Viking Warrior

by Connie Mason

  Reyna spared Wulf a withering glance. “I do not wish to belong to you, Wulf the Ruthless. Think you I don’t remember the pain and degradation I suffered at your hands? Sagas of your nefarious exploits are sung far and wide. You are a berserker. Your sword drinks innocent blood.”

  Thora threw up her hands. “She is a bold one, Wulf. Punish her, put her to work or sell her. The decision is yours to make. But before you take her to your hall, I will provide her with a garment more fitting to her station. The silk tunic she wears is too good for a thrall.”

  Turning, Thora strode away. Reyna folded her arms across her breasts. Her former master had provided her with the white tunic and silver girdle to display her assets while on the auction block. She loved the sensual feel of the silk against her tender skin despite the way it revealed her womanly curves.

  “What is my fate to be, Wulf the Ruthless?” Reyna asked, chin jutting in defiance. “Will you ravish me again, sell me or punish me?”

  Wulf surprised her by looking directly into her eyes. Their gazes locked, held. What Reyna saw in his eyes stunned her. She had expected an icy flash of hatred, or even lust; not the tiny flame of heat emanating from their frozen depths. Wulf was the first to look away.

  “This should do,” Thora said, her voice shattering the sexual tension building between them. She thrust a rough woolen garment at Reyna.

  The garment felt coarse and unevenly woven. Reyna knew its rough surface would abrade her fair skin and hoped she could keep her silken tunic to wear beneath it.

  Thora dismissed Wulf with a wave of her hand. “I have no more time for your problems, Wulf. I will see you to night at the evening meal.”

  Thora turned her back on Wulf’s pleading look. She had left him no choice but to install Reyna in his hall. “Come with me,” he said gruffly.

  “If you touch me, I will kill you.”

  “Go ahead if you think you can.”

  Turning on his heel, Wulf walked away. He walked so fast Reyna had trouble keeping up with him. He led her through the compound to a smaller version of Hagar’s long house and stormed inside. Reyna followed. Her first glance revealed a modest hall richly decorated. Two thralls, a man and a young woman, looked up from their chores as Reyna trailed behind Wulf.

  Wulf summoned the thralls and they came to him immediately.

  “Uma and Lorne are Normans,” Wulf explained. “Though their native tongue is English, they speak and understand our language well enough. Uma will show you where to change your tunic and assign chores to you.”

  Reyna shuddered. “Have you decided to keep me, then?”

  “I have decided nothing.” His gaze swept over her, settling on her breasts. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I will make you my bed slave. You seem useless for anything else.”

  Reyna drew herself up to her full impressive height. “Hear me, Wulf the Ruthless. Touch me in that way again and you will find a dagger in your heart when you least expect it. I do not make idle threats. My former owner was smart enough to believe me; for your sake I hope you are too.”

  Wulf threw back his head and laughed. “Are you, a mere female, threatening me, a Viking warrior? I am called Wulf the Ruthless with good reason.”

  “I know that better than anyone.” She drew back her hand as if to strike him. He caught her fist and pulled her against him. The allure of her femininity and her soft body made his cock harden. He released her instantly and stepped away.

  “Never raise your hand to me again,” he warned. “Though your family may not have killed my wife, your people did.” He raked her with a scornful look. “I would take you to my bed if I wanted you, but you do not appeal to me.”

  Wulf was lying through his teeth. He hadn’t had a woman in a long time, and bedding Reyna would not prove difficult. Hagar had urged him countless times to buy a bed slave and even advised him to bed Uma, who was both young and attractive. Though Wulf had thought about it, he had yet to act upon Hagar’s suggestion.

  Wulf scarcely recalled the days after the raid on Reyna’s farmstead, for he had been mindless with grief, but one thing he did know: He had not raped Reyna. That deed had been accomplished by Rannulf, Olga’s brother. Wulf had a strong suspicion, however, that bedding Reyna would be no hardship for him, despite the fact that she was the enemy.

  Reyna breathed a sigh of relief as she was led off by Uma to a curtained cubical, where she was told to don the rough woolen tunic. She prayed her words had discouraged the Viking berserker from bedding her.

