Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 02]

by The Outlaw Viking

  “Well, let me think on it a bit. Where were ye plannin’ on keepin’ the lad, even if ye were able to kidnap him—not that I think ’tis possible?”

  Rain slanted her eyes sheepishly toward Ella, who seemed almost like family to her, even though they had just met. “Is there any chance we could hide him here? The soldiers will be watching Gyda’s house.”

  Ella jumped to her feet indignantly. “I jist knew it. I jist knew it. Ye are pullin’ me right into the bloody middle of yer barmy schemes. Fer ten years I have worked me arse off tryin’ to establish a biz’ness, and all fer naught if ye have yer way. Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! I knew things was goin’ too well.”

  When Ella’s tirade wound down a bit, Rain asked, “Can you help me?”

  Ella rolled her eyes in her head. “Nay, keepin’ Selik here would ne’er pass. I have too many workers comin’ ’n goin’, always stickin’ their noses in me affairs.”

  Rain’s shoulders slumped with disappointment.

  “How ’bout Selik’s homestead outside the city? Much of it was fire-burned by Gravely and his fiendish band, but the foundation and frame fer the barn are still there, as I recollect. ’Twould take only a few hours of labor to put on a new thatch roof.”

  Rain’s spirits suddenly brightened with hope.

  “Sum benches and pallets and all the necessaries could be purchased in the city. Mayhap it could work. But people livin’ on Selik’s land of a sudden when it wuz abandoned fer nigh ten years would draw attention, fer certain. Can ye think of any reason fer yer livin’ there?”

  A clear, unrelated image flashed into Rain’s mind of the two children she’d encountered that day, Adam and Adela, and the vast number of homeless children on the streets.

  “An orphanage,” Rain answered without hesitation. “I’m going to open an orphanage.” Rain grabbed Ella then and hugged her warmly. “Oh, Ella, thank you, thank you. I swear I will repay you for your help some day.”

  Ella lowered her eyes in an uncharacteristically shy manner and offered hesitantly, “Well, mayhap there is somethin’ ye could do fer me.”

  “Anything. Just name it.”

  “Could ye perchance put in a good word fer me with Ubbi?”

  Rain’s mouth dropped open in utter amazement. Then she started to laugh so hard she couldn’t stop, finally choking and having to drink a cup of water that a disgusted Ella brought to her.

  “’Tis not that humorous.”

  “Oh, Ella,” Rain finally gasped out, “it’s not you I’m laughing at. It’s this whole bizarre comic turn my life has taken. If you had told me a few weeks ago that I would ever play cupid to anyone, let alone to two mismatched Dark Age characters, I would have said, ‘No way!’.”

  “Mismatched!” Ella said, honing in on that one word. “Hah! No more mismatched than you and Selik.”

  “You’re right about that, Ella. You’re right about that.”

  Rain tried unsuccessfully to show an interest in the prosperous mercer’s shop Ella proudly displayed for her—the best baudekin silks from Bagdad, Greek Samite, linens of the finest quality known as sindon, similar to a delicate lawn, and of course the famous Yorkshire wool. Even the exquisite embroidery and trims of marten or fox failed to hold Rain’s distracted attention.

  Finally, Ella gave up trying to entertain or impress her and led Rain up the stairs to her small bedchamber, which she would share with Rain.

  Unable to sleep, Rain agonized over the fate of Selik and Gyda’s family until Ubbi came for her the following afternoon, assuring her that no one was seriously injured. Even so, her worry increased when she entered Gyda’s home and saw the wanton destruction caused by the Saxon soldiers in their pursuit of Selik.

  Trestle tables had been overturned and gouged with axes. Barrels and pottery containers of food products—flour, milk, honey, eggs, mead—were strewn everywhere. Tapestries and woven drapes, which had lined the walls to keep out the autumn winds, lay in shredded strips.

  Everywhere Rain looked, she saw the inhabitants working diligently to clean up the mess under the stern orders of Gyda and Tyra. Already a large bonfire of damaged goods flamed brightly in the back yard and grew in intensity as more and more of the spoils were added.

