Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  Bjorn continued to fight the two men as he maneuvered them further from Tyra. It also meant it left his back exposed. The pincushion warrior circled around, forcing Bjorn to fight men on both his left and right. He parried and thrust, alternating his attention as his opponents drew closer. Tyra spun around and found Bjorn being cornered. She dashed toward him and launched herself at the man she had already shot. She knocked him off balance and scrambled back in time to kick the back of his knees. When his legs gave out, she jumped on him again, pushing his belly to the ground. Her weight forced the arrows deeper into his body. He tried to twist and fight, but his energy was draining from him. Tyra reared back and drove her knife through his back and pressed all her weight into the hilt, ensuring the blade sank into her enemy’s heart. By the time she looked up, Bjorn had dispatched the other man.

  “Three to two. My average is still better than yours,” Tyra panted as she rose to her feet. “I hope you can keep up better in bed.”

  Bjorn grinned as he wiped away blood and whatever else stuck to his forehead and cheeks. He looked Tyra over as she smirked at him. He walked to her and grabbed a fistful of her shirt as he pulled her toward him, lifting her onto her toes. His kiss was fierce and passionate but playful too.

  “I look forward to you testing me.”

  Tyra kissed him back just as hard before spanking his backside.

  “I’m thirsty and now dirty. Let’s go to the stream before anyone else shows up.”

  They wiped their blades on the grass and made their way to the stream. They walked without making a sound out of habit, even though the recent battle would have alerted anyone nearby. When they reached the banks, they watched fish swimming below the surface of the swift moving water.

  “Shall I show you how I’m a better fisher than you, too?” Tyra teased, knowing this was one thing she would never best him at. Bjorn seemed to only have to look at fish, and they would jump into his net or swallow his line.

  “You can try. But why not settle on your win? I’ll only show you up.”

  Tyra grunted as she bent over the water and scrubbed her face, refreshed from the chilly water. Once she no longer had blood on her hands, she cupped water into them, drinking greedily. She looked over to find Bjorn doing the same but looking at her and laughing.

  “What?”

  “You are the least feminine woman when you fight, but only moments later you look like a dainty water nymph. You are a bundle of contradictions, and I’m drawn to every one of them.”

  Tyra laughed as she splashed water at Bjorn.

  “Nice. I try to say something flowery, and you scoff at me.”

  “There’s one of those contradictions.”

  Bjorn growled as he splashed a wave at Tyra, soaking the front of her. She stood up and backed away from the water as she stuck her tongue out at him. She acted as though she was looking for berries, so Bjorn was unprepared for the shove he received when he bent over to scrub his face. His arms flailed as he tipped into the water. He caught himself before going all the way in.

  “That’s it,” he pounced on Tyra and lifted her his shoulder. He trudged into the water and dumped her in as he sank down to hold onto her. They both came up sputtering but laughing.

  “We both needed the bath. If only we had soap,” Tyra mused.

  “Indeed. I’ve never seen you so playful after coming so close to dying.”

  “I’m relieved we both lived to be playful. I’m too tired to pretend I don’t love your attention and company. I intend to enjoy my time with you nowadays. We fought. We won. We move on.”

  “Your practicality is alluring.”

  “Alluring? That’s not a word I would think describes me.”

  “Alluring. Seductive. Ravishing. I can think of plenty.”

  “Well, don’t use them all up today.” Tyra scrubbed her shirt as the blood leached from her clothes. “But would you hurry? This water is freezing, and I’m even hungrier than I was before. And this time I want real food.”

  Bjorn finished scrubbing his own clothes before using his shirt to capture one fish after another. Once he had five laying on the shore still flopping about, he climbed out and looked around.

  “We can’t stay here. Not with their bodies still laying near the path. We have to move before we can make camp.”

  “Agreed. Perhaps we cross over to the other bank and continue in the direction we were going.”

  Bjorn nodded as he scooped the now-lifeless fish back into his shirt. They waded across and walked for another hour before deciding to make camp near the water. With the water to their backs, they had one natural defense. Anyone who tried to cross it would make enough noise to alert them, but there was little likelihood anyone would in the dark.

