Strian (Viking Glory Book 4)

by Celeste Barclay

  Strian shook his head before looking down at Gressa.

  “Then you understand how I feel about you going. I can’t talk Leif out of his fear any more than I can myself, but you know we’ll both give in to you and Sigrid.”

  Gressa pulled apart Strian’s crossed arms and wrapped them around her. She rested her ear against his heart and listened to the steady rhythm. Strian stroked her hair as they stood embracing, no longer aware of the other couple or the people passing by.

  “I can’t lose you again.” The words sounded as though something had ripped them from the very bottom of Strian’s soul, his voice hoarse.

  “I won’t leave your side. No matter what.”

  Strian swallowed his argument, wanting to say she had promised the same thing the last time. Instead he leaned his cheek against her crown and nodded. They watched as Leif and Sigrid seemed to come to some understanding themselves, and the other couple walked arm in arm to the jarl’s longhouse.

  “I don’t want to go to the jarl’s house for the evening meal. Can’t we just go home?” Gressa sounded as though she was thinking aloud rather than talking to Strian, but he was in agreement.

  “We can eat and bathe in our own home. We will be around everyone else more than enough in the coming weeks. I crave one more night alone with my wife.”

  Twenty-Two

  Gressa and Strian made the most of their final night alone. After a leisurely bath that involved more making love than it did cleaning, they fed one another before the fire until need once more consumed them. They joined throughout the night until exhaustion forced them to sleep to prepare for the long journey.

  As the sun began to poke over the horizon, Strian and Gressa met the others on the dock. Strian took command of his crew, ordering them to load the last of the supplies and weapons into the compartments beneath the deck. Gressa consulted with Lorna and Tyra about the route from Scotland to Wales, explaining where the Welsh had anchored when they arrived in Scotland. Gressa guessed it would be a place Grímr would stop again in a final effort to recruit lawless Highlanders before arriving in Gwynedd, the territory where the prince and princess lived.

  “Mama!” Heads turned as Freya ran towards her mother shaking her head. As a one, mouths dropped open to see their frú dressed for battle. Her hair was pulled back into tight braids, and she wore leather pants, a leather vest, and leather bracers on each wrist. Her shield rested against her forearm, and her sword was sheathed at her hip. Lena had once been a shield maiden, but that was before she became the lady of their tribe and a mother. She had fought alongside Ivar for years, but most people assumed she had not touched a weapon in at least two decades.

  “Yes, daughter?” Lena raised an eyebrow at Freya. “You know my past. This may be our family’s last stand or our most glorious victory. I won’t let us go down without being a part of that fight, nor am I willing to miss the glory. It’s my duty to fight just much as it’s my duty to see everyone fed.”

  “But you haven’t trained in years. Not since--” Freya trailed off not wanting to speak aloud of the babes her mother had miscarried or that had not survived their birth.

  “You are not privy to everything that goes on between your father and me.” Lena raised an eyebrow, and Freya flushed a deep red. “I’m more than able to keep up. Besides your father would have a fit if he thought I couldn’t defend myself. Why do you think he has been willing to leave me behind to defend our homestead?”

  Freya stood aghast to learn her mother had been training all along, obviously in private with Ivar.

  “I never knew. I never imagined.” Freya stumbled over her words.

  “Just as Rangvald and Ivar kept their alliance a secret for years to trick other jarls into giving away their secrets, Ivar insisted we keep my skills a secret, hoping any jarl who set their sights on us while most of the tribe was away raiding would assume we were weak and not bring many warriors. Only a few have made the mistake of thinking our village can be overrun.” Lena looked at Strian and Tyra before continuing. “You can imagine what made Ivar decide I had to keep training.”

  Lena referred to the last successful raid on their village ten years earlier that had killed Strian’s mother and Tyra’s as well. Lena had nearly died trying to protect the women and children of the village. It had led to the avenging battle that cost Strian his father and Gressa. His uncle took advantage of the melee to stab his brother in the back, and Gressa had been injured.

