Longing for Her Forbidden Viking

by Harper St. George

  The vividness of the memory gave him pause. It was the first time he could clearly recall details of that battle. Ellan’s fingers tightened on his and he squeezed back. This was more important right now.

  ‘Even without status you wanted to marry her?’ she asked.

  ‘I loved her and so I was willing to postpone my need for status, at least for a bit. Attaining it didn’t seem as important as having her.’

  She swallowed audibly, her head jerking to the side. ‘I understand. I’m not worth giving up your goals for a second time.’ She made to stand, so he tightened his grip on her hand to keep her in place.

  ‘Nay, Ellan. I’m saying nearly the complete opposite of that. Do you see? You feel this, too.’ He motioned to the space between them. ‘It could so easily be the same with us.’

  Her harsh intake of breath as she jerked her gaze up to meet his made his heart pound harder. And then he couldn’t hold back the words. Not when her stormy, sea-green eyes stared up at him so earnestly. ‘Ellan... I could care for you. Deeply.’

  There. He’d finally acknowledged it. He expected there to be relief, but there was only pain. Given time and tenderness, the thing that had pulled him to her when he’d first seen her would have an opportunity to get stronger. He had felt a hint of that in the beginning with Sefa. Somehow he knew that it would burn even faster and hotter with Ellan. Already he felt so close to her. His thumb stroked over her wrist and found that the mad flutter of her pulse matched his.

  ‘Could?’ she whispered.

  He already did, but it would do neither of them any good to admit that to her.

  ‘Sefa died in the spring. She shouldn’t have. She was healthy and strong, and her belly was starting to curve with our child. One cold morning she went to the sea’s edge with her sister and never came back. The water pulled her in and she was gone—’ He broke off as his throat closed with the memory of her broken body lying between the rocks. Sefa had been taken from him along with their child. When the tightness had eased a bit, he said, ‘We found her later that day. She was...’

  ‘Aevir.’ Her other hand covered his briefly and then moved to his shoulder, the back of his neck. She was in his arms before he knew it. She pressed herself against him and he held her tight, hugging her warm body against his chest, seeking the comfort she could offer him, letting her soft, warm scent surround him. She smelled like honey, sweet and earthy. ‘I’m so sorry she was taken from you.’

  He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to will away the pressure of tears. Her scent filled his body as he breathed in. It was familiar to him already. The comfort was so unexpected, but so welcome that he couldn’t push her away. His arms tightened around her until his shoulder ached, but even then he didn’t let her go and settled his face against her neck to breathe her in some more.

  ‘You can’t let yourself feel that way again.’ She gave voice to what he couldn’t.

  If he married her, then there was no way he could keep himself safe from loving her. She was no girl as he had wanted to believe. There was no mistaking her maturity with the meticulous way she had looked after his wounds. The way she had overcome the loss of her mother, the neglect of her father.

  He pulled back only far enough to stare down into her face. She gave him a solemn look with clear eyes tinged with the glisten of unshed tears. ‘I’m sorry that I can’t be more for you,’ he whispered.

  Even in her pain she gave him a small smile. Her palm moved to his cheek and he couldn’t stop himself from placing a dry kiss on the ridge of her thumb. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Do you really?’ He made certain that he met her gaze, holding it fast with his.

  ‘I understand why you would be reluctant to involve your heart again.’

  There was sadness in the depths of her eyes, but also sympathy and kindness. He looked for any sign of anger or hatred, but there was none. She was too good for him. Still, he couldn’t seem to let her go. ‘Ellan,’ he breathed her name.

  She moved first, pressing her mouth to his. The kiss was tentative, a soft brushing of lips, but she made a gentle mew in the back of her throat and opened to him. He was lost with the first sweet taste of her on his tongue. His hands roamed down her back, pressing her against him so hard he was certain that he must be hurting her, but she didn’t try to break free. She kissed him back with the same lack of restraint, her fingers pulling hard at his hair in her effort to get closer.

