‘There you are!’ His voice held a note of triumph. ‘I might not be able to fight for a while, but I can still track.’
Trembling, she lifted a hand, pointing back in the direction from which he’d emerged. How dared he intrude upon her clearing! This was her home, hers and Tove’s and Halvar’s! Nobody came here! The people from the village who needed her help knew better than to come so close. She didn’t want anyone else here, especially not a warrior who seemed twice as big now that he was back on his feet. Warriors destroyed things! They were monsters, not men, killing and burning and plundering wherever they went! Every instinct told her to scream and yell at him to go, but all she could do was point.
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ His tone was apologetic as he dropped to one knee in a supplicatory gesture. ‘I owe you a debt for saving my life and I need to repay it. I still have one good arm and I’ll do whatever you ask, any tasks you need doing. I’ll even hunt if you want.’ He glanced down at his bandage and gave a lopsided grin. ‘Just maybe not deer. Not yet. Maybe mice?’
She kept on staring at him, aghast. The words suggested he intended to stay with her for a while, but how was it repaying her when she didn’t want anything from him, except for him to go away?
‘I won’t disturb you. I’ll build another shelter.’ He shuffled closer, ignoring Tove’s warning growl. Where was Halvar? Sissa glanced around, but the male wolf was lying off to one side, seemingly unperturbed by the whole scene. Briefly she considered whistling for Tove to attack on her own, but the warrior still had a sword and she dared not take the risk of her companion being injured.
‘I’m not a bad cook either.’ He stopped beside the fire pit and gestured towards the salmon. ‘I can prepare that for you, if you like. What is it? Fish stew?’
Sissa clenched her fists, willing her features back into the customary stillness she adopted around people, but it was impossible. Her whole body was shaking with rage and frustration and the urge to scream at him was too great. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck and her head felt as though it was about to burst. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could actually hear the blood gushing in angry torrents through her veins. No doubt her face was blazing red. She wouldn’t be surprised if her whole body was the same colour.
She threw him one last look of savage fury and stormed into her roundhouse.
* * *
Danr looked around for bowls. Cooking the fish hadn’t been easy—and that was an understatement. Skinning and deboning a salmon with one good arm had been particularly challenging, especially under the watchful gaze of two large wolves, but he’d finally managed it. As fish stews went, it wasn’t too bad either. It could have done with some more flavour, a few herbs perhaps, but whatever other ingredients the woman had, he guessed they were stored inside her roundhouse and he had a feeling that venturing in there would push her temper over the edge.
His arrival had finally penetrated the uncommunicative mask she’d worn so far in all their dealings. He’d actually been taken aback by the expression of outrage on her face when he’d first emerged into the clearing. She might at least have been pleased to see him back on his feet, but she’d looked as if she’d wanted to undo all her hard work and throw her spear at him instead. His attempt to charm her hadn’t exactly worked either. The lopsided, self-deprecating smile he’d honed to a fine art over the years rarely failed to convince a woman to do anything, but if one thing was obvious by now it was that this woman was different. She wasn’t going to leap at the chance of spending more time with him. She wanted him to go.
Unfortunately for her, he couldn’t. Even if he went back to his carefully concealed boat, he could hardly row back to the mainland with one arm. And even if he could, Sandulf was in Eireann now, not Alba. What he needed was a place to recuperate, somewhere warm and dry until his arm healed and he was ready to confront Hilda again. Whether this woman liked it or not—and the answer was obviously not—he needed her. Now, all he had to do was convince her that she needed him, too.
Doing so, however, was another matter. His offer to work for her hadn’t been received very well and she didn’t look as though she’d care much about coin, but surely there was something he could offer? If only she would come out of her roundhouse and talk it would make negotiating with her a lot easier. Then he could explain that he meant her no harm and maybe come to some kind of arrangement. She’d looked as if she’d been on the verge of saying something earlier, her body actually trembling with the effort it had cost her to keep silent, but she’d stopped herself. Why? Why wouldn’t she speak to him? He didn’t want to upset her any further, but he had the feeling that if he left her to calm down, she’d simply go back to ignoring him again. Maybe provoking her was the only way to begin a conversation...
‘The fish is ready,’ he called out in the direction of the roundhouse. It was a curious design, he noticed, ancient-looking and constructed from wood and turf in a style he’d never seen before. He presumed it was Gael, or even Pict, even if she herself looked Norse. ‘I hope you’re hungry?’
There was no answer, so he sat down on the ground, leaning against a tree stump and allowing himself to relax. He could wait. She couldn’t stay in there for ever and he was the one with the food. All things considered, he felt surprisingly comfortable.
‘You know, there are other things I could do for you besides hunting.’ He decided to test how much Norse she understood. ‘I’m very good with my hands. Ask any woman who’s ever met me. They’d all agree, my hands are practically famous in Maerr.’ He fixed his gaze on the leather curtain over the entrance, watching for any hint of a reaction. ‘My mouth, too. That’s probably more famous. I can do things with my tongue you can’t even imagine.’
