Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Tyra, you’ve had your turn at watch. It’s mine now. Why don’t you get some rest?” He said gently, but she would not release her hold.

  “You’ve both taken enough turns at watch, I’m sure. There are plenty of us to do it. You both need some sleep and food. I bet you’re starving,” Freya stood and marched to the horses. She brought back some dried beef and handed it to Bjorn.

  “We had fish earlier, but nothing but rowan berries before that. Thank you.”

  Bjorn handed a strip to Tyra, and she chewed as her eyes drifted closed, and his own exhaustion began taking over. When they had both eaten two strips, he tucked Tyra against his chest as he spooned her. They both slept until well after the first rays of sun poked over the horizon.

  Thirteen

  Tyra awoke to a rock beneath her head except it rose and fell as if she were on her ship. She laid still and realized she was propped against Bjorn’s side, her head on his chest. His hand caressed her arm which draped across his belly.

  “I think I will insist we sleep this way every night,” he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.

  “And when we each have a ship to captain?”

  “I won’t.”

  Tyra propped herself on Bjorn’s chest and look up at him. “What?”

  “I’ll be your first mate.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous is thinking I’m not sleeping with my wife or that I’d cross from my boat to yours each night.”

  “And if I offered to come to yours some nights?”

  Bjorn grinned wolfishly, “I don’t think you want my crew to witness how I will ravish you each night. Remember, you and Freya are the only ones with cabins. Besides, I may love sailing, but you are the better captain. I’d be honored stand as your first mate.”

  Tyra searched Bjorn’s eyes for any hint he was jesting, but all she found was tenderness.

  “You would give up your ship for me?” she choked out as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her. After her, Bjorn was the best captain in Ivar’s fleet.

  “I’d give up everything for you.”

  She pulled herself until she was level with Bjorn and cupped his jaw.

  “If you want to farm, then when we get home, let’s speak to Ivar.”

  Bjorn tucked hair behind Tyra’s ear.

  “We shall save that for when we are ready to have a family. Till then, we will sail on your ship.”

  “Aren’t you worried the men will mock you?”

  “Are you kidding? They will be beyond jealous knowing I’m bedding you every night when they have naught but their hand unless they want everyone to watch them tupping a woman against the rail. What woman would agree to that?”

  “And I shall be envied for finding a husband willing to give up his ship for me.”

  Once again, Bjorn flashed a wicked smile. “I doubt that’s what they’ll envy you.”

  She smacked his chest, and he rolled them over, so Tyra’s back rested on the ground. “Shall we test that theory?”

  “No,” came Erik’s voice.

  Bjorn groaned as he laid back on his side of the pine branches. “You couldn’t give me five more minutes?”

  “If five is all you need, then I’ll save Tyra the disappointment,” Erik’s needling sparked laughter as warriors broke down the camp.

  Tyra scrambled to her feet and reached out her hand to Bjorn. She grasped his extended one and pulled him to his feet, just as she had done countless times after knocking him down when they spared. This time she strained to kiss him as she tapped his backside.

  “Five minutes would have been enough for me,” she whispered.

  Bjorn growled as he snagged her around the waist when she spun away. He pulled her back against him.

  “You ride with me, wife. Be sure to get your furs back from Freya. We don’t want you to catch a chill.”

  Tyra glanced back over her shoulder as she dashed to Freya’s side. The two women whispered before Freya pulled a bedroll and furs from beside her own. The happiness on Tyra’s face shone so brightly Bjorn was sure it would blind him. He intended to prepare his horse but found Strian, Kenneth, Rangvald, and Erik discussing their plans for the day.

  “Are the women aware you’re conspiring?” Bjorn cast a wary glance over his shoulder, aware the women would be furious if they assumed the men excluded them. Ivar made it clear to him that while Erik might lead Ivar’s warriors in battle, both Erik and Freya were to lead Ivar’s people during the expedition.

  Erik and Rangvald had the decency to look sheepish, but Strian gloated. Kenneth looked around still getting used to the dynamics among the foreigners.

  “They were just telling us what their wives decided this morning. They were informing us of the plans,” Strian held his belly as he cackled.

  “You sound like an old woman,” Erik muttered.

  “But I’m not the one being led around by the bollocks by a woman.” Strian gloated.

