by Koko Brown
His words stung, but she was glad they had been said, because she had forgotten the real reason for her being there. And that was not to be Eirik Sigurdsson’s whore. Reese adjusted her clothing. When she faced him, a quiet resolve stole through her. “From this day forward, I will not come to your bed willingly.”
He took a step toward her. “Words easily said. Actions speak volumes and you and I both know you are easily broken.”
“N-not anymore,” she sputtered. His anger making her almost epileptic. “From now on, if you lay your hands on me without my expressed invitation, you will regret it.”
He stepped closer, towering over her. “You will deny me?”
Even if her fortitude didn’t have her full vote of confidence, Reese nodded.
“What makes you think I won’t take what’s rightfully mine?”
“Because you’d rather have a willing participant, than one lying beneath you like a dead fish.”
For several heart-rending moments, he stood there in silence. The clenching and unclenching of his fists spoke volumes. Then, as if regaining a semblance of control over his anger, he inclined his head.
“So be it,” he acquiesced. He stepped toward her, reached out for the door latch and snatched it open, inadvertently pushing her against him.
Instead of hurrying on his way, as she’d hoped, Eirik paused. His gaze raked over her. His eyes lingered on her lips. The rapid pulse at the base of her throat. Reese stifled a groan. Under his hot perusal, her nipples had jumped to attention, hardening into twin peaks, which were embarrassingly visible beneath the thin linen of her tunic.
“I will respect your wishes.” With a smirk curling his lips, he lifted his hand and drew a lazy
circle around a nipple. Reese bit down on her lip as a flood of heat rushed to her core. “But...I promise you will be back in my bed furs before Frigsday.”
One minute he was there, the next he was gone leaving Reese a trembling pulp of rampant hormones. Fighting to regain her bearings, she was ill-prepared for the sound of a loud crash. Wobbling on weak knees, she yanked open the door, and hurried as fast as she could down the short hallway. In the main hall, she skidded to a stop. She’d made it just in time to see Eirik wiping a trestle table with some hapless soul.
Admittedly, the bunch was overly rowdy. Like now, most of his warriors were cheering Eirik on. Only dying down when he reached the end of the table. But no one deserved to be treated like a human washrag. At least a few of them ran to the poor guy’s aid as he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. On the other hand, Eirik didn’t give his victim a second thought. He stalked toward the double doors leading out of the hall.
On the threshold, he suddenly stopped and turned in her direction. A pale blond eyebrow lifted mockingly. Understanding the hidden meaning behind his gesture, Reese shook her head. Half expecting another show of force, she was relieved when he turned on his heel, pushed on the doors and passed through them.
Upon his departure, everyone’s gaze found a new source. Her. Reese squared her shoulders and faced down their knowing looks and overt whispers. Let them talk. At least she still had her dignity. Head held high, Reese retreated to the kitchen.
Chapter Eight
Reese hummed to herself as she swept rubbish and dirt out the back door of the kitchen. Up since dawn, she still felt invigorated this late in the day. Two weeks had come and gone since her showdown with Eirik. All the while, she pretended to accept her role as the dutiful slave. No job was too large, dirty or backbreaking. She took her portion of leftovers with gratitude. And she didn’t complain about her new sleeping arrangements, which consisted of a threadbare pallet and an airless room shared with five other women.
In the interim, Reese had made use of her time to learn all she could about Eirik and his daily habits. Not surprising he was a very active man. He rose early, breaking his fast before dawn. Not one to linger inside, he always took a morning ride on one of his horses. Upon returning, he personally saw to the livestock then spent the rest of the day exercising with the rest of his warriors in the open field behind the keep. As soon as the sun set, he came inside for the evening meal followed by an after dinner game of dice, or a tale told by the village skald.
Like a sponge, she’d absorbed a great deal of information, and yet she was no closer to getting her hands on the tourmaline. She might as well be on a ship miles from here. Even if she wanted to backpedal, Eirik hadn’t given her an opening. He practically ignored her. Sure there were times she thought she felt his gaze on her, and she’d look up expectantly, but she was always disproved of the notion when she found his attention elsewhere.
