“You love him.”
“Yes. He’s such a fine man, he deserves a son. I want him to have what I cannot give him.”
“What he wants, Droplaug, is you. Do you know what he said to my mother and me when we were here earlier? He said if there’s a choice between you and the child, he wanted us to save you. Even if you can never have children, you are his life, everything to him.”
“He said that?” She grasped Silvi’s arm.
“Yes. How would you feel if he died?”
“It would be like my own death.”
“Then what will he feel if you allow yourself to die?” She took the woman’s tearstained face in her hands and spoke very clearly. “It would be no different. Will you do that to him? Will you break his heart? Would you have him mourn both a wife and a child? You must be here for him so he’s not alone in his grief. You are so much more than just your womb, Droplaug. There is a vast, incredible world out there. And there is a loving, warm world here for you and Knud. He wants to be in that world with you, no matter what. Please, please stay here with him. With us.”
Tears ran from the corners of her eyes. “For Knud, then, tell me what I must do.”
Silvi met Birgitta’s hopeful gaze. “Push. Wait for a contraction and push as hard as you can.” She changed places with Birgitta, going to the foot of the bed while the servant stroked Droplaug’s hair. This was it. Her mother wasn’t here yet and they couldn’t wait.
A contraction came. “Push, Droplaug. Now.”
The woman screamed and pushed, her face red, her body taut. In a few more contractions, Silvi caught the small, still body in a blanket, cut its cord, and wrapped it quickly before Droplaug could see it. She nodded to Birgitta, who went to the door to call Knud.
He came in, his eyes moist. “I heard her scream. Is she . . . ?”
“She lives. But not the child. I’m so sorry.” She gave the bundle to Birgitta to take outside.
He went to his wife’s side, but as Birgitta passed him, he put his hand on the blanket. “What was it?”
“A son.”
His face screwed up with grief, but he composed himself with an effort and sat on the bed. “Droplaug?”
She opened her eyes. “I failed you again, Knud.”
“No. Not you. The Norns have said it is not meant to be. But I have you, and that’s all the joy I need. We’ll make a life together, just you and I.”
With a weak smile, she nodded, then her eyes closed.
He rose and went to Silvi. “Will she live?”
“When my mother gets here, she’ll examine her. But I think so. There was much blood and she still has to pass the afterbirth, but other than the child, everything else seemed to be as normal as could be expected.”
“Knud?” Droplaug’s weak voice drifted to them from the bed. Trying to smile, he sat beside her and bent over her, holding her hand.
Birgitta came back in and Silvi met her at the door. “I need to go outside for a few moments. Watch to see if she passes the afterbirth and call me when she does.”
She stepped out into the night. Magnus’s warrior nodded to her and moved off, keeping watch. She pulled water from the well and washed her hands and arms, then sank down on a bench by the house and leaned her head back against the wall. She had only just gone to sleep when Birgitta had awoken her. With almost no rest, and the emotional drain of the ordeal, her muscles were like water, exhaustion climbing through her.
There was no guarantee Droplaug would survive, but what was it her mother had told her so often? There was always hope where there was the will to live. All the years of her mother’s teaching, not only of what to do, but of what to say, had come to fruition. She’d found a strength she didn’t know she had. She smiled. And she’d finally jumped off a horse and hadn’t killed herself.
The sound of horses and a cart came to her. Her mother was there. The pain still burning in her stomach subsided. With a groan, she made herself rise as they pulled up. Nuallen lifted Lifa down.
She indicated the small bundle on the ground outside the door. “It was a boy. Droplaug lives, but she hasn’t passed the afterbirth yet.”
“I’ll tend to her.” Lifa embraced her. “I’m so very proud of you, Daughter.”
Silvi nodded and her mother went into the house. Nuallen sat down on the bench.
“Come here, Silvi. You’re going to fall down if you keep standing.”
She settled beside him and he drew her head to his shoulder. “Rest for a time. I’ll keep watch.”
She smiled. “You always have.” It felt so good to let everything go, finally. Her mother would have things well in hand inside, and Nuallen was keeping guard over them all. She closed her eyes and let the day drain away.
* * *
“I’ll take her back to the longhouse.”
Magnus’s voice woke her. Rousing, she looked up. He stood before the bench, his arms crossed, his face set. She pushed away from Nuallen, but he pulled her back to him.
“Get on your horse and I’ll hand her up to you. She’s beyond exhausted.” He picked her up as Magnus mounted his gelding.
“I can walk. Put me down. I can ride my own mare.”
“Nuallen can bring your horse back to the village.”
Nuallen lifted her up into Magnus’s arms and he settled her across his lap. He wrapped his cloak around them both. She snuggled against him. In her rush, she’d forgotten to bring a shawl and the night air was cool.
He nudged his horse into a walk and she sighed, leaning her head on his chest.
“You won’t believe what I did this night.”
“I know. You saved Droplaug. Nuallen told me everything before you woke.”
“Not that.” The warmth of his body seeped into her and it was too much work to tell him about how she’d finally dismounted like Asa did. The rest was the will of the Norns.