  “And who kept you warm last night? It was my woman who kept me toasty,” Rangvald chortled.

  Strian pursed his mouth as he shook his head. “It’s a fine thing they are smarter than either of you.”

  “We know,” father and son returned as Rangvald clapped his son on the shoulder.

  “Mount up,” Lorna called as she walked past the men.

  Tyra was waiting beside Bjorn’s horse with the reins to her own mount in her hand.

  “I want to ride with you, but what if we have to fight? And it’ll tire your mount faster than the others,” she worried.

  Bjorn pulled her lip loose from her teeth with the pad of his thumb. He took the reins from her hands and fastened them to his horse’s saddle. “Your horse will be next to us if you need to mount. Otherwise, your horse will be more rested than the others, so we can trade off if need be.”

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  Tyra found herself being lifted onto Bjorn’s horse and him swinging up behind her before she considered mounting hers.

  “Wrap the furs around you, Ty,” he breathed next to her ear, and spurred his horse to follow the others.

  The morning passed without event. Bjorn held Tyra in his arms as they plodded along behind Freya, Erik, and Strian. Rangvald and Lorna rode at the front of their warriors. Bjorn’s hand roamed over Tyra’s body as he stared straight ahead. Her furs were thick enough that his hand’s movements did not show. He tortured himself as Tyra’s breathing deepened each time he brought her to the brink. His hand kneaded her breasts, tweaked her nipples, and cupped her mound as the horse’s swaying gait edged her closer to release. His cock strained against her backside. By the time they stopped in the early afternoon to water their horses, they were in such a state of arousal that Bjorn dragged Tyra into the trees after casting a knowing look at Erik and Strian. Bjorn was desperate to have Tyra, but he would not put her in jeopardy again. Erik and Strian surreptitiously slipped into the woods on either side of the couple, giving them enough space for privacy but close enough no one slipped past them.

  Tyra was impatient after spending the morning being tormented by Bjorn’s questing hand. She picked up the pace and towed him behind her. She found a large trunk and stepped up to it. She looked over her shoulder as she unlaced her pants and pushed them down over her hips. Bjorn stood stunned at the sight of Tyra’s bare backside as she held her shirt above her waist.

  “Bjorn, you can look another time. We have to hurry,” she hissed. She braced herself with one arm extended and pushed her hips back in invitation.

  Bjorn feared he might die on the spot as the blood drained from his head and pooled in his groin. He unlaced his pants as he stepped forward. His hands grasped Tyra’s hips as he thrust into her.

  Tyra feared she would swallow her tongue as she tried to muffle her moan. She pressed back against Bjorn as he surged into her over and over.

  “Tyra, I won’t last long. You’re so damn tight. You’ll milk me dry before I can make you c
limax.”

  “So close,” she groaned. “Harder. This isn’t about making love, Bjorn. Fuck me.”

  Bjorn growled as his hand grasped her breast. He squeezed hard as Tyra met each of his thrusts as she pressed back against him. His other hand slid to the apex of her thighs and found the button that would trigger her release. He circled it as he pounded into her over and over. There was no finesse or tenderness in this coupling. It was need born of repressed feelings held inside for far too long, and an awareness that the others would deduce what they were doing if they stayed away too long.

  “Bjorn, I’m there. So close. Don’t stop.” Tyra panted.

  Bjorn drove into her and rocked his hips, pushing him ever deeper and pushing Tyra over the edge. He tilted her chin, so he had a clear view of her face as she came apart in his arms. It was even more glorious than the first time they made love all those years ago. He had been certain nothing exceeded the beauty he witnessed that day by the fjord, but watching Tyra climax now that they both admitted their feelings far surpassed what he imagined was possible. His body began to shudder, signaling his release, so he pulled free as he kissed her, pouring his love into the kiss. Tyra twisted and pulled him into her embrace as she sagged against the tree trunk. They pressed short, hard kisses against each other’s lips.

  “One of these days, I’m going to bed you in a bed,” she grinned as she kissed him.

  “And one of these days, I’m going to keep you in that bed for a sennight.”

  “Promise?”

  “On my ring.”

  They exchanged one more kiss before they both heard an owl hoot. Tyra’s eyes bulged from her face.

  “They know?” she hissed as she pulled her pants back into place.

