Redeeming Her Viking Warrior

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Thank you.’ His voice sounded rougher than before. ‘I seem to be saying that a lot.’

  ‘Yes.’ She twisted her face to one side, too disturbed by their touch to look at him any longer. For a brief moment, all of her consciousness had seemed to hone in on that one spot, on the heat and pressure of his skin against hers. Her fingers still felt as though they were tingling. Somehow his touch had set fire to her blood, making her knees feel alarmingly unsteady, as if they might give way and drop her straight into his arms at any second. The very idea made her take a step backwards. The last thing she wanted was to get any closer to him, but it was becoming impossible to deny the effect he had on her.

  She risked a quick peek sideways again and found him staring back, his gaze heated though he was wearing an expression of intense puzzlement. There was a crease between his brows, too, as if he were trying to make sense of something. Whatever it was, it made her nerves hum and her heart thud heavily against her ribcage. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was even gooseflesh on her arms, though she wasn’t remotely cold. None of which she wanted him to know about.

  ‘You know, I can’t keep on calling you Erika-Bersa.’ His gaze seemed to darken the longer he looked at her. ‘You could at least choose one or the other.’

  ‘No.’ She gave a small cough and whistled for Tove. ‘I told you, I don’t care. Now you should get some sleep. There are more jobs for you to do tomorrow.’

  * * *

  Danr pressed his hands against his knees, watching as Erika-Bersa walked with long, purposeful strides towards the roundhouse. He felt very aware of his surroundings all of a sudden, of the crackle and hiss of the fire, of the scorching heat that seemed to have just flared out of it, of the strange absence of breeze in the air and the almost uncanny stillness of the trees around them. Most of all he was aware of her, his nerves attuned to every movement she made. It was a long time since he’d been aware of any woman. Now he wondered if she’d been as aware of him as he’d been of her. Her abrupt departure made him suspect that she had.

  It had been an enjoyable evening after another enjoyable day. He’d been feeling somewhat triumphant, too, since he’d finally succeeded in coaxing a smile out of her. Laughter even. It had been like a burst of sunshine, more dazzling and rewarding than just about any smile he’d ever seen before. They’d established a friendship of sorts, too, even if he still didn’t know her name. He’d thought about asking her this as his prize, except that he’d had a feeling that doing so would have disturbed the new harmony between them. It seemed bizarre to keep calling her Erika-Bersa, but if that was what she wanted then it would have to do.

  He got up and hauled the pelt over his makeshift shelter. It felt strange spending time in the company of a woman again, especially such an unusual one. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever spent time with before. She wasn’t beautiful or flirtatious. She didn’t speak teasing words or give him coy glances. She didn’t do anything to attract him, yet all day he’d found himself unable to resist looking at her. She ought to have been easy to resist. She was all hard lines and sharp angles, but he still found himself wanting to look at her. Wanting to be close to her, too.

  When they’d been playing knuckle sticks he’d actually found himself swaying towards her, just as he had in the cave, his face moving instinctively towards hers as if he wanted to kiss her. He’d pulled away again the moment he’d realised, but he’d had to stop himself several times from doing it again.

  As she’d sat beside the fire pit, her grey eyes had looked alluringly smoky, too, deep and mysterious and altogether too dangerous for him to look into for long. Then when their fingers had touched he’d felt a powerful impulse to clasp on to them and hold tight. It was confusing. Of all the women he’d seen over the past three years, she was surely one of the least memorable, and yet she interested him. Odder still, she comforted him. Not deliberately, of course—he suspected she would still rather see the back of him—but somehow just by being there. Her very presence was comforting. But it was probably just because she’d saved his life and he felt safe with her, that was all. Maybe there was a mild attraction, mild to moderate even, but that was irrelevant. He had no intention of acting upon it...did he?

  No! He frowned at the momentary lapse. Even if he hadn’t made an oath, he was in her debt twice over. She’d saved his life and she was giving him shelter. He wouldn’t repay her with anything less than honourable behaviour. He wouldn’t degrade her by thinking of her in that way either. It was already obvious that she was worth ten of him—ten hundred of him. He was only alive because she’d saved and protected him. The best thing he could do now was put all thoughts of her out of his mind and go to sleep—and try very hard not to dream of grey eyes and a wild crown of silver-blonde hair.

  Chapter Eight

  Danr yawned, stretched and then crawled out from beneath his shelter, relieved that none of the haphazardly arranged branches had collapsed upon him during the night. A thin layer of mist hung over the treetops, chilling the air, coating the branches in dampness and blocking all but the most persistent rays of watery daylight. Just as Erika-Bersa had predicted, the weather had changed again, making it impossible to see beyond the edge of the clearing. It wasn’t a particularly promising start to the morning, but perhaps it was a useful jolt back to reality. Despite his best intentions, his dreams had been altogether too lucid and at least the cold was distracting.

  He ran his hands over his face, ruffled his hair and then wandered away towards the river to wash. Leaves rustled behind him and he turned to find Halvar following close at his heels. He smiled at the sight. The wolf’s large, silent presence reminded him in a funny way of Rurik. He wasn’t sure his twin brother would appreciate the comparison, but he found it comforting. And there was that word again: comforting. Since when had being comforted become so important to him?

