Naughty in Norway

by Edwards, Christine

My feet make loud crunching sounds as I step out into the lightly falling flakes. Turning to pull the door slightly ajar—because I certainly don’t want to be locked out—I see that the wooden cabin is a beautiful rich red with stark white trim around the window and door-frame. Did he grow up here?

  I round the right side of the cabin and take in the wonder of the water that laps against the shoreline. Picking up one of the thousands of smooth, weighty gray stones, I flip it out across the crystal water.

  I wonder where he headed out to fish. There’s a short plank dock. Perhaps he has a boat?

  Crossing the forty feet to the shed, I see that it’s larger than I’d initially thought—the size of an American two-car garage and painted to match the rorbu. It must be his workshop. I stop in front of it and reach out to pull on the door handle. Locked, of course. Walking around the building, I spy several square windows running down the length of the wall. I peek in the first of three and easily make out a large snowmobile, a huge wooden work platform with a table saw on top, and a wall covered with hanging tools. He must spend a good bit of time out here. Everything is clean and neatly displayed.

  The third window offers me the jackpot when I look through and see a tall, glass gun case in the far corner of the shop. From this distance I can see three rifles and a selection of handguns. I’m beginning to think the only way I could ever put distance between us is with a gun.

  Oh God, it has been so long since I’ve held a gun, my hands shaking, on that horrible night back in California …

  I never thought I’d need to touch one again.

  Chapter Eight

  ***

  Spirited American

  I’m soaking in a decadent pool of dense bubbles in the lavish tub as I sing out Frou Frou’s catchy melodic song, “Let Go.” My cellphone has been reduced to a simple stereo and is blaring on the counter. The bathroom has gotten nice and warm due to the enclosed space and steam from the hot water, and I can almost forget my ridiculous situation. Baths are simply fantastic!

  Just as I lift my leg to inspect my shave job and red tootsies, the bathroom door is violently thrown open. I give a startled scream and nearly jump clean out of the tub. Water splashes across the tan tile floor from my flailing arms as I sink, mortified, low into the water in a desperate attempt to cover myself with the mass of bubbles.

  He’s beyond pissed off as he levels me with those magnetic eyes and roars, “I told you not to go outside this cabin. Why did you disobey me? Again!”

  Oh. My. God. Here it is. He’s enraged and it’s petrifying.

  “What in the hell are you talking about?” My voice quivers on the last word.

  “Woman, I saw your footprints all around my workshop. Don’t mess around with me.”

  “Get out of here, you animal!” I don’t care how livid he is. I’m done with the polite crap. Who does he think he is bursting in here while I’m bathing? I’m not having any of this!

  “Animal, eh? You’re out of warnings, American.”

  Suddenly I’m pulled out of the tub by my upper arm with only thousands of fluffy white bubbles to cover my quivering body.

  “Oh God, no,” I plead desperately with him.

  He practically drags me, sopping wet, to my bedroom as I violently writhe against him in a manic attempt to get away.

  Without any explanation, my arm is released and I grab blindly for the closest thing that can provide cover for my nakedness. I clutch the thick down comforter against me, shielding me from the chin down.

  Involuntary tears prick my eyes as I nearly beg, “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

  In a mocking scoff he snarls, “Unlike you impulsive Americans, I’d like to think that I have more self-control than that.”

  I take two small uncoordinated steps back, desperate to disappear into the wall … anywhere at this point.

  “Don’t you dare move, woman.”

  On that command I freeze and stare, stunned as I watch him prowl out of the bedroom. The front door is opened and then immediately slammed. I know that he told me not to move, but I have to cover myself, so I reach a shaking hand down to grip the first thing I touch on the top of my duffle—my pink sleep nightie. I quickly pull it on my still damp frame and bend to reclaim the comforter.

  He enters the room and narrows his eyes in disapproval. “I told you not to move. You’re gonna get it through your strong-willed head that I make the rules and I’m here to make damn certain that you follow them.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “Say it again.” It’s said in a low whisper that chills me to the bone and causes the hair on my arms to stand on end.