  “Gyda, I’m so sorry. This is horrible.”

  Gyda looked up from where she was sweeping up a pile of sticky flour. “We have survived such destruction many a time, and ofttimes worse than this. At least, no one was killed, thank the Lord.”

  Rain noticed the man with the broken nose that Ubbi had mentioned—Tostir—and went over to examine his injury. There was really nothing she could do for him, other than advise him to hold cold compresses over it to reduce the swelling.

  Returning to Gyda’s side, she picked up another broom and began to work alongside her. “Where’s Selik? I’ve been so worried about him.”

  “Gone into hiding, I hope.”

  “Oh, no! He hasn’t gone after Steven of Gravely already, has he?”

  “Nay, not yet, but ’twill be soon, I wager. As soon as he is assured of our safety here.”

  Rain put a hand on Gyda’s sleeve. “I’ve decided you’re right, Gyda. We have to do something to stop Selik from killing himself. And that’s what he would be doing if he ventured into Saxon lands at this time.”

  Gyda stopped working and listened intently to Rain’s words. “So, a firsthand view of Saxon brutality has convinced you of the danger he faces?”

  “Yes, but more than that. Selik goes into a blind rage at the mere mention of Steven of Gravely. Under the best of circumstances, he faces eventual death in his vendetta against the Saxons. But Gravely—any man who could do what he did to your daughter and grandchild—well, I can’t begin to think what devious tactics he might use to lure Selik into the open, or what horrendous things he might do to him if he captures him.”

  Gyda’s face stiffened into a hard mask. “I do not begrudge Selik his revenge against Gravely. I would kill the devil myself with my bare hands if I could. But I agree with you that Selik’s rage may diminish his abilities to fight off such a fiend.” She studied Rain’s face carefully. “What will you do?”

  “Ella has agreed to help, but I’ll need your assistance as well.”

  Gyda nodded and Rain went on to explain details of the plan. They both agreed that time was of critical importance, since Selik might leave at any moment.

  By that evening, not only was Gyda’s house back in a reasonably clean and secure condition, but initial preparations had been completed for Selik’s “kidnapping.” Ella dropped by, offering additional advice, and between the three of them, they made arrangements to have men sent to repair the barn on Selik’s property. Gyda sent a servant to purchase the herbs Rain specified, along with some basic household supplies.

  And rope. Rain asked for super-heavy-strength rope.

  But Selik never returned that day, nor sent any word of his whereabouts. And he didn’t return the following day, either. When Rain went to bed the next night, her nerves were strung so tight she couldn’t sleep. She walked over to the narrow slit of a window and looked out at the moonlit night.

  Where was Selik? What was he doing? Was he even alive? Oh, God, please keep him safe.

  Selik leaned against the doorjamb, watching Rain as she unconsciously spoke aloud. Her whispery words drifted through the air to him.

  Bloody Hell! The wench is praying for me, Selik realized with a start. He was not sure he liked the idea.

  He rubbed his fingers across his eyes with weariness. Holy Thor! He wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. He had spent the past day and a half trying to elude the Saxon soldiers, leading them on a dangerous chase away from Jorvik, killing one more of Athelstan’s loyal followers in the process. And he must leave afore first light if he was going to pursue Steven of Gravely.

  A dull sense of foreboding nagged at Selik, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Was it a premonition that he would not return alive from this confrontation with Gravely? Or s
omething else?

  “Selik!” Rain had turned and noticed him standing in the doorway. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you let us know where you were, you stupid jerk?” Rain’s tearful voice of concern contrasted oddly with her insulting name for him.

  And, even as she chastised him, Rain launched herself into his arms, almost knocking him over in his exhaustion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, as if she would never let him go. Then she kissed his neck and cheek and eyes and brow and chin and lips—all small, frantic kisses. At the same time, her hands touched him everywhere, as if testing that he was really alive and well.

  Something new and intense flared deep in his soul, and for a brief moment, Selik hugged her back, relishing the exquisite smell of her clean hair and the warmth of her smooth skin. Finally, he forcefully put her away from him, holding her at arm’s length.

