Enslaved by the Viking

by Harper St. George

  ‘Welcome home, my lord. I had wondered if you’d returned.’

  ‘Aye, just a few days past. It seems your jarl has been busy.’ Eirik dismounted and clasped the man’s arm in greeting, before reaching up to grab the shapely hips of his slave and help her down.

  Cnut laughed. ‘He has at that, the randy bastard. Have you brought a gift or your own entertainment?’ His question was unmistakably about the girl.

  It was well known that Jarl Leif was too enamoured of his wife to partake of the entertainment a bed slave could provide. The question was simply a means of figuring out why the slave was there, but Eirik didn’t feel inclined to elaborate on an issue he was still trying to figure out for himself. ‘Neither’ was the only explanation he offered as he untied the bolt of cloth from the back of the destrier.

  ‘I see the black is still in his prime.’ Cnut walked over and rubbed the horse’s flank. ‘Most folks came by boat or foot, so there’s plenty of space for him.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s good to see you, my friend. I’ll be out to check him in the morning.’ Eirik turned his attention to the slave, who was busy watching the spectacle around them. Numerous fires hosted spits of roasting meat and gatherings of men who were laughing loudly and taking advantage of the occasion to drink copious amounts of ale. The girl looked as if she feared she’d end up on one of those spits. ‘Come.’ He gently took her arm and led her to the longhouse.

  ‘Eirik!’ The moment he stepped inside, Kadlin’s voice came to him through the din of commotion. His eyes adjusted to the lighting inside just in time to catch her as she flung herself into his arms. ‘I’m so happy you’re here. When did you get home?’

  ‘Just a few days ago. I’d thought to see you there, but Father said your mother was close to her time. The baby is well?’

  ‘Aye, a strong boy, to my father’s everlasting joy. After four girls in a row, I think he was beginning to doubt his prowess.’ She laughed.

  ‘He has other sons. I’m told daughters are trouble and, judging from all the trouble you’ve caused, I can understand his distress,’ he teased. ‘Is your mother well?’

  ‘Aye, she’s wonderful and healthy. And I haven’t caused a bit of trouble.’ She feigned a frown, and Eirik had to admit that it only somehow made her more beautiful. Because of her height, she only had to look up slightly to him. He couldn’t help but compare her to the slave’s own delicate beauty and how she fit nicely tucked up against him. It was a disturbing thought, because he’d never once imagined how Kadlin felt against him. The unwarranted comparison made him release Kadlin and step back.

  Her lips parted as if to remark on his abrupt movement, but then she noticed the figure beside him and smiled a greeting. But the smile faded as she noted the coarse wool apron dress and the plain braid. ‘You’ve brought a slave?’

  ‘She was a gift.’ Eirik clenched his teeth.

  ‘Do you think our welcome so lacking you had to bring your own slave?’ Kadlin was still looking the girl over. She stared right back at her.

  ‘I couldn’t trust her safety to Gunnar and my father, so I brought her.’ It sounded like a defensive statement and he despised it.

  Kadlin’s smile had returned when she looked back at him. He’d feared that she’d heard far too much in his explanation. That she had noted his defensiveness and knew it for what it was. Guilt that he wanted the slave girl to belong to him in every way her position in his life implied. Eirik cleared his throat and changed the subject. ‘I’ve been travelling for days. A dutiful woman would offer me mead and food.’

  ‘Well, as you’ve realised, I’m a disappointment to my family and can be forgiven for forgetting my duties. But do come in and take a seat by the fire. Does your...?’ She glanced at the girl, as if unwilling to accept the explanation he’d given. ‘Does your slave need food, as well?’

  ‘Aye, many thanks, Kadlin. I’d have her stay in the women’s quarters if it can be arranged.’

  She nodded her fair head and motioned over a stout woman who seemed to be hovering in the background awaiting her command.

