One Night with the Viking

by Harper St. George

  Nay, that was one question he could not answer. His body was already riddled with pain; he couldn’t expose his heart to her, as well. It already ached so badly that each breath was a challenge. The pain of leaving her that night years ago had threatened to end him—to admit to that pain after she’d chosen someone else would certainly finish the task. It was why he needed to be away from her.

  When he raised his head to tell her just that, he couldn’t form the words. She stared up at him with those startling blue eyes that always seemed to see right through him, as if she and she alone could see who he wanted to be. Except that no matter how he tried, he always failed her somehow and never quite became that man. A stray shaft of moonlight caught the pale locks of her hair and turned them that ethereal silver that he loved so much, and he realised that he had somehow lost the strand that he always carried with him. It was fitting, he supposed. He wasn’t ever meant to have any part of her.

  His gaze fell to her perfect lips, parted as she awaited his answer. He wanted to kiss them, even with pain vibrating throughout his entire body, he wanted to taste her one more time, but he knew that if he did he’d lose everything to her again. ‘It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.’

  Chapter Eight

  Before Kadlin could stop herself, she pushed hard with both hands and flipped him on to his back on the wet ground. If she wasn’t so angry, she would have stopped to think of how badly the movement could injure him, but she was too furious to care.

  ‘How can you say that to me? How can you be so cruel?’

  Stunned, he stared up at her. ‘I’m not cruel, Kadlin. Not to you. Not now.’ And his hand moved to touch her cheek, but she jerked away.

  ‘But to suggest that your pain doesn’t matter to me? That it doesn’t cause me pain, as well? Do you not know me, Gunnar? Do you not remember anything about our days together?’

  ‘I do know you and I know well that I cause you more pain than any other. It’s why I should go.’

  Without bothering to reply, she pushed away from him and rose to her feet, angrily shaking the mud free from her nightdress. Not that it mattered; she was covered with it and the rain had soaked her through to the bone. For one heart-stopping moment, she had believed that the pain he spoke of was the pain of losing her, of being away from her. Fool that she was, she believed that he might harbour some regret for the way things had ended with them; that he might miss her and wonder what would have happened if he had returned to marry her. But then he showed her again how her feelings meant so little to him.

  When would she learn that he wasn’t good for her? Her father had tried to tell her that, but she hadn’t understood. Gunnar himself had wounded her badly when he left, but apparently even that hadn’t been enough to sever her feelings for him. She should let him leave if that’s what he wanted and scrub him from her heart for ever.

  Turning on her heel, she began to walk towards the small sod house, her fists clenched at her sides. But her fury hadn’t expended itself yet, so she turned back to leave him with a few more words. ‘Perhaps the injury wasn’t supposed to happen to you, but it did. It happened and there is nothing you can do about it now. You can but fight to get better. There is no other choice.’

  ‘Nay.’ The surprise had left his strikingly handsome features a cold mask. The rain had turned his hair a deep, dark red and his beard was growing back so raindrops glistened in the stubble. His eyes were golden but still fierce, appearing to reflect the moonlight as he stared up at her. Once, she would have said that fierceness was one of the reasons she loved him, but she didn’t love him any more. She didn’t. ‘There is no fight, only acceptance that I’m lame and have no place here, except as a burden.’

  Just that fast, her own anger receded. It still existed. There was no way she could vanquish her anger that she had loved him and he had abandoned her. That anger would probably always exist, but now wasn’t the time to vent it. Not now when he was in such anguish. ‘Is that your worry, that you’re a burden to me?’

  ‘I won’t be a burden to you, Kadlin. It was Eirik’s choice to send me back, but it was unfair of him.’

  She took a few steps towards him and his eyes followed her as she knelt beside him again. ‘Be assured, Gunnar, if I didn’t want you here I wouldn’t have allowed them to bring you in from that cart. You need somewhere to rest and recover, and I could never deny you that. No matter what you’ve done to me.’