The broom stilled as Reese suddenly remembered a saying her mother once told her when she was being bullied by a group of girls on her bus. “People live to exist, baby girl. When you take that away from them, you take away their reason for living.”
Her mother’s advice had worked. Reese ignored the girls and they eventually left her alone to pick on someone else. Ironically, the same sage advice was doing a number on her. Eirik’s disregard hurt and of late, she was feeling like the snake that bit off its own tail to spite itself.
“REESE!”
Jumping at the sound of Gurta’s voice, Reese turned just as the other woman dropped two buckets filled with day-old kitchen scraps at her feet. With a heavy sigh, Reese set the broom aside and turned her attention to yet another of her daily chores, feeding the pigs.
“Well, you made your bed, so you better lie in it,” she muttered. She lifted the pails, and instantly recoiled. Out of all her tasks, from scrubbing the floors every evening to subbing as a human dishwasher, this was at the bottom of her list of least favorite things.
“Shit!” Reese caught herself before she tumbled down the dirt path leading to the barn. Funny that very expletive mirrored her current predicament, because her life had turned into an abysmal existence, and her window of opportunity had practically evaporated with her newly found position.
In spite of her reclaiming her self-respect, she’d spent countless hours doubting her decision. But even when filled with certainty, she could not bring herself to eat crow.
“Thank goodness someone left the doors open.” If they’d been closed, Reese doubted she would have had enough strength to lift the buckets once she set them down. Scuttling inside, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light. One misstep and she would have a stinky reminder of her mishap. With measured steps, Reese made her way down the length of the barn. Thankfully, the weather was cool or the stench would have been unbearable at this time of day.
Brunhilda, Gita, Sven, and Ludmilla spotted her and rushed the railing. Their grunts of
anticipation the only bright spot in this task.
“Okay, ladies and gents, here’s breakfast.” Groaning, Reese lifted a bucket. She tipped it over, and they squealed as the mushy remnants sloshed into their trough. Making sure there were no leftovers, she banged the bottom. Reese delighted in their antics as they fought over their morning meal. However, knowing Gurta and another chore awaited her, she didn’t linger. She emptied the contents of the second bucket and then headed back to the keep.
Twhack!
Reese paused in the middle of the path. Except for the wind whistling through the trees, she heard nothing out of the ordinary.
Twhack! Twhack! Twhack!
Risking punishment, she hurried past the open kitchen door and continued along the dirt path until it curved around the front of the hall to other side of the building. She slowed her pace when she spotted a group of warriors cheering on two men sparring with battleaxes. At first glance, one man appeared to be at a slight disadvantage, due to a half-foot difference in height between him and his opponent, but she quickly realized his size did not detract from his ferocity as a fighter as he dealt several savage blows to his foe’s shield, sending the other man staggering backward in retreat.
Reese shielded her eyes against the sun to get a better look at the two fighte
rs and she sucked in her breath. Eirik was the shorter of the two. Shirtless, he’d wound his hair into a man bun atop his head. A few locks managed to come free and appeared almost white against his tanned skin. When he lifted his battle axe high above his head, the corded muscles in his arms and back rolled and bunched.
If it were physically possible to kick herself in the ass, she would have. But a good kick in the pants wouldn’t rectify this rampant lust or her current inability to carry out Loki’s plan.
Reminded of home, Reese felt an involuntary lurch. Passion. Pride. Neither emotion was strong enough to keep her from doing everything possible to get back to her time. And the longer she worked in the kitchen, it prolonged this nightmare.
So what would be so wrong with sharing his bed as long as it produced the desired result? Plus, it wasn’t like he was an ogre. During their short time together, he’d spoken to her in kindness and treated her with generosity. He even fought for her. None of the douches she’d dated would’ve lifted a finger to bring her a glass of water, least of all a sword and shield in order to keep her.
