by Fabio
"May I go to Loire with Harald and Ragar?"
These were the first words out of Reyna's mouth when she and Viktor entered their bedchamber. Beyond them near the hearth, Reyna's little fox perked up her ears and watched them with interest.
Viktor turned to his wife with regret. "You know I cannot allow you to do that."
"Why?" she demanded.
"Why do you want to go to Loire, Reyna?" he countered.
" Tis the land of my people—the land of my birth."
"I know that. And I realize you knew much happiness there. But what you must understand is that your place is here with me. We can find this same happiness together."
"Nay!"
"Why nay?" he asked in anger and hurt. "Why won't you open your mind a little to the possibilities of our future together—here?"
"You are the one with his mind tightly closed, my husband." She stepped closer and spoke vehemently. "You must know I want this more than all else."
"More than me?" he asked bitterly.
In her passion, she spoke without thought. "Yea."
He stormed off moodily to sit on his bench, and she at once regretted her impulsive remark. She followed him and stood before him, twisting her ringers together as he glowered and began untying his boots.
I did not mean my words as they sounded," she admitted in a small voice.
Then how did you mean them?" he challenged, eyes gleaming. "Does what we have shared count for so little with you, Reyna?"
She lowered her gaze. "Nay. It counts for much."
"But you would leave me"—he paused to snap his fingers—"just like that."
She heaved a frustrated breath. "Yea, because Ragar and Harald are sailing for Loire"—she paused to snap her fingers—"just like that!"
Viktor ground his jaw.
"But you can come with me," she added earnestly.
"And abandon my responsibilities here?"
"You care more for those duties than you care for me!"
"That is not true. Our destiny—and that of Vanaheim—are bound together, Reyna."
"How can you know this?"
He rose and looked deeply into her eyes. "I saw it all in a dream I had in Futuregard. I saw the two of us bringing all the peoples of Vanaheim together. We belong with each other, Reyna—here in Vanaheim, not in Loire."
She frowned and considered his words for a long moment. The vision he described sounded quite powerful, and she felt very torn. Still, her obsession to return to Loire pulled at her more powerfully than the temptation of Viktor's dream. All she could see was that here at last was her opportunity to return to the land of her birth—and that Viktor was denying her in this.
Facing him proudly, she asked, " 'Tis true what you said last night?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you love me?"
"Yea," he whispered intensely. "Very much."
"But how can you say nay if you love me?"
Her ruthless words slashed at Viktor's heart. "Now you are using my own love as a weapon against me. It is because I love you that I must plot a course that is best for you—and for the child we will have together."
Exasperated and confused, she stamped her foot. 'Then you still say nay?"
His words were adamant. "I still say nay."
"But you will let Ragar and Harald go?"
"They are both free men who may do as they please. You are my wife, Reyna."
She shot him a belligerent look and began to pace. He sat down on the bench and finished untying his boots. He still felt very hurt that Reyna would not hesitate to desert him to return to Loire. But he also regretted having been compelled to put down his foot so hard with his rebellious bride, even though he really had no choice—he could not let Reyna leave him and go to Loire, since their entire destiny together could be disrupted or even destroyed.
Yet it killed him to see her so frustrated, so angry with him. After the intimacies they had shared, he could not bear the feelings of recrimination and estrangement. Indeed, even as they had argued, he had felt himself becoming aroused, as if his body, too, were determined to end the alienation, to demonstrate to her that there would be no wrenching them apart, ever. His wife's feistiness—along with (he seductive sway of her hips and breasts as she paced about in such a huff—only further heightened his desires, and his determination not to allow his willful bride to drive a wedge between them.
"Reyna, we are husband and wife," he told her patiently. "My expecting you to stay here with me is hardly cruel and unusual punishment"
From the defiant glare she hurled at him, she evidently thought better of his words.
"Come over here and let's kiss and make up/' he suggested huskily.
"Rot in Heir she retorted as she stalked past him.
