Longing for Her Forbidden Viking

by Harper St. George

  Something shifted in her eyes and she straightened her spine. His fingers dropped to his side. ‘Thank you for your generous offer,’ she said. ‘But I find that I would prefer marriage and the permanent security it would provide.’

  It was no less than he had expected, but still the bitter tang of disappointment touched the back of his tongue. He meant to leave it, instead he said, ‘The offer is open if you change your mind.’

  Her lips parted, but no words came out. He took advantage of her loss of words to ask what he should have asked before offering her the position of his concubine. Questions he had meant to ask when he found out she had spoken to Godric. The fact that he was willing to have her regardless of that potential threat was testament to how far he had fallen under her spell. The pull she had on him was nearly irresistible and he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t know her, but it felt like he was supposed to know her.

  ‘You’ve heard the rumours about your father plotting with the Scots?’ At her nod, he continued, ‘Do you know anything about that?’

  ‘Nay.’ She gave him a bitter smile. ‘Believe me when I say that I would be the last person he told if he was involved with the Scots.’

  If what she said about her relationship with her father was true, then he could believe that. Still, he pressed onwards, looking for some point of weakness in her assertion. ‘But do you suspect that he would?’

  The conflict she suffered was plain on her face. ‘I’m not certain. I suspect that he’d go to any length to fight you. He despised the Danes before...but his hatred deepened when my mother ran off with one.’

  ‘Ah.’ It was a piece of the puzzle he’d yet to place about Godric’s supposed rebellion. ‘I suspected his hatred ran deeper than that of a warrior fighting for his home. When did she leave?’

  ‘I was a child still.’

  The shadowed look that came over her face told him there was much more to the story, but he wouldn’t press. The less her knew about her personally, the better it would be for both of them. He had begun to suspect that being near her would affect him far greater than he had originally intended.

  ‘A man from your village, Osric, was found meeting with the Scots a few days ago. Many see this as evidence that your father is involved, too. What do you think?’ He stared at her face, looking for any signs of lying.

  ‘Osric wouldn’t have approached the Scots on his own, but what you’re saying is...well, it would mean Father is guilty of treason. Do you think Father would do that?’ The distress on her face looked very real.

  ‘I don’t know Godric well enough to say with certainty.’ But he would have bet everything he owned on the fact that the man was involved with them. He was less certain about the man’s daughters, however. ‘He’ll be questioned about his involvement very soon and then we’ll know the truth.’

  She seemed unsettled, but there was nothing about her expression that suggested complicity. Perhaps Rolfe was right about the sisters after all.

  ‘I should get inside.’

  He nodded and stepped to the side. ‘Goodnight, Ellan.’ She murmured a reply and hurried away towards the hall. He didn’t say it, but if Godric was found guilty, then Rolfe or even Jarl Vidar would become her new guardian. There was every chance that her betrothal would be cancelled. If she spent the winter in Alvey, Aevir knew that he would have her in his bed before the spring thaw.

  Before he had to leave to marry his own Saxon.

  * * *

  Ellan hurried to the alcove bedchamber she had shared with Elswyth until her sister’s marriage only days ago. It was a tiny space that held a narrow bed, a small table and a stool. Once, Ellan had thought it tiny and cramped, but it had seemed vast and lonely ever since Elswyth had moved to Rolfe’s chamber. She hadn’t realised how she would miss her sister’s calm and reassuring presence until she was no longer there every night. How Ellan wished that Elswyth was there now. She would crawl into bed and pull the blanket over them both as she told her what Father had said. Perhaps she would even share with her Aevir’s shocking proposal.

  A curtain separated the alcove from the rest of the upstairs area. Ellan went to tie it closed behind her and let her gaze linger on the shut door of her sister’s room. The need to talk to her was nearly overwhelming, but Ellan managed to control it. Elswyth was married now. Not only that, but she had had her own confrontation with Father tonight about her marriage. She needed time alone with Rolfe.

  A feeling of dread had settled in the pit of her stomach since Elswyth’s wedding. At first, Ellan had been ashamed of herself for being anything but happy for her sister. Now, as the hollow grew bigger, she understood what the feeling was. It was fear that she was losing the one person she had always been able to trust.

  The one person who loved her.

  Blinking against the sting of tears, she tied the curtain closed and went through the motions of changing into her nightdress and taking down her hair before plopping down on the bed and curling up under her blanket. Times like this made her miss her mother. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, lay very still and tried very hard, she could almost remember the weight of her mother’s hand on her head, stroking her hair as she fell asleep. Ellan was never quite certain if it was an actual memory or something she had made up to comfort herself as a child.

  What would her mother tell her to do? Unfortunately, she hadn’t known her well enough to say. What would Elswyth say? She had a sinking feeling that her sister would advise her to marry the man Father wanted her to marry. Ellan couldn’t shake the feeling that this man would be hardly better than Father in his opinions of the Danes. In her time serving Lady Gwendolyn, Ellan had grown close to her. She couldn’t imagine submitting to a marriage that would see her on the other side of a potential Saxon/Dane battle in Alvey. Father was wrong in his hatred.

