The Viking Wants Forever

by Koko Brown

  As he turned the horses around, Reese asked, “You have a brother who’s a king?”

  “Half-brother,” he countered, smacking the horses’ reins. “My father was forced into an arranged marriage; therefore, his eyes wandered. And they strayed more than once on my mother, who served as handmaiden to his wife; thus Thoren and I.”

  “So...why has he come?”

  “He wants something. His last visit resulted in my leaving for five summers.”

  Five summers? Reeling at the news, Reese leaned against the sill.

  “I brought you here because you will remain in this room until he leaves.”

  “Until he leaves?! That could be two days or two months!” she balked.

  “And you will remain in this room the entire time,” he said very deliberately, his tone and body language not brooking any form of disobedience.

  Refusing to settle for confinement without a good reason, she asked, “Why?”

  A coolness entered his pale blue eyes. “Like all his subjects, what belongs to me also belongs to the konugr.”

  Now on the same page, Reese turned to him, arms folded. “And you don’t like to share.”

  “I will not share you.” He looked at her a moment more, and then strode from the room.

  Meaning to call his bluff, Reese ran to the door and found it locked.

  * * * * *

  Back in the main hall, Thoren awaited him. Newly washed and dressed in his ceremonial best, his baby brother bounded over to him. Without stopping, Eirik headed outside.

  Mind on the boats sitting in the inlet, Eirik barely noted the beautiful weather. He paid no mind to the sun beating at his back or the short-lived orange petal wild flowers blooming along the path to the docks.

  “Why do you think Haakon’s come?”

  “We shall soon find out,” Eirik muttered.

  Thoren sucked in an excited breath. “He probably needs us to go to war!”

  I pray to Odin it’s not war. Eirik frowned. There was a time he thirsted for war. The opportunity to let up his sails, wet his blade with an enemy’s blood would send him into a frenzy. Now, the thought of stepping aboard a long ship made his stomach churn.

  When did I become so weak...and for a woman?

  While Eirik warred with his very nature, Thoren continued to chatter all the way to the inlet. By the time they reached the end of the docks, several rowboats were already cresting the waves. On the lead skiff, a blond giant cloaked in a snow white fur stood at its bow.

  “Why, he’s your twin!” Thoren exclaimed. He’d been too young, only four or five summers, on Haakon’s last visit.

  Eirik snorted. “Our physical resemblance is the only thing we have in common. He’s a self-centered bastard who uses his station in life to use people as pawns.” Including his kin, Eirik thought.

  Before the hull was tethered to the dock, his carbon copy alighted. Moving like a man used to commanding thousands, Haakon swaggered toward them. Even though he smiled, his gray eyes were cold and devoid of any emotion.

  Eirik inclined his head with due reverence. Haakon might be his king, but he would be damned if he bowed to the arrogant bastard. Thoren on the other hand, appeared enchanted. Mouth agape, he stared up at their old brother as if he were Odin himself.

  “Is the hilt of your sword made of pure gold?” He reached out but Eirik slapped his hand.

  Chuckling, Haakon’s blue gaze settled on Thoren. “My you’ve grown, brattling.”

  Thoren threw back his narrow shoulders. “I am no brattling. I am almost a man.”

  “A boy who has his mother’s greedy ways. I wonder—”

  “Why are you here?” Eirik interjected before things escalated, and he bashed Haakon’s head in. “You rarely leave your kingdom, so this visit must be of dire importance.”

  “Come, bróðir, I am hungry. We have much to discuss, but you know I do not like to talk about my intrigues on an empty stomach.”

  Eirik nodded, only conceding to his brother’s wishes out of custom. Haakon and his men could eat a man out of hall and keep, and there was little he could say about it. Whatever he owned also belonged to his king. And an extended visit, right before winter, could deplete their stores, and set his people up for a harsh winter. Already calculating his losses, Eirik was roiling with anger by the time they passed through the keep’s main doors.

  Thankfully, his mother had everything in control. Like a commander over a legion of a hundred men, Brita directed the servants with efficiency. The benches along the walls had already been wiped down, the floor swept, and tankards of ale were already waiting for them at his high table.