  “Missed me, did you, wench?”

  “Yes, you brute,” she said, looping her arm through his and leading him over to the pallet. “Sit down before you fall down, you silly man. Have you slept at all since I saw you last?”

  He shook his head, but obeyed her orders, intrigued by the picture of Rain fussing over him.

  “Take off your clothes. You smell like a bear.”

  Her words carried no lascivious intent, but still Selik’s lips tilted upward as he removed the filthy garments, except for his loin cloth. In truth, he did not think he could rise to any occasion. Even his bones ached.

  His grin grew wider, though, when she lit a candle and returned to the pallet. Kneeling beside him with a bowl of water, she lathered a square of linen cloth with hard soap and began to wash his face and neck and arms with gentle care. Even his malodorous underarms and dust-covered feet.

  Selik cocked his head slightly, trying to remember the last time anyone had cared enough to wash his flesh. As a child, abandoned at the court of King Harald in Norway, he was forced to manage on his own. And when he married Astrid, he cared for her, being stronger and unneedful of such ministrations.

  But being cared for felt good, Selik realized. So very good.

  When she finished and dried him off with a soft linen cloth, she inquired solicitously, “Are you hungry? Shall I go downstairs and get some food?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I just want to rest.” He lay down on the small cot, then shifted his weight to the outer edge, away from the wall and motioned to her. “Come, lie with me. Just for a short time. I feel so cold, and I need your body warmth.” He still wore only the brief undergarment, and the autumn air chilled the skin.

  Surprisingly, Rain did not protest in her usual shrewish manner. Instead, she complied without hesitation, smiling shyly, and squirmed her way into the narrow space he had allotted for her against the wall. He pulled a wool blanket up over them both.

  Selik closed his eyes with a sigh as he adjusted their bodies, his chest to her back, his manhood to her buttocks. Her head rested against the inner side of his left upper arm, while his right arm wrapped around her waist. Without thinking, he moved his hand upward and laid it over her left breast and kept it there. Rain accepted his possessive gesture without resistance, seeming to hold her breath. He did not question his good fortune, wondering silently if the wench had suffered a blow to the head. In the past, she would have clouted him by now for such effrontery.

  Thank you, God. Or Odin, he whispered in his head with wry humor.

  You’re welcome.

  Selik smiled at the tricks his mind played on him of late and snuggled closer to Rain. In the stillness of the night, as everyone in the household slept, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace, of being right with the world. For now, he could not think of his misspent past, the turmoil of the past few days, and certainly not the lifeless future ahead of him.

  Selik relished the sheer pleasure of just holding Rain in his arms. In this moment out of time, he wanted to experience each of the heightened senses expanding and flowering inside him like the petals of a delicate flower.

  Pulling her silky braid back over her shoulder, Selik removed the leather thong and combed his fingers sensuously through the long strands down past her shoulder blades. He held the ends up to his face and inhaled deeply, delighting in the combined scent of Gyda’s hard household soap and Rain’s Passion.

  Baring her nape, Selik lightly traced the delicate curve where her neck met her shoulders with his fingertips.

  “Selik,” Rain moaned.

  “Shhh. I just want to hold you. That is all, I swear.”

  Rain laughed nervously. “Men have been telling women that for centuries.”

  He chuckled softly. “Well, mayhap I have said the same a few times in hopes of reaping a certain reward, but I mean it now. Truly, I only want to touch you.” He hesitated, then admitted, “Nay, that is not quite true. I need to touch you.”

  Rain turned in his arms and put a hand on each side of his face. “It’s all right, Selik. I want you to touch me too.”

  Selik groaned and rolled his eyes upward. Now you give her to me! Hah! Where were you gods afore I knew the risk of breeding babes? And you, God, how could you put that Onan lackwit in your Bible? Didst thou not realize that men throughout the ages wouldst believe themselves safe from fatherhood in ‘spilling their seed’? Oh, ’twas a cruel trick you played on mankind!

