Viking Bride Read online

“He’s a good lad. My brother’s son. Going on his first raid.”

  “You have a brother?”

  “Had. He’s been dead four or five years. I’ve been keeping an eye on his boy. If the lad is half the warrior his father was, he’ll be a welcome addition to any crew.”

  Kelnar strode to the rear platform and perched on the edge. The first flurries started to fall. Eliza stood a few paces away, watching him in the dim light. Little flicks of snow framed his broad shoulders and craggy face. Even there, alone, in the dark, he oozed power and confidence. It was no mistake he had come to lead the village, that was for sure.

  Eliza went over and sat beside him. She snuggled in close when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “I think they respect you, not fear you,” she said.

  “Who?”

  “Everyone I’ve seen. Even Bor’s people. One of the crones in his group stood up for me after I killed him.”

  “That’s good. His group have little enough love for me, but they recognize strength.”

  “Me, too.” She turned her head up toward his and met his lips.

  The cold air was forgotten as they kissed. Kelnar pulled her into his arms and held her gently. Thoughts of Angmar and Bor flitted through her mind, and she appreciated Kelmar’s gentleness all the more for having learned firsthand what the other men could be like.

  Her fingers found their own way to Kelnar’s belt, and before she realized what she was doing, she had his trousers untied.

  He rumbled approval, his hands exploring down her back, and then around to her front.

  Eliza pulled away, just far enough to speak. “Why don’t we go back to the longhouse and continue this where it’s warmer?”

  “Nonsense. Look here.” He reached under the platform and withdrew a pair of enormous fur covered blankets. One went on the wooden planks of the platform, the over them both, a giant tent.

  Eliza tugged his trousers away, then slipped out of her own dress. Her body ached with lust, ached for Kelnar’s release. He seemed to have the same idea, and soon the only things touching her skin were flesh and the fur of the blanket.

  She placed a hand on Kelnar’s chest and guided him back to the deck, then climbed on top. Her sex was soaked, ready. Kelnar was hard, a second mast for the ship. She settled onto him, moaning as he entered.

  The air under the blanket grew heavy. Kelnar clawed it away, leaving the edge draped over Eliza’s shoulders. The cool air blew in, making her nipples harder than the steel of her dagger. She lowered herself, pressing her chest to his, covering them both with the blanket.

  It took moments to find a rhythm, then she rode him with need. Strong hands gripped her ass. Her lips crushed his mouth. Pure lust roared through her, erasing all thoughts of anything other than the feeling between her legs.

  Kelnar rocked her up, thrust into her harder and faster, taking their rhythm to new heights. Eliza tore her mouth from his, sucking in great gasps of frigid air that met the heat rising from her core in the most exquisite agony.

  Her body shuddered. A pulsating orgasm rocked through her, every nerve screaming with fire and ice.

  Kelnar bucked beneath her, and distantly, she heard his groans mixing with her screams. Nothing else mattered but that one perfect moment.

  Eventually, she fell forward, her full weight on Kelnar’s chest. They panted together, their bodies slick with sweat.

  “That was unexpected,” Kelnar rumbled.

  “You didn’t complain.”

  “And never shall I.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, let her snuggle against him. After a spell, Eliza pushed herself up. The cold air bit into her, bringing gooseflesh to every surface of her body. She scrabbled for her shift and her dress, pulled them under the blankets and dressed herself.

  “Shall we return to the longhouse?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  “Good. I’m not through with you yet.”

  He laughed at that. “It’s music to my ears.”

  They made their way back across the village, both with an extra bounce in their step. Kelnar opened the door of the longhouse, let her go in before him.

  ***

  Eliza stood on the shingle, her mother on one side, Cordith on the other. Kelnar’s ship was pushed out first, and the men didn’t bother to wave their farewells. They went about the business of shipping their oars and rowing into the bay while the other ships hurried to join them.

  “Do you think they’ll be back?” Eliza asked.

  “Most of them.”

