The Marriage of Time: Called by a Viking series Book Three

by Stone, Mariah

  “He did not. There is no curse. She was just a little unlucky, but we saved her.”

  “Everyone should know about this. We need to do something before he brings another misery on us.”

  Mia noticed Hakon had crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows bunched together.

  Nothing Mia could say would convince Oda otherwise. So Mia had to play by her rules. “All right,” Mia said. “All right. You think he’s cursed? I will remove his curse.”

  Oda frowned. “You?”

  “Yes, me. I’m a healer.”

  Mia had realized in the time she’d been here that in Viking culture, mysticism and medicine were considered one. Healers were shamans, like Solveig. People must think Mia was the same.

  She continued, “I can remove curses just like I can heal wounds and diseases. Wouldn’t you agree that this would be wise?”

  Oda studied her, then her face brightened. “That would be wise.”

  “Good then.” Mia winked at Hakon and went to her purse. The Tylenol bottle was there. She had given some in powder form to children with high fever, without anyone seeing what she was doing. But this time, she wanted them to watch.

  There was only one pill left, and she removed it from the bottle without Hakon and Oda seeing. She showed the pill to them, bringing it directly to their eyes.

  Then she went into the great hall and found a pestle and a soapstone bowl for grinding herbs and took a cup with water. She brought them to the bedchamber and put the pill into the bowl. They watched with wide eyes, full of curiosity and wonder. She then took the pestle and started grinding the pill into powder, closed her eyes and began humming “Thriller” by Michael Jackson and swaying as if in a trance.

  When she felt that the pill was fully ground, she opened her eyes, wriggled her fingers over the bowl and said, “Curse, begone!”

  She then poured half a mug of clean water into the bowl and stirred it. It was a pity to use the last painkiller she had, but it would be worth it if Oda believed her. She would tell everyone else in the village.

  Mia took the bowl with both hands and held it out to Hakon. “Curse, begone!” she said again and made him drink.

  He frowned, bulged his eyes, but like an obedient patient, drank.

  When the bowl was empty and Mia removed it from his lips, he grimaced in disgust. “What was that? Bird’s shit?”

  “Bitter, huh?” Mia said, then shrugged. “Better that you don’t know.”

  Oda watched him carefully, Mette sleeping peacefully in her arms. “Well?” Oda said.

  “What?” Mia asked.

  “How are you feeling, Hakon?”

  Hakon blinked. “Like a new man.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Oda and Mette finally left the room, and Hakon was alone with his princess.

  The medicine she had given him was still bitter on his tongue, and he had never tasted anything so foul, but he was ready to drink anything out of her hands. She had told him he was not cursed, planting a seed of doubt in him about that, but when Mette had almost died, he’d known Arinborg was wrong.

  But she had saved the baby’s life. Because she was the healer. She was the blessing.

  And she had healed him. He knew that.

  The dull headache he had had since this morning, from drinking himself to sleep with mead, was fading away. Pain from an old wound on his hip that bothered him after he slept on the ground weakened.

  Arinborg was so beautiful he could not breathe. Her eyes bright and shiny, her lips pink and inviting, a healthy blush on her cheeks. Her hair was done in braids on her head but left streaming down her shoulders and back. He could not believe this woman was his.

  He had spent the past four days without her, longing for her. Once he had experienced the taste of her body, of plunging into her depths, of making her his, he had known he would never get enough of her. The nights spent without her were a torture.

  Fear gripped his gut. The fear of losing her. Fear of the gods, who could still take her away. She was too good to be true.

  Yes, she was with another man’s child, which she had concealed from him. Hakon clenched his jaws as the thought called his anger back to the surface.

  Arinborg raised her brows. “Are you ready to talk now?”

  “What is there to talk about?”

  “Well, you said you needed time to process the news. Did you have enough time?”

  “I do not know if there will ever be enough time, Arinborg.”

  She hugged her waist, her eyes watering.

  “What should we do then? Should I go? Is that what you want?”

  The thought of her leaving felt like the slash of a sword against his core. “I do not know. It seemed like that is what you wanted when you first arrived.”

  “I can’t leave yet, not when people are still sick.” Her voice was barely audible.

  Hakon was torn between relief and pain. “Is that the only reason?”

  “You tell me. Will you accept my baby?”

  Accepting another man’s child—he could not even accept the notion of being a father himself.

  Not after how his father was with him. He did not know how to be a good father. He did not know how to be a good husband. All he knew was how to be a good warrior.

  And the Beast.

  Was he still the Beast after that bitter potion? Was he the Beast after the curse was lifted?

  “I want you to stay my wife.”

  With two steps he crossed the distance between them and cupped her face with both hands. “And I need to make love to you in our bed.”

  “What about—”

  He kissed the rest of her words away.

  He did not know yet if he was ready to accept another man’s child, but he knew that he was not ready to let her go, and he had to feel her in his arms. The small glimpse of happiness that she had given him was like the best mead he had ever tasted.

  He wanted more.