  “Do we dare a fire?” Tyra looked around.

  “A small one. Just long enough to help our clothes dry faster and to cook the fish.”

  “Do we eat and move on, away from the wood smoke?”

  “I don’t think so. Anyone who smells our fire will be here before it’s out. The breeze is strong enough that the smoke shouldn’t linger into the night.”

  Tyra nodded and began looking for sticks as Bjorn scaled and deboned the fish. She had a fire started by the time Bjorn had their meal on skewers. That sat in silence as their food cooked. Both enjoyed the companionable silence as they remained alert but began to settle in for the night. Once they ate, they arranged several evergreen branches to make a ground covering and blanket of sorts. They had already let the fire die down, so they smothered the flames before they settled in for Tyra to take the first watch. She sat beside where Bjorn lay. Her bow and arrows at her side, a knife in her lap, and the sword in her hand. With only two of them to defend themselves, she would not risk anyone drawing too near before she began fighting back.

  The cool air chilled Tyra as she sat in her damp clothes, but the shivering kept her awake when her eyes wanted to droop. She recited in her head every sailing song she remembered as she scanned the woods around them. Every so often, her gazed landed on Bjorn who slept. He looked relaxed and boyish. She did not bother resisting the temptation to brush away a lock that fell across his forehead. She was just about to sit back up when he captured her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “I enjoy awakening to your touch,” his voice groggy. By mutual silent agreement, they had not touched each other that night. They did not have the natural privacy or defense of the mountain plateau, nor did they want a repeat of how Grímr’s men caught them.

  “I didn’t intend to wake you. You still have time before your watch.”

  “I’m up now. You sleep.”

  Before Tyra had the opportunity to argue, they froze at the sound of someone, more than someone, as they listened. It came from the woods around them.

  “We’ll break our bluidy necks before we find them. We are better off waiting until we can see one foot in front of the other.”

  “We saw--”

  “No. I’m not waiting until daylight to see if my best friend stumbled to her death. There was too much blood back there.”

  Bjorn and Tyra were on their feet as they listened to Strian suggest they stop, Erik get cut off by Freya, and Freya’s irritated and impatient order.

  “Frey,” Tyra called out.

  “Ty?” Bjorn and Tyra turned as one to witness Freya burst through the tree line before hurdling the smoldering fire embers and tackling Tyra. Bjorn caught them as they tumbled backwards. He looked around to find Strian and Erik running after Freya but skidding to a halt when they spotted Freya and Tyra hugging one another until both struggled to breathe.

  Once Bjorn was sure the women would not knock each other over, he walked to Erik and Strian. Erik pulled him in for an embrace, and Strian shook his forearm.

  “What happened to you?” Freya demanded. “One moment, you were drowning your sorrows in some of Alex’s whisky, the next you and Bjorn disappeared.”

  Freya struggled to make out Tyra’s face in the dark, so s
he would not let go of her friend’s hands. Bjorn moved closer to Tyra, but he did not speak for her.

  Strian and Erik crowded behind Freya as more men filtered into the small camp. A few men began rebuilding the fire. Tyra watched the men at work, and it was not long before a spark took hold. She pointed to the tree boughs she and Bjorn had been using.

  “I’m getting impatient, Tyra,” Freya warned.

  “Shocking,” Erik murmured, but clamped his mouth shut when glared at him.

  Tyra sat and pulled Freya down next to her. Bjorn once again stayed close, but he was unsure whether Tyra would want him to give away their newly formed relationship before she had a chance to tell Freya. He should not have worried.

  “You and Bjorn finally made love,” Freya looked past Tyra to Bjorn.

  “Freya,” Tyra hissed as she glanced at Strian and Erik.

  “Don’t bother telling us that part. We figured it out when we found your vest and Bjorn’s cloak and sword.”

  Now that there were no secrets, Bjorn scooted closer to Tyra as she reached back to him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, but it was not enough for Tyra. She moved to sit between his legs as he pulled her flush to him.