  This is it, Vail, you’re playing with fire.

  He takes slow, measured steps toward me and I chance a glance down to see that he has a significant length of braided white rope in his hand. I was too stunned to notice it before. I lurch out of my stance, dropping the comforter. I try my best to skirt around him, anxious to avoid whatever is coming next. Air flies out of my lungs as an imposing forearm hooks around my mid-section. My own forward momentum makes it easy for him to pull me backward, off balance, as I’m shoved onto my back on the bed.

  Nooo!

  Before I can cry out, he descends on me. He drops the rope onto my chest and straddles my quaking body, yet strangely his face is calm and smooth. I manage one upward slap against his cheek before he effortlessly takes over, pinning my wrists against the pillow.

  I can’t breathe right and have never felt this level of terror in my life.

  “I’m … I’m so-sorry. Please don’t do this.”

  Skeptical eyes bore into mine. “What exactly do you think I’m going to do with you?”

  “Just, please, I apologize, Alreck. You left me locked up here and I was curious. Is that a crime?”

  Oh, no. I can feel that my nightie has ridden up and I had no time to pull on panties before he burst back into the room. I try to wiggle my hips to force my nightie lower but his weight is imposing, offering me no leeway.

  He bends his head low, an inch from my face. Is he going to kiss me? I tremble beneath him. The expectation of what’s to come is thick in the air.

  Long seconds pass before he finally whispers, so close that I can feel his words coming out in deep breaths against my lips, “This should teach you to listen to me.”

  “What?” As the word leaves my lips, my left arm is gently pulled out to the side. Alreck pushes himself off me and moves to the side of the bed.

  Realization hits me like a wrecking ball. He’s really going through with this? He’s really going to tie me to the bed?

  With my right arm free and his imposing weight off me, I try my best to wrestle out of his powerful grasp and can only watch in horror as he ties the smooth rope firmly around my left wrist. Then he bends down to secure it to one of the wooden legs of the platform bed.

  “You’re crazy! Untie it!”

  Not a word.

  I smack frantically with my free right palm on any part of his body that I can connect with before he straddles me once again. It takes only a minute for him to gain control of my free hand and tether it like an animal to the opposite leg of the bed.

  Exhausted and resigned, I glare at him in fury. “What are you going to do now, rape me?”

  Without looking at me, he picks the dyne up off the floor and throws it carelessly across my shaking body.

  He pauses at the open door, his eyes still averted. “That will happen every time you disobey me.”

  I remain defiantly silent

  Then he’s gone. I hear the front door slam shut, shaking the rorbu with his vigorous strength.

  He can go to hell!

  How utterly embarrassing.

  The worst part is I’m left mortifyingly aroused and confused. I ache with need for him yet I hate him all the same.

  ***

  I’m not certain how much time has passed, perhaps an hour, when he enters. He’s carrying a tray with dinner on it. I turn my face to the right, fac
ing the wall, and refuse to meet his gaze. I hear the lone chair pulled close to the bed. Why can’t he leave me be? Does he have to humiliate me as well?

  “Get out, I want to be alone,” I say in an even voice.

  “Look at me.”

  No way.

  “Do as I say.”

  I turn and give him my best ‘die now’ stare while asking in a supremely sassy tone, “What can I do for you?”

  He surprises me by breaking into a full grin. “I admire your spirit, American. I wish more women were like you.”

  “Flattery will get you nowhere, kidnapper,” I seethe at him.

  Damn if he doesn’t still seem amused!

  “Here, you’re going to eat.”

  “Ahh, not quite possible right now.” I tug on my restraints.

  He stands and places the tray with soup, bread, and fruit down gently onto the seat of the chair. I can’t help but cringe as he bends over me. He notices and slows his movements while saying, “Here, let’s get you to sit up.” He lifts under my arms and props me into a sitting position with my back resting against a pillow propped against the headboard. I want to tell him to back off but wisely hold my tongue.

