Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  “No more talk of the past.”

  “What is done is done.”

  By the time they finished talking, the meal was ready. Tyra’s belly growled, and Bjorn teased her he would be careful not to lose any fingers eating near her. It had been a long day, and the next day would be the same. People found their places around the fires. The Highland men grouped together while the Norsemen found their spots, couples choosing places away from the glow of the fires. Bjorn chose a place close enough that they would not grow cold overnight, but he had already wanted privacy before Tyra suggested they make love.

  Tyra laid down and held the covers open until Bjorn slid in behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. His rod rubbed against her backside as she gripped his thigh. The arm beneath her neck reached until his hand slipped inside the neckline of her linen shirt. He brushed his fingertips over her nipples, making them contract into tight beads. His other hand moved to between her thighs. He pressed the heel of his hand to her mound, and Tyra arched her back. She reached further behind her and cupped his cock, eliciting a hiss from Bjorn as she squeezed. She fumbled with the laces at his waist as he undid the ones to her leather pants. When he had untied hers, he made short work of opening his. His stiff length jutted from his thatch of curls. Tyra wiggled until she pushed her pants below her knees. Bjorn’s fingers bit into her hip as she lifted her knee. He guided himself into her sheath, and they both paused as the savored the pleasure. Bjorn licked and nipped at her nape as the hand that played with her breast came free of her shirt to entwine fingers with Tyra. Once they were one, Bjorn’s hand went on a quest to find the hidden pearl that would make her find her release. He rocked his hips as she continued to press back against him, her lush bottom rubbing against his hips. Bjorn pressed his finger to the apex of her thighs and found his treasure. He created slow circles as her breath become short and unsteady. She squeezed his fingers as he thrust harder.

  “Bjorn,” she breathed.

  “Mmm.”

  She stifled her moan as her body rocketing toward completion.

  “I can’t wait much longer,” she whispered.

  “Don’t.”

  She pulled his thigh closer to her hip as his entire body encompassed her in warmth and security. Her release built from low in her belly as she squeezed her eyes shut. The pleasure ricocheted throughout her middle until she curled her toes within her boots. Bjorn buried his face in her hair as his hand slid back to her hip, and his fingers sank into her flesh. He thrust once more before pulling out.

  They were both breathless, their chests heaving as they tried to draw air into their straining lungs. When Tyra finally moved, she inched her pants over her hips, but before she tied them, Bjorn rolled her to face him. He slipped his hand down the leather until he cupped her backside. Despite the snug fit, he stroked and squeezed as he kissed her over and over.

  “Neither of us likes it, but until you start drinking the pennyroyal, it would be better if I pulled out.”

  “I know,” Tyra said around a yawn. She kissed his collarbone and snuggled closer to his chest. He held her as she fell into a deep sleep. He followed her soon after.

  Morning came all too soon, and Tyra was stiff when she woke up. She slept better than usual, and it was from having Bjorn beside her, but the ground was still hard. People were moving around the camp just as she and Bjorn rose. She followed some of the other women into the trees for privacy. She was ready to step out from the woods but hung back when she heard her name and Bjorn’s.

  “I doubt Bjorn will keep Tyra. He will tire of her now that he has her. She has nothing to offer him. He is the nephew of the jarl, and she is a penniless orphan.”

  “A penniless orphan he’s been in love with since we were all children.”

  “Bah. His pride stung that he couldn’t have her. Now that he has, what’s there left to want?”

  “And I suppose it’ll be you he turns to.”

  “Me or anyone else with a nice pair of tits.”

  “He hasn’t exactly been making his rounds the last few years.”

  “And who is the only one he comes to? Me.”

  “And whose name does he call out? Hers. Gunnhild, I would be careful. You’re more likely to get a blade across your neck than Bjorn back in your bed.”

  Tyra inched closer and peered around a tree to find Gunnhild and Solvi speaking. Two other women were there, but they had said nothing yet.

  “I, for one, would be happy if he came back to my bed. He’s bigger than any other man. And talented, too,” Gala, a petite woman with light brown hair, grinned as she looked toward the camp.

  “Do you want to be with a man who refuses to use your name? He only says Tyra’s name. No pet names either. Just hers.” Astrid added. She was a tall and slender woman aptly named for the beautiful goddess.

  Tyra wanted to hurtle herself forward and rail against each of them for talking about her behind her back and for considering Bjorn available. There was little for her to do that would not make her look insecure, and Bjorn straying did not worry her. He was steadfast like a loyal dog. Now that they were together, she did not worry about him choosing another woman. She worried constantly about his death and being left behind, but not about his fidelity. She straightened up, but a hand came around her waist and hand over her mouth. She bucked and tried to scream.

  “Shh, little one. It’s only me. I came to find out what you’re spying on.”

  Tyra relaxed when she recognized Bjorn’s voice but kicked her heel back into his shins for frightening her. She turned and tried to push him back the way he came, but he was as sturdy as a mountain and about as immovable.

  “Tyra is fooling herself if she thinks Bjorn will be satisfied with her. He’s never been satisfied with just one of us. Even two of us,” Gunnhild cackled.

  “That may have been true in the past, but have you seen them together? Since they returned from Grímr’s camp? Why do you think we weren’t enough?” Astrid gave Gunnhild a pointed look. “The man’s besotted with her, always has been, and now shows everyone.”

