by Koko Brown
Reese cursed the size of Eirik’s fortress. From end to end, the longhouse probably spanned the width of a football field with the main hall occupying the most space. Far from sparse, every available space had a purpose. The main area served two: as both a place to dine and to sleep. The north end housed a barn with its own separate outdoor entrance. A large store room and weapons garrison provided a buffer between it and a room with two weaving looms. The southern end of the structure contained the family’s sleeping quarters and the kitchen. If she ever got back to her time, she would have excellent material for her graphic novel.
With all the activity buzzing around her, a hundred or so people eating and communing, a harpist plucking on her instrument, Reese didn’t hear any of it. Like walking through a tunnel, she focused on the light at the end. His pale hair drawing her like a beacon, Eirik sat at a table elevated above the others on a low dais. As lord of the manor, he didn’t sit on one of the long benches which doubled as beds at night, but in a wooden arm chair with elaborate carvings. The dark Viking, Bjarni sat on his left, his brother Thoren on his right.
The sight of him sucked the breath from her. Attired in a buff-colored tunic, sporting a deep V-neck collar, he was magnificent. Tailored to fit him like a second skin, the shirt barely contained the hard body beneath, the ropy tendons of his arms and torso threatening the garment’s seams.
As if sensing her regard, Eirik suddenly turned his head and looked at her. His gaze traveled the length of her body and Reese could almost read his mind. In direct contrast to his cleanliness, she looked like she’d been to hell and back, her apron bearing the signs of a hard day’s work. Mush had splashed on her while feeding the pigs, and from knee to hem there were grass stains from de-weeding the garden this afternoon.
Well, you’ve made your bed, might as well take pride in it. Lifting her chin, and maintaining eye contact, Reese climbed the few steps that brought them to face to face. Firelight from two sconces on the wall behind him softened the hard angles of his face, making him even more handsome. Unfortunately, she couldn’t read anything in his expression or find any clue as to why he’d expressly ordered she serve him.
One thing she did know: being near him was like a shock to her system. All her senses were on hyper alert. Made of fire and ice, his pale blue eyes appeared more vivid. The aromatic scent of the meat assailed her, causing her stomach to grumble. She set the platter in front of him, the heavy weight of her slave collar pulled at her skin, and cooled her ardor. As her master, he held her life in his hands; she shouldn’t yearn for his touch.
“How fare you this eve?”
Reese floundered. She’d half expected a caustic gibe or an ‘I told you so’, not a softly-worded inquiry regarding her welfare.
Seemingly oblivious to her plight, he pierced a piece of rabbit and devoured it. Mesmerized, Reese watched his mouth work around the piece of meat. His sensuous lips moving in the most delightful way. I’m melting...I’m melting.
Feeling more like Peter Parker than Spiderman, she stumbled over a response, “I-I’m well, my lord.”
Eirik set down his dagger. His eyes were dark and enigmatic, a seductive promise shimmering in their hot blue depths. Reese hated flip-flopping, but damn he could make a girl want to climb him like a tree.
“A part of me had hoped for the opposite.” He leaned forward in his seat, bridging the distance between them. Not by much, but enough for her to see the ice flecks floating in his irises. “For the past fortnight, I have thought of naught, but the heat of your kisses, the lush curves of your body and lying between your sweet thighs again.”
Hot and bothered, Reese reached for the neckline of dress to let out some of the steam. Her fingers grazed the course leather band circling her throat. How could he wax poetic, make her flesh tingle and burn, but then completely disregard the humiliating collar around her neck? Beautiful bastard.
“Were thoughts of seduction on your mind, when you had this made, my lord?” she mocked in a tone that was far from submissive.
His gaze fell to her throat. His expression hardened. “Reese, I—”
“You’re out of mead, my lord.” Reese cut Eirik off before he could spew anymore purple prose, and weave that seductive spell that would have her panting after his cock again. Pride salvaged, and well aware she was back at square one, Reese retreated to the kitchen.
