Enslaved by the Viking

by Harper St. George

  She didn’t know what could create that sort of fear in a warrior like him—it seemed ridiculous to even think that was what she saw. The intimacy they created swirled around them, drawing them close in its cocoon, but the gulf between them still existed. She knew that gulf was rooted in his fear. They laid there together, her touch on his hand the only thing between them, but there could be so much more. She was sure of it. If only she could breach the fear that he held like a shield between them.

  * * *

  Eirik laid there in the semi-darkness, savouring her touch but unwilling to do what he knew she wanted. He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding every woman except Kadlin, avoiding any entanglement that would make him relive things better left forgotten. But now, with her small hand on his and her warmth so close, he wanted to pull her close. To bury his nose in her hair and drink in her scent as she slept, to know the comfort she offered him.

  The urge to touch her, to stroke her back and whisper how she’d pleased him, was there within him just as it had been the first time. But he stayed the impulse. She would have to be happy with what he could offer her. He liked her happy, eager to please him and be pleased by him. There could be nothing more than that simple pleasure between them. If she became too comfortable with him, she’d want things from him that he was in no way prepared to offer.

  The way she wanted to touch him was a good example of that. A barrier had to exist between them. She had to know her place, and that place didn’t include intimacy. They found pleasure in their couplings and that was all it could ever be. Physical pleasure. Anything more would cross a wall he wasn’t ready to breach and make him vulnerable to her, to the dark things that hid within him.

  He wasn’t ready to face them.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next few days were more blissful than Merewyn had thought possible when Eirik had carried her onto his ship, away from her home. Actually, they were more blissful than any of her imaginings on her morning walks to the beach. He made love to her every night and usually in the mornings, as well. Every time he moved slowly and thoroughly until she experienced that soul-shattering climax they had discovered together.

  But it was more than the care he took in taking her body that made the days so idyllic. When he went fishing, he took her with him, and she would gather wood while he caught their food. If he was doing something more laborious, then she tended the house, but he’d come to chat with her frequently. They prepared the evening meal together and he told her stories from his childhood. It occurred to her on an evening almost a week after their arrival that their lives were exactly that of a husband and wife.

  Except it was even better than any match she’d dared to hope that Alfred would provide for her. There was not a grand manor or any servants to see to their every need, but she didn’t need those things. Not when her prize was her Northman. Sometimes she would feel pangs of guilt because she knew that he wasn’t really hers and she should want to return home. But she couldn’t summon those longings anymore. She wanted Eirik with every fibre of her being. She wanted him and everything he could offer her. He accepted her as she was, he made her feel wanted, but more than either of those...he valued her. She felt that in every tender glance he threw her way and in the time he took to teach her things, such as how to properly tie on a hook or to keep the fire burning consistently to cook their supper. Things she’d never had to know before because someone else had always taken care of them.

  She could happily stay there with him for ever. But some nagging voice deep inside would always remind her that it wouldn’t be for ever and he wasn’t her husband. He was her captor. No matter how happy she ever felt, that cold thought found a way to intrude.

  She’d purposely not broached the subject of going back to his home, back to his family, because she hadn’t wanted to face what that would mean. Though she hadn’t fully realised it until that moment, a part of her had come to hope that their stay at the farm would be indefinite, or at least through the winter. It was so cosy with just the two of them and the occasional presence of the caretaker and his sons. Going back to the longhouse would be a break, perhaps an irreparable one, from this idyllic world they had created.

  Here, he made her feel cherished. He made her feel everything she had always assumed, always hoped, that a husband would make her feel. But he wasn’t her husband. Even though he treated her better than her family ever had, even though she found herself imagining a fantasy life with him, that was all it was. Fantasy. Because she was his slave and that wouldn’t change.

  Eirik’s hand on her cheek brought her back to the present. He stood above her where she sat on the bench that had become their bed, but sat down beside her once he had her attention. ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘How happy I am here...with you,’ she whispered.

  He pressed a kiss to the crease that had formed between her eyes. ‘You don’t look happy.’

  ‘Are you happy here?’ It was foolishness to broach the subject, she knew that, but couldn’t still her tongue.

  When he pulled back, the corner of his mouth was tipped up in a smile. ‘Aye, sweet girl.’ He pushed her back at the same time he trailed kisses down her neck. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the desire that he could so easily rouse within her.

  * * *

  Once she was on her back, Eirik raised up to look at the prize he’d taken from the Saxon shore. Only, she’d become so much more than a prize to him. She opened her eyes and smiled, and he felt that smile deep in his chest. It was as though she’d somehow reached inside and taken out some of the heaviness that weighed on him. ‘You make me happy.’ And as he spoke the words, he realised how true they were.