  He flinched from her words. When he dropped his gaze, it lingered briefly at the neckline of her nightdress, but he looked away towards the forest before she could read his expression. There was something more than his not wanting to be a burden, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She waited patiently until he finally shook his head.

  ‘I cannot.’

  If he had taken a knife to her heart, his rejection couldn’t have hurt any worse. ‘Then do as you wish, but don’t fool yourself into thinking that you do it for me. You do it only for yourself. Goodbye, Gunnar.’ He didn’t want her or anything to do with her. His bitter words after their tender night had told her as much, but she had to keep giving him opportunities to reject her.

  ‘Kadlin.’

  She ignored him and kept walking. She wouldn’t do it any more. She was finished. If he wanted to leave her again, then she couldn’t stop him.

  ‘Wait, Kadlin!’

  But she stayed strong and kept walking. If he wanted her help, he wouldn’t have pushed her away so many times.

  ‘By the gods, woman, stop and face me!’

  It was the challenge mixed with the command that brought her up short. It was a glimpse of the old Gunnar, the one filled with fire and longing. The Gunnar she had given herself to. Fighting past the ache in her throat that warned of tears, she slowly turned and saw that he had raised himself up on his good knee. His injured leg stuck out awkwardly in front of him. Lines of pain held his mouth firm, but his eyes held fast to hers.

  ‘I cannot stay and continue along as we have been. Despite my leg, I won’t be an invalid. I’ll take a chamber of my own and you’ll leave my meals at the door. There will not be—’ He broke off and looked away briefly before meeting her gaze again with renewed determination firming his jaw. ‘There cannot be any other contact between us.’

  ‘You would make us strangers?’

  ‘I will reward you for your assistance once I’m well again.’

  A reward, as if she was nothing to him but some well-meaning acquaintance who might not have bothered otherwise. A reward, as if he could buy himself away from what lingered between them. She swallowed repeatedly past the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. He was already looking at her with the eyes of a passing acquaintance, relegating himself to someone she barely knew. She was wrong to think that he couldn’t hurt her any worse than he already had. Now she realised that if he stayed, he could completely destroy her. ‘I don’t want your reward.’ She made her voice as cold as she possibly could.

  He stared at her, stubborn and wilful, but he must have seen something in her eyes that changed his mind. After a moment, he gave her a barely perceptible nod. ‘Then I’ll accept your kindness, provided I have my own space.’

  Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of weakness, before nodding her assent. He was right. Distance was the only way to make it through. If he could distance himself, then so could she. She had to.

  ‘Then let me help you back inside.’ Her voice was surprisingly strong.

  Taking a deep breath, he nodded and held out his hand to her. Understanding the courage and humility the request had taken, she wrapped her hand around his without comment. He grunted as she slipped her shoulders beneath his and helped him stand. Fitting herself beneath his arm, she wrapped an arm around his waist and helped him take a step forward. She refused to acknowledge her surprise at how solid he felt beneath her hands. It didn’t matter.
Neither did it matter that something fluttered in her belly when his hand closed over her shoulder. Their progress was slow, but eventually they made it to the door where they stopped to take a rest.

  His breath was more laboured than hers and, perhaps because it was dark and he was so close to her ear, it brought to mind how he had fallen on top of her that night, his face pressed to her neck in the aftermath of what they had done. He’d been shaking, shaking, with the intensity of what had happened between them. Her entire body flamed with the memory and she forced herself to wipe it from her mind. When she wrapped her arm around his waist to urge him forward again, he caught her chin and gently lifted her face to look at him.

  ‘Thank you.’ The dark red of his hair caught a shaft of moonlight and rain ran down his face in rivulets. She had to blink to rid herself of the spell his eyes cast on her. They looked so earnest and deep.

  Instead of replying, she simply nodded and pressed him forward.