  “Kelnar?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Do you think we’ll still be here when they return?”

  Karna shrugged. “That’s the question now, isn’t it.”

  They turned, headed back toward their part of the village. Eliza couldn’t help but notice the looks the other women were shooting their direction. Schemes were afoot, and if she was going to survive the next month until the chieftain returned, she was going to have to be smarter and tougher than anyone else in the whole damn country.

  She relished the challenge.

  Chapter Seven

  Absence

  The nights felt bitterer with Kelnar gone. Eliza paced around the yard, her fur cloak pulled over her shoulders. The wind whipped her collar against her face and twisted her hair in its icy grip. Cold winters weren’t unusual near the Seine, but they had nothing on what the Norsemen experienced.

  Nearly four weeks he’d been gone, and they felt like an eternity. The village was growing restless, and she wasn’t sure how much longer they’d stay mollified. The news about her had spread quickly, and just as quickly the men left behind had begun to jockey for position. Twice already they’d try to kill her, but her wits and Kelnar’s dagger had proven to be up to the challenge. At least she hadn’t had to shed blood again.

  “Eliza!” her mother cried into the wind from the door of the longhouse. “Come inside!”

  Her mother the witch. Kelnar’s father had stolen her away from their home on the Seine when Eliza had been just a babe. For nearly fifteen years Eliza had been raised by her father and the women of the village before the Vikings had come back for her. And now she was reunited with a mother she couldn’t acknowledge.

  Karna approached, shivering. “Come inside, child. Cordith says the soup is ready.”

  Cordith. The old gal had taken her capture in stride, even if the warriors had taken their liberties with her. She hadn’t been sad for Eliza to kill the old boar that had claimed her, though, and she’d taken to cooking and cleaning in Kelnar’s longhouse with gusto just as soon as she’d had a chance to bathe and don new clothes.

  “In a moment,” Eliza said. She gazed at the brooding clouds scudding overhead. Each time they obscured the moon, if left the yard in nearly impenetrable darkness. A particularly heavy thunderhead crawled into view, casting everything in shadow. “I’ll come in when the moon returns.”

  Her mother matched her gaze. “That could be hours, dear. Days.”

  “Then I’ll come in when I’m ready.”

  The older woman’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t argue. Their reunion had been short and sweet. Her mother had learned quickly that Eliza had her own mind, and Eliza had learned just as quickly that’d she’d be so much human chattel if it weren’t for her mother’s foresight in convincing Kelnar to protect her.

  Of course, once Kelnar had spent some time with her, he’d been eager to protect her. Eliza had seen to that herself.

  “I have my dagger, mother. If anyone comes for me tonight, he won’t find me an easy victim.”

  “It’s not the men that concern me. Not tonight. It’s the cold. There’s snow in the air.” Her mother patted her shoulder, then made her way back to the house.

  Eliza watched her, then studied the clouds. Snow indeed, and plenty of it. It didn’t take a witch to see that.

  A shadow moved on the far end of the yard. It hugged the wall, but it oozed forward just the same. Gods, anot
her one?

  She gripped the dagger that hung between her breasts and waited. The shadow stopped, blending almost invisibly into the wall. A few minutes passed without it moving, and the chill wasn’t growing any less brutal. Eliza hurried toward the door her mother had entered.

  She stopped on the step and searched the side of the longhouse. Shadows abounded, but none looked particularly out of place. With one last glance at the clouds, she let herself inside. Is my imagination getting away from me?

  Chapter Eight

  Stolen

  She wasn’t even asleep yet when the hand clamped over her mouth. The smell of pig grease and salt so was strong she could practically taste it.

  “Shh,” a voice whispered in the guttural Norse tongue. “I am here to warn you, not harm you. Men are coming for you tonight. They mean to take you away, not murder you. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded.

  “Good night, Eliza. Be safe.”

  He slipped away, his heavy cloak disguising his true appearance. Eliza twitched the blankets away, thinking she’d follow him. Even with the fire glowing a dozen strides away, a definite chill hung in the air.