Viktor reached out and grabbed her, hauling her onto his lap. She struggled furiously, but he was much, much stronger. He simply held her tightly against him until she expended her rage and her curses.
He pressed his lips to her cheek. She gasped and fought him anew. He quelled her struggles with a pinch on her bottom. As she seethed helplessly against him, he whispered, "I'm sorry I had to be so stern with you. You'll see in the long run that this is for the best."
"Release me," she snapped murderously.
"No." He nuzzled her cheek and began tugging up her skirts. "You are my wife and I want to make up with you ... and then make love to you."
She twisted around in his arms, her visage spiteful. "Do it, then. Hike up my skirts and take me on your bench, as your warriors do with the female thralls. 'Twill make no difference."
Very angry and hurt himself, Viktor shoved her away.
Reyna clambered to her feet, threw Viktor a mutinous glance, and went over to crouch by the hearth, petting her little fox. In truth, she felt very conflicted over her desire to leave him and return to Loire, but she was not about to admit this to him and weaken her own case. And she remained furious at him for telling her nay.
Unfortunately, being pinned down on her husband's lap for so long had aroused much more than Reyna's wrath, and she found her gaze straying irresistibly back to him. She watched him stand and shuck off his leggings, then his tunic. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his magnificent nakedness. As she already knew from struggling on his lap, he was very aroused, his manhood hard and thick. Her fingers clenched in Freya's soft fur as she remembered how that wondrous shaft had felt inside her last night—so hot, big, and smooth, filling her until she was near bursting, then stretching her even more, until the wrenching pleasure had her sobbing.
Her guilty gaze strayed higher, to his flat, hard belly, his muscled chest and shoulders, his strong arms—arms that had held her so tightly last night She gazed at his mouth, that hot instrument that had tortured her most secret places so sweetly, so relentlessly. She took note of the stubborn set of his chin and wondered suddenly if he felt hurt, too, if it had smarted when she had asked if she could leave him. Caring for someone else's feelings was not a common concern for Reyna— yet guilt gnawed at her for any pain she might have dealt her husband. With awe, she realized that she felt as if they truly were one person now—when she hurt him, she wounded herself equally. Her mourn went dry again as, she realized just how she wanted to soothe his hurts, and her own.
She began to tremble, appalled at herself, but unable to contain the overwhelming flood tide of her desires. How could she be so angry at him, so torn and confused, yet still want him so much? Verily, her fury made her desire even stronger!
Evidently, he had caught on to her perusal, for he stared back at her, his gaze bright and fierce. When he spoke, his voice came out low and surly. "What are you staring at, wife?'
'Think you I will lie with you now?" she challenged, struggling to sound defiant
He sat back down on the bench and began folding his garments. "Why not? It will make no difference, right?"
Feeling a stab of conscience, she offered, "If you will promise to let me go to Loire, I will lie with
you tonight."
His head shot up and he whistled. "Feminine wiles! I thought you were above such tactics, Reyna. A knife in my back—or in my heart—is much more your style."
Both intrigued and guilty, she rose and began moving toward him. "Have I put a knife in your heart?"
His voice rang with hurt. "Hah! You want to desert me and go to Loire—"
"I said you may come, too!"
"How generous of you," he snapped, folding his leggings.
She stared at him, feeling even guiltier and weaker with desire, especially standing so close to his tempting body and turgid manhood.
"Will you sit on your bench ail night?" she asked in a cracking voice.
"Should I sleep with my wife when it makes no difference to her?" he shot back.
She sat down beside him and reached out to stroke his manhood. "It makes a difference."
Viktor sucked in his breath, but his eyes still gleamed with accusation. "Then you lied."
"I was angry."
"Does it make a difference only because you think you can sway me?" he demanded.
"Nay."
"Nay? Then why does it make a difference, Reyna?"
Shamelessly, she admitted, "Because I want you more than I want my anger."
Viktor helplessly clenched his fists. She knew how to torture a man, all right. She was flagrantly trying to entice him—and it was working! "My, I've really grown in your esteem," he managed to utter. "Now your lust for me is placed a notch above your rage, eh?"