  She finally broke the kiss with a whimper. ‘Let me go,’ she whispered, looking away from him.

  Letting her out of his arms was the last thing he wanted to do. ‘Ellan.’

  ‘Nay, no more. Please.’

  It was the please said on a broken sigh that did it. He let his arms fall from her and she fled. Aevir closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the wall. He had meant to explain to her his reasons for pushing her away, but had only managed to tie her closer to him somehow.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aevir spent the next several days recovering in Ellan’s home. With each day that passed, his moods became blacker. They had not spoken of their talk that had happened in the middle of the night. Ellan knew that it would only lead to even more heartache, so she had decided not to mention it. Aevir seemed to be following her lead. Although his eyes had different ideas.

  They followed her constantly. Sometimes she thought those eyes could see into her soul. Sometimes she felt them on her even when she was near the hearth and the blanket was drawn between that room and the alcove. They warmed her and fed that tiny light of hope that had refused to burn out even though she knew their situation was hopeless.

  Each day she had managed to put off thinking about the future. He was here with her now and she would hold on to that fact for as long as she could. The days to come would be soon enough to think about Tolan and Henrik and a life without Aevir in it.

  ‘Ellan, did you hear me?’ His voice came from the alcove, only it wasn’t muffled by the thickness of the blanket.

  She whirled around from her place at the hearth to see that he was standing at the alcove’s entrance. ‘You got up by yourself.’

  He smiled, the first one she had seen in days, and her heart flopped over. ‘Aye. I told you I’m feeling better.’ He stepped forward, though hobbled forward might have been a better description. His leg was still tender.

  She rushed around the hearth to help him, but he waved her off.

  ‘Where are my trousers? I’m taking my meal in the hall tonight.’

  ‘That is not a good idea.’ Ellan warned. ‘You could reopen your thigh wound. It has not healed enough yet.’

  A scowl was quick to replace the smile. ‘You always say that. I’ve been pacing my prison alcove for days and that hasn’t happened.’

  She shouldn’t have been surprised he’d been secretly walking, but she was too upset to scold him for that. Taking his evening meal in the hall was the first step to leaving her behind. It was madness to think so, but it was also true. If he left tonight, then he would spend more time in the hall tomorrow. The day after that he might decide he was well enough to spend his nights there as well. Then she would have no excuse to spend any time with him. She knew that he would eventually leave, but she had hoped for a few more days.

  ‘It’s too soon,’ she blurted out, wringing her hands.

  ‘You always say that, too.’ He glanced around the large room, looking for the clothing his men had brought him days ago.

  He was right. She did always say that.

  ‘I do not want you to re-injure yourself.’ Her shoulders fell as she walked to the corner where his clothing had been folded and put inside a trunk. When she turned back around he had gone back inside the alcove to sit on the side of the bed. Tossing the clothing to land beside him, she asked, ‘Do you need my help?’

  He gave her another scowl. ‘I’m not an invalid.’

 
‘You are not well.’

  He continued to scowl as he picked up the trousers and shoved his feet into them. He had taken to wearing short trousers made of linen while he recovered and he kept those on as he attempted to pull up his trousers.

  ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘I can manage to dress myself.’ The words came out through gritted teeth.

  When the trousers reached his knees, he stood, wobbling on his feet as he tenderly attempted to drag them up over his injured thigh. She wanted to reach for him, but held herself back to allow him time to do it himself. Something must have pulled wrong, because air rushed out between his teeth as he stifled a grunt of pain. She rushed forward to steady him at the same time as he turned towards her and they both fell back a little. He grabbed her arms to steady her, but the momentum knocked them off their feet to land on the bed. To avoid falling on to her, he had jerked to the side as he fell back, only to bring her with him sprawling on to his chest.

  He groaned in pain and she quickly sat up, thinking that she must have wounded him. ‘Did I hurt you? How is your leg?’ She patted his chest looking for injury and then looked down at his thigh, expecting to see blood seeping through the linen of his small trousers. Thankfully, there was none.