  “Be still child,” her mother said. “He speaks truth. Content yourself with the knowledge that you have allies.”

  “I’m fine. I’m just going to check the door. He had to trip the lock.” She slipped her dagger from under the rolled up hide she used as a pillow and crawled from the sleeping area out to the main walkway. The longhouse stretched out in both directions with doors on each end and a fire in the middle. She went in the opposite direction of the fire, following in the footsteps of the man that had warned. The jewelry that hung halfway down her chest jingled quietly as she moved.

  Even as she approached the door, she could see that the bar was in place. Did someone let him inside? Or is he part of Kelnar’s guards? She hadn’t recognized his voice, so she didn’t think he’d belong to Kelnar’s guards. It was more frightening to think that someone had let him in, though. Everyone in the house was under strict orders to keep the doors barred at night.

  She kicked the Viking that was supposed to be on watch. His metal helmet was tipped over his face, blocking his eyes. “Hey, wake up.”

  A shake of his shoulders sent his head lolling to the side. The helmet toppled to the floor with a clang. Eliza’s eyes went wide as she absorbed the bruised sight of his neck.

  She glanced around, a knot forming in her stomach. Had her warning just been a ploy? She hardly had time to think it when a shadow detached itself from the wall. The thick cord between the man’s hands swept for head, and it was all she could do to get the dagger up, thinking she could cut her way free.

  The explosion of light that rocked her vision sent her to her knees, a fierce throbbing emanating from the back of her head. There were two of them!

  And then all she saw was darkness.

  ***

  “Kelnar will never let you do this,” she said, shivering. The man carrying her didn’t dignify her with a response.

  She tried screaming again.

  It didn’t help. The wind carried away her cries.

  Maybe my mother will come for me, she thought. She knew better. Karna would be able to tell Kelnar where to find her, but the witch had spent too many years keeping her head down. She would send men to search, at least.

  They stopped outside a longhouse Eliza didn’t recognize, though she knew they had to be on the back side of the village somewhere. The smaller man in front opened the door, and her captor carried her in over the threshold.

  It wasn’t much warmer inside the doorway, but they went straight to the fire. The one carrying her dumped her unceremoniously on the floor, and when she tried to scramble away he cuffed her hard enough to knock her into an empty sleeping area.

  “Why are you doing this?” Eliza asked, tears streaking her face.

  “You are not worthy of being queen, and if Kelnar has chosen you, his is not worthy of being chief.” The big one squatted beside the fire, watching her alertly.

  The little one came back with a rope, and they twisted her around, binding her arms and ankles. A length went to the nearest post, securing her much like Kelnar’s men had secured her on their ship those many weeks ago.

  “You girl are going to stay right here,” the little one said, rubbing his hands together. “If you try to fight, or you try to run, we’re going to have us a real good time with you before we kill you.”

  “Shut it,” the big one hissed. “She don’t need to know that yet.” He flashed Eliza a crooked smile. “Of course, if you can behave, perhaps an accommodation can be reached with Kelnar.”

  “Of course.” She was already looking for a way to cut the rope. The edge of the closest pallet looked promising if she could find a way to rub the rope against it without them noticing.

  “Watch her,” the big one ordered. He disappeared into the gloom, and a moment later a cool breath of wind hit her.

  The little guy crawled down onto the floor and stared at her from a few feet away. He had a face like a rat, all pocked and twisted.

  “You’re not from here, are you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Can’t say I am.” He edged forward. She edged away. A knife appeared in his hand and swung under her nose. “You just be still, girl. Maybe I’ll untie your ankles.” The knife tickled up, touched her chin.

  Eliza flinched away from the little prick of pain. A drip of wetness rolled down her neck. There was a gleam in his eye that worried her. A little runt like that living in a village of big barbarians, he probably didn’t do too well with the Viking women. And the knife didn’t do much to ease her nerves.

  His eyes swept down her chest, lingered on her breasts. He licked his lips and shifted around, revealing the bulge in his pants.