"Verily, sometimes the two feel much the same," she murmured, her words edged in desperation,
Viktor gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He couldn't answer Reyna, although the truth of her words almost had him exploding in her ringers. He found himself heaving in tortured breaths and even forgetting why he was so angry at her.
She continued to caress him skillfully. "I was wondering how you will find ease, my husband, if you do not put this inside me."
He opened his eyes and stared at her.
" "I will keep you awake all night, I would reckon," she went on teasingly. " 'Tis so swollen. Does it hurt?"
"My God, Reyna!"
"It hurts where I want you," she told him, meeting his fervent gaze. "And where you touched me last night My thighs still ache from holding you inside me—and deep in my womanhood, I burn for you even more."
With a raw cry, Viktor crushed his wife close and kissed her rapaciously. Within seconds he had pulled her astride him and raised her skirts. He parted the Lips of her womanhood and pushed himself into her tight sheath, to her low cry of rapture.
'Tell me where you ache," he whispered, half penetrating her, rubbing provocatively against the front wall of her tiny vessel. "Is it here?"
"Yea—yea," she cried frantically, tearing at the ties to her bodice and pressing her breast into his mouth.
Sucking on her breast greedily, Viktor continued to thrust against her special, secret place, easing in and out slowly, torturing her, until she begged to feel all of him. His control broken, he buried himself in her, wrenching a broken cry from her, touching the mouth of her womb. He held her there, bracing his hands at the small of her back and tilting her deeply into her pleasure—and his own.
"Is it here?" he whispered.
"Oh, yea!" Her lips seized his in a trembling kiss.
They rocked there for exquisite moments, devouring each other, until Viktor clutched her close and thrust high, bursting inside her even as she shuddered with the force of her own climax.
Tenderly, he carried her to the bed, stripping off her garment and nestling her back against his chest He ran his hands over her thighs, her bottom, her breasts, and contemplated making love to her all night long.
But as he began to turn her toward him, she stiffened,
"You must understand," she said in a small voice. "I want nothing more than to go home.'
Again hurt assailed Viktor. "Reyna, this is your home."
"I want nothing more," she repeated in anguish.
Not even him or their future child. There was no need for her to say the words now, for they were burned across Viktor's mind and heart and filled him with sadness. Despite the intimacy he and Reyna had shared, they were still worlds apart in many ways. He could only pray for the day when his wife would love him and trust him as much as he did her.
For now, his denying her fondest wish had put distance between them. For now, the honeymoon was over.
TWENTY-EIGHT
TAKE CARE, MY BROTHER. GODSPEED."
The next morning, Viktor and Reyna bade Ragar and Harald farewell down at the fjord. The small group stood on the crude wharf in the chill air. Nearby was moored a long karve; with its square sail emblazoned in diamond panels of blue and white, the small ship would soon bear Harald and Ragar to Loire. The vessel had already been heavily loaded with the necessary provisions and drink; the three crewmen Viktor had assigned to the journey were at their places on board.
Viktor watched his wife clutch her half brother as if for dear life. He noted how young and fragile both siblings appeared, how much the two resembled each other, even down to their melancholy, tear-streaked expressions. He hated having to refuse Reyna's request to go to Loire with Ragar, and he felt deeply troubled, as if he were breaking up a family.
But wasn't he Reyna's family now? Didn't he have every right to insist that his wife put their love, their future together, first? How could he make her understand that their destiny truly lay here, on Vanaheim, and not in Loire?
Reyna clung to Ragar and gave his forehead a last kiss. She braved a smile. "May you have fair winds and good fortune, my brother I will worry about you, out so many weeks at sea."
"We will fare well," Ragar assured her. " 'Tis summer and if the gods smile, the weather should remain mild throughout our voyage." He coughed. " 'Tis you I fret over. There will be a terrible battle to come here on Vanaheim. I wish you could accompany us."
