door, and, once they were inside, kicked the slab shut. The warm spring day did not necessitate him lighting a fire, so he marched to his oversize chair by the hearth, and sat.
Stiff and taut, fingers twined together in her lap, she fixed her gaze on her lap.
What were her thoughts?
Frustrated, puzzled by her infuriating behavior, he sought to understand why she had disobeyed him. “Did not Helga inform you that you were to rest and remain at the lodge until I fetched you for the midday meal?”
Wide, startled, green eyes flecked with amber, stared at him. “Yay and nay. Aye, she did tell me you ordered me not to lift a finger this day. And that I was to be confined to the lodge, but she said naught of you fetching me.”
The vehemence with which she spat the words finger and confined surprised him. Did she believe his directive a punishment?
Nudging her jaw so she could not avoid looking at him, he explained, “’Twas out of concern for you, Ainslin, that I ordered your rest. You have travelled many leagues, and I used you harder than I should have last eve. You were a maid. I was not cert you would be able to walk this morn.”
She blushed hot and fierce and tried to duck away from his glance.
“Nay, elska. Answer me true. Is your puss sore?”
The color washing over her face and neck deepened and he wondered if her beautiful tits also wore that most delicious shade of rose.
“Aye,” she whispered and spoke to his jaw.
Until that moment Torsten had not realized how much he’d yearned for a nay. “Thus my order to rest.”
“I may be tender there, my lord, but the rest of me is whole and hale. I am most anxious to take up my duties as your wife.” She twisted one thumb over the other and peeped up at him.
At once, his shaft thickened. “You performed your duties most exquisitely last eve, Ainslin.”
Her throat worked and he became fascinated by the pulse leaping in the center of her delicate collarbone. To his delight, she touched her fingertips to his cheek. “I would prove I am worthy of all you have done for me, my lord. I yearn to see to your hall and holding. I wish to learn your customs and preferences, my lord.”
“Torsten,” he corrected. “It pleases me to know this, but I would not have you tire yourself and risk your health. This is a harsh land. Jarl Olsson, Helga’s betrothed, agreed to wait until after the harvest to wed her. ’Twill give you time to work with Helga and ease into her duties.”
Ainslin snapped her teeth together. She lurched to standing, fists clenched, and nostrils quivering like a leaves in a whirlwind. “Nay. Say you did not do this.”
She kneaded her temples and paced a tight circle around his chair. Then she halted right in front of him and jammed her hands on her hips.
“What would your warriors have thought did it take you three moons to assume command? No wonder Helga refused me the keys to the keep and the spice chests. See you not what you have done? All will question my authority as lady of Bear Hall.”
Stunned by Ainslin’s burst of anger and aroused by her passionate censure, he clamped his lips together curious to see what his wife would do next. He should have known that her fiery response to his swiving went with a quick temper.
“There is but one way to fix this, husband.” She folded her arms and speared him with a narrow-eyed glower.
“Aye. I will command Helga to give the keys to you and arrange for her to depart to Trondheim forthwith.” ’Twas obvious what had to be done.
“Nay.” She stamped a foot. “Nay. Helga must defer to me. Not to the jarl. None shall respect me or trust me if you humiliate me in this manner. Nay, husband. You must give me your word that you will allow me to settle matters with Helga.”
Who was this defiant woman facing him?
Had Ruard described her as meek and mild?
No female had ever countermanded him. Ainslin needed to learn her place. “I am jarl. And you will not gainsay me, wife. Disobeying the command
of a jarl is a whipping offense.”
Her jaw went slack, and her eyes brimmed with moisture. “You would whip me?”
He hated the wobbling of her voice and prayed to Freya that she would not shed tears. Struggled to resist the urge to drag her into his arms and soothe her with kisses and caresses. He had never raised a hand to a woman, girl, or child, and he had no intention of treating Ainslin cruelly.
But, he was jarl and rules were rules. “Ainslin, you disobeyed my direct order. And all know that you have done so. Who would respect me if I do not punish you?”
Dismay clouded her features. She bowed her head. “I understand my lord, and I beg your pardon. You must do your duty.”
He cringed at her cowed tone. Recalled the Ainslin of this morn, who had been full of teasing mischief, who had become fascinated by his pecker, and who had returned his passion twofold. Sighing loudly in surrender, he pulled her tight against him, and crooned, “Nay, Ainslin. I will not whip you.”
“But, you have the right of it, my lord. You cannot have one rule for your wife and another for all others.” She squared her shoulders and stood straight and tall as if bracing for the lash of the whip.
He tugged the ribbon bow tying her braid together apart and loosened the plait with his fingers. “You are new to our customs as you said, and you were not aware of the consequences of your actions.”
Frowning, she asked, “Will that suffice to show I meant no disrespect to you, my lord?”
“Torsten.” Irritated by her my lording, he patted his lap. “Sit.”
The mulish cant to her mouth when she obeyed his order told him she did so under protest. He heaved another sigh and debated how to sweeten her peevishness. “My men and I searched for you for some time. Were you and Thora visiting Greta and her daughter?”
An alarming thought crossed his mind. Had his overuse of her last eve resulted in an injury? “Had you need of Greta’s mother, our healer?”
“Nay.” She looked askance at him. “I met Greta and Helene in the kitchen. After Helga told me that you ordered me to remain in the lodge, I invited them to walk back with Thora and I. We stopped for a while in a meadow on the other side of the woods before returning here.”