  Her lips were soft, and her mouth was warm, wet, and luscious. She moaned against him, and the sound echoed through his whole body to the end of his cock. Her tongue met his and probed his mouth, sending bolts of pleasure through his veins.

  “Did you miss me?” he growled as he dragged his lips down her neck, tasting her skin like a man after a week of hunger.

  “Like crazy.” The words came out as a needy sigh, and her fingers dug into his shoulder blades.

  The sensation was on the verge of pain and pleasure, the perfect mirror of what he had been feeling ever since he had met her, and it made thunder vibrate in his bones.

  He inhaled her scent, as if he had been suffocating and she was a gust of fresh air. Undoing her brooches, he let the apron dress fall to the floor. Then her shift followed.

  He took a small step back, holding her hands so that she did not get any ideas of covering herself. Then he took his pleasure looking her over. Up on the mountain, he had never gotten a chance to really see her.

  And now…

  She stood with her chin up. She wanted him to like her, he could tell.

  If she only knew that he would have loved her even if she had the body of a troll.

  But she looked like the goddess Freyja herself. Her neck delicate, her skin glowing like mother-of-pearl, her breasts round, as if destined to perfectly fit his hands. Her narrow waist with the swell of her belly down where her child was growing inside of her, going into the round hips and the triangle of soft curls, the sight of which made his cock jerk. Her long legs, he wanted to kiss every little bit of them.

  “You are so beautiful,” he heard himself whisper. “The elves must have made you out of sea foam and spring flowers.”

  She sniffled softly. “They didn’t. Trust me. Your turn, mister.”

  He chuckled. “Do you want me to undress?”

  “Very much.”

  Hakon swallowed, still not sure if he was pleasing for her to look at. He was big, yes, but did she like what she saw? Was he not too much like the Beast?


  But he obliged without hesitation. First came the tunic, then the pants.

  When he straightened and looked at her, she was regarding him with burning eyes.

  “Am I not disgusting to you?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened. “If I hear a single word about the curse, I swear, Hakon, I will throw something at you. And you better pray it’s not one of your axes.”

  He breathed a little easier, but she must have seen something in his face, because then her eyes turned soft. She took a step closer and pressed her silky warm body against him, and he wrapped his arms around her small frame.

  “Hakon”—she laid her palms on his chest, burning him—“you are the most attractive man I have ever seen. You are not just gorgeous, you are unforgettable. Your body is every woman’s dream.”

  What strange words for a woman to say, as if she had seen so many men’s bodies, as if she knew what other women dreamed of in a man. She was a healer, a witch, and a princess—he still struggled to understand the depths of her.

  “You do like how I look?” he said.

  “I love how you look, Hakon,” she whispered. “Now shut up and make love to me.”

  “As you wish, my blessing.”

  He kissed her, hardening with every pull of the lips, every stroke of the tongue, her luscious taste as fresh as a high mountain spring.

  He moved down, pressing his lips against her neck, feeling the violent beat of her vein under his tongue. When he reached her breasts, he licked one nipple, then sucked, and it felt firm and petal-soft in his mouth. She moaned, her fingers running through his hair and digging into his scalp. She smelled like life—maybe it was the pregnancy or just her. The healer. Life-giver. His blessing.

  His.

  Hakon continued his exploration, worshiping her body, the silk of her skin, the narrowness of her waist. And then he came to the firm swell of her lower belly and froze. He put his hand on it and heard her hold her breath. The baby was part of her. And if she was his, then it was also his.

  If it was another man’s that did not matter.

  If it was hers, it was Hakon’s.

  He gently kissed her belly, and caressed it with his hand, and heard her breathe again.

  Then he went even further down, to the aim of his exploration.

  The curls of her hair down there. He dipped his finger in her warm, soft, silky folds, and she gasped. He slowly slid his finger up and down her folds until she moaned and pressed her fingers deeper into his hair.

  That was the center of her pleasure. He began rubbing, circling, and her moans intensified, her thighs shaking.

  Good.

  He withdrew his hand and kissed her there instead. His tongue dipped into the silkiness of her folds and began probing her there, licking, teasing, playing. She moaned and trembled and shook and got even wetter.

  “Oh, Hakon, I can’t stand,” she moaned, and he straightened, grabbed two handfuls of her round ass and lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

  “Then I will hold you,” he said.

  His cock was right at her sleek entrance, her eyes were locked with his, her breasts squished against him.

  He slid into her, feeling as if he had just come home after a long raiding season, and she gasped, arching into him, her head falling back. Her insides were tight and sleek and hot, and liquid pleasure spilled through Hakon.

  He moved slowly at first, savoring, letting her get used to him, making sure she enjoyed the ride. Her cries were like tar to fire, making him burn like never before.

  Her skin covered in sweat, she met his thrusts with her own movements.

  And soon—too soon, and not soon enough—he was close, and he felt her body tense, too.