  ‘I’m fine.’ His voice sounded calm which relieved her. He was blinking as if to clear his vision, but his gaze came to rest on her. To her surprise, he smiled. ‘You don’t weigh anything. You couldn’t hurt me.’

  ‘I may prove you wrong if you frighten me like that again. You have a head injury. You shouldn’t be up at all.’ Her voice was sharper than she intended, but only because her heart was still rushing in fear for him.

  ‘It’s fine, Ellan. I’m fine.’ His warm hand settled on the curve of her hip. It was only at that moment that she became aware that in her haste to get her weight off his torso, she had straddled his uninjured leg and his muscular thigh was wedged between hers. He became aware of it, too, when he looked down to where their bodies were touching.

  The fact that he had knowledge of their position and didn’t immediately move her only fed the fire growing within her. It licked up her thighs and over her breasts to where it settled in her belly, smouldering, waiting for him to stoke it higher. His eyes had darkened when they returned to hers, the ice blue only a sliver of colour. His fingers tightened on her hip and there was a distinctive rise beneath his shirt where it pooled on his thighs. She wanted to touch him so badly that her hands ached with the need.

  The muscle of his thigh tightened beneath her. It was almost infinitesimal, but she felt it. An ache began to build where her body touched him and his thumb moved in slow, languid circles over her hip, sending tiny embers to feed the ache. She moved. It was only a tiny resettling of her hips, but it was enough to create a bit of friction where she rested on his thigh. Her breath caught as pleasure tightened within her belly. His jaw clenched as he raised his thigh to bring her that pleasure again. The moment might have lasted for ever, but Elswyth came in the front door, sending Ellan scrambling off the bed.

  ‘I feel better. I’m healing and it’s all your fault for taking such good care of me.’ As he spoke, he sat up and resumed arranging his trousers, seeming determined to ignore what had just happened.

  Well, she could ignore it, too. She had to accept that her time with him was coming to an end. Picking up the heavy boots she had dropped near the end of the bed, she sat them next to him. ‘Here. I’ll help you walk over when you’re ready.’

  ‘Thank you.’ His hand touched hers before she could pull away. Tendrils of pleasure wound their way up her arm. She pulled it back and crossed it over her chest, covering it with her other arm.

  ‘Do you need any help putting those on?’ She nodded towards the boots.

  ‘I could hardly call myself a warrior if I couldn’t put them on myself,’ he teased.

  So at least the moment had worked to change his disposition. He wasn’t all scowls and growling any more. ‘It was only days ago that you couldn’t—’

  Giving her a grin filled with devilry, he said, ‘Let us speak of that no more.’

  ‘Finish dressing. We should get going. It could take us all night to reach the hall at the pace you’re moving.’

  ‘Imp.’ His voice followed her out of the alcove.

  It took him a little while, and once she threatened to go in and help him, but he eventually came out of the alcove, looking almost whole. The scrapes and bruises on his face were healing and the lump beneath his hairline was gone. If not for his pronounced limp, one might not know that he’d been injured at all. Arranging his fur cloak around his shoulders, she tucked herself beneath his arm and they began the lengthy walk to the hall. She had offered to send for a horse and wagon, but he had soundly refused.

  Much to her frustration, Henrik was the one on watch that night. His eyes widened when he saw them. ‘Aevir, you’re going to the hall for your meal?’ Usually, someone brought it over.

  Aevir waved off Henrik’s attempt to help and tightened his arm around Ellan in a move that she hoped was possessive, but knew was probably out of necessity. She tightened her arm around his trim waist to help steady him. ‘I’m much improved, Henrik. I’m glad you’re here. Tell me how the training has been going?’