  He resumes his seated position and stirs the soup. “It would be best if you stop defying me. I hope now that you understand this.”

  A perfect brow arches in question.

  I tighten my lips and set my jaw.

  “I can see that you need more time to think on it. Here, you need to eat.”

  “I can feed myself, thanks.”

  “To do that, I’d have to release you. I’m going to feed you.”

  I see no way out of this. He’s tenacious enough to sit here across from me all night long.

  “Fine.”

  He feeds me slowly. Oddly gentle for such a powerful man. We remain silent.

  After several bites, I politely tell him that I’m full. I watch him stand and disappear with the tray. Within a minute he returns and I’m thankful he doesn’t appear angry anymore.

  Standing above me with hands gently resting on his jean-clad hips, he asks, “If I release you, will you behave?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  With a deep grunt, he bends down and unties my right arm. Then, kneeling on the bed, he reaches directly across me to untie the other arm. The soft scent of soap and musk drifts down to my nose. How can he possibly smell so fine?

  Once I’m untied I move back away from him.

  He’s already exiting the bedroom, winding his rope between his hand and his elbow. “I don’t like punishing you, but I’ll do what is necessary to ensure that you mind me.”

  He’ll never have another chance. I’ll make sure of that.

  ***

  I wake the next morning at seven-forty and glance out the small window. Darkness still weighs heavily in the sky. I gently open my door and see a rumpled blanket on the gray sofa, but nothing more.

  He’s gone, good.

  Another note waits for me on the coffee table. It simply reads: Gone hunting.

  Wonderful. I am also going hunting … for my freedom.

  I look to the cross-country skis mounted over the couch and smile. A plan came to me while I was falling asleep. Those skis are going to be my ticket out of here. I just need to figure out how to get them down before Alreck comes home. First things first. I race back to the bedroom and begin the layering process: thermal, fleece, wool sweater, parka. I only have jeans in my bag so I make do by pulling on two pairs of leggings underneath. Doubling up on socks and strapping on my tall Helly Hansen waterproof boots, I head back into the main room and start scouring the drawers for something to pry the skis down with.

  I come across what looks like a short oyster-shucking knife and decide it’ll have to do. Standing on the back of the sofa, I’m relieved to find I’m able to pry them off their wall mountings with little effort. The skies are vintage, which is convenient because the leather buckles will easily accommodate my booted feet rather than modern ski boots. They’re old, though, and I’m a bit nervous about the performance and hope that they won’t crack on me. They probably haven’t been waxed in over twenty years. The long blue and red poles are on a set of little hooks just above where the skis hung and lift right off the wall.

  Leaning the skis against the door, I race to the kitchen to fill a tall thermos with water and grab a sleeve of crackers and a package of sliced cheese. Hopefully I’ll make it back to the main road within a few hours. I’ll be racing against the waning light this time of year. Taking the items to my room, I lay them out on the bed and dump any unnecessary things out of my purse, quickly filling it with the food, water, ID card, money and passport. I zip up my down parka and strap my purse across my chest. Grabbing my hat and mittens, I frantically scan the room and determine that I have only what’s absolutely necessary. The rest can stay here.

  Here I go.

  I open the door and peek out. The coast is clear and I waste no time carrying my skis outside to lay them flat on the ground beside his massive Ford. Wouldn’t my life be exponentially easier if I could simply pick a lock and hot wire this truck?

  Tilting my face up toward the morning sky, I’m relieved it’s not snowing. The leather buckles on the skis are still in good shape and latch tight across my boots. After what happened last night, I know I need to leave before things get even further out of hand. I have no idea what Alreck intends to do with me and the attraction I feel for him is both unsettling and unnatural.

  I’ve skied on and off since I was six years old and I’m far from advanced, but I would definitely call my skills solidly intermediate. Slow and steady, Vail. My plan is to make it to the old man’s cabin and beg him to drive me to the main road, where hopefully I can pick up a ride. Alreck told him to ignore me, but how could any empathetic person not help a kidnap victim?