Chapter Nine
As she retreated to the kitchen, Eirik bore a hole in her back. Soiled, sweaty and disheveled, Reese was still beautiful. His hands itched to touch her, find the secret sensitive places on her body, use them against her until she wouldn’t want any other man between her legs except for him.
“You are no longer suited to be a warlord. You should take Fenrin The Storyteller’s place.” With a forlorn expression, Bjarni placed his hands over his heart. “Sweet maiden...I have thought of naught else, but your sweet thighs.”
Eirik picked up his mug and brought it back down so hard it splintered into three pieces. Ignoring the curious stares of his people, he turned to Bjarni. “How did this tactic work?”
The other man reached out and pressed the back of his hand against Eirik’s forehead. “You are flush. Have you caught a fever?”
Ja! His malady was called Reese. As quick as a striking serpent, Eirik grabbed the other man’s hand and twisted it until he doubled over. “Answer me.”
“Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. One of the oldest strategies in the world and yet you failed by rushing in like an untrained warrior and got cut down.”
Unable to say anything in the face of his truth, Eirik released his friend.
“She addles my head, turns it to mush.” Eirik glanced down at his hands. They were strong hands, capable of snapping a man’s neck, wielding a sword to vanquish his enemies. And yet, he felt so useless, powerless against one woman.
. “Frustration in the face of a seemingly impregnable enemy is a dangerous companion for any leader as is any emotion that clouds judgment.”
“Too late,” Eirik conceded.
Bjarni stared at him as if he’d grown six horns. “You are in love with her?”
“No!” Spoken with such passion, even he doubted his veracity.
“But desire and lust come from the same place, does it not?”
Eirik shrugged. “She hates me for something I did in anger. Something to keep your big mouth shut I might add.”
“No worries.” Bjarni rolled his wrist slowly, testing the joints. All is not lost.”
Disgruntled, Eirik had half a mind to get up. He kept his seat. “Another tactic?”
“Only a simple maneuver. And one you can implement right away, my impatient friend.”
“I grow weary of your schemes, and yet I am all ears.” After all, he was desperate.
“Kindness in capture weakens resolve and frames you as strategically superior.” Seemingly proud of his plan, Bjarni grinned from ear to ear.
I’m fucked.
* * * * *
Reese welcomed the end of the evening meal. The hour was late and the every minute of it had been a battle of wills with her on the losing side. How could she remain angry at the Viking when he was being so nice to her? Even in the face of her icy silence, he’d remained polite and jovial, gifting her with panty-dropping smiles and such sugary sweetness he made her teeth and a few other things ache.
Thinking she was in the clear, Reese picked up a wash rag, empty bucket and headed to the outdoor well. She didn’t get past Gurta.
“Where are you going?” To Reese’s surprise, the cook divested her of her cleaning supplies.
“Dinner’s over, time to clean up.”
The cook thrust a pitcher at Reese. “Eirik needs mead?”
Reese grimaced. How could she forget? After the evening meal, the Vikings drank liberal amounts of ale while playing board games, throwing dice or listening to the skald’s far-fetched sagas of the Norsemen’s ingenuity and bravery.
Tonight, the storyteller was i
n high form as he spewed some tall tale about Eirik and an adventure he’d taken to Bluland. Supposedly, he’d navigated all eight of his ships through what sounded like Noah’s flood. Vanquished a band of Moorish pirates terrorizing the coast. In return, he’d been gifted a nobleman’s beautiful daughter. Of course, being the honorable Viking that he was he could not accept said gift, but took their gold instead.”
1...2...3...the hall erupted in raucous cheers. Two Vikings even jumped up and arm in arm, they danced a jig. Reese rolled her eyes. A night just wouldn’t be complete without extolling the legend of their virile warlord.
Speaking of their leader, Reese spotted him near the hearth playing kvatrutafl, an early form of backgammon. Lounging in a carbon copy of the chair he’d sat in during dinner, Eirik looked the picture of a rogue. Slightly disheveled and deep in his cups, his tanned skin was now flush. His white-blond hair had worked its way out of the twin plaits at his temples, and fell in chaotic tendrils to his shoulders. All he needed was far less clothing, a bed and a bottle of Absolut, and he’d look like that hunk from Sex and the City.