  Gressa approached the women, looking at Lena with doubt clouding her eyes. Lena understood Gressa as any mother would and nodded her head in consent.

  “Freya, there is one secret from our childhood that I’ve kept from you and Tyra. I didn’t want to hurt you. It was your mother who convinced me to be a shield maiden alongside you and Tyra. I didn’t think I’d be allowed because of who my parents were. Lena introduced me to sparring before you and Tyra began in the training fields. I’ve known all along that she trained. It’s her sword I carry, the one Tyra recovered after I went missing.” Gressa dipped her head, fearful Freya would be hurt that Lena passed her sword on to Gressa instead of saving it for her daughter.

  “That was never a secret.”

  Gressa’s head jerked up as she looked at Freya then swung her head to look at Tyra. Tyra shrugged and nodded.

  “Ty and I knew Mama trained you. I just didn’t know she still trained for battle. We used to spy on you and then pretend to fight like you did. I was peeking when Mama gave the sword to you. Why wouldn’t she have? You are my adopted sister and older than me.”

  Gressa shook her head in disbelief, thinking all these years that she was protecting her friends, her adoptive sisters really, from feeling slighted.

  Lena stepped forward and wrapped both women in her embrace. She looked at Tyra and gestured with her hand for Tyra to join them.

  “You three have always been my own. Tyra knows how much Ivar and I regret not bringing her to live with us when her parents died. We failed her by making her live with her aunt and uncle, but that didn’t diminish the love Ivar and I have for her. Freya may be the daughter of my body, but you are all the daughters of my heart.”

  The four women squeezed one another before stepping back having shared more sentimentality in public than they each intended.

  “Wife,” the love in Ivar’s eyes belied his gruff tone. “We have a ship to sail. Can we cease carrying on and be underway? We shall miss the tide.”

  “I thought to fill the time while I waited on you,” Lena teased before dashing across the planks to Ivar’s ship with him hot on her heels. He captured his wife as they stepped onto his longboat. He tossed her in the air before giving her sound kiss and a spank on her rear. With models like Ivar and Lena, and Rangvald and Lorna, it was no surprise that the five friends could not keep their hands off their mates.

  The fleet set sail just as the pinks and purples filled the morning sky. Strian stood at the tiller as Gressa took a seat at an oar, prepared to do her share. It struck Strian by how similar the scene was to a few weeks earlier but how different the circumstances were. As Gressa moved in time with the other oarsmen, he was thankful that they were speaking to one another on this voyage and that he did not have to disguise his looks at his beautiful wife. He had not been sure whether they could ever repair their marriage let alone fight for the same side. Their marriage had been tested over and over, yet their love continued to prevail despite how the gods interfered. Strian wanted to order one of the other crew members to take Gressa’s place, so she could stand by him, but he knew she would be furious if he singled her out for better treatment than the others. He knew she would take her turn at the oar throughout the journey, even spending more time than anyone expected just to prove she was neither weak nor spoiled. She had done it when they sailed back to the Trondelag, but back then, it had also been to avoid Strian.

  As the hours of the morning crept by, Strian controlled the tiller while watching for Tyra’s signals. He had sailed with Tyra since
they were children, and he still did not know how she understood the moods of the sea and the weather. It was as if one of their gods, probably Ran or Ægir, whispered to her secrets they shared with no one else. She had survived and led her friends to safety when others had floundered and sunk. The sun beat down as the day progressed, and Strian could feel the sweat sliding down between his shoulder blades. He called for a rest as the wind picked up. Once they needed the rowers again, they would switch with the next team.

  Gressa pulled in her oar and stretched her back, appreciating the cracks and pops as her spine straightened once more. Her arms were tired and sore, but she counted her blessings that the callouses remained on her hands otherwise the wooden handles would have torn the skin with deep blisters. Gressa looked around, sensing someone watching her, and it was not Strian. Her eyes landed on a woman she remembered from years ago, but they had been little more than girls. The tribe was still large enough that she did not know everyone well, and she and Strian had spent as much time alone as they could. The woman watched her with open hostility. Gressa could not fathom what caused it. She guessed it might have been because they were on another mission when many believed they would end the fight with Grímr in their homeland.