  Recalling the terrible day Wulf had carried her off, she distinctly remembered his blond hair, clean-shaven chin and iron helmet. He had taken her maidenhead, sold her, and then promptly forgotten her. She would never forgive him.

  Reyna removed her silver girdle and prepared to don the rough woolen garment over her silk tunic.

  “Remove the silk tunic first,” Uma ordered.

  “The rough wool will chafe my skin.”

  “You are a slave, and only the master can grant favors. He doesn’t appear inclined to do so. Give me your silk tunic.”

  “Admit it, you want it for yourself,” Reyna hissed.

  Reyna was too surprised to react as Uma reached out and ripped the fragile silk garment from her body. Aware that Uma was studying her naked form with pursed lips, Reyna slipped the woolen tunic over her head and belted it with the silver girdle. Then she followed Uma into the hall.

  Uma eyed the silver girdle enviously. She pointed to it and demanded, “Give me your girdle. It is too grand for you.”

  “No, you cannot have it.”

  “Obey me—I am in charge here. Give it to me now or I will tell the master to beat you.”

  “Go ahead. I won’t give up my girdle.”

  Reyna could tell that Uma was going to be neither friend nor ally. She acted as if she disliked Reyna on sight.

  Uma flew into a rage. Grabbing a broom leaning against the wall, she began beating Reyna with the handle. Taller and stronger than the Norman woman, Reyna wrested the broom from Uma’s hands and pushed her to the ground, looming over her like an avenging Valkyrie. Uma began wailing like a banshee, bringing both Lorne and Wulf running to her defense. Wulf tugged the broom from Reyna’s hands and tossed it aside.

  Lorne helped Uma to her feet. “What is going on here?” Wulf growled.

  “Your new thrall is vicious,” Uma wailed. “She turned on me for no reason.”

  Reyna pointed to the remains of the silk tunic Uma still clutched in her hands. “Uma tried to steal my possessions,” she shot back. “She took my silk tunic but I will not give up my girdle. Am I allowed nothing of my own?”

  Angry at Reyna, his brother and the world in general, Wulf yanked the girdle from Reyna’s hands. “You belong to me, as does everything you own.”

  “I need something to gather the excess material about my waist,” Reyna dared.

  “Come with me. Uma, return to your chores.”

  Glaring at Reyna, Uma obeyed Wulf without question as he led Reyna to the other end of the hall, where he removed a coil of rope from a cabinet. He measured out a length, cut it with his dagger and handed it to Reyna. “This should serve.” He watched while she tied the rope about her slim waist. Then he turned and disappeared inside a curtained alcove, taking the silver girdle with him.

  “Stubborn Viking,” she muttered as he walked away.

  Uma appeared before her, holding a broom in her hand. She shoved it at Reyna. “Make yourself useful. The hearth needs sweeping.”

  Gritting her teeth, Reyna took the broom and headed to the hearth. Though her stomach was growling hungrily, no one had offered her food. Were they going to starve her? The cauldron bubbling over the hearth on a tripod gave off a delicious aroma, making her mouth water. Spying some crockery bowls, eating utensils and a loaf of bread on a nearby shelf, Reyna decided to help herself.

  Setting the broom against the hearth, she cut a generous slice of bread, ladled out a portion of stew from the cauldron and dipped a hunk of b
read into it. She dipped and ate with gusto, until Uma spied her and let out a shriek.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am eating. I have put nothing in my stomach since yesterday. This is wonderful. You are a good cook, Uma.”

  Uma grabbed the bowl and tried to pull it out of Reyna’s hands. “You cannot eat without permission! You must wait for mealtime like the rest of us.”

  A tug of war began. At first Reyna refused to relinquish her food, but then she thought better of making another fuss and released her grip. Unprepared, Uma flew backward. The contents of the boiling hot stew splashed on her bare arm. Uma screamed, bringing Lorne and Wulf running for the second time that day.

  Reyna hadn’t wanted to hurt Uma; it had just happened. Now she knelt beside the thrall and picked up her arm to inspect the damage. The girl had suffered a superficial burn, painful but not life threatening unless it festered.