As if checking him out were a sixth sense, Eirik suddenly lifted his head. Spotting her, his mouth curved into a slow, lopsided grin. If she were wearing panties, they’d be soaking wet. Reese slurped in a calming breath and adjusted her poker face. While she was at it, she needed to modify her game plan. Get with the program. She hadn’t been brought here to enact a Viking Emancipation Proclamation.
Reese eyed the multitude in abject servitude around her. From a nine month old babe to a man who’d probably seen more summers than Methuselah, there had to be more than thirty of them. Why couldn’t she free them? Pull an Incredible Hulk when he’d landed on the planet Saakar.
She walked across the hall, and Reese noted six or seven thralls in the company of a Viking. Two of them, Magdal and Phee, had recently born their captives children. What if she put the bug in their ears? She didn’t have mutant muscles or the Warbound to back her up, still Reese had an inkling her arsenal could prove just as persuasive.
With her theme song (all heroes had one) playing in her head, Reese sidled up to Eirik. With a magnanimous smile curving her lips, she picked up his tankard. As she filled it, she noted it was different than his previous mug.
“Are you winning, my lord?” Dripping with honey, her voice made both men look up, abandoning their game.
The dark Viking Bjarni puffed his chest out so far, Reese half-expected him to beat it with his fists `a la King Kong. “He always loses to me.”
Obviously not an attention seeker, Eirik sat back, mug in hand. “He’s right. I wear my last loss on his chin.” Reese caught a glimpse of the thickened scar on Bjarni’s chin before he slapped his hand over it.
“You do not believe my exploits.”
“Your exploits, my lord?”
“During the skalds retelling of my journey to Bluland, you rolled your eyes.” To Reese’s utter delight, he provided a demonstration with a wild swing of his baby blues.
Tickled by his antics, laughter bubbled up from deep in Reese’s belly and erupted in a fit of giggles.
Obviously, no one else shared her funny bone. Eirik’s expression had turned deadly serious, his perusal of her so intense she looked to Bjarni for an ally, but he was staring just as intensely at his chieftain as if fascinated.
Feeling like the odd woman out, Reese straightened up. “I...ah...well, your cups are filled.” She placed the wine cask on the table. “I need to help with the clean-up.”
Eirik caught her wrist before she could escape. His grip was gentle, the pad of his thumb massaging the vein as he pulled her closer.
“Your laughter is like a rain storm on a summer night.” Bjarni chuckled and Eirik shot him a quelling look that shut the other Viking up. “If I can only get you to do that more often.”
He might be snowing her, but it had the desired effect. Reese relaxed. So much so, she shot him back some game of her own. She leaned forward slightly, putting her cleavage at eye level. To her delight, his gaze zeroed in on her ample lady lumps.
“Just be kind to me.”
For some reason, Bjarni doubled over in laughter.
“I will do my best.”
“You know what would be really nice?” she asked coyly, batting her eyelashes a mile a minute.
Unaware what he was in for, he caught the bait, “Tell me.”
The Viking Emancipation Proclamation was so on! “Do I really need to wear this ol’ collar? I know I am yours. I don’t need this reminder.”
Eirik was silent so long, Reese almost retracted her request. At length he said, “I will do this if you put aside all thoughts of leaving or escape.”
“Where am I going, my lord? I couldn’t leave even if I had a mind to.” And she wasn’t lying, she thought ruefully as she spun around. “The others will be just as grateful,” she said, lifting her thick hair out of the way.
“Others?” His hands felt warm against her neck.
“You can’t remove my collar without removing them all,” she replied much more calmly than the moment merited. His touch, his very nearness was turning her bones to Silly Putty.
“You ask too much.”
Reese felt a rush of panic when his hands circled her neck, the tips of his fingers overlapping.
Had she pushed for too much too soon? “I know this, my lord,” she rushed to pacify him as his grip tightened. “And if you grant this request, I will be indebted to you.”