  ‘Go with the woman. She’ll see you fed and show you to a bed for the night.’ Eirik spoke softly in her own tongue while steadfastly refusing to allow the girl’s wide-eyed hesitancy to affect him.

  ‘My lord...’ The girl lightly placed her fingers on his arm.

  ‘You’ll be safe in the women’s quarters.’ He nodded to the loft near the back and unconsciously pressed his hand to her fingers for reassurance. ‘I’ll be down here all night.’

  * * *

  Two hours later, Eirik stared into the fire as Kadlin spoke of all that had happened in his absence. The flames made him remember how the slave’s hair reflected the firelight, and he cast a glance in the direction of the loft.

  ‘Then he tried to proclaim his innocence, all the while attempting to hide his muddy feet and the piglet in his trousers. When questioned about the squealing, he explained in all sincerity that it was a malady he had developed lately!’

  Eirik couldn’t help but chuckle and look to her younger brothers across the room. ‘It appears they are even more troublesome than their older sister. Have you told them yet about the time you flattened Gunnar when he said you were more boy than girl?’

  Kadlin blushed and sat back in her seat. ‘Of course, but only so they know I’m perfectly capable of keeping them in line.’

  Eirik smiled again at the memory. Being in her company had always been easy. As children she’d been determined to keep up with whatever machinations he and Gunnar were into and had always held her own. She’d eventually earned their respect by keeping up with them. Maybe he was a fool to pass up the opportunity to marry her now. She was perfect in all the ways he knew that a wife should be. But he had never once thought about what it would be like to lie between her thighs. Not like with the slave. He looked back at the loft before he could stop the inclination.

  ‘She admires you, you know.’

  ‘Who?’ His startled gaze swung back to Kadlin.

  ‘The girl.’ She smiled. ‘She seems very aware of you...as a man.’

  ‘You’ve gone mad. She’s a slave.’

  ‘Slave or not, she’s still a woman. A woman who looks at you like a woman looks at a man she notices.’

  He despised that her words pleased him. ‘What would you know of such things?’

  ‘Women notice these things. I am a woman.’ Kadlin sat up straighter in mock affront.

  ‘I didn’t mean to question your femininity.’ He held up a hand in surrender. ‘I only meant you barely saw her, surely not long enough to tell that. It doesn’t matter.’

  She kept up the knowing smile, and he forced himself to look away from it, unwilling to discuss his thoughts of the slave.

  ‘It wouldn’t matter, I suppose, except you look at her that way too. It makes one wonder...’ Her voice trailed off and her smile faded. ‘That girl isn’t like the other slaves working with Hilla.’

  He knew what she meant, knew where she was headed and clenched his teeth.

  ‘Her skin is too smooth and fair to have worked a farm. You have to know she won’t be a good worker.’

  ‘She’s never worked a farm.’ His voice was low and measured. Despite the noise around them, in their small alcove, the words carried to her. ‘She’s a noblewoman and was given to me. I didn’t take her to be a good worker.’

  The corner of her mouth tilted upwards. ‘Well, that’s not surprising. She has the look of noble birth. But I am surprised that you accepted her. Interesting.’ Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the arm of her chair as she surveyed him. ‘I know you weren’t forced to accept her. No one could force a gift on you.’

  His patience at an end, his voice was harsher than he intended. ‘What’s with this inquisition, Kadlin? Gunnar found her in a cellar, the lady of the man
or gave her to me and she was clearly abused there. I couldn’t leave her.’

  ‘Oh.’ For the first time, Kadlin looked uncertain. ‘Gunnar is well, then?’

  He nodded, but couldn’t let the subject go until she understood. ‘I had no choice but to take her.’

  She was silent for a moment as she processed his words. ‘It seems you didn’t, but she’s very pretty. There’s only one position available to a slave like that.’

  ‘Aye, I’m aware of the usual station offered to a pretty slave.’ Eirik was more than aware. He’d been battling his own urges from the start. ‘I haven’t bedded her, if that’s your concern. Have you always talked this much?’