After shooting her husband a resentful glance, Reyna nodded soberly. "Do not worry. As you are aware, I can protect myself. And one day I will join you in Loire. I vow it."
Ragar turned to Viktor, who had listened to the exchange with a scowl. "Thank you for so generously providing for our passage."
"It is the least! can do," "Viktor answered. 'Take care, now."
Reyna and Ragar shared a last, poignant hug. Observing his wife's heartsick expression as she watched Ragar and Harald board the karve, Viktor felt hellishly guilty, yet still as convinced as ever that Reyna belonged here with him. The vessel slipped into the rushing fjord, and Viktor and Reyna remained there, not speaking, Reyna waving and calling out tearful farewells until the vessel disappeared from sight.
"Darling, we must head home now," he said at last.
She eyed him defiantly, her face still wet with tears. "Nay. I will ride down to the beach and see if I can spot them one last time as they sail into the ocean."
He reached out to brush a tear from her cheek. "Reyna, why torture yourself this way?"
She jerked away from his touch. "He is my brother!"
Viktor drew a heavy breath. "And I am your husband. I'll come with you."
"Nay!" With less vehemence, she added, "I have a need to be alone."
Viktor considered her words, then sighed. "I understand how torn you must feel about Ragar and Harald. But if I let you go to the beach, will you promise you won't try to signal to the ship, to take you on board?"
Her laughter was scornful. "Think you your loyal crewmen will eagerly bid me welcome on their voyage?"
"You have a point—but I must have your promise, nonetheless?"
"You have it," she practically spit at him.
"And will you also give me your word that you won't run away, now that Ragar and Harald are no longer hostages?"
She waved a hand in exasperation. "Where would I go? Back to Wolfgard, who now yearns to murder me? Thanks to you, I have no home!'
Losing patience, he exclaimed, "Your home is with me
, Reyna!"
"Loire is my home! And there my heart has gone, with Ragar!"
At the vehemence of her declaration, Viktor was immersed in sudden pain, and even wondering if she had given herself to him last night in order to try to change his mind. Part of him yearned to ask her outright, but he feared he couldn't bear hearing her answer.
He gathered his forbearance and spoke patiently. "Reyna, I know this must be very difficult for you. Go on to the beach, but please do not linger long. I worry for you, with Wolfgard's warriors about"
Her hand moved to the dagger at her waist. "I can defend myself—indeed, I would relish slaying a few whoresons at the moment."
No doubt she would, Viktor thought ruefully. "Just take care."
Without another word, his wife was off, rushing to her pony.
Viktor's thoughts remained troubled as he rode back toward the village on Sleipnir. He did worry about Reyna, and she might well be more vulnerable than she thought. Given the appearance of the would-be assassins last night and the warnings Ragar had issued, he was certain now that renewed war with Wolfgard was both imminent and inevitable. How could he hold his bellicose enemy at bay without undue bloodshed?
Near the village, he spotted Ottar and Iva together, kissing beneath the branches of a willow tree. Grinning at the sight, Viktor dismounted and approached the couple. Over the past days, he had continued to spot the two together often, walking the tundra hand in hand or even sharing Iva's chores, Ottar helping her churn butter or comb wool to be spun into thread.
"Good morning," he called out.
The two pulled apart with startled, embarrassed expressions-
“Good morrow, jarl," Ottar replied tensely.
Standing before them, Viktor nodded to the girl. "Iva, if you will excuse us, I would have a word with Ottar."
"Yea, master." The nervous girl hastily bowed and rushed off,
"How may I serve you, jarl?" Ottar asked.
"I have a mission for you." Viktor raised an eyebrow sternly. "But first, I will know your intentions toward Iva. I get the impression the two of you are quite an item now. Indeed, my wife mentioned seeing you wooing Iva recently outside the shieling cottage."
The lad actually flushed. "Jarl, I realize it will not sit well with my comrades, Iva being a slave, but I wish to make the girl my wife." Proudly, he added, "She has told me you will free her."