“You owe me no debt.” Reese felt tension around her neck, then she heard a snap and the amulet fell to the ground. “Just do not forget that you are mine.”
His warning should’ve weighed her down, darkened her spirit even more, and yet nothing could dampen this moment. This overwhelming lightness. Drunk with happiness, Reese’s hands flew to her face and she giggled. Uncontrollably.
“She’s gone mad,” Bjarni whispered in wonderment.
Understandably concerned, Eirik turned her toward him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, fanning her wet cheeks. “I had no idea how wonderful that would feel.”
“You are happy?”
Reese nodded.
Grinning broadly, Eirik scratched the back of his neck. “We are on the same longship. I am happy I could make you happy.”
He grasped her wrist and an electric shock whizzed up her arm straight to her heart, causing it to skip a beat. “I want to see more of this happiness.”
He dragged her over to a young boy named Petr. Assigned the important task of tending the fire pits, the freckled face youth shifted the dying embers with a stick, kindling more flames.
“How do you fare this evening, Petr?”
“I am well.” The boy responded with an easy smile. Eirik maintained an easy rapport with everyone in his village whether they were family, friend, freeman or slave.
“What say you if I remove your slave collar?”
“Why?” Petr’s eyes widened with what looked like fear. “Are you selling me?”
Sensing his angst, Eirik placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Rest easy. I only asked because you will no longer be required to wear a thrall collar.”
The boy exhaled heavily, and his narrow shoulders slumped. “Then why do you remove the collar?”
Eirik stepped behind the boy. “Do you plan on leaving Skildheim?” he asked, while removing the small band.
“Where would I go? I have lived here all my life. My mother and father are here.”
“You just proved it is not needed.” With a grim expression, Eirik tossed the braided cord in the fire along with hers.
“Thank you, my lord.” Beaming, Petr rubbed the newly exposed skin, disrupting the dirt ring.
“You owe Reese your gratitude. I am only playing nice.” Eirik’s eyes narrowed. “When was the last time you bathed?”
“That time in the fjord, when you made me remove all my clothes.”
“You have not bathed since?” Eirik grabbed Reese’s arm and ra
ised it high.
“Don’t do it,” she warned. “This dress could walk to Hedeby and back.”
“I have been asleep at the tiller.” He dropped her arm so fast Reese almost stumbled. “You finish up here. My mother and I need to have a talk.”
Chapter Ten
“Come on, Reese!”
Reese blew the stray curl out of her eye and sat back on her heels. Despite the ache in her lower back, she returned Elisabeta’s smile. Taking note of the cloth slung over the girl’s arm and the line of women filing out the back door of the kitchen, she threw the scrub brush into the bucket and rose to her feet. Eirik was definitely a man of his word. While she did not like the idea of bathing out in the open, she could not deny the excitement that ran through her at the prospect of being able to finally wash off a week’s worth of sweat.
The quarter of a mile trek to the hot springs took over an hour. Unsupervised, they took advantage of this brief respite from their daily labors to have fun. Some chased butterflies others played hide and seek in the surrounding forest.
As soon as they spotted the water source’s telltale vapors, several of the girls started ripping off their outer aprons, leaving them on low-slung branches. Not as freewheeling as the others, Reese hung back, taking her time removing her garments and setting aside a special salve created by Gurta.
Bar of soap in hand, Reese stepped into the large pool. Itchy all over, she submerged her entire body. Reese closed her eyes. Extremely alkaline, the warm water felt delicious against her skin, between her toes and in her hair.
Reese finally came up for air then began to wash and rinse herself, saving the arduous task of washing her hair for last. Thick and tightly coiled, her locks required a special process or they’d end up a knotted mess. She had to finger comb it first, divide it into six sections, wash and rinse each section individual and then finger comb it all again to prevent tangling. One day, Gurta had witnessed her careful ablutions, taken pity on her, and come up with a special conditioner made of goat milk, butter, and lavender oil. She might be in the 11th century but her hair smelled like she’d stepped out of an expensive salon.