  Aevir had been receiving daily briefings and had continued to give orders, but they had been quick exchanges. There was no doubt that he was ready to take charge of his men again. The men spoke the entire way, leaving Ellan feeling deprived of what she felt were her last moments with him. He wouldn’t be hers once they reached the hall. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she shoved it out. He wasn’t hers as it was and thoughts like that were dangerously close to insanity. She was determined to get a better hold on this infatuation, so, when they reached the hall, she settled him at the table with Lord Vidar and made certain to take her own meal at a small table in the back of the hall with Elswyth.

  His presence gave the meal a sort of celebratory feel. Everyone seemed happier and louder and the mead passed more freely. Despite her ongoing fear for Rolfe’s safety, even Elswyth seemed happier and more at ease. Ellan sat with her sister, drinking mead and eating long after her belly was full. It was exactly the respite she needed from her worry. First that worry had been for Aevir’s life, but once he had pulled through the worst of it, it had transferred to the fear that she might never have what she wanted most in the world.

  A home. A place where she was loved and wanted. Tolan, the Saxon, would not give her that. Henrik had offered and she very much feared that she might have to take him up on it. If only Lady Gwendolyn were here. The woman might be able to intervene on her behalf.

  ‘I do believe your Dane can’t take his eyes off you.’ Elswyth’s voice brought her back to the present.

  Her belly fluttered and she followed her sister’s gaze to find that she meant Henrik and not Aevir. Indeed, he was staring at her from the far end of the table that he occupied with Aevir and Lord Vidar. A lump of dread replaced the flutter. He smiled and gave her a friendly nod. She knew that he was growing impatient with her for not giving him an answer. He hadn’t mentioned it again, but every time she caught his gaze on her it was pregnant with question.

  ‘He’s not my Dane,’ she said and returned his nod.

  ‘Well, he thinks he is.’ Elswyth smiled and Ellan gave her a disapproving glance.

  ‘What do you know about him?’ She hadn’t mentioned Henrik’s marriage proposal to her sister in the hopes of avoiding situations just like this one.

  ‘Only that he looks at you like a lamb looks at its mother.’

  The imagery was so foolish that Ellan couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I am his mother in this situation? What a horrible thing to say.’

  Elswyth laughed so hard that it took her a moment before she could say, ‘Nay, but I am certain he would give you complete control if you but wanted it.’

  Sh
e shook her head, grateful for her sister’s teasing. ‘I do not want it.’

  Whatever Elswyth answered was drowned out by a pounding coming from the far side of the room. Ellan twisted on her bench to get a better look at the commotion. A Dane pounded the table and called for the attention of the room. It took a few moments because the mead was flowing well and the warriors were a little rowdier than usual, but eventually they all settled when they saw Lord Vidar was waiting for their attention.

  He stood on his bench, a relaxed smile on his face for once. Ever since she had arrived, he had been very tense and stern looking. No doubt it was a reaction to the Scots’ attack. It was good that he, too, was able to find some relief in the celebratory mood the night had brought.

  ‘Tonight we celebrate that Aevir, a good warrior and friend, is whole and will be with us to fight another battle.’

  He held his mead high before taking a long drink of it. The warriors erupted in cheers that vibrated through the floorboards of the hall. Ellan found herself smiling and took a drink with them.

  When the noise began to die down, Lord Vidar said, ‘We also celebrate the woman who cared for him and restored him to us.’ Her face warmed, having completely been unprepared for the public praise. ‘Ellan. Thank you for your efforts. We are all in your debt.’

  He raised his tankard again and it was followed by cheers of ‘Ellan!’ from the warriors. He seemed to be waiting for her so she gave him a nod and took a drink while shifting uncomfortably on the bench. Thank goodness he seemed satisfied with her response and took a swallow of mead.

  Her gaze flicked to where Aevir sat beside him. She could only barely see him because of the crush of warriors gathered around him at the table. He leaned to the side, finding her between the shoulders of two brawny men, and gave her a grateful nod. He mouthed the words ‘Thank you’ and held her gaze with a lazy stare for much longer than was appropriate. She would have described his gaze as admiring if she wasn’t so determined to not have those thoughts where he was concerned.