Drastic times called for drastic measures, or was it desperate times called for drastic measures? Whatever the
order, she needed to figure out a way to regain Eirik’s favor. If he hadn’t lost interest already.
* * * * *
“You have an admirer.”
“What are you babbling about?” Panting, Eirik sipped from a ladle of water.
Bjarni nodded his head toward the hall. “The woman, she watched you take Olaf down.”
Eirik spun around. He felt his heart catapult in his chest when he recognized the rounded hips that haunted his every waking moment. He launched himself forward, intent on going after her, but Bjarni stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“What are you doing?” Eirik growled, snatching his arm out of the other’s grasp.
“What are you doing? You’re acting like a lad in heat. If you go after her now, you will have lost the upper hand, let alone your pride.”
Unable to contain his angst, Eirik began to pace. “She has bewitched me. I walk the floors at night. I can barely stomach anything beyond ale or mead. My thoughts are always centered on her. She’s driving me to madness.”
Bjarni stroked his dark beard as if considering his condition. Desperate for a solution, Eirik found himself waiting for his opinion.
“The best way to get over one woman is to bed another.”
“Tried and failed,” Eirik spat in disgust, remembering his ill-fated attempt to extract his thrall from beneath his skin. He’d invited the buxom thrall Reina to his chamber and despite her lusty ministrations, his cock didn’t stir. Eirik glared down at his hands, noting the scars and calluses. How could he be so strong and yet so feeble of mind and spirit over a woman?
“I have lost this challenge.” Eirik balled his hands into fists. He wanted to pummel something. “I am so hot for her I’ve decided to concede to her demands just to get her to share my bed again.”
“You will do no such thing!” Bjarni hissed. “Has her dark beauty cast that much of a spell over you?”
“Ja. She is like no woman I have ever known. I am at a loss at what to do.”
Bjarni waved his excuse aside. “It’s only because she’s a woman. Everyone knows you have never had much luck with them. Didn’t you learn anything from Oo—”
“Do not bark up that tree,” Eirik warned. Oona had given him a merry chase. And ever since, she’d been a touchy subject. So much so, his people had taken to not mentioning her name lest they provoke his wrath.
“I’m only trying to make a point. You’ve led us successfully into battle more times than I can count. Now you are zero to two when it comes to women you fancy.”
Finished with his daily exercise and Bjarni’s wayward advice, Eirik accepted his tunic from Thoren. Not taking the hint, Bjarni fell into step beside him.
“Women are not men. They seem soft and delicate, and yet they are cunning and strong here,” Bjarni said, pointing to his head.
Interest piqued, Eirik gave his best friend his undivided attention. “Go on.”
“We know them no better than our enemies before engaging them in battle. If you follow my lead,” Bjarni smiled slightly, “you will have her wanting you as much you want her.”
“What do you want in return.” Bjarni never did anything for free. It was one of the reasons he’d made a fortune as a mercenary.
“I seek only a small token.”
Eirik snorted. The last token he’d forfeited had been one of his long ships. “If you’re able to pull this off, I will grant you anything.” Still wifeless, Bjarni’s luck with women was only slightly better than his.
“Anything?” Eyes glittering, Bjarni stroked his dark beard.
Eirik felt a cold shiver crawl its way down his back and curl in the pit of his stomach. “Yes, anything,” he agreed, yet already fearing the terms.
“I want you to share her with me.”
Even though he wasn’t surprised, Eirik still wanted to tear Bjarni’s throat out for asking. It wasn’t as if they’d never shared a woman before. But this one was different. Thus, the reason why he had not sought her out and forced his attentions on her. He wanted her to come to him of her own free will. He’d chased after one woman, and been left holding the bag, and he refused to make the same mistake twice.
Still, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stop at anything to have her. Even going against his baser instincts. “I will share her only once,” he conceded. He reached out, grabbed the front of Bjarni’s tunic, and hauled him forward. “But only if she accepts. I will not force myself on her, and I will not let another man do the same. Do you understand?”