  ‘Good morning.’ He held out a hand, letting the wolf nudge its wet nose against his wrist. ‘You know, I always thought Maerr was a damp place, but I’ve never seen mists like these. I feel like I’m walking through clouds.’ He rubbed his hand over the animal’s head and then carried on towards the gorge, yawning a few more times as he descended the slope. ‘Is your mistress still sleeping? Then we’ll bathe first today, shall we?’

  The words had barely left his mouth when he saw her. She was standing straight ahead of him in one of the pools below a small waterfall, hip-deep in water and without as much as a shift to cover her nakedness. She was also, he could see, oblivious to his arrival, which still gave him an opportunity to leave...

  He stood immobile, ordering himself to retreat and yet apparently unable to do so. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to lift either one of his feet off the ground. His eyes were being similarly disobedient, riveted on her slim figure as she crouched down, dipping her whole body under the water for a few seconds, then stood up and tossed her head from side to side, sending a spray of water all the way through the air to his feet.

  He swallowed, assailed by a rush of pure lust as she ran her hands through the long, waist-length tresses, wringing out the droplets and then drawing the bulk of it over one shoulder. Her body was just as lean and angular and spear-like as he’d thought the first time he’d seen her, without as much as a hint of any womanly curve, yet now it struck him as the most erotic, enticing figure he’d ever seen.

  Moon’s eye! He hadn’t as much as looked at a woman in three years. There had been opportunities enough, but they’d all left him cold. Whereas now...now he was mesmerised. Why now? Why with this woman? He felt as though all the blood in his body had just rushed straight to his groin.

  He was still ordering his legs to move when she looked over her shoulder at him, just a brief glance before she bent over, allowing him a tantalising view of her posterior as she scooped some water into her cupped hands and then scrubbed them over her face.

  ‘I’m sorry...’ He croaked the words
out, though for once he didn’t know what else to say. She twisted slightly towards him as if expecting more, but he seemed utterly incapable of further speech. His throat was dry, his groin was painfully hard and his eyes were transfixed by the drops of water pouring in glistening rivulets down her body, over her breasts and towards the crease between her legs... He finally succeeded in dragging his gaze away, half-expecting her to scream at him for staring, but having noted his arrival she didn’t seem to be paying him much attention at all, as if she didn’t particularly object to his scrutiny either. It was almost too much temptation to bear. He might have preferred it if she’d screamed at him...

  ‘You’re awake early,’ she said at last, striding out of the water and reaching for a piece of linen hanging from a nearby branch.

  ‘Yes.’ He shook his head, trying to think of something else to say. Trying to remember any words at all. ‘I thought you were still asleep.’

  She shrugged and started to dry herself down with rough, vigorous strokes. Too rough, Danr thought, staring again as he watched the movement of the linen. If she gave it to him, then he could do a much better job. He’d soothe her skin instead of turning it red with scrubbing. He’d use his hands and mouth, too, rubbing and licking the moisture away... The idea almost made him groan aloud. Just when he’d thought he couldn’t get any harder... The urge to touch her was so great that he had to clench his fists to stop himself reaching out to stroke the side of her hip.

  ‘What is it?’ She looked up suddenly, a small crease between her brows. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘What?’ He jerked his head up quickly. How could he answer that? He was behaving as if he’d never seen a naked woman in his life, like a boy instead of a man with far too many years of experience, while she...well, she was obviously an innocent, even more than he’d suspected. She seemed not to have not the faintest inkling of the effect she was having on him, which was a relief since she’d probably tell him to leave straight away if she did.

  ‘I was just...looking.’ He winced inwardly. Just looking? They were arguably the most pathetic words he’d ever said to a woman. No attempt at an excuse. Nothing about her beauty or desirability either. Just looking?

  Fortunately, she seemed not to find anything strange about them, pulling a tunic over her head—thank the stars!—and then striding towards him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He leapt backwards as she lifted a hand towards his injured arm.

  ‘Checking your wound.’ She gave him a look that suggested he must have taken a blow to the head. ‘The cut should have closed by now.’

  ‘Oh.’ He let out a shaky breath. ‘Maybe we should do that later. You must be cold.’

  ‘I don’t think about the temperature. It’s the best way.’

  ‘Really?’ He was starting to feel desperate, his own temperature soaring so high he felt as though he were standing next to a bonfire. ‘Maybe we should wait a few more days just in case?’

  ‘No. It’s time now.’

  To his dismay, she reached for his arm again, unravelling the bandage and peering at the wound for so long that he wondered if time itself had stopped. His whole body was rigid with tension and his heartbeat was pounding like a drum in his ears, so loudly he was certain she must be able to hear it—which was all right just as long as that was the only thing she noticed and she kept her gaze on the upper part of his body...

  ‘Much better,’ she said finally, running a finger over the line of the cut in a way that made his breath catch and then hiss sharply between his teeth. The sound of it made her head tip to one side. ‘Are you all right, Danr?’