There. A small unmistakable twitch of the curtain followed by...stillness again. He sighed and tipped his head back, his mind filled with a startling array of erotic images all of a sudden. Of course, images would be all he would have until he fulfilled his oath, but even if he couldn’t actually lie with a woman, there were other things he could do to her, for her... Despite his rescuer’s spectral appearance, the idea was curiously tempting.
‘You know, if you let me, I could think of a hundred different ways to repay you,’ he carried on, his body heating at the idea. ‘I like exploring a woman’s body. I’d start with your breasts.’ He closed his eyes, feeling a tightening sensation in his trousers as he imagined the budded peaks of her nipples. ‘Then I’d kiss my way down your stomach and over your hips. I’d get to know every part of your body. In detail. Then I’d move down between your legs. I’d taste you there—’
‘Stop it!’
He opened his eyes with a jolt, surprised as much by the sound of her voice as the vehemence behind it. He’d been so engrossed in his daydream that it actually took him several seconds to come back to reality, to focus on her livid-looking face as she glared at him from the doorway of her roundhouse.
‘You speak Norse!’ He felt elated by his success.
‘I understand Norse,’ she corrected, storming wrathfully towards him. ‘I don’t speak anything!’
‘But you are now.’
‘Only because you won’t stop!’
Too late he caught sight of the dagger in her hand, lifting his good arm to block her just as she dropped to a crouching position and held the blade to his throat. The look in her eyes was deadly serious, a raging swirl of storm clouds ready to unleash thunder and lightning.
‘I’m sorry.’ He lowered his arm again, finally aware he’d gone too far. ‘I needed to know if you could understand me.’
‘Why?’ She seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth, as if it truly cost her to wrench the words out. ‘Why did you need to? I saved your life! Why come to my home and offer insults in return!’
‘I didn’t mean it that way.’ He glanced down at the dagger and then back up again. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said thos
e things. Forgive me.’
‘No.’ Her expression was implacable. ‘I want you to leave!’
‘It’s not so easy.’
‘Go!’
‘Won’t you at least tell me your name?’
The question only seemed to make her angrier still. Before he could react, she flipped the dagger around, ramming the hilt hard against his injured arm.
‘Go!’ She repeated the word more forcefully, ignoring his cry of pain.
‘I’m sorry...’
‘Do you think just saying so is enough?’ She stood up, looming over him the way she had when he’d first seen her, only this time everything about her body was clenched—her jaw, her fists, her muscles—all rigid with tension...
‘I don’t...’ It was becoming harder and harder to speak as his teeth started to chatter. There were white spots dancing before his eyes and he could dimly see a fresh stain of blood spreading through the linen around his arm. ‘Please...help me.’
‘Save yourself this time.’ Her eyes flashed one last time before she turned her back on him. ‘You’re on your own now, Norseman.’
Chapter Five
Sissa hurled the dagger to the ground and stalked back towards the roundhouse, her throat taut with anger as she wrenched the leather curtain aside and flung herself face-down on to the pile of furs that served as a bed. To her horror, there were tears welling in her eyes.
How could he? After everything that she’d done for him, sheltering and feeding and nursing him when he’d been so close to death, was this really how he repaid her? With the kind of talk that made her blood run hot and cold at the same time? There were so many conflicting emotions swirling in her chest that she didn’t know which was dominant. Anger, confusion, want, need... She felt strung tight, vibrating with all of them at once. She didn’t want to think about all the things he’d said he could do to her body either, but when she did... There was an ache in the pit of her stomach and between her thighs that made her insides feel as if they were turning to liquid.
She rolled on to her back, struggling to control the onslaught of emotion. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that just the thought of it was painful. For all her other kindnesses, Coblaith had never held or embraced her, even during the many long nights when she’d cried herself to sleep. The last caress she remembered was the touch of her mother’s hand on her cheek...
The tears spilled over, stinging her eyes, coursing down her cheeks and trickling into the furs. The warrior’s words had felt cruel, evoking a human connection that she would never, could never, have with anyone again. But, worst of all, he’d broken through her defences, provoking her into speech after five years of silence. Combined with her singing earlier, the effort had made her mouth feel stretched and sore, as if her tongue were swollen.
‘I’m sorry!’ She heard his voice outside again, calling to her. She’d thought—hoped—he’d been on the verge of fainting, but apparently she hadn’t hit him hard enough. Did the man never shut up?
‘I shouldn’t have said those things. It was wrong of me,’ he called again, as if he truly thought an apology was enough.
She rolled on to her side to watch the leather curtain, inwardly vowing that if he touched as much as a corner then she’d grab the nearest available object—in this case an iron poker beside the hearth—and bring it down over his head.
‘What can I do to make things right?’
Fortunately for him, the curtain didn’t move. Her itching fingers almost wished it would. The thought of a poker hitting his head was eminently satisfying.
‘I already told you to go!’ she shouted back. ‘I don’t want you to repay me!’
‘That’s not the reason.’ His voice sounded strained. ‘I mean, I want to repay you, but that’s not the only reason I can’t go.’
‘What else can there be?’ She felt almost desperate now. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’
‘Because I’ve nowhere else to go.’