  ***

  Time floats by as I make my way down the winding trail. I’ve seen three rabbits and two hawks so far and I pretend they’re fellow escape artists fleeing from their own cages. I stop briefly to have some water and pull out my phone to check for any indication of cell service. It’s bound to work somewhere on these islands. I wish that I could put on my music as a source of comfort and entertainment, but I need to conserve the battery and keep my ears alert.

  I’ve already broken into a healthy sweat and know that I need to keep going while my muscles are warm. My knowledge of hypothermia is not vast, but it seems you can avoid it by using energy and keeping warm. Surprisingly, I’m not cold, probably because of all the exertion and adrenaline. Checking my watch, I’m shocked to see that it’s already close to noon. I can’t believe that I’ve skied this far without coming to the cabin. Just as the thought crosses my mind, my eyes begin to make out a small structure in the distance. Yes!

  I’m pumped as I close the distance to Edgard’s little rorbu. Come on, don’t turn me away!

  Panting, I cruise up to the front door and bend to unbuckle my skis. I’m almost giddy as I knock.

  “Hello? Is anyone there?” I call out and pound harder as an uneasy feeling begins to rise up within me. What if he’s out hunting with Alreck? What if he knows it’s me out here and is following instructions and blowing me off? Damn!

  I try the door and am annoyed to find it’s locked. I walk to the closest window and peer into the simple structure. Everything is still and tidy. He must be out. I check my watch again and sigh—just after one o’clock. I have less than three hours to get to that main road. The drive in was incredibly dark by mid-afternoon because light is scarce in early December. I could easily become lost and who knows what could be out here at night …

  ***

  My mind is urging me to move faster but my body is beyond fatigued. On and on go the rhythmic movements. It feels like being trapped on an elliptical machine for hours on end.

  Utter and complete exhaustion weighs heavy on my limbs. Maybe I could stop for a quick break? No way, Vail, don’t even go there, girl. Giving up out here in these t
emps could easily lead to death.

  Be strong, lady.

  I push myself with ongoing silent mental pep talks as I trudge forward. The light is starting to dim around me, enveloping me like a shroud.

  Okay, don’t panic. I’ll just keep going, even if it gets dark. I’ll just move forward and look for the path … assuming I’ll be able to see it.

  I have to stop to eat. My body is crying out in constant protest and the only thought repeatedly banging about in my skull is “Sit down. Have a rest.” No! I nibble on the crackers and cheese, barely tasting them. Fear of the unknown has my stomach in knots.

  Sweat is covering my face and I can feel it soaking my shirt, both front and back. Shudders rack my body in response to the chill as I glance up again at the swiftly darkening sky. I was positive I’d have reached the road by now; it can’t be that far away. At least I’m well away from my whack job kidnapper. Thanks a million, Lisetta!

  Yeah, that’s it, get mad. That’ll keep me going strong …

  ***

  I can’t read the face on my watch in the growing darkness. How am I ever going to stay on this trail? I’m growing increasingly scared, knowing that there’s just no way I could make it all the way back to Alreck’s cabin now, even if I wanted to. Exhaustion has me doubled over, panting desperately, mittens braced against my jeans.

  If I sit down I’ll get wet and it will be all over.

  Fantastic.

  I move forward, fumbling now, hoping that my skis will be my guide in front of me, warning me if I’m about to bump into anything. I wonder if he has returned yet, if he knows that I’m gone … At this point I’m starting to long for him, hoping that he’ll come and find me soon. That he’ll rescue me from my own stupidity.

  The temperature has dropped dramatically. My quaking is non-stop now and I know that it’s not coming from fear. Something is very wrong. My limbs are moving slower than normal and apprehension has me nearly immobile.

  I have to rest.

  I choose the nearest sturdy tree and lean against it with my left shoulder. My jacket is getting severely chafed from my trembling and I’m having trouble remembering my escape route. I try to reach into my purse for more water and I’m vaguely aware that my movements are clumsy and slower than normal.