  ‘Always,’ she countered. ‘And that’s not my concern, Eirik. I know you, but I do wonder what will become of her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You brought her here because you couldn’t leave her with your father and brother. I agree that those two aren’t the most trustworthy when it comes to pretty girls. But soon you’ll have to leave to go off again or perhaps you’ll marry. Do you suppose a wife would like your pretty slave to join your household? What will happen to her then?’

  ‘You think I’d let a wife rule my decision regarding her? I don’t know of a man who doesn’t make use of bed slaves, married or not. It’s a common enough practice and you know it. Your father is the only exception.’ It was a stupid thing to say. Though it was true, it wasn’t something he should be discussing with Kadlin, and it was his meagre attempt at assuaging his own guilt for those feelings.

  ‘Oh, Eirik.’ Her hand, tender and unexpected on his arm, drew his gaze back to her. ‘You know that’s not true, and even if it were, it doesn’t excuse it. I know you desire her, but surely you of anyone knows what it would mean.’

  Eirik took a deep breath and touched her fingers where they rested on his arm. ‘Aye. I would not take away her free will in that. How can you speak of this so plainly?’ He’d noticed there seemed to be no jealousy in her words.

  ‘I care for you. I don’t want to see you do something against yourself.’

  Though he knew her words were true, there was more. ‘You’re not jealous of the girl yourself?’

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes before she averted them to the table. ‘Why would I be jealous?’

  ‘Because any woman in your position would have the right to be jealous.’

  ‘My position?’

  He watched her until she couldn’t look away anymore and had to meet his scrutiny. It was clear to him then why she didn’t feel threatened by the slave. ‘You don’t want to marry me, do you?’

  Kadlin laughed and looked down again, clearly uneasy now that the inquisition had turned to her. ‘My father has been talking to yours, I see.’

  He nodded. ‘But you’ve known they assumed we would wed all along. You don’t want to be my wife.’ The answer was plainly written on her face, a revelation he hadn’t expected.

  ‘Aye, they have. My father has failed to speak to me about the matter, however. He thinks he knows what’s best for me.’

  ‘You don’t think marrying me would be best for you?’

  ‘Look at my parents.’

  Eirik found them at the large table across the room. The jarl held a small bundle tightly wrapped in blankets while his wife sat to his side watching the dancing girls who had made an opening in the crowd to twirl. They reminded him a little of the girl as she’d twirled on her beach. The jarl watched, too, but he kept turning to watch his wife, as if he’d rather experience it through her reaction.

  ‘They love each other. My father doesn’t even know other women exist. It’s what I want, too.’ She touched his arm again to soften her words. ‘I know you care for me and that you’d provide well for me, but you don’t feel that way for me.’

  The weight he’d carried slowly began to dissipate, leaving him feeling free. He should have felt regret. But he didn’t. She was right and, while he’d certainly never considered love—whatever that elusive emotion meant—necessary for marriage, it was clear that she did. His father would be furious. Eirik knew that he should be furious as well, but he couldn’t rouse the emotion. He had never felt the match necessary to substantiate his claim, though he understood it would strengthen it. He’d have to figure out some way to placate his father.

  His gaze automatically went to the dark loft again. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew the slave was there. Free of attachment, the need for her roared through him. She could be his for as long as he wanted her.

  ‘And you don’t look at me like you do your slave,’ Kadlin added. Her teasing smile was back.

  ‘You have gone mad.’

  ‘I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you look at her. It’s as though you want to possess her.’

  ‘Cease this.’ His voice was a low growl, provoked by how easily she saw his desire for the girl.

  Undeterred by his gruffness, Kadlin laughed. ‘I know how a man looks at a woman he wants. I’m not so sheltered I don’t understand the happenings between a man and a woman. Like that dancing girl there...’ She nodded to one with large breasts. ‘Those men watching her want to bed her. But you, you look to the slave.’