He didn’t release Bjarni until he nodded in agreement. Once free, the other man flung an arm around his shoulder. Eirik resisted the urge to twist said arm until his friend fell to his knees.
“We have to put things into motion, my friend. By Haustmánuður you will have your lady under your spell.”
* * * * *
Before the sunset, Reese was second guessing her decision. Dejected, she reached up and fingered the slave collar adorning her neck. Eirik’s mother had delivered it with a smile.
“I completely forgot about this,” she’d chirped, her voice dripping with ill-contained glee.
“I’m sure,” Reese had eyed the offensive neck piece made of twisted leather and a bronze plate etched with two bear heads, and her veins had filled with ice.
“My son had it commissioned days ago. With all the chaos going on around here, it simply slipped my mind. Before you or I found ourselves in trouble, I sent someone to pick it up from the blacksmith this morn.” Brita stepped behind her, draped the collar around Reese’s neck and tied the leather straps into a knot. The woman even had the nerve to adjust the collar, fiddling with it until Reese stepped back. Better that than slapping the woman’s hand away and getting herself into even hotter water.
“Do all the slaves wear this?”
Brita nodded. “And most of the indentured servants as well.”
“Have to make sure everyone knows their place.” Reese had said it so tightly her jaw hurt.
“Exactly! Everyone knows their place in Skildheim: slaves, freemen, men and women. Despite being Eirik’s mother, I am careful not to overstep my boundaries.”
With the woman’s warning ringing in her head, Reese had returned to her chores, which at this late hour included serving the evening meal. Per the usual routine, she fell into line to await the first of many dishes she would be required to carry into the main hall.
“You burn that buck, and I will tan your hide, boy!” Gurta squawked at young Mads. The boy had been delegated the unsavory and extremely boring job of turning the spit.
Startled, the boy jumped, releasing the brochette.
“Mads!” Sweating profusely, a wooden spoon clutched in her hand, Gurta stepped toward him threatening to leave her throne—a large kitchen table she used to prep the
final dishes.
“No burn...no burn.” Wide-eyed with fear, the boy dove for the spit handle, and put his back into spinning the skewered deer.
Gurta pointed two fingers at her eyes, then swung them toward him. Understanding her meaning, Mads churned the spit in a rabid circle.
Dismissing him with a loud snort Gurta turned back to the line. With quick efficiency, she sliced through two loaves of bread and dumped them into a basket. Thankful for the light load, Reese stepped forward.
“Nei.” Gurta picked up the basket. “Vida, take this.” Without questioning the switch, the servant girl stepped forward. “Make sure Rollo does not stop you. That pig thinks we only bake for him.” Vida bobbed her head and then scurried off.
Reese on the other hand, balked. “Hello, I was next.”
“Ja, I know.” Reese eyed the cedar platter Gurta pushed toward her. Noting the large rectangular dish with carved bear head handles, the blood rushed to Reese’s head. “You will serve Eirik tonight.”
“Wh-why? None of the slaves serve him, only Treske.” Reese looked around for the freeman.
“Treske will still serve Eirik and his family. You will help.”
Jaw set tight, Reese fingered the slave collar around her neck. Earlier today she would’ve been overjoyed by the opportunity to get closer to Eirik. Oh, she still wanted to get close to him but only to box his ears.
“Be on your way.” Gurta hefted the platter heaped with the choicest meats and plopped it in Reese’s arms. “We cannot keep him waiting, and there are plenty more dishes to follow.”
As she walked up the aisle of the main hall, Reese was quaking with two emotions: anger and self-loathing. Despite the despicable collar around her neck, her nerves were shot. He’d done such a great job of ignoring her, she’d only seen him in passing or at a distance. So, the thought of being close to him, possibly having his full attention focused entirely on her, made every single atom in her body short circuit and pulse until she felt like one of those cartoon throbbing thumbs.