  “Since you already figured that out, you know we didn’t just wander off. Grímr’s men found us. They took us before they even gave Bjorn a chance to get dressed.”

  “They stole you naked as a babe,” Strian hooted.

  Bjorn shot a glare at him before breaking into a grin and nodding his head.

  “Killed a man with my bare hands with my bare arse on display. Very freeing not having clothes restraining me. It seemed to shock the Highlanders. Tossed me my clothes and told me to get dressed. Tyra then scared them out of their wits, making both the Norsemen and the Highlanders fear she was some magical spirit that would have her revenge. They bound us and gagged us until one of them removed the gag and threw dried beef at us.”

  “But they didn’t check me for weapons.” Tyra picked up the story. “I’d had a chance to put my boots back on before they took us. They didn’t find the knife I keep there. Bjorn and I waited until it was well into the night before we cut the ropes and snuck into the forest that Grímr had appeared from. We ran until we passed through a clearing and then traveled back into a forest. We spent the night in a tree, then Bjorn killed a Norseman who tried to shoot us. That’s how I ended up with a bow and quiver.”

  “Once that happened, it was impossible to stay. I guess the Ross keep was not far past the end of the woods. We traveled in a different direction and came to a flat-top mountain.”

  Bjorn’s brow furrowed as he looked around. “Where are Lorna and Rangvald?”

  Tyra froze when she realized Bjorn was right. The older couple was not with their friends. She tensed as she looked at Freya. She caught her friend’s forearm as she feared the worst. Freya patted her hand before prying off the fingers that bit into her arm.

  “They are on guard. We found the men you must have killed, and it was Lorna who said you crossed the stream to move away from them before making camp. She and Rangvald had some of their people fan out to sweep the area further from the stream. They remained as a midpoint between the others and us. The Sutherlands are tending to the bodies.”

  Tyra relaxed and let go of Freya once she learned Lorna and Rangvald would join them. Her fear that they had died while looking for her and Bjorn was numbing. He sensed her anxiety and held her closer.

  “Shh, they’re all right, and we are now, too,” Bjorn murmured against her ear. He looked up at the rest of the group and continued their story. “We came down the mountain and headed in the direction we came with Grímr, but far from his path. Tyra and I walked for most of the day before Tyra stopped us because she heard water. We went in search and found the stream and the Highlanders. There was a fight. They lost, we won. We crossed the stream like Lorna predicted and made camp here.”

  Freya had sat without speaking through her friends’ story, and now she would have her questions answered.

  “So, you’re finally made up. Have you told each other you love one another or are we going to have to wait for that? You do realize this is more than just coupling. Are you going to marry, or do we have to wait another ten years for you to get to that? How did you admit it to one another?”

  Freya’s rapid fire questions had everyone laughing but her. “Wife,” Erik scolded. “There may be things they would like to keep private.”

  “Horse shite. She wouldn’t relent until I admitted I love you. Now I want to know. She only had to wait a couple months. I’ve waited a damn lifetime.”

  Erik put his hands up in surrender.

  “We talked before the men took us, then we had time to talk more over the past two days,” Tyra relented. “There were a lot of needless misunderstandings, mostly my fault, but now we understand one another.”

  “Misunderstandings? I suppose you’d call them that,” Freya scoffed.

  “They weren’t mostly your fault. I was just as guilty.” Bjorn broke in. “We are both guilty for our own misery. But either way, we have moved on.”

  “Onto each other,” Erik teased.

  Tyra ducked her head, not from embarrassment but to hide her laughter. Bjorn growled but then attacked Tyra’s neck as he nuzzled and nipped. She giggled, and Erik and Freya froze.

  “You giggled,” Freya accused.

  “I did. You’ve been there when I’ve giggled countless times.”

  “Not when Bjorn is around. Not unless it’s at his expense.”

  “Well, he’s still the cause. I just like this reason better.” She twisted to kiss Bjorn’s lips.

  “Praise Freya,” Erik teased.