  “What’s happened now?” Wulf demanded as he helped Uma onto a bench.

  Before Reyna could answer, Uma wailed, “The witch threw hot stew at me. She wanted to kill me. Sell her, master, before she kills us all.”

  “I did no such thing,” Reyna scoffed. “I was famished and merely helped myself to the stew simmering over the hearth. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday and no one thought to ask if I was hungry.”

  She paused, glaring up at Wulf. “Uma tried to tug the bowl out of my hands. I didn’t want to cause trouble so I released my hold. The stew was hot. What you see is the result of Uma’s clumsiness.”

  “Is that true, Uma?” Wulf asked.

  “No,” Uma denied tearfully, “the witch lies. She threw the bowl of stew at me.”

  Wulf turned to Lorne. “Did you see what happened, Lorne?”

  Lorne hung his head, stammered a bit and then said, “Reyna lies. It happened just as Uma said.”

  “I do not lie!” Reyna vehemently protested. “Your thralls do not like me.”

  Wulf sent her a heated look. “We’ll settle this later. First I must determine how badly Uma is hurt.”

  Reyna grasped Uma’s arm and inspected the burn.

  “The burn is not serious, Wulf the Ruthless. Fetch your medicinal chest.”

  “Lorne, go to my brother’s hall and fetch the medicinal chest.” The young thrall took off. To Reyna, he said, “Can you treat the burn?”

  “Aye, it will be fine. I hope your mother keeps the chest well stocked.”

  Wulf sighed. “My aunt was the healer in the family. She died in the raid along with my wife. My mother isn’t much of a healer so I cannot attest to the contents of the chest.”

  Lorne returned with the medicinal chest and placed it on the bench beside Uma. Reyna opened it and frowned. The herbal preparations inside were not as adequate as she had hoped. Searching among the neatly labeled jars and vials, she found the preparation she was looking for, opened it and sniffed the contents.

  “Is something wrong?” Wulf asked.

  “This salve will do, though it is not fresh.” Cradling Uma’s arm, she began slathering a thick coating of salve over the burn.

  Apparently Uma didn’t appreciate Reyna’s efforts. “She is trying to kill me. Stop her, master.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Reyna?” Wulf asked.

  Reyna sent him an affronted look. “I am a healer. Of course I know what I am doing. Tomorrow I will search the forest and hillsides for fresh herbs and roots.”

  “You do not have that freedom unless I give it to you,” Wulf growled.

  Reyna finished bandaging Uma’s arm with clean linen cloths she found in the chest and slammed down the lid. Turning, she glared at Wulf. “If you wish for me to be useful, then let me do what I do best.”

  The fire in Wulf’s eyes melted the ice as he pulled her aside and growled in a low voice, “I am beginning to believe that what you do best should take place in my bed.”

  Reyna stared up at him with huge green eyes slightly slanted up at the corners. Her mouth was beautiful, Wulf noted, her lips full and lush. A man could lose himself kissing that mouth.

  His head lowered. But before he could complete the act his body demanded, Reyna pulled away. “No!” she cried. “Never again will you touch me with lust!”

  Stunned by what he had nearly done, he glowered at Reyna. “Do not try to seduce me, wench.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked off.

  Chapter Two

  Shaking, Reyna sank down on a bench, her heart pounding erratically. Had Wulf been about to kiss her or had she imagined it? Wulf was many things, magnificent, raw, primitive, ruthless, angry and exciting in ways that frightened her. But above all he was a Norseman, a man she must now call master, a man she hated for what he had done to her and her family.

  “You shouldn’t have angered him,” Lorne warned.

  Reyna turned to look at the thrall, anger simmering in her veins. “Why did you lie when you knew what happened wasn’t my fault?”

  Lorne shuffled his feet, as if too embarrassed to answer. Finally he said, “I feared the master would punish Uma if I told the truth.”

  “But it was all right if he punished me?”

  “You do not understand. Uma and I are Normans. We come from the same village in En gland. We were taken in a raid by Wulf’s father three summers ago, brought to this godforsaken land and given to Wulf the Ruthless as a wedding gift. I try to protect Uma from her own follies for I care deeply about her.”