  He was supposed to keep himself removed from her, to keep a wall between them. But, somehow, she was breaking it down without even giving him a chance to defend it. When she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand, he turned to place a kiss to the tender pulse on her slender wrist. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but all he wanted to do was show her pleasure. To make her eyes light up with it and make sure every part of her body felt it. She deserved so much more than he could offer her; he felt that he needed to make up that lack to her in any way that he could.

  So he slowly pulled up the skirt of her dress and nuzzled his face in her breasts. He knew how she liked to be touched, how she liked to be tasted, and spent the rest of the evening showing her all the things he could never say to her.

  * * *

  But afterwards, when she had turned to sleep on her side, he laid beside her and stared into the fire and wondered how much longer they had left. Their days at the farm were numbered. His father would send for him if he didn’t return soon, Eirik was sure of it. There was too much to be done before the invasion in the spring. Besides that, his father would be angry about Kadlin and looking to vent his disapproval. For the first time in his life, thoughts of returning home were unsettling.

  He rested his hand on top of hers and smiled to himself. The need to touch her was happening more and more lately. And it wasn’t just for comfort that he sought her out. Somehow, this small woman gave him strength. He longed to take her in his arms and soak her in until he was as strong as she believed him to be. But this simple touch was all that he could allow, because he was afraid of breaking in front of her. If he did, she’d turn away from him.

  He didn’t know what he would do when that happened. In one week, she’d made this place more of a home than the one he’d lived in all his life. The one he should be anxious to return to because he hadn’t spent more than two nights there in the past two years. But he didn’t want to do anything but stay with her.

  He closed his eyes and tried not to think of their return and what it would mean. She wouldn’t like her life as a slave, but there was no alternative for her. When he took a deep breath, her scent washed over him, drawing him closer to her warmth as
he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Eirik took a deep, gasping breath and sat straight up in bed. His lungs were deflated, deprived of air as though he’d been underwater for too long. Grey spots danced before his vision, but slowly they cleared and his breathing wasn’t quite so desperate. It was only at that point that he became aware of the water running in rivulets down his bare chest. And then he noticed Merewyn. She stood watching him as though she was wondering if he was the same man who had touched her just hours earlier.

  He realised then that he’d had a nightmare and it must have been bad enough to wake her. The dreams became worse, more vivid, during times of anxiety. Thoughts of leaving their sanctuary, of returning home, must have triggered it.

  He raised his hand to reach out for her and realised only then that his body was trembling in the furious aftermath of the dream. The entire bed was shaking. He couldn’t even remember the dream, only the horrible feeling of dread and despair that settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. And with it, that remembered feeling of helpless pain. He despised it.

  A fur dropped around his shoulders, surprising him so that he jerked away from the comfort.

  ‘I’m sorry. I just... You’re shaking and I think maybe you’re too cold.’ Merewyn stood at his side, her voice gentle and hesitant, the way women sometimes talked to people who were injured or infirm.

  He despised that, too. Not that she would try to help him, but that she would see him as infirm because that was exactly what he was. Damaged in a way that would haunt him for ever. If only she knew, she would be ashamed of giving herself to him, ashamed that he wasn’t the man he pretended to be. He jerked his gaze away from where she stood beside him to her empty spot in the bed. He wanted to leave so she wouldn’t see him this way, but he knew from experience his legs wouldn’t be able to support him just yet. It occurred to him to order her away, and he opened his mouth to do that, but there was nowhere safe for her to go. The other chambers would be too cold for her.

  ‘Here.’ She moved slowly so she wouldn’t frighten him and he hated that she would have that worry. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see what she thought of him now and the fur slid back up around his shoulders. He gripped it tight so she wouldn’t have to.

  Sounds of her adding wood to the fire reached his ears, followed by the soft pad of her bare feet as she moved to stand beside him. She paused and he heard the sound of rustling as she put on her underdress.

  But she didn’t leave him as he expected, and the heat of her thigh warmed his as she sat beside him. After a moment, a dry cloth blotted the water away from his forehead. He jerked away, but she surprised him and followed, ‘You’ll catch your death if we don’t get you dry. I’m sorry for the water, but I couldn’t wake you any other way.’

  He kept his eyes closed and suffered through her administrations as she wiped the water from his face and hairline. After a while, he realised his skin tingled under her repetitive touch and his shoulders weren’t as tight. He didn’t know when it happened, hadn’t been aware of shifting his position so that he faced her, but when he opened his eyes, she was smiling at him.

  She chewed the inside of her bottom lip, the way he noticed that she sometimes did when she was uncertain, and gently touched his hand. When he didn’t pull it back, she brought it very slowly, but very deliberately to her own face so that his palm cupped her cheek. ‘Just feel me and know that I’m here. You’re not alone.’

  His hands still shook, but as he focused on them, the trembling subsided slightly. He felt like a babe as she attended to him. But she was helping. She felt warm, solid, alive beneath his hand.