  * * *

  Gunnar bit back a groan as he half fell to the bench nearest the fire. The rain might have turned the night cold, but he didn’t know. The exertion and pain of moving himself had left him overheated and exhausted. He wanted to sink down and allow his eyes to close, except that he couldn’t take them from the woman adding wood to the fire. With every beat of his heart, fresh agony pulsed through his leg, but focusing on Kadlin helped to keep it from overtaking him. Her movements were infused with the grace and dignity that was so much a part of her. He hadn’t allowed himself to really see her since he’d returned. He’d been too angry, too focused on things that he’d lost, things that had never been his, to see what was in front of him. But the pain in her eyes when she thought he was rejecting her had woken him from his self-absorbed stupor. This was Kadlin, the woman he’d spent his entire life wanting. He was a fool to let this opportunity to be near her pass him by. He was a fool to request distance when all he wanted was to be in her presence.

  She had become a woman in the years he’d been gone. His gaze caressed the long, graceful line of her back as she moved to shelves set against the wall and began fumbling through the linens folded there. Her hips seemed fuller, more womanly than the willowy curves he remembered. Thanks to the rain, the wet nightdress clung to those curves as she moved and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. But he wasn’t prepared to see that the front of the gown was as soaked as the back. When she turned around, her full breasts were on clear display, the pink nipples dark, darker than he remembered, pressed against the sheer fabric. She’d grown fuller. His mouth went dry as he recalled tasting them.

  He lowered his face to the valley between her breasts and breathed her in, wanting to remember for ever the way she smelled of sunshine. When her fingers delved into the hair at his nape, he couldn’t stop his hips from instinctively pressing against her centre, which was open to him, her legs draped around him. His erection pressed against her through the soft leather of his trousers and when she gasped he knew that her delicate flesh would be swollen and ready for him.

  His hand cupped the firm globe of her breast as he raised up to look at her. He’d dreamed about her body many times, but he hadn’t seen her nude since they were children. The pale pink of her nipple was the exact shade of her lips. He couldn’t resist finally sampling it as he’d tasted those lips just moments ago. She gasped the moment his tongue touched her, so he took the entire tip into his mouth, sucking deep until she moaned.

  Gunnar looked away to rid himself of the dangerous memory, but it didn’t help because when he looked back she stood before him. Those beautiful nipples were at eye level. ‘Kadlin...’ he whispered.

  ‘Raise your arms.’ She prodded and gripped his shirt.

  But he pulled back and gritted his teeth against his longing for her as he pulled the shirt over his head. The blanket he’d tied on earlier had been lost outside during their struggle. He closed his eyes when she touched him to untie the soaked binding around his ribs. Even though he knew that she only touched him to tend to his wounds, his body wanted to make it mean something else. Her every touch moved through him like a caress. She unwound the binding and then rubbed her palm gently across the area that had been so bruised when he first came here. The bruises were fading now, but were still a bit tender.

  ‘I think your ribs are almost healed.’ She spared him a glance. ‘How do they feel?’

  ‘Better.’ He gave her a small nod of thanks. That seemed to placate her, because she grabbed a length of linen to dry his hair, but he took it before she could linger and finished the job himself. Then he dried his torso, unwilling to torture himself further by letting her do it. But no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop his eyes from going back to the taut points of her breasts, outlined so clearly in her wet nightdress. ‘Go change your clothing. You must be cold.’ His voice was rough, so he cleared his throat and forced his gaze away.

  She watched him absently as she used a length of cloth to dry her own hair. ‘I’m not cold. It’s unseasonably warm tonight. Besides, we should change your wrappings so you can go back to bed and rest.’

  He almost laughed. There would be no rest for him this night, not with his carnal thoughts of her coupled with the pain of his leg to keep him awake. ‘I doubt I’ll find any rest tonight.’