  Eliza swallowed hard. He can’t hurt me too badly, not if he wants to use me to bargain with Kelnar.

  Ratface scrabbled toward her, grabbed her arm. “On your back then.” The knife swung toward her, revealing the streak of blood smeared on the tip. She fell back, her pulse thumping in her ears.

  “Oh, that’s a good girl. Just the way I like it.”

  A rough hand squeezed her breast, rasped across her collarbone.

  “They’re not melons,” she said.

  He paused, scratched at his cheek. “What’s that?”

  “Breasts aren’t melons. You can’t test them for ripeness.”

  “Oh, but I can, my pretty. Yours are plenty ripe, too.” He clawed her dress and shift up to her waist. His greasy hand stroked her thigh, sending a shudder through her. “That’s a good girl.” He rubbed the knife across her hip, the blade flat to her skin. “Spread those knees.”

  Her legs shook as she opened them as much as the ropes at her ankles would allow. “What if your big friend comes back? He’s not going to like seeing you take me without him.”

  “Oh, he’ll be gone a while, will Lars. It’s just you and me, pretty.” He jammed his thumb against her slit, working it down between her folds.

  His hands were rough and slick and disgusting. He licked his lips greedily, a line of spit sliding from the corner of his mouth.

  Bile crept up the back of her throat, and she couldn’t help but shudder.

  He was fumbling with the tie on his breeches when a cool gust of wind hit her. The big one’s face clouded as he approached, unseen by Ratface. Ratface had just gotten his cock free, and it was nothing to be proud of, when the big one kicked him square in the ass and sent him sprawling beside her.

  A second kick caught him in the ribs, and a third between the legs. Ratface’s eyes bulged. A cry of pain hissed out his lips.

  “I told you to watch her, you idiot.”

  “I was watching her.”

  “Watch her, not fuck her.” He pulled back his leg, and Ratface cringed away. “That’s what I thought. You lay a finger on her before I get mine, and I’ll cut the damn finger off and shove it up your sniveling ass.”

 
Ratface nodded, his expression still scrunched with pain. “Are you going to take her now?” A hint of eagerness crept back into his voice.

  The big one looked her over, shook his head. “Not yet. We still need her.”

  “C’mon, boss. Have a go. Look at them thighs. That raven hair.”

  Eliza wriggled up to a sitting position, pulling her shift and her dress partially back into place in the process. If the big one decided to take her, she had no illusions that he wouldn’t get whatever he wanted. Instead, he crossed to the fire and pulled up a stool.

  “Put your pants back on. Now we wait.”

  Ratface tucked himself back into his breeches and got them laced together. He sat across from her, and a few minutes later he was dozing. She waited until he started to snore, then slid closer to the sleeping pallet.

  “Where you going, girl?” the big one asked.

  “Somewhere a little softer to rest my head.”

  He grunted, adjusted his legs away from the fire, but left her alone. She worked her wrists around and found the edge of the pallet. Slowly, ever so slowly, she started working the rope up and down against it. Exhaustion dragged her eyelids down, but she kept scraping, forcing herself to stay awake.

  It didn’t last. The first strand came apart, but the warmth of the fire and the post-fright letdown pulled her into the gentle arms of sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Friends

  It was the cold that woke her. The fire burned down to the coals, but the two men hadn’t yet noticed it. No one else was in the longhouse to stoke the flames. So she set to work on the rope again. The big woke as the second strand came apart, but he just added a couple logs to the fire and dozed off again.

  With her wrists untied, it didn’t take long to unknot her ankles and slip off toward the door. Her captors snored behind her, and she wasn’t interested in being around when they finally woke.

  The longhouse was eighty strides long from end to middle, and about ten strides across, though the sleeping pallets and small rooms that lined the walls occupied most of the space. She glanced into darkened rooms as she passed. They were all empty. Even with the most of the village’s warriors off on a raid, it struck her as odd that the women and children would be gone, too.