Magnus’s strong arms held her close against him, and his powerful legs cradled her. She breathed in his scent, her body melting even more. She should think of letting him have his way more often. This was so much better than riding her own mare back to the village.
He didn’t let go of her even when they arrived at the longhouse. The stable lad, Sjurd, held the gelding while Magnus threw his leg over the horse’s neck and slid off, still carrying her. It was late, so no one was in the common room except those who slept on the benches against the walls. None of them stirred as Magnus walked with her into their chamber. He set her on her feet and reached for the bead closing the neck of her dress. She stepped away from him.
“Thank you, but I can undress myself.”
“I’ll undress you if I like.” He unfastened the bead button at her throat. “Be silent.”
His jaw was set, his eyes hard. He was angry about finding her sleeping on Nuallen, but he had to know she was drained and this wasn’t the time to confront her about it.
She didn’t look at him as he slipped the gown to the floor. She wore only her linen shift.
“Tomorrow, you will rest. There will be no healing, runes, visions, gods, or running through the cold night, half dressed. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, Magnus. But I have duties and responsibilities. Several of the women have ailing children. I have herbs to prepare.”
He wrapped one arm around her and put his other hand on her mouth. She tried to remove it, but he was too strong. She subsided, glaring at him.
“You will rest, Silvi. Or I’ll tie you to the bed, and trust me, there won’t be much rest for you then.” He dropped his hand and stepped away. Her eyes narrowed. Was that what Asa was talking about? Then he would truly control her. His perfect body was a column of leashed strength as he came toward her. Power, so primal and male, rolled off of him, awakening her traitorous body.
“I thought you were spending the night down at the fjord.”
“No sense in riding all the way back down there now. Before I left to get you, I asked Birgitta to have a meal ready for us. I’ll return when
it’s light. For now, you’re mine. I have to be certain you obey me. For once.”
She shot him a look. “Yes, my jarl.”
“That’s better.”
“I think I’ll take Asa up on her offer.”
“What would that be?”
“Never mind.” A sword beside the bed would change his high-handed ways. If she could lift it.
Magnus answered a knock on the door and took a tray from Birgitta. He set it down on a table beside the bed. His gaze swept her body, his eyes dark. Her muscles tightened as he took her hands in his.
“Since you’re so tired, I’d thought to feed you myself, giving you only the choicest of morsels, a tiny sip of wine to relax you. But I suppose you can do without all that.”
Her knees threatened to buckle at the depth of his voice sliding over her. “Perhaps I’m more tired than I thought.”
He ran his thumb over her wrist. “I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. For anything. It’s my duty, and pleasure, to see to your needs in all ways.”
Gods. She swallowed as he let go of her hands.
“If I take that shift off, we’ll never eat. To bed. I’ll get our meal.”
She cast a glance at him over her shoulder as she walked to the bed. Sinking onto it, she watched him undress, then he retrieved the plate of food. He came back to her, his body moving with his warrior’s grace.
“Birgitta gave us a nice meal.” He put the plate on the bed between them and picked up a piece of roasted beef. Setting it against her lips, he smiled, his eyes twinkling. She took it, careful to nip at his fingers before he could withdraw them.
“Ungrateful woman.” He ate a piece himself, then offered her a slice of honeyed carrot. “Nicely, or you’ll get nothing else this night.”
She tilted her head to the side. There were certain merits to going hungry in order to teach him a thing or two. She took the piece of carrot gently, then sucked at his fingers to get all the sweet sauce off of them. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she only gave him a shy smile as she chewed.
“Mead?”
“Please.”
He tipped the cup to her lips with care as she drank, eyeing him over the rim. “May I have more beef, please?”
“You have but to ask.” He fed her another piece, holding it as she tried to take it.
She licked his fingers. He caught his breath and released the morsel.
“I don’t know what’s worse—your teeth or your tongue.”
“I suppose that depends on where they are. And what they’re doing.”
He bowed his head and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “This is one meal where I might be hungry after it’s done.”
“I still am.”
He looked at her from beneath his hair. “I don’t know. You’re torturing me on purpose. I don’t think I’ll reward you for that. I should, in fact, take you over my knee.”
What? “Am I, then, a child to be treated so?”
Eying her breasts through the thin material, he shook his head. “You’re anything but a child. But I would enjoy teaching you a thing or two about behaving.”
The room became warmer, even though no fire burned in the brazier. Her breath came short, and a liquid sensation flowed deep within her. With a shaking hand, she picked up a piece of meat and held it to his mouth. He took it with great care, watching her.
Death had visited them. But they’d defeated it, wresting Droplaug into life. Even if it wasn’t Droplaug’s time, she’d had a hand in the woman’s survival. A need for an affirmation of life burned in her. The knowledge that they’d come through the fires of the wyrd and emerged victorious swelled in her. She was alive. The sensation coursed through her, carried on her blood, the very essence of life itself. And what would be more life-affirming than to come together with Magnus?
She leaned forward and kissed him. He tasted of the beef she’d given him, rich and savory. Moving her lips across his cheek, she whispered to him. “Teach me.”
He leaned back to look at her. “Are you certain? After tonight?”