  “You didn’t think I would take you into the woods again without someone keeping watch.”

  Tyra huffed, but he was right. A raven caw sounded from the other side of the tree, and Tyra hung her head.

  “You told Freya,” Bjorn accused.

  “No more than you told Erik. She caught us, and I’m sure she followed.”

  They were laughing when they stepped around the tree to find Freya standing with her arms crossed.

  “If you’re both done, which from the sounds of it you are, we need to ride out.”

  Erik and Strian stepped forward and did little to hide their mirth.

  “Five minutes really was all you needed,” Erik taunted.

  “I suppose that’s because he knows what he’s doing,” Tyra tossed at her best friend’s husband as she smirked and pulled Freya back toward the horse.

  Bjorn strutted past his friends as he shook his head. Tyra still surprised him with the things she said. She grew up around three wild boys and a girl as equally suited to besting those three boys as she was. Bjorn should have known by now. She would always give as good as she got.

  As the warband rode out, Tyra rode her own horse. They both accepted that they were incapable of withstanding the torment of riding together again. The leaders decided that morning that they would ride toward the Ross keep. Bjorn and Tyra had recounted what they remembered from their brief time in Grímr’s temporary camp. There had not been that many men, so it was reasonable to assume the rest of Grímr’s men were still with their allies, the Rosses.

  It took the rest of the day and all of the next for them to approach the keep at Allanfearn. They had traveled close to the coast of the Firth of Moray. No one said it aloud, but they all wished they had known this would be their destination. Both the Norsemen and the Highlanders could have sailed rather than ride over hill and dale. It was after sunset when Kenneth called a halt as they came to the last hill that would keep them out of sight from the guards on the Ross keep’s battlements.

  “Remember, they dinna fight with any honor. I’m sure they have seen us by now, so dinna underestimate their being prepared. Just because we havenae seen them doesnae mean they havenae seen us. We’ll send scouts out in the Ross plaids we took from the men Bjorn and Tyra killed. As long as ma men dinna get too close, they may pass for another sentry. Ma hope is they can get close enough to learn where this Grímr character camps. I imagine he’s within the walls, but I dinna trust Ross’s hospitality, and I doubt Ross trusts Grímr. This means he’d camp in the glen on the other side of this hill. There isnae much land between the keep and the coast. They dinna have any cliffs to protect them. Daft buggers to have built at such a low point, but their reputation keeps most away from them, and the rest dinna want their boggy stretch of land. It also means there is little space for us to hide. We make camp here, but no fires tonight.”

  It was with reluctance that the Norsemen handed control of the mission over to the Sutherland heir after Lorna pointed out that Kenneth was the only one who knew where they were. Lorna had never travelled this far into Ross territory and had moved away more than a score and a half years ago. When she and Rangvald raided, they sailed to the Hebrides or further south toward England. As they made camp, Kenneth selected the men who would scout for him. There was little to do once they assigned the watch. The Norsemen and the remaining Highlanders ate in silence and settled down early. With no fire to see by, there was little to do but go to sleep.

  “Sutherland,” came an urgent call that woke Bjorn. The voice was nearby but quiet. It surprised Bjorn that it woke him, until he realized Tyra was already standing and strapping her sword on. It was Tyra’s movement that actually woke him.

  “Sutherland,” the call came again as horses approached.

  Tyra and Bjorn joined the others as the scouts rode back into camp.

  “Where’s Donald?” Kenneth asked as he caught the bridle of the lead horse.

  “Dead,” his scout responded. “They arenae alone. The Munros are there, too.”

  “Which ones?”

  “Both. Our neighbors and the ones from the Black Isle.”

  “Bluidy hell.” Kenneth rattled off several more oaths Tyra had heard Lorna use but did not understand. When she heard Lorna add a few more she recognized but did not understand either, she realized the situation was dire.

  “How many?” Lorna asked as she came to stand next to Kenneth.

  “Easily five score Munros along with the Rosses and aboot three score Norsemen. There’s so many that they’re camped outside the walls. Fires blazing and whisky flowing. I would think ye could hear them all the way here. We didna have to get that close to see what was what,” the young man recounted.

  “Well done, Cormac. Ye and the others find something to eat and wet yer whistle.”

  “But that’s nae all.”

  Kenneth gestured for the man to continue speaking.