  Kadlin moved to stand behind him, her arms encircling his shoulders from behind and her lips near his ear. ‘You’re a fine man, Eirik. She knows it, too. I saw it in her eyes. I’m not sure why, but I think she could be someone special to you. She’s a noble and she’d be a fine match for you if only she wasn’t Saxon.’

  ‘But she is,’ he whispered.

  ‘Aye, a Saxon slave. What a pity.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Merewyn watched the embrace from her pallet on the floor of the loft. There was clearly something between them. The knowledge stung with a pain that brought tears to her eyes. She flopped onto her back and closed her eyes. The image of the beautiful woman putting her arms around Eirik—for the second time that day—was imprinted in her mind.

  He laughed with her. When they had arrived, his arms had gone around her as if they’d done that many times before. The woman was clearly important to him, and she definitely wasn’t his sister. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter because he was nothing to Merewyn but her master. But it did matter.

  She tried to tell herself that it only mattered because he was her security in this world. The woman could become jealous if she suspected their relationship was something...different than it was. Or what it threatened to become. Merewyn could still feel the phantom weight of his body on top of her, and she prayed for forgiveness when it wasn’t at all a repugnant memory. If the woman became jealous, Eirik could give her away. Then what would happen to her? Some other man would use her as roughly as she’d been afraid Eirik would.

  The thought might explain the reason her breath came heavy and almost panicked. It might even explain why her heart was beating so fast. It did not explain the tears that leaked from her eyes to fall into the hair at her temple. It did not explain the heavy tightness that had settled around her heart or the ache in her throat. Those could only be explained by the treacherous thought tumbling around in her head: her Northman was in the arms of another woman.

  On some level the idea shocked her. But she accepted it, because it had been there for a long while hovering just outside her consciousness. It had crept in somewhere along the way and waited for just the right moment to reveal itself, that idea that he was somehow hers. She had no claim to him, but she wanted one.

  * * *

  The next morning Eirik came to see her as she was breaking her fast with the other women. She felt his presence as a prickling along her spine just before he touched her shoulder. Merewyn turned to him, uncertain what she would see in his gaze—guilt? Regret? Pity because he was giving her away? The woman would surely never allow him to keep her. But none of those wa
s there. His blue eyes seemed pleasant and clear as they boldly met hers.

  She nodded and walked the short distance away from the group so they could talk.

  ‘Were you able to rest last night?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye, my lord.’ It was a lie. She’d lain awake for hours thinking about him and that goddess, but that wasn’t what he meant. He was only concerned with her safety. He’d probably gone to check on his horse that morning, as well.

  Eirik surprised her by smiling and touching her cheek with the back of a finger. ‘Your eyes give away your lie.’

  Merewyn sucked in a breath and dropped her gaze. Not because he’d seen her so clearly, but because his touch was torture. It was tender when it should be cold. It promised things that were a lie. That ridiculous thought from the night before came back to taunt her. The light of day revealed it for the foolishness it had been. He would never be hers. He was her master and she was a slave. She had no hope of ever claiming any part of him. The knowledge left her bereft, and she hated the hollow ache in her chest. She’d been just fine in her life until he’d come along. He’d made things complicated, things that should be simple.

  Even so, she felt the loss when his hand dropped back to his side.

  ‘There will be a feast again tonight. Make sure you eat well and, once night falls, stay in the loft.’

  She could hear him ordering the same commands to the boy who tended his horse. Feed him well and, once night falls, keep him inside with plenty of hay. It made her unreasonably bitter, as she realised that even Alfred might have spoken the same words to her. No one had ever cared if she needed more than food or shelter. She especially didn’t expect the Dane to care, but she lashed out anyway to fight against his tender touches that lied. ‘Aye, master, I know my place.’

  His brow furrowed and his eyes clouded. The pleasant manner was gone. ‘Do you?’ The words were clipped, drawing her gaze back to his. ‘We’ll leave in the morning.’ He turned and walked away.