“After tonight, I need to feel you inside me. I need your arms around me, holding me, letting me know we overcame death. In spite of the loss, we live, and Droplaug lives. We must grasp life with both hands, Magnus, for it may fade like the sun in the winter. And we cannot know when it will happen. While we’re here, while we have each other, let us come together. Because we live.”
He cupped her face in his hands. “I have always clung to what is mine, Silvi. I don’t know why that is. These past days have taken much from me and I cannot know how I’ll be this night. Whether it’s the gods taking a child, or Toke attacking me in ways I don’t understand and can’t plan against, I feel that everything around me is spiraling out of control. Just as you need to feel your life to its fullest, I must try to control what I can. I have always been that way. I don’t think you understand. I fear what I may do.”
She took his hands from her face and held them. “I don’t. I don’t fear what you will do to me. You’ve always had to control everything around you, yes. But it has been so you can protect Thorsfjell, its people, me. You want to shield us, and to do that, you must wield your authority, your command. The people have trusted you all these years, and you’ve seen them safe and well cared for. Would you do no less for me, your wife? I trust you, Magnus.”
He closed his eyes tight, holding her hands to his lips. After a moment, he stood, bringing her with him.
“Raise your arms.” She did so. “Keep them there.” Kneeling before her, he lifted her shift over her thighs and followed it with his mouth, kissing and nipping at her skin.
Her muscles quivered. She drew in a sharp breath, wanting, needing to touch him. But his words held her arms where they were and she tilted her head back. He laved her skin with heat. His head was on a level with her breasts and as he raised the shift over them, he took one in his mouth, pulling at it.
He flung the garment up over her head, tossed it aside, then grabbed her wrists and pulled them back behind her. With one hand, he held her captive as he took her breast with his free hand and caressed the other with his tongue. She pulled at her wrists. He tightened his grip, not enough to hurt her, but enough so that she stopped resisting. He was too strong.
A thrill flashed through her, of shock, excitement, tinted with just a touch of fear. Not of Magnus, but of the unknown, like what lay beyond the edge of the world. And yet he must have sailed these waters before and knew the right course. She would travel any sea with him at the helm.
He released her wrists, rose, and swung her up in his arms. His face was grim, his eyes hard. But he laid her on the bed with exquisite gentleness, gazing down on her. Swallowing, she bent one knee in a vain effort to shield herself from the male power pouring from him. He was very aroused, his muscles corded as though he had just come from battle. His long, dark hair flowed down his chest, cascading over the slabs of muscles there like the falls coming down from the mountain peaks.
Climbing onto the bed, he urged her to lower her leg. “I want you open to me, Silvi. Don’t think to shield your beauty from me.”
Beauty? She knew better. But with the look in his eyes as he swept her in his gaze, she could almost believe it. He slid his hands over her breasts, her stomach, and down to her thighs. His breathing came hard and ragged as he slipped his hands between them. Parting her legs, he sat back.
“I don’t want you to hurt your hands by holding on to the headboard. The carved wood can be sharp.” He moved over her, keeping his weight on one arm. With the other, he brought one of her arms up over her head and held it there. “Keep this here.” He brought the other one up to match it. “I expect you to stay like this, or I’ll have to tie you. Do you understand?”
Her cheeks heating, she nodded. He swept his fingertips over her face, his gaze following them. “I wonder if you do.”
He kissed her, hard and deep. She almost lowered her hands to run them through his hair and hold h
im to her. But she didn’t want to disappoint him. He nibbled her neck, then moved lower. When he reached her breasts, she started to lower her arms, unable to keep from touching him. Before she did, he spoke without lifting his head.
“I have warned you. Not again.”
She placed her arms back over her head. He continued his sweet torture on her breasts. The urge to hold him made her grit her teeth. She looked up. The headboard had intricate open knotwork patterns. She grasped the wood and held on. The pressure stung her skin, but she increased it. The small amount of pain drove down into her body, spearing into her core. At that moment, he nipped her on the inside of her breast.
Letting out a cry, she arched up against him. The sensation burst over her. It lapped against her, like waves on the shore of her island.
Magnus stilled. “Silvi? Oh gods, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He moved up to her. “I forget how delicate you are.”
She smiled and took a deep breath at the pleasure still pulsing through her. “I didn’t cry out because it hurt, Magnus.”
His eyes widened. “Oh.” Then he looked up at the headboard. “I told you, I didn’t want you to risk hurting yourself.”
She tried not to smile though her heart pounded with what she was about to allow. “I’m not certain I can keep from touching you, Magnus.”
He dropped his head to her chest and spoke through his hair. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“Perhaps I have more of the explorer in me than I thought. I want to explore with you.”
His voice was muffled, but she heard him. “I must have done something to please the gods at some time in my life.”
She laughed and lowered her arms, ruffling his hair. It might be the last time she would be able to do so for a while. He rose off of her, then dipped down to kiss her.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t. I think you’ll make certain of that.” She smiled up at him.
He rolled off the bed and went to their chests lining the far wall. He hesitated, staring down at them. “I don’t want to use anything that could hurt you.”
Lord of the Mountains Page 22