  And with a few more strong thrusts, she was trembling all around him, milking him, caressing him. He was riding the waves of a storm of pleasure, and she was the sea goddess that had called it forth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mia stroked a thin, silver scar on Hakon’s chest. She was sinking in the deliciousness of his strong body, his arms around her, his shoulder under her cheek, his even breath tickling her skin. The semidarkness of their bedroom was peaceful and calming, the fire in the hearth cozy. The room smelled of sex, wood, and leather.

  She could get used to this. Waking up every day to him, treating people here, helping Hakon with feasts, cooking, and overseeing the harvest. She could even learn to knit, weave, and sew, something women here were responsible for. And her baby…could she really imagine her son growing up in the Viking Age?

  She didn’t know.

  She was sure she and her child would be safe with Hakon, as much as it was possible. But neither she nor Hakon would have any control over the diseases that might come. She had no way of producing antibiotics, no laboratory, not even a scalpel in case she needed to perform a surgery. Maybe she could make ethanol with time to disinfect wounds and such, but there were so many kinds of wounds that were life-threatening here.

  No wonder people believed in gods, curses, and magic.

  Maybe she could travel back and forth in time. Then she would have access to modern medicine and could bring the drugs and tools she would need here to help people even more.

  But if she traveled back in time to Boston, would she be able to return to the Viking Age? What if she couldn’t?

  The thought chilled her to the bone, and she shivered. Hakon pulled her tighter to him.

  “Are you cold, Arinborg?”

  Arinborg…

  Mia, she wanted to correct him, but bit her tongue.

  She still needed to tell him that secret.

  But not now.

  She still didn’t even know how he felt about her pregnancy.

  “I was afraid you would send me away if you knew I was pregnant. Back to…him. To Dan. I am still afraid you will.”

  He rubbed her arm with his hand, and delicious heat spread through her. She moaned in bliss. Then his hand ran down her arm slower, and Mia held her breath. It landed on her belly and stroked it gently.

  Mia looked up at him, and his yellow-green eyes were full of tenderness.

  “I will not let that man breathe the same air as you,” he said. “He will never touch a hair on your head again. I will take your child as my own.”

  She covered his hand with hers. “Really?”

  He gave a curt nod, his eyes intense.

  And then something happened. She had felt small flutters, like butterfly wings in her stomach more and more over the course of the past couple of weeks, but now there was a proper movement, as if a warm fish turned in her belly. Mia and Hakon both froze.

  “Did you feel that?” Mia whispered.

  “I did.”

  Delight spread in her body like a wave of giggles. She squeezed his hand. “I think it’s a sign. The baby wants you, too.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “It is. I will not be the kind of father to this child that my own father was to me. It was not your fault that you were violated, and it was not this child’s fault that the person who gave it life is a disgrace of a man. Just like it was not my fault that I was born with the mark of a beast. I know how it feels to be unwanted. And I will not let you or this child ever feel that.”

  Mia’s heart was thumping so fast, it felt like it would burst—of gratitude, of healing, of tenderness for this man.

  Of love.

  “I love you, Hakon,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes as if to take a moment and recuperate from a blow. Then he opened them, and they were bright and light and shiny. “As I love you, Arinborg.”

  That name again, it hit her like a sledgehammer.

  She should tell him.

  Now.

  “I am still afraid that something will go wrong,” he said. “Death does not frighten me as much as the thought that the gods have given you and your love to me only to take this happiness away.”

  Mia’s heart squeezed. He had no idea how right he was. Better tell him now. Then the
re would be no more lies standing between them.

  God, what had happened to the real Arinborg? Was she even alive? Even if something had happened to her, surely King Nyr would eventually want to see his daughter.

  “And if they do take you away,” he said. “I do not know if I can survive that.”

  Her stomach turned into a rock.

  Tell him, now! I am not Arinborg. My name is Mia and I’m a time traveler from the future.

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She just couldn’t bear to change the happiness on his face to pain. He would probably think she was crazy anyway. And even if he believed her, she could not be the one who gave him the news that the gods had exactly that in mind. It would only confirm in his mind that he was the beast everyone believed him to be.

  Later. She would prepare him, in time. She would give him gentle signs. She would soften the blow.

  “I’ll heal you then,” she said and kissed him. “I won’t let the gods do anything to you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Days flew by like a happy dream.

  The disease was coming to an end. A moon and a week passed, and one hospital was free of the sick, and went back to being a house. Thanks to his wife’s skills, no one died. People were returning to their daily activities, and they were even warming up to him.

  It was all Arinborg.

  His wife.

  His love.

  She had promised to not let the gods take away their happiness. But she might not want to keep that promise by the end of summer.

  Because he was still going to kill her father. He was still waiting for his allies. And he still could not tell her. He had discussed the plan with his loyal men, and they would not tell even their wives, so bound were they by their word to Hakon.

  The preparations for the feast were going well. Mead was brewing. There was enough rye for bread and vegetables for stew. Servants and thralls were all almost back to good health and he knew there was enough manpower to prepare the feast when the jarls arrived.