  “Konungr Haakon!” Brita exclaimed, scuttling toward them before Eirik could soak his anger in honey mead. She dropped to the floor in a deep curtsy, and then rose, rather sprightly for a woman her age.

  “Brita...” Haakon sniffed. “I see you are still underfoot.”

  Brita’s face suffused with color and her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Her affair with their father had ended over twenty years ago with his murder at the hands of King Harald, yet Haakon, like most other nobles, refused to let her live it down.

  “W-w-we were not expecting your arrival, Konungr Haakon, but we have poured our finest ales and we’ve baked a batch of sweet bread. I myself have selected the freshest cheeses and choicest meats for your trencher. And tonight we shall dine on pickled herring, meatballs in a lingonberry sauce and a boar.”

  There were times when his mother tested his patience, but at this moment, Eirik pitied her as she stumbled over her words. Haakon had a way of unhinging even the most stalwart of adversaries.

  “Thank you, Brita. You’re preparations are greatly appreciated.” Despite her show of resourcefulness and graciousness as a lady of the manor, Haakon didn’t acknowledge it. He picked at an imaginary speck of dirt on his tunic instead. “Since you are so busy making Haakon’s visit as comfortable as possible, I’m sure you have more important things to attend to, and we are monopolizing your time.”

  Brita bobbed her head, relief evident on her face. As she scurried off to finish the preparations for his brother’s visit. Eirik decided to send Thoren off as well. Ever since the docks, the youth had been unusually silent.

  More than ready to end this business and send his brother packing, Eirik squired Haakon over to his personal table. Deferring to his brother’s status, Eirik took a seat on the adjacent bench while Haakon took his chair.

  His brother settled his large frame and reached across for a tankard. Instead of immediately downing the ale, he brought it to his lips, he sniffed it first. Finding it to his liking, he proceeded to down it —only stopping when one of the female thralls, Phee, set a wooden trencher in front of him. When she turned to walk away, he slapped her on the rump.

  “How is Margethe?” Eirik asked.

  Haakon looked at him sharply, but then he shrugged his shoulders. “She’s fine —as good as any married woman, I suppose.” He took another swig of his ale before slamming the metal cup back down on the heavy oak table. “Speaking of wives,” Haakon paused to wipe his mouth with his shirtsleeve, “that is the very reason why I’m here. It is long overdue, as your brother, to do my brotherly duty.”

  The blood ran cold through Eirik’s veins. “Brotherly duty? Your responsibility for me ended when our father died and you threw us out of his keep.”

  “Water under the bridge.” Haakon waved his hand as if the indiscretion was nothing more than cleaning house. “I am here because it is time for you to take a wife.”

  Eirik averted his gaze as he thought about that fateful day when his heart had been broken by Oona’s betrayal. He waited for the customary anger...but it never came. Instead his thoughts drifted to the dark beauty locked in his spare bedchamber. She would be furious over her new jail, and he was looking forward to the encounter with quickening expectation, and he resolved to cut this evening short. His royal guest be damned.

  “I have no need of a wife.�
� Or at least one that was not Reese.

  “Still sore over Oona?” Eirik tightened his grip on his tankard less it ended up embedded in his brother’s skull.

  “Would it make you happy to know that she’s lost all the meat on her bones and soured worse than milk?” Haakon waited for a reaction, not getting one he continued, “So, I am here to make up for Oona. I have found you another bride. The fairest in the entire realm.”

  “I. Have. No. Need. For. A. Wife.” He enunciated every word slowly so Haakon would not misinterpret his resolve.

  “I have a need for you to take a wife.” Losing all manner of good humor, his voice had taken on a hard edge. “Despite your aversion to marriage, it is the purpose of my visit. I would not visit this sty for any other reason.”

  Eirik gripped his tankard so tightly, his knuckles blanched white.