  Danr? He swallowed another moan. Of course she used his name now! The sound of it on her lips was almost enough to undo him.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Did it hurt when I touched you?’

  He almost laughed at the question. It was close to torture, but he could hardly say that. ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Come with me.’

  She took hold of his arm before he could object, leading him towards the pool’s edge. He went, grinding his teeth against a powerful urge to catch her up over his shoulder and carry her off to some soft patch of ground instead. In his current condition it would probably mean wrenching his arm from its socket, but it might still be worth it.

  ‘You needn’t worry about getting it wet now,’ she murmured, scooping some water up and letting it trickle between her fingers over his injury. ‘Just don’t rub it.’

  ‘I won’t.’ He wasn’t sure what had happened to his voice. It sounded deeper than he’d ever heard it, more like his brother Brandt’s than his own.

  She looked as if she were about to go, then frowned and lifted a hand to his forehead. ‘You look feverish.’

  ‘I’m not.’ He clutched at her hand and tore it away from his face, feeling as though he’d just been scolded. Suddenly he was more than eager to plunge himself into a pool of frigid cold water.

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Very.’ He attempted to let go of her hand and found himself rubbing his thumb over the insides of her fingers instead. The calluses there made him want to caress her even more. Damn it, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to fall on her like a thirsty man might fall on a barrel of mead. If she touched him just one more time, then she might find out just how much... But he was determined to do the right thing, to hold to his oath. It was the thought of that which helped him to release her.

  ‘I’ll see you back in the clearing.’ He turned and took a few steps away, tearing his tunic off to distract himself with activity. The feeling of cold air on his skin was a relief, cooling his blood and helping his pulse return to normal. He took a deep breath, waiting for her to leave before removing his trousers, but there was no sound of movement. At last he risked turning his head, only to find their positions reversed. She was the one staring at him now, a swathe of colour across her cheeks and throat.

  ‘As you wish,’ she said finally, seeming to come back to herself with a jolt before spinning on her heel and walking away.

  * * *

  Sissa glared at her feet as she tripped over a rock on her way back to the roundhouse, almost falling flat on her face. How was that possible? She walked along this path every morning. She knew every rock and pebble and even plant along the way. How was it possible for her to forget and stumble?

  It was all his fault, the man, Danr’s. The way he’d stared at her—first when she’d stood dripping wet in the water and then afterwards when she’d been drying—had only reminded her of the evening before and the strange, almost visceral reaction she’d experienced at his touch—a reaction she’d spent half the night convincing herself she’d imagined.

  Now just his expression had unsettled her. At first, she’d supposed it was simply surprise at her nakedness, but surely he couldn’t have been that surprised? Or maybe it was because she’d made no attempt to cover herself? But why would she have? Nakedness was only natural. Animals never worried about showing their bodies. It was only people who acted strangely about them, although she had to admit, his presence had made her feel somewhat self-conscious. She wasn’t used to being looked at and even if she had been, Birger had once told her that she had a long face and a skinny body, which was as true now as it had been five years ago. She might have grown taller, but her body had remained as thin as a sapling. Doubtless the Norseman had been thinking the same thing, although his gaze hadn’t seemed critical. On the contrary, there had been a definite warmth behind it—heat, even. The same heat she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes the evening before. She hadn’t known what to think about that, let alone how to react, but the more she’d tried to act naturally, to concentrate on practicalities like inspecting his wound, the stranger his behaviour had become. When she’d touched his arm, his body had gone pos
itively rigid with tension, as if he’d thought she might actually hurt him—as if she’d already been hurting him somehow.

  The sight of his chest when he’d started undressing had discomposed her even further. He’d looked even broader and more sculpted than he had when she’d been nursing him, his stomach knotted with muscles that looked solid as a tree trunk—strong and powerful—with a line of hair that drew her eye downwards like an arrow towards... A pulse of excitement coursed through her veins at the memory, almost causing her to stumble again. Enough! she scolded herself. No matter how impressive or powerful he’d looked, there was no reason for her to still be thinking about him, especially when she had far more important things to be doing. She hadn’t been to the edge of the forest since the last new moon and if she left it any longer then the people in the village would start to wonder where she was.

  She was pleased to feel a new sense of resolve by the time she reached the roundhouse. She’d go to the edge of the forest today, which meant that she needed to prepare herself for being around people again. First she crouched down by the fire pit, trailing her forefingers through the ashes and then across her cheeks to leave two lines of grey powder. Then she collected a few of the twigs left behind from their game the previous evening and wound them into her still-wet hair, twisting the rest into unruly tendrils. Then she sat back on her haunches, trying to put all thoughts of Danr Sigurdsson out of her mind. It wasn’t easy. Even apart from his chest, after just a few short days in his company she’d become almost used to talking again. For her own safety, however, she needed to put all of that aside and go back to being inscrutable. That was what the villagers expected of her, which meant that she’d have to guard her eyes and her tongue even more than usual. The slightest sign of emotion could damage her position and make her vulnerable again.