  Rain had already pushed him to his back and was leaning over him. “Your skin is like stone—hard and rough as pumice in some places,” she said huskily, brushing her knuckles across his cheek and jaw. “But smooth and sleek as marble in others.” She swept her widespread palms across the planes of his chest and abdomen to demonstrate.

  He inhaled sharply at the delicious contact. “You are blind, dearling, if you think such,” he whispered, pleased nonetheless by her softly spoken praise. “I am a battered hunk of common stone—granite, no doubt—that is ugly and crumbling with time and the elements.”

  Leaning on one elbow, Rain reached up and drew her forefinger along the lines of the jagged scar that ran from his right eye to his mouth, then moved down to the rough word, ‘Rage’, which he had carved into his own forearm. “Your scars are like the grains in a piece of seasoned wood. They show your character.”

  Selik shook his head ruefully from side to side at her disarming words. “I wish you had known me afore. I would have pleased you then, I warrant. And not just in appearance, or in the bed sport. Nay, in all ways. I was whole then. A man.”

  Rain made a small sound of consternation and sat up with a jerk. Her eyes flashed angrily. “You foolish, foolish man. Yes, I said man. Don’t you know I have never met anyone, ever, who was more a man than you?”

  A vast emptiness in Selik began to fill suddenly. Despite his unwillingness to accept Rain’s words, he wanted to believe so badly. For the past ten years, ever since he had failed to protect his wife and child, Selik had felt crippled, less than a man. With her few precious words, Rain was beginning to make him whole again, giving him back a small portion of his pride.

  “Thank you,” he said in a suddenly raw voice, overcome with this new feeling of completeness. He decided he had to lighten the mood or betray his vulnerability. “Does that mean you no longer consider me a beast?”

  “Well, sometimes,” she said teasingly, staring at him with such open yearning in her eyes that Selik did not know how he would resist making love to her. And making love was an impossibility now that he knew he could impregnate her with just the tiniest bit of his seed, even if he withdrew early. Especially since he had a foreboding about this upcoming trip to Gravely’s estate. In all likelihood, he would not return. And he would not leave another woman and child alone and vulnerable ever again.

  But still, a tiny voice of deviltry in his head whispered, “You could play a bit. You can always stop. What can it hurt?”

  With a groan, he told Rain suddenly, “I’m leaving in the morn. I may…I may not be coming back.”

  Rain surprised him by nodding her head. “I suspected you would
be going soon. To Steven of Gravely.”

  “I have assigned two guards to stay with you and will leave enough coins to pay them for one year.”

  “A year!” she exclaimed, then seemed to close off all expressions from her face.

  “And what will you do when I am gone?” he asked, unable to stop himself from touching the soft flesh of her arm as he nudged up the sleeve of her tunic. He smiled when he felt the fine hairs rise under his light caress.

  She touched his wrist, distractedly tracing the pulse beating there with a circling motion of her thumb. Bemused, she answered, “I’ll work at the hospitium. I know I could help, and I could learn a lot.”

  He nodded. “As long as you take the guards with you. And be cautious with the wily priests. They are a sorry lot, some of them.”

  “Is there any chance you will change your mind about leaving tomorrow?” She stared at him intently, as if his answer was of vast significance.

  He shook his head without hesitation. “I have lingered too long already. Gravely may already be gone, eluding me once again.”

  She bit her bottom lip, as if pondering some momentous decision, then slanted a cautious glance at him under her half-shuttered lids. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The wench plotted some mischief, he would warrant. She jumped suddenly and moved away from the pallet, out of his reach.

  “I’m going to get us some food and ale.”

  “I don’t want any bloody food or ale. Come back to bed.”

  “I’ll only be a second,” she said and was gone before he could stop her.

  A short time later, she awakened him, having returned with a huge platter of cold mutton, chunks of hard cheese and manchet bread, and two goblets of Gyda’s ale. Although he protested once again that he was not hungry, he ate every bit of food she pushed on him.

  “This ale tastes bitter,” he complained.

  “It’s probably just an aftertaste from the spices Gyda put on the meat.”