  Was Aevir right in that Father could be taken prisoner soon? Would that mean the betrothal wasn’t valid? Should she take Aevir up on his offer in case it was?

  Heat swept through her at that thought. Deep down inside herself in a place she hardly knew existed, she hadn’t found Aevir’s proposition to be abhorrent. She wanted marriage and a family of her own...but she also wanted to know what it would be like to lie with him. To be protected by him. To belong to him.

  Pulling the blanket up to hide her face from her wicked thoughts, she tried to drive the memory of his intense stare from her head. It didn’t work. Being alone made him much more vivid in her mind. The way he had towered over her outside the hall after Elswyth’s wedding, for instance. Had he been someone else she might have felt intimidated or even afraid, but because it was him she had felt protected, even cared for, though that sentiment was absurd. He wanted her in his bed, not his heart. She wasn’t a complete dolt when it came to men.

  Why then did she feel this inexplicable draw to him and the promise of more lurking beneath the surface?

  That thought, along with those of her uncertain future, left her unable to find a peaceful sleep. When she finally drifted off it was to unsettling dreams of both her father and Aevir.

  * * *

  It seemed that she had only just found sleep when strange sounds from below brought her awake. She lay in her bed for a moment, wondering if she had imagined them.

  Nay, they were real. Several voices from the main room rose up to where she slept. They were urgent, but she was too groggy to untangle the meaning of the Norse words. Boots hurried across the floor, moving back and forth. Something was wrong. It couldn’t be morning yet.

  Her eyes felt grainy as she rubbed them and sat up to untie the curtain. Danes were below, appearing to finish a quick meal of pottage and leftovers from the night before. The door to the outside opened, revealing a sliver of dark grey as a warrior hurried out. It was too early in the morning for this much activity.

  Grabbing her blanket, she wrapped it around herself as she hurried to Elswyth’s room. W
hen no one answered her knock, she pushed it open to find that the room was empty. Her heart sank as a heavy feeling overcame her. Something was dreadfully wrong. Perhaps Father had taken off with Elswyth. She could think of no other reason her sister wouldn’t be in her bed at this hour.

  The need to know sent her hurrying to the chamber Lady Gwendolyn shared with her husband. The door was cracked, so she pushed it open.

  ‘Lady Gwendolyn?’

  A serving girl sat just inside the room, bringing a finger to her lips for quiet and glancing towards where their baby, Tova, slept.

  ‘Do you know what’s happening?’ Ellan whispered.

  The girl shook her head and closed the distance between them. ‘Nay, the Lady sent for me only moments ago. I believe she’s at the stables with Lord Vidar.’

  Her worst fear was confirmed—why else would they be at the stables at this hour? Ellan thanked her and hurried down the stairs to the main room. Men scurried around as they finished their meal and donned their armour. Much fewer now than a few moments ago when she had first looked down. Most of them seemed to be outside—she could hear the horses being brought out, their hooves stamping the frozen morning earth.

  Fear thrummed through her veins as she thought of her sister being forced from the man she loved. Had Ellan done this? Would it have happened if she had stayed with Father last night and agreed to leave with him?

  From the corner of her eye she caught a movement that seemed familiar. Aevir stood beside a table, a bowl in front of him with the dregs of his quickly eaten meal, stuffing a pouch with more food. He wore the leather tunic he always wore when he was travelling, except he was also wearing chainmail. His sword was at his side, ready to be strapped to his back.

  ‘Aevir, you’re leaving?’ She hurried to his side.

  He glanced at her, sparing a moment to take in the fact that she wore only a nightdress and a blanket. No doubt her hair was a mess from her unsettled sleep, but she couldn’t bring herself to care about that at the moment. Going back to packing the food away, he said, ‘I’m tasked with putting an end to the Scots trespassing once and for all.’ At her puzzled look, he explained, ‘We’ve received word that Scots were sighted between here and Banford.’

  Relief swept through her and she nearly sat down as a breath left her body. This was nothing to do with her sister and Father after all. ‘Oh, I thought...’

  He paused and his gaze settled on her face. ‘What?’

  Shaking her head, she gave a half-hearted smile and said, ‘It doesn’t matter. Travel safely. I’m certain of your victory.’

  He flashed her a grin that made her belly flip pleasantly as he closed the flap on the pouch and tied it off. ‘I’m glad to have your confidence.’

  ‘Will you come back?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not for a bit. After finding the trespassers, my men and I will guard the border until deep winter sets in.’

  This might very well be the last time she saw him with her future so uncertain. She wasn’t sure where she would be in a few weeks. A sense of loss welled inside her. She wanted to say something profound, something that would let him know her feelings, except her feelings were that of an infatuated farm girl and would probably be an embarrassment to them both.

  ‘Have you seen Elswyth?’ she asked instead.

  His brow furrowed as he ducked into the long strap attached to the pouch, leaving it to rest at his hip. ‘No one has told you?’ he asked.

  Shaking her head, she said, ‘You were the first person I spoke with since coming downstairs. What has happened?’ She found herself grabbing his forearm, as if holding tight to him could keep anything bad away. ‘Has Father taken her?’