  ‘I’m going to dry your chest.’ She held up a length of linen and moved slowly to bring it to his chest. He watched it the entire way and sucked in a deep breath when she touched him through the cloth, but he refused to follow the impulse to stop her and watched as she dried him. When he was as dry as he was going to get—his hair would be damp for a while—she gently pushed him down to lie on his back and threw the linen to the floor. Then she climbed back to her side of the bed and pulled a blanket over them both.

  She smiled at him again, a timid smile of understanding, as she snuggled against him. ‘I’m going to put my arm across your chest, but I’ll only rest it on your shoulder.’ Then she did just as she described, and he put his arm around her as she stretched out to lay full length against him, her arm across his chest.

  Tears stung his eyes, and he blinked them back furiously, determined to not further unman himself before her. The fingers of one hand bit into the soft flesh of her hip as he pulled her closer. He’d never had this. After the nightmares had started, he’d sometimes awaken to Hilla or Sweyn bringing him out of it, but never to this. Even before the nightmares, when his mother had been alive, he’d never known the comfort of touch. His father had taken over the care of him and his brothers, while his sisters had been under the care of their mother.

  No one had ever held him.

  He closed his eyes against the memory, but it wasn’t enough. As much as her touch comforted him, it threatened to tear him apart. There was pain in her arms, because they demanded too much. They demanded to know, demanded that he face what he refused to remember and threatened to bring the knot of pain that he’d tamped down to the surface. A tear slipped out, and he flipped their positions so that his face was buried against her chest and his arms held her tight against him. He couldn’t let her see how dangerously close to breaking he really was. He couldn’t let her know the blackness that existed deep within him, so he took deep gasping breaths to keep from telling her.

  Her hands stroked his back in long, slow caresses, and he closed his eyes to savour the sensation. They stayed that way for a long while, until his trembling stopped completely. It was amazing how she soothed him. Her warmth became his, and there was an indescribable comfort of having her in his arms.

  ‘What do you dream about?’ The question wasn’t a surprise, but he’d thought—hoped—that she’d gone to sleep.

  He didn’t want to lie to her, but there was no way he was telling her about the nightmares, about what had caused them. Perhaps he was selfish, but he wanted her and had no intention of giving her up. Eventually she would find out. Someone would mention that day. He didn’t know how he would face the day when she told him she didn’t want to be with him anymore, but he knew that he wouldn’t force her to stay with him. So he had no intention of hastening its arrival. She wouldn’t want to stay after she knew, of that he had no doubt.

  ‘I don’t remember the dreams.’ His voice was husky and almost unrecognisable against the steady beat of her heart. His throat was scratchy and dry, but he didn’t want to leave her for water. He needed her right now more than he could admit.

  ‘You never remember the nightmares? But they’re so...so disturbing. Do you have no notion of them?’

  He shook his head, but he knew exactly what they were, had very vivid recollections of the earlier ones when he was younger. He was sure now that they had come back; they were the same. ‘Forget them, Merewyn, they don’t mean anything.’ But he knew from the way she lay so quietly that she wouldn’t forget them. He couldn’t say that he blamed her.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Forget it.’ Stronger now, he pushed up on his elbows to look down at her, but he immediately bemoaned the loss of her warm body against him. He knew that she must notice the redness in his eyes—his weakness would be on clear display for her to witness, and he hated it.

  Her only reply was to beckon him back, and he crushed her to him again and closed his eyes until he wasn’t aware of anything except the beat of her heart.

  * * *

  When she awoke the next morning, he was still wrapped around her. She smiled and rubbed her palms along the warm skin of his back. She didn’t want to wake him, but she couldn’t resist the impulse to touch him. But he must h
ave already been awake, because he lifted his head to look down at her.

  ‘Good morning.’ Her smile widened as she noticed his expression. Things had changed between them. His eyes were as raw and exposed to her as they had been last night. Maybe the barrier wasn’t gone yet, but there was a definite chink in the wall. Her heart almost flipped in her chest when he smiled back. It wasn’t a large smile. In fact, it was more a barely perceptible quirk upwards.

  ‘Good morning.’ His voice was still raspy from his screams.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ His hair had dried pressed flat against her breast, so it was quite messy. It looked adorable, but she kept that thought to herself as she ran her fingers through it. Something told her he wouldn’t take the description as a compliment.

  The question was a subtle reminder of the night before, and it made his eyes immediately shutter. She wanted to smack herself for even asking. Instead, she brought her hands to his shoulders to hold him in place when she felt him tense to move. ‘Don’t go. I’ll get breakfast started.’

  He hesitated, but eventually moved to the side to let her up. But when she rose and turned towards the fire, she flinched when a sharp twinge of pain shot through that part of her he had so enthusiastically enjoyed over the past few days.

  ‘What was that?’

  She laughed and pulled on the woollen apron dress. ‘We’ve been rather active lately. Or have you forgotten?’

  ‘You’ve been letting me hurt you?’ His voice was so solemn that it immediately drew her attention back to him.