  “I am looking to unify my lands into one. There are rumors that mongrel Ivar Larson of Sør-Trøndelag is gathering an army to unseat me. If I unite you with his only daughter, it will shut him up, and the rest of the Trønders will fall in line.”

  Eirik gritted his teeth. He’d never been one for court intrigue, especially when it involved him.

  “Ivar’s daughter is of marriageable age. She’s very beautiful with black hair and eyes the color of heather.”

  Eirik stiffened. “You assumed I might be agreeable to this match because she resembles Oona?”

  “I thought no such thing,” Haakon protested. “As your king, I knew you would be agreeable. But since Ivar’s daughter resembles Oona, I mentioned it only because the alliance might be more palpable.”

  Eirik ignored his brother’s veiled threat. “What will happen if I refuse?”

  Haakon sat back with a protracted sigh. “You certainly inherited our father’s stubbornness.”

  “Make that two of us,” Eirik gritted out.

  Haakon plopped his chin in his hand and considered him for several moments. “What will happen if you refuse? Of course, you will no longer be under my protection. And, I will seize everything you own as my right. And I mean everything.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Knees tucked beneath her, Reece sat on the floor next to the bed. Ever since nightfall she’d preoccupied herself with counting the stars visible through the window, and before that the clouds. Phee had come and gone with her evening meal, she’d eaten none of it. She’d lost her appetite the moment Eirik locked the door behind.

  Her temporary confinement had contributed substantially to her discontent, but it wasn’t the only reason she’d dined on nothing but her fingernails all day. The true culprit? The arrival of Eirik’s brother. In one fell swoop, Haakon’s sudden appearance could undermine her campaign. How could she get back the black tourmaline with him gone?

  Deep in her thoughts, she didn’t hear Eirik enter the chamber.

  “Why are you not snuggled beneath the furs?” He’d crossed the room and sat down on the bed, his knee touching her shoulder. “Missing our bed?”

  Reese tipped her head back to look at him. As per his usual habit before bedtime, he’d bound his hair on top of his head in a messy, but very sexy man bun. Vulnerable to his innate ability to turn her on, she felt her pulse quicken. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to count the stars instead.”

  “Then I should join you.” To her surprise he slid from the bed and settled next to her. “I think I will be unable to sleep as well,” he muttered, as he took her hand and threaded his fingers with hers.

  Anxiety bubbled to the surface. “Your brother brought bad news?”

  “It depends on the person. You might be overjoyed. I, on the other hand, am living on borrowed time.”

  Borrowed time? Mind racing to all manner of torture and punishment, Reese hit the ceiling. “You’re talking in riddles!” She yanked her hand from his, and attempted to stand. A hand on her shoulder, and a slight nudge, planted her in his lap. She screeched when he wrapped his arms around her.

  “You do not attempt to console me in my time of need?” he asked, nuzzling the sensitive skin just below her ear.

  “I’ll give you a black eye if you don’t tell me why your brother is here.”

  Not the least bit threatened by the fist thrust beneath his nose, he pressed ardent kisses down the column of her throat, then back up again. “Fair Reese, have a care and take pity on my poor soul.”

  Reese opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove his soul, but the words were smothered by a toe-curling kiss. Incapable of stopping what had begun, they both knew she’d lost the battle the minute he’d touched her, she looped her arms around his neck as he lifted her from the floor.

  Keeping his mouth firmly fixed over hers, Eirik gently placed her on the bed. And then he was beside her, braced on an elbow, his other hand free to explore, take liberties. Like touching the tips of her nipples visible beneath the delicate linen of her nightgown. And with only a few caresses her body was reduced to an eager sexual vessel where every licentious cell, all nerve endings and every fiber of her being narrowed to a finite focus. Him.

  When his fingers slipped between her thighs, her breath caught in her throat, the stabbing pleasure mind-boggling in its intensity. Still, it wasn’t enough for Reese. She needed full-body contact. Twisting around, she arched into him.

  “We’re wearing too many clothes,” Reese chafed.

  He leaned away from her, and the heat in his smoldering blue gaze, mesmerized her.

  “Then fix it.”