  ‘Nay. Ellan...your sister has left.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘What do you mean, Elswyth has left? Where has she gone?’ Ellan’s face had grown pale with terror.

  Taking gentle hold of her upper arms through the blanket to help soothe her, he kept his voice calm. ‘It seems that she took a horse around midnight and rode north. We only found out a little while ago.’

  ‘Why would she leave?’ Her eyes were wide as she implored him for answers.

  ‘You know that she and Osric were close. Rolfe believes that she is heading to Banford. Perhaps to see his family and try to discern why he had been meeting with the Scots for herself.’

  ‘But you just said that the Scots were seen. What if they come across her? What if...?’ Her lips fell still around the words that she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling out when she closed them. ‘Aevir, they could take her.’

  Staring down into her face, twisted with both fear and anguish, he was forced to re-evaluate his initial suspicion about the sisters. For there was no doubt that Ellan’s feelings were real and, if she was so afraid for her sister’s fate at the hands of the Scots, then it must mean that they were her enemies as well. Would she be so afraid if she secretly thought them to be allies? ‘We will find her, Ellan.’

  She shook her head fiercely as if that were not enough. Perhaps it wasn’t. ‘You don’t understand. Elswyth is the only person I have. She’s...she’s everything to me. If I lose her, I’ll be al—’ She meant to say alone but she stopped before the word came out, making something in his chest twist painfully. ‘I can’t lose her—’ She broke off and swallowed as if the effort to talk had become too painful. She looked lost and alone as she stared up at him and said, ‘She’s all that I have. Aevir, please find her.’

  Aevir couldn’t speak. In her eyes he saw the same disconsolate misery he had felt when he had finally allowed himself to understand that Sefa was gone. He opened his mouth to repeat the unbearable nothings that the people around him had said to him.

  It will be fine. You will be fine. You are not alone.

  But he couldn’t do it. It had been five years and it was not fine. He was not fine and he feared that he never would be again. Her loss had broken something inside him and he didn’t think that it could be fixed. The ability to make any sort of meaningful connection to another had gone. He had fighting and it was the only thing that got him through life.

  He could not bring himself to spew the same nothings to Ellan. Not when he knew that she was alone...or she would be if he couldn’t bring Elswyth back to her.

  Taking her face between his palms, he stared into her eyes and said the only thing he could think to say that would bring her a measure of relief. He told her the truth. ‘I vow to you that I will find your sister. I will bring her home.’

  To his amazement, belief shone in her eyes. She sniffled before throwing herself against his chest. It was too bad he was wearing the chainmail, because he couldn’t feel her softness or her heat the way he wanted. He hesitated, his fingertips touching a strand of hair that glistened gold in the firelight. Having her goodness so close made him brutally aware of the constant pain he harboured. It throbbed to life inside him as if taunted by the unfulfilled promise of her. The anguish he kept captive jerked against its tether like the great striped feline he’d once seen in a Constantinople market. The cat had paced on its huge paws, lunging at anyone who came near, hurting itself as it pulled against the chain binding it. For one mad instant, he wanted a taste of her joy. Like that feline, the beast inside him wanted to lunge for her and lap up every single drop of joy it could drain from her, heedless of how he would hurt her.

  He closed his eyes and briefly held her against him, promising himself that it would be only for a moment. The separation from her would give him time to get control of himself again. If he wasn’t careful, she could slip beneath his defences and that could not happen. Letting her close to him in any way that wasn’t purely physical wasn’t an option. It would only hurt them both.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  The words poured out of her over and over, leaving him humbled with her need. An ache welled in his
chest, forcing him to grit his teeth and set her away from him. Taking his sword in hand, he didn’t look back as he strapped it across his back and left the hall.

  * * *

  Ellan heard nothing of her sister’s fate for several days. The waiting had been nearly unbearable. Each moment had passed with fear for her sister and for Aevir twisting her up inside. Lady Gwendolyn tried to soothe them both by keeping them busy. An accomplished archer and warrior in her own right, Lady Gwendolyn spent the days seeing to the fortress’s defences on the chance that the Scots planned to attack after luring so many warriors from the safety of Alvey’s walls. Ellan was at her side, alternating between practising with a bow and arrow—a skill she feared she would never master—and learning about the finer points of planning for the potential of a battle and siege.

  The evenings were spent by the fire where they worked on improving Lady Gwendolyn’s embroidery skills. It was something she was determined to master and the one skill in which Ellan felt she excelled, having taken on so much of her family’s care at a young age. She had also found that Father tended to leave her alone if she was hunched over a cloth instead of being underfoot.

  Thank goodness he was not a concern that also weighed on her as she waited for word about Elswyth. On the morning of her sister’s disappearance, Father and Galan had also disappeared. Whether they went to find Elswyth or went somewhere else, she didn’t know. She only hoped that it meant the betrothal wasn’t something she had to worry about now.

  She and Lady Gwendolyn were both hunched over a particularly intricate piece of embroidery one evening when the horn sounded from the gate. It meant that someone was approaching. Ellan’s heart paused as she waited for the second blow that would indicate that it was an enemy. It didn’t come. Friends approached. It could very well be Rolfe and Lord Vidar returning with Elswyth!