  Tyra turned back to Erik. “Your wife had nothing to do with this, no matter what she might say.”

  “Not that Freya,” Erik laughed.

  “Oh,” Tyra nodded. “Yes, I thank the goddess Freya, too.”

  “Anyway,” Freya interjected. “When will you wed?”

  “You’re very presumptuous,” Tyra raised an eyebrow at her friend.

  “Then I shall have my father arrange it,” Freya crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow in response.

  Bjorn watched the women stare off at one another. Tyra was extracting her pound of flesh for what he was sure she had endured for years, as Freya gave unsolicited advice she undoubtedly had not followed when she and Erik chased one another.

  “She’s already my wife, as far as I’m concerned. We will deal with the rituals when we arrive home, but I’ve declared it.” Bjorn ended the standoff and received a sharp pinch on the thigh for it.

  “Thank you, husband. You might’ve let her simmer a little longer.”

  “I’m not in the mood to be on the receiving end of her ire, so thank you, Bjorn,” Erik dodged his wife.

  Freya laid a hand on Tyra’s arm, “I’m overjoyed for you. I’m so glad you have the love you’ve always deserved.”

  Freya and Tyra embraced once more.

  “Sisters,” they whispered to one another just as they had since childhood.

  “Aboot bluidy time. I’m done traipsing aboot these woods looking for ye weans.” Lorna’s voice carried across the camp as she, Rangvald, and Kenneth Sutherland trudged toward the others. She ran to Tyra and pulled her to her feet, squeezing her in a motherly embrace.

  “Someone mention you were on a mountain. Was it dirt and loose rocks with aspens and birch growing on it? Flat on top?” Kenneth inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “Ben Wyvis,” Kenneth confirmed.

  “That’s what Tyra figured. She remembered Lorna saying something about it.” Bjorn added.

  “You were right all along. I should have followed your advice sooner,” Tyra leaned into the embrace as Lorna stroked her hair. Lena had been the only other woman in her life who hugged her like a mother. Her aunt never had.

  “Aye, lass. But ye have and despite being chased by a mad mon, ye are happier than I’ve seen ye in the moons I’ve kenned ye.”<
br />
  “I am,” Tyra beamed.

  “That’s wonderful,” Rangvald boomed, “But it’s the middle of the night, and I’m too old to be up at this time.”

  Lorna snorted, “Ye are up at this time every night.” She waggled her eyebrows at her husband.

  The others stifled their laughter as Rangvald hoisted his wife over his shoulder and carried her to a spot on the other side of the fire. Erik looked away as his parents kissed.

  “We told you what happened to us. What about you?” Bjorn asked.

  “Searching for you. We haven’t seen Grímr once. We ran into some Ross men, but Kenneth wasn’t able to get anything from them,” Erik explained.

  “And dead men don’t talk, so they won’t be telling Grímr where we are,” Freya added.

  “Kenneth, how far are we from the Ross castle?” Tyra asked. She wondered how much distance she and Bjorn had put between themselves and another potential captor.

  “Aboot three days hard ride. The mon ye exaggerated a tad. The Ross keep is a day’s ride past the edge of the forest. I’d wager he didna want the Norseman to ken. They were likely to catch ye, kill him, and keep all the money for themselves. Ross wouldnae have turned ye over to Grímr. Ye’re too bonnie,” he jutted his chin toward Tyra then looked at Bjorn. “And he would have had too much fun torturing ye. Cruel bastard, he is.”

  “He wouldn’t have had time to torture me. I’d be dead before I let anyone near Tyra.”

  Tyra patted his arm.

  “And dead men don’t help their women escape.”

  Tyra had returned to his lap after Rangvald carried Lorna away. She twisted and rested her head on his shoulder, shivering when she pictured being captured again, knowing Bjorn would get himself killed trying to protect her. He had already proved his willingness to put himself first. The tremors began as Tyra tried to burrow deeper into Bjorn’s chest. He ran his hands over her back as her fingers clutched his shirt. He looked over her head at the others and shook his head.