  “There are Welshmen there. Bowmen.”

  Kenneth turned to look at the Norsemen. Rangvald stepped forward. “The Norse have raided as far south as Wales and taken islands along their coast. Grímr must have recruited from there too, or perhaps Hakin before he died.”

  Kenneth scowled but nodded.

  “This will make approaching the keep far more difficult. The reach of their longbows exceeds anything yers or ma archers can do.”

  “That means we can’t wait until daylight to attack. They’ll just pick us off if they spot us,” Freya ruminated aloud. “We have to go soon. If we can be in position before the sun rises, we can breach the walls and be inside the keep before Grímr or the Welsh figure what is happening. If we can sweep the castle, we can fight Grímr and the Welsh with the benefit of the keep’s battlements to put an end to Grímr. Can we make it to the coast without alerting Grímr or the Ross scouts? If we can, we swim around and take the keep from the water.”

  “Aye, ye can ride aboot an hour south and come back along the coast. You will have a rough time in the waves, but ye can do it.” Kenneth looked skeptical, but Freya knew what the other Norsemen did. They would not need to swim far if they made it to the coast. They need only make it look like they came from the sea to wreak fear and havoc. Once the Ross clan realized there were Norsemen near the water,
they would assume the worst and prepare for a large-scale attack. They would not be ready for only a score or so.

  “If ye do that, we will draw attention away from the postern and sea walls.”

  Within minutes, Norsemen from Rangvald’s and Ivar’s armies mounted and rode out. The majority left for the coast, but a significant number stayed to aid the Sutherlands. Rangvald also used it as insurance that the Sutherlands did not develop a patriotic need to side with the Rosses.

  Tyra, Bjorn, and the others rode the hour south as Kenneth suggested before turning to proceed up the coast. The tide was low, so they rode through the packed sand, making little sound as the horses galloped along the water’s edge. When the keep came into sight, the warriors dismounted and left their horses with five warriors assigned to guard them. The rest of the force crept forward until they reached a marshy area that separated them from the keep. They would have to wade out, since none of them dared trying to walk through it. They stopped to slather dark mud onto their faces, leaving only the whites of their eyes as ghoulish warnings of their approach. They entered the water resembling an army of apparitions rather than mortal men and women. The water was frigid, but it was not unlike what they were used to. It burned their skin and made their blood pound as it forced them to swim against the current. Bjorn led since he was the best swimmer of all of them, followed by Tyra and Freya. The three of them had raced often as children, and the chill bothered them the least. As they turned toward the shore, they let the waves drive them in, conserving their energy for when they were soaked and trying to scale walls. The warband emerged with knives clenched between their teeth. They waited until they were within earshot of the battlement guards before they drew their swords. The sound of metal rang through the air, and it was only a moment later that the first alarm went up. Their peals of laughter matched their ghoulish appearance. They clanked their swords and knives together, creating a screeching cacophony. Bjorn pointed his sword and bellowed a war cry as the Norsemen raced to the battlements. Freya was on Erik’s shoulders as Tyra received a boost from Bjorn. Both women threw the ropes they carried, their aim precise. The grappling hooks sunk into the masonry, and the women began climbing. Other ropes hung down the side of the keep as more Norsemen scrambled up the wall. Tyra and Freya led the charge once they pulled themselves onto the wall walk. The Ross guards were unprepared not only for the Norse but for women. They stumbled backwards as they looked around. Women streamed over the wall as the first wave, since they were light enough to stand on shoulders while the grappling hooks were being thrown. By the time the men began to join them, the women stood looking at one another with no one left to fight. Freya and Erik led Ivar’s warriors in one direction as Rangvald and Lorna headed in the other. As the hoard rushed in each direction, the bailey filled with Ross clansmen. Some had weapons while others had workmen’s tools like shovels, pitchforks, and blacksmith tongs Tyra had forsaken the bow and arrow for the rope and the ability to swim. Now she wished she had it. She scanned the men running toward them. She eyed the ones she would aim for first. She struck without mercy as she hacked through one after another until she pulled a bow from one man’s arm and found a quiver propped against a wall. Tyra was sure Freya was doing the same. Once both women had arrows, they moved to the side overlooking the bailey. They began picking off men who were unable to find their attackers, since they blended in with the night sky.