  Gressa turned when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder but not before she saw anger and malice fill the other woman’s gaze. Gressa understood the cause now. Strian. She stood and Strian wrapped his arm around her middle, guiding her to the stern. He had given the helm to his first mate but still needed to be nearby. He pulled Gressa against his chest and lowered his mouth to hers.

  “I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her lips before sinking in for a kiss that made Gressa’s toes curl. Using his own body as a shield, he ran his hands down Gressa’s back until he cupped both globes of her backside. He squeezed and needed the flesh, eliciting a soft moan from Gressa who had lost feeling to her bottom from sitting for so long. The sound only encouraged Strian to massage deeper as he pressed his arousal against her mound. Strian pulled back when he knew he was on the verge of losing control, wanting to take his wife right there in front of his crew and every ship in their fleet. He repeated himself, “I missed you.”

  “How can you miss me when I was sitting only feet in front of you?” Gressa grinned.

  “Easily. All of me missed you. Can’t you tell?” He pressed his hips forward as he pressed hers against him. “I miss talking to you as much as I miss being hilt deep inside you.”

  Gressa buried her face against his chest to muffle her groan, but she rocked her hips against Strian, confirming her need for him equaled his need for her.

  “Why must you tease me? We have days, if not weeks, before we can make love again.”

  “Why should I suffer alone?” Strian countered.

  “Strian,” she grumbled.

  “I know, my love, but I can’t help myself.”

  “No one will be in doubt of that.” Gressa’s brow furrowed. “There’s at least one woman aboard this ship who would gladly ease your discomfort. And I don’t mean me.”

  Gressa finished with a scowl, but Strian looked at her with genuine confusion.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a woman who has been glaring at me since you called for a break. At first, I thought she was angry that it’s my fault we have to chase Grímr, but when you stood next to me and touched me, I could feel as much as see her hatred. Who is she to you?”

  Gressa steeled herself for Strian’s answer, her stomach churning nonetheless. She thought they were past having doubts over each other’s actions while they were apart, but now she questioned whether Strian had told her the truth.

  “I don’t know who you mean. Honestly, Gressa. You look as though you’re questioning everything I told you about our time apart. You look like you don’t believe me or trust me.” Gressa turned her gaze back to Strian after looking at his shoulder, as though she could see through it to the other woman. She saw the hurt her doubt was causing him, and her own doubts quietened.

  “Was there a woman who wanted you more than any of the others? One who tried to make you forget me?” Strian froze, and Gressa felt his body go rigid. Her fears flooded her. “There was.”

  It was Strian’s turn to see hurt floating in Gressa’s eyes. He leaned forward so their foreheads touched, and they were nose to nose.

  “There was one woman who was more persistent than the others.” Strian knew he would regret the next thing he said. “Even after your return.”

  Gressa tried to pull away, but Strian’s grip was like steel.

  “Wait. You’ve asked, now you’ll hear the truth. All of it. Her name is Betje, and she has pursued me. Ivar once tried to arrange a marriage to her when he thought a new wife would help me move past you. It was one of the few times I have ever yelled at our jarl, but I said vicious things about him and his part in leaving you behind. I refused to even consider it, but he had already spoken to her parents and arranged everything. I disappeared into the hills until after the wedding was supposed to take place. I humiliated her by not going through with the marriage. When I returned two weeks after we were to marry, Ivar insisted that I go through with it. He even forced me to the altar. The ceremony began, but I wouldn’t speak. I turned my back on her in front of the entire village, once more shaming her. Gressa, I didn’t want her because I never believed our marriage ended. I didn’t want it to be over. Besides that, I didn’t, don’t, trust her. One of the few times we were alone together, she threatened to burn all of your belongings and anything that could remind me of you. The vile things she said about you was what finally convinced Ivar that she and I were ill suited for one another. It was the one and only time anyone tried to make me remarry.”