She drew her brows together, rubbing her palms over her cheeks as she considered the words. Nowhere else to go... She knew how that felt, but it was hard to imagine this warrior not belonging somewhere. Judging by the quality of his mail shirt and weapons, not to mention his arm rings, he was a man of reasonable wealth and standing. How could he not belong somewhere? She rolled to a sitting position, took a calming breath, stood up and then stepped back outside. He was sitting on the ground a few feet away, as if he’d staggered so far and then collapsed, ashen-faced and looking as though he were about to vomit. Which might have given her some satisfaction if he hadn’t been so close to her roundhouse.
‘Here.’ She reached for an empty pot and handed it to him. ‘Put your head between your legs.’
‘Thank you.’ He did as she told him, draping his forearms over his knees.
‘Don’t thank me. I might still hit you again.’ She scowled threateningly. ‘What do you mean, nowhere else to go? Aren’t you one of the new settlers?’
‘No. I came from Alba to find someone.’ He gave a bitter-sounding laugh. ‘As you can see, they weren’t very happy to see me.’
‘Because you wouldn’t stop talking?’
‘Something like that.’ He looked up again, his lips twitching in a pained kind of smile. ‘Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut, but I came here to ask questions, to discover the truth about something that happened three years ago.’
‘What something?’
A shadow passed over his face. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘I have time, Norseman.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t talk about it, but I also can’t leave until I’m able to do what I came here to get done. It’s important.’
‘Really?’ She pursed her lips. At least she’d found some way to shut him up, but if he wouldn’t give her the details then she saw no reason to let him stay. On the other hand, perhaps the words he’d muttered in his sleep were explanation enough...
‘How do I know you won’t hurt me?’ She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘I’ve no idea who you are.’
‘I won’t hurt you, I swear it. I’m Danr Sigurdsson, bastard son of Jarl Sigurd of Maerr.’
‘Jarl?’
‘I told you, it’s a long story. Here.’ He unfastened his sword belt and pushed it across the ground to her. ‘Take my weapons. If I do anything at all you don’t like, then you can set your wolves on me.’
‘Aren’t you afraid I might anyway?’
‘No. You saved my life. That kind of thing makes me trust a person.’
She made a sceptical sound, hardening her heart despite the words. ‘Did you come to Skíð alone?’
‘Yes. My boat’s hidden, but I can’t row myself back to the mainland with an injured arm and if I go near a village then the person who did this will find me and finish what they started. They’re probably already out looking for me. I need somewhere to shelter until I’m able to defend myself again.’ He winced and sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Moon’s eye, but you have a strong arm, woman.’
‘I barely touched you.’ She threw a contemptuous glance at the linen binding the poultice. There was a red stain behind it, but not much. The blood looked as if it were already clotting, which meant that whatever damage she’d done was only minor. If what he was saying was true, however, then she could hurt him far more by sending him away. If he couldn’t go to one of the villages—and they were still few and far between—then he’d have a hard time surviving on his own and she’d be condemning him to more suffering. Frankly, she might as well not have bothered saving him in the first place. But she was still angry and she still didn’t want him there! Of all the people she might have found and helped, why did it have to be a warrior?
‘I’m telling the truth, I swear it.’ He seemed to sense her hesitation.
She rolled her eyes to the sky and then sniffed the air
, her mouth watering suddenly at the scent of his stew. It smelt delicious. Perhaps he hadn’t lied about being a good cook, after all. In which case, even if healing him was going to be a longer task than she’d anticipated, perhaps there might be one consolation...
‘We should eat,’ she said decisively, scooping some of the stew into a bowl and sitting down on the opposite side of the fire pit.
‘Does that mean you’ll let me stay?’ He gave her a searching glance.
‘For tonight. Since you cooked.’
‘Thank you. And tomorrow, if you let me stay longer, I’ll make myself useful. I’ll keep out of your way and there’ll be no more talk like before, I promise.’
‘Good, or I’ll cut your arm off next time.’ She took a mouthful of stew and then looked up at him in surprise. It tasted even better than it smelled, dissolving in succulent chunks on her tongue. She couldn’t imagine what he’d done to it, especially considering the paucity of the ingredients, but she hadn’t tasted anything so good since...she couldn’t remember when.
‘What do you think?’ He was watching her eagerly, she realised, as if he were actually keen to hear her opinion.
‘Not bad.’ She refused to compliment him. ‘But I still don’t want you here, Norseman.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t like people, especially warriors. That’s why I live alone.’
‘I understand, but...’ he spread his hands out in appeal ‘...please?’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She ladled out another spoonful, picked up his sword belt and started towards her roundhouse. ‘You can sleep beside the fire tonight. It’s not going to rain.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
‘Hmm.’ She ignored his words of gratitude, whistling for Tove and Halvar to follow her instead. Tove got up obediently, but Halvar only lifted his head briefly before lowering it back on to his paws.
‘Is he going to sleep out here, too?’ The warrior sounded faintly concerned.
Redeeming Her Viking Warrior Page 4