  “I do not need your protection,” Uma shot back. “My arm hurts,” she whined.

  Uma seemed to do a lot of whining, Reyna decided. But if she was going to work with these people, they needed to be friends, allies, even.

  “Since we are all in the same situation,” Reyna began, “we should not be fighting one another. Why can we not be friends?”

  “I have been doing the master’s bidding for three years and not once has he looked at me the way he looks at you,” Uma complained. “Why should I be friends with you when I do not like you?”

  Stunned, Reyna asked, “Are you jealous, Uma? You have no reason to be. Wulf hates me and I despise him. My people killed his wife and he…he…” She stopped in midsentence, unable to say the words.

  “I think we should become allies,” Lorne agreed. “We are foreigners in this land of the Norsemen. They are vicious warriors, though at times they surprise me with their knowledge of farming and success at trading.”

  “You can trust Reyna if you wish, Lorne. You aren’t the injured party. I am in great pain because of her.”

  Though Reyna didn’t like Uma any better than Uma liked her, she couldn’t bear to see her suffer. She returned to the medicinal chest and found some dried leaves in a little pouch.

  “I will brew some marigold tea for you, Uma. It will relieve your pain.”

  Uma recoiled in alarm. “How do I know you won’t poison me?”

  Reyna drew herself up to her nearly six foot height. “I am a healer. My oath to heal was not taken lightly. Do you wish me to help you or not?”

  “Go away,” Uma sobbed. “Wulf chose you over me. We will never be friends and I refuse to accept anything from you, including comfort.”

  Shrugging, Reyna moved off. She was still hungry and there was food in the cauldron. Once again she ladled out a generous portion of the stew into a bowl, cut another slab of bread and sat down to eat. A short while later Lorne joined her.

  “You must forgive Uma,” Lorne said as he ladled stew into two bowls, one for him and one for Uma. “Her lot in life has not been easy. She was snatched from her homeland at a young age and forced into slavery. Give her time—she will come around.”

  “Her story is no different from mine,” Reyna huffed. “I suffered as well. I think Uma has feelings for Wulf.”

  Lorne considered Reyna’s comment a long time before answering. “Uma wants to better her life. The master has no wife or concubine. Uma hopes to catch his eye.”

  “I wish her luck,” Reyna said truthfully. “I have no interest in Wu
lf the Ruthless. If the opportunity arises, I will escape.”

  Lorne gave a snort of disbelief. “You are naïve if you think you can find your way back to your homeland. We are slaves, Reyna the Dane, and slaves we shall remain.”

  So saying, he carried the bowls of stew to Uma, offered her one and sat down beside her to eat his.

  Reyna turned away. Was Lorne right? Was she doomed to a life of slavery forever? It might take a while, but Reyna truly believed that her brothers and betrothed, if they were alive, would eventually track her down and rescue her. She could not serve the man who had defiled her.

  Wulf stalked through the compound toward his brother’s hall. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to kissing Reyna. How could that happen when the very sight of a Dane in his household brought back painful memories? He still blamed himself for leaving the farmstead the summer invaders had struck. He should have been home protecting his wife and unborn child when she was so close to her time instead of going off a-Viking.

  Wulf deliberately composed his features before opening the door and entering Hagar’s hall. It wouldn’t do for his family to suspect how thoroughly Reyna had turned his life upside down in the short space of one day.

  “Come join us, Wulf,” Hagar invited. “We have been waiting for you to partake of the evening meal with us.”

  Wulf glanced at the family members seated around the long table. Hagar sat at one end and his mother at the other. Olga sat at Hagar’s right and Olaf, his younger brother, next to her. Eric, his youngest brother, sat beside Olaf. Across from them were his younger sisters Inga and Helga, two blond beauties on the brink of womanhood. Wulf took his place next to Helga.

  Immediately thralls began placing platters of food on the table. A pig had been butchered in honor of Hagar’s return and the hall was redolent with delicious odors. There were fish, mashed turnips, green vegetables, curd cheese and fresh bread and butter to complement the roasted pig. Ale was served to the adults, with buttermilk available for the younger members of the family. People ate well at the table of Hagar the Red.