  “And she is still angry. How long ago was this?”

  “About three years ago.”

  “That long? You know she will try to kill me. She may not want you anymore, or perhaps she does, but she won’t want me to have you if she can’t.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating a bit. She must know of my warning. No one’ll be foolish enough to touch a hair on your head.”

  “You don’t understand women,” she scoffed. “Her grudge, her need to avenge her honor, will have burned deeper in her than it could in any man.”

  “Then I’ll order her from my crew.”

  Gressa did not speak. She knew that would provide her with safety while they sailed, but it would only insult the woman more.

  “Gressa?”

  “I don’t know. Neither her going nor staying will make this go away. One will keep me alive for now while it only makes her anger fester, and the other makes me her victim sooner.”

  “Stay near me then. Sleep only beside me and don’t walk around without me or my first mate with you.”

  “I can defend myself, Strian. That won’t make this problem go away.”

  The days at sea were long and tiring, but the gods smiled in their favor with strong and continuous winds. There were only short periods when the rowers were needed. Strian was true to his word, despite Gressa’s objections, and kept her close to his side. He witnessed the hostility Gressa described when he kissed Gressa in front of Betje. He had cracked one eye open as he devoured Gressa only to catch Betje clutching the hilt of her knife and baring her teeth. Despite Gressa’s protests, Strian refused to allow the woman to remain on his ship. He arranged for Tyra and Bjorn to take the woman since she had both a brother and a sister sailing for the couple. Strian feared other members of his crew harbored a secret animosity to Gressa, and so he was her shadow.

  It was on the ninth day that they caught their first sight of the Scottish Highland coast. Their longboats sailed into the Firth of Tongue until they anchored in the natural harbor below the Mackay keep, Castle Varrich. They received a warm welcome from Lorna’s cousin, the laird.

  Gressa watched as a handsome and charming man who resembled Erik but with darker hair greeted his extended family with warm embraces and hearty laugh
ter. Erik’s snarl was jovial when Alex Mackay turned his sights on Freya who returned the Highlander’s flirting. Bjorn was not as gracious when Alex moved on to greeting Tyra. He stepped in front of his wife when Alex opened his arms for an embrace, but Alex clapped Bjorn on the back with a jest no one else but Tyra and Bjorn could hear. Gressa watched as Alex grew solemn for his introduction to Leif and Sigrid. The man had a clear respect for Sigrid, and Gressa was sure it was because the Highlanders appreciated the gift of second sight nearly as much as the Norse, even if they were more superstitious about it. When Alex finally turned towards Strian and her, his flirtatious grin was back in place.

  “Another beautiful woman to meet. I think I may return with you to find a wife among your people. Unless you have brought one for me to meet already.” Alex’s smile was pleasant, but there was a sensuously wicked gleam in his eye. Strian wrapped his arm around Gressa possessively, and Alex’s eyes widened in recognition then his brow furrowed. “So, you kept your slave.”

  Strian pushed Gressa behind him, but she tried to peer around his shoulder.

  “That woman is my wife. She was when I found her. There is more to the story than I’m willing to share here but have no doubt that she is not available.”

  Alex’s gaze hardened as he looked past Strian to Gressa who looked to be cowering behind Strian to anyone who did not know her.

  “She doesn’t seem as happily wed as the other wives in your group. I didn’t know you called your slaves wives. I thought they were only concubines.” Alex’s toned had hardened to match his glare.

  Gressa was not about to let Strian get into a fight with their host, nor was she going to allow the man to continue with his misconception of their relationship. She stepped around Strian, shooting him a dirty look when he tried to block her.

  “Laird Mackay, I am Strian’s wife and have been since well before you saw us together. We’ve been married for more than ten years. What you thought you understood is much more complicated than it seemed. Just to be clear, I am happy to be with my husband again, and I am too busy to look at anyone else. I don’t need rescuing.”