  She draped the linen around her shoulders, mercifully obscuring most of her beauty from him, and walked to a table set on the opposite side of the fire. It was filled with what looked to be cooking implements with various pots and baskets set on a shelf above it. Instead of watching her as he longed to do, he leaned his head back against the wall behind him. It allowed him to clear his mind and calmly acknowledge all that had happened that night. For the first time, he allowed himself to enjoy the familiarity of her presence. It was soothing to listen to her movements, to know that she was so close, even if she wasn’t his to claim. He’d been in anguish for so long because he couldn’t have her that he’d never really learned how to enjoy just being near her.

  ‘Gunnar?’

  This time when he opened his eyes to see her before him, he allowed his mouth to tip up in a smile.

  She pressed a cup into his hand. ‘Drink this.’

  Without even questioning her, he brought it to his lips and took a drink. It was a pale broth, but had a bitter taste. He wouldn’t refuse it, though. ‘How is it that you’re even more beautiful than you were when I left?’

  A flush tinged her cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if it was from his words or the rain. ‘I’m not sure I would agree.’

  ‘That’s only because you don’t see yourself as I do.’ He took another drink and watched as she knelt at his feet. The position made his mind jump to a dangerous place so he was quick to close that door. Instead, he took another sip and simply watched as she took off his boot. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked. The beauty of her features never failed to make his breath hitch. Though he was careful to skim across the curve of her breasts, his gaze went to her gracefully long fingers. For the first time he noticed that her fingernails were shortened down to the quick and her knuckles were reddened. From the cold? Nay, she’d claimed to not be cold. From work, then? Didn’t Harald and the girl, Ingrid, do much of the work around here? Then he realised something he should have noticed all along: there were not any servants about to help her with the running of the house. It wasn’t a large house, but she’d still have need of clean clothing, soaps, storing food for the winter, wood, and all the other things needed for survival.

  ‘Where are your servants, Kadlin?’

  She glanced at him quickly, as if startled, but paused only briefly before going back to his boot to tug it off. She was quiet until she’d divested him of his wool sock. ‘I have Harald and his children. Ingrid, in particular, is a big help to me. I’m sure you’ve heard her around.’ She stood and walked to drape the sock near the fire to dry with his shirt before coming back to take off the other sock.
He hadn’t been able to get his boot on that leg.

  ‘Aye, I’ve heard her. Why don’t you have other servants?’ Then he asked what he’d wondered all along. ‘Why are you here, in Eirik’s house?’ He had the feeling she was avoiding him, as she took off the sock and walked to put it with the other one.

  ‘I sent him word that I’m here.’

  ‘But why are you here instead of your husband’s home?’

  ‘Drink your broth.’ She turned back to him only after he’d taken a long drink to drain the cup.

  Almost immediately he realised that her face had become a bit fuzzy around the edges and his limbs were heavy. ‘You’ve given me the Saxon’s potion,’ he accused.

  She smiled. ‘I’ve my own sorcery. You need rest and you’ve jarred your leg so much tonight, I’m afraid you’ve worsened the damage.’

  That did make him laugh. ‘It can’t get any worse. It’s useless already.’ But he cooperated when she moved a stool over and helped him prop the injured leg up on it. Except when her hands found the fastenings of his trousers, he grabbed them with his own. ‘Why do I feel as if you’re always trying to undress me?’

  * * *

  She grinned at his words, but only to hide the way her heart leapt from the way he held her hands. His palms were warm and callused, and felt so right against her own. He probably didn’t even realise the way his thumb caressed her knuckles. It was ridiculous to react this way; she wasn’t a girl, and he’d all but said that he wanted their relationship to be that of strangers. Yet, he’d completely belied those words with his questions about her life. The man was infuriating in his inconsistency.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hands free of his and smoothed them down her hips. He watched the motion intently, making the butterflies in her belly even worse, because she knew that more of her body was revealed to him than was appropriate. He’d watched her before, though he’d had the grace to look away, but now with the poppy in him, he did no such thing. His hot gaze seared her from her hips to her breasts.