  Eager to unwrap her prize, eyes locked with his, she grasped the edge of his tunic. Chuckling, he rolled on top of her, so she could pull it off. Not stopping there, Reese went to work on his braies. Once the rawhide laces were undone, she grunted...tugged...grunted some more...until the buttery soft leggings were partway down his muscular thighs. As he moved to discard them, Reese yanked her nightgown over her head and flung it across the room.

  “Finally,” she breathed, relishing in his body heat as he gathered her close. Their bodies confirmed perfectly to the other, and she spoke to him with hers, her hands running over his powerful shoulders and back, her legs entwining with his.

  Cradling his weight with his elbows, he gazed down at her. Inch by slow inch he filled her. Reese bit down on her bottom lip as she stretched to accommodate him. With deliberate care, he withdrew to the tip, and then plunged forward, just as unhurriedly, to the hilt.

  “Eirik,” she gasped, a naked appeal for more. His measured strokes and his fluid penetration and withdrawal was an earth-shattering conundrum. One moment he was tearing her down, the next building her back up. Reese was in over her head. She’d grown so accustomed to his aggressive style of lovemaking, and practically ached for his hard-hitting strokes, she found herself ill-prepared for this, his gentleness, and it was a shock to her senses. His restraint oddly erotic.

  As his cock slid in and out of her, Reese moaned in exquisite response, her testimony to his being an expert at enslaving her, taming her to his will. She should’ve taken him to task for locking her in this room, but with one touch, she’d buckled.

  And it felt good, oh so good! In a mindless delirium, she scored her nails down his back. Her hips stirred restlessly, impatiently meeting his every thrust.

  Reese felt the first orgasmic flutter. Moaning, her hands bunched the bed furs beneath her. She bit her lip to squelch a cry of pleasure, but cried out when he bit her left breast.

  “Nei. When you peak, I want to hear you cry my name.” He bent his head and nipped the other breast.

  “Eirik!” Her climax a delirious coming, a turbulent outpouring, convulsed her body and stirred her soul. A short time later, he joined her, making her body a willing receptacle for his hot seed.

  Breathing harshly, he sprawled next to her. As soon as his back hit the mattress, she planted herself across his chest. She felt like she could stay like this forever.

  “So you are not angry with me?” he asked.

  “I am furious.”

  He cut his ey
es at her. “Do you always smile when you are furious?”

  “Only with you.”

  His heartbeat unquestionably steady beneath her palm, Reese tried to discern from his expression what he was thinking. He seemed to be studying her face for the very same reason.

  “I am sorry.”

  Reese’s smile broadened. “You should be. Cooped up here all day by myself, I almost lost my mind,” she exaggerated. Her brief incarceration had been punctuated with periodical visits from Phee and Magdal. Alone, she stared out the window and counted clouds. When that became unbearable, she messed around with a pair of whalebone needles and a ball of yarn she found on the window seat.

  “I do not trust Haakon.” There was bitterness in his voice. “One look at you and he would want you, desire you as much as I do. And there would be nothing I could do because you belong to me.”

  In an effort to remain calm, Reese ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest. “What if I didn’t belong to you?”

  “A freed woman has no protection but she can come and go as she pleases.” He gathered her close. “You have no such worries. I will always be your protector.”

  “Lucky me.”

  His blue eyes flared, and Reese smiled ever so sweetly.

  “I will show you how lucky you are,” he growled, and then rolled her beneath him.

  *****

  Reese uncoiled herself from the bed and stretched her arms overhead. Last night, Eirik had shown her how lucky she was and then some. He didn’t leave off until she’d collapsed after her seventh orgasm.

  Thinking of him, she turned back toward the bed and found it empty. She glanced around the room and located her nightgown on the floor but his clothes were gone. Curious, yet already knowing the outcome, Reese walked over to the chamber door and tested the lock. Sure enough it was bolted.

  Discouraged, Reese began to pace. The Viking would never willingly free her. Her family tree included slaves, but accepting her fate would never sit right with her.

  “Working up an appetite ‘afore you break your fast?”