  “She can’t do what any of us can. I heard Knud stopped bedding her less than a year into their relationship. He let her stay with him because he pitied her. Even her family doesn’t want her,” Gala spoke up as she nodded to Gunnhild. “Who else has she been with? She can’t know how to please a man with appetites like Bjorn’s.”

  “I’ll say it again, since you don’t seem to be listening. He’s only ever wanted her. He’s warned us never to speak of it, but we all know he only thinks of her when he’s bedding us. I’m tired of that. I want a man who wants me, not one imagining I’m someone else,” Astrid turned away. “I wish them well. They deserve to be together, and I’m certain it is the gods will.”

  “Leaves more of him for us,” Gunnhild called out.

  Bjorn was shocked by what he was hearing. He was ashamed and embarrassed that Tyra had to listen to these women speak of his past with them. It disgusted him that anyone should speak about Tyra in such a diminishing and hateful way. But it enraged him that anyone would plot to get between Tyra and him. Bjorn stepped away from Tyra, but when she pulled on his arm, he shook it loose. He stormed toward the group of women who did not see nor hear him coming.

  He wrenched Gunnhild’s head back as he wrapped his hand in her ponytail. A blade was at her throat before she had the chance to defend herself. The other women drew their swords but were wise to keep their distance.

  “You have run your uncivil tongue once too often, Gunnhild. I warned you before we left about speaking against Tyra. You have a high opinion of yourself for a woman I couldn’t be bothered to look at while bedding. And we all know why that is. Your friends said as much. You have never been the one I want. Tyra is. You were just a quim or a mouth available when I was tired of my hand. For that, thank you. Anything else? Don’t kid yourself. Be glad you are a woman because you’d be dead if you were a man. I don’t strike women when I’m n
ot in battle. However, Tyra is within her rights to fight you, if she wants.”

  Tyra wanted to groan. It would have satisfied her to ignore the women, but now Bjorn made that impossible. The other women looked to where she stood, and their eyes widened in shock and unease. Tyra joined the group and tapped Bjorn’s arm. He released Gunnhild with a shove that sent her sprawling across the forest floor.

  “Gunnhild, I don’t want to fight you because I respect you as a fellow shieldmaiden, but I will kill you if you try to take Bjorn from me.” Tyra looked at the other two women who were noticeably uncomfortable and shifted where they stood. “I say the same to you. Don’t test me. There’s no doubt that the only two women who might beat me are Lorna and Freya, and they’re more likely to kill you before I get to you.”

  Tyra took Bjorn’s hand as they turned away, but they did not take a step before Gunnhild spoke again.

  “If we’re all the same in the dark, Bjorn, perhaps you will not notice when one of us slips in. Or rather you slip in. Tyra hasn’t had the best of luck in the last few battles. Would you die a lonely old man?”

  Tyra froze as the other two women backed away, no longer willing to associate with Gunnhild. She turned around, but before she looked at Gunnhild, she looked at Bjorn.

  “This will be on your head if I end up charged for murder.”

  “She threatened you,” Bjorn scowled. “We all heard her. Solvi and Gala are not stupid enough to lie for a dead woman. Are you?”

  Bjorn cast his glance at the two women who shook their heads.

  “Make this up to me,” Tyra purred.

  “That is a punishment I look forward to taking.”

  Tyra was on top of Gunnhild before anyone realized she intended to fight barefisted.

  “You don’t have your sword with you, so I will not draw mine. You can try to reach your knives, but I will only use them to cut you to bits,” Tyra hissed as her fist landed in the woman’s face once more. Blood geysered from her nose as Tyra’s fist pounded into her eye next. She wrapped her hand around Gunnhild’s throat, but the woman was as strong as Tyra. She bucked until she got her feet under her and pushed Tyra onto her back. Gunnhild straddled Tyra as she rained down her own punches. Tyra did not block them, instead reaching for the knife she kept in her boot. She jabbed it into Gunnhild’s side, and when the woman reared back in pain, Tyra rolled so she was once more on top. She slid her blade across the woman’s throat, but only enough to cause a trickle of blood.

  “You have a choice. You leave Bjorn alone and never speak of either of us again, or you admit that you won’t do it, and you die now. Choose.”

  “You would kill me either way.”

  “No. Not if you swear on your fealty ring. Pledge it as a vassal to Ivar.”

  Gunnhild spat on Tyra.

  “You may be Freya’s best friend, but Ivar will not countenance you committing murder. He’ll try you then execute you.”

  “And who will wear witness against me?” Tyra’s voice sounded innocent, but the pressure she placed on the blade on Gunnhild’s neck was anything but. “Do you think Bjorn, the jarl’s nephew, would speak out against me, his wife? The one who told us to solve this by fighting. Do you think Solvi and Gala are so loyal to you they will not testify to how you intended to kill me to steal my man? Would you like to test that luck and die with shame before our entire tribe, or would you rather die with some dignity?”

  “What dignity is there in this?”

  “The real reason will never be said aloud.”

  “And what reason would you give?”

  “I will tell the truth that you challenged me for Bjorn, but I will not tell others how you threatened to kill me. You are no one’s favorite. I am.”

  Gunnhild struggled once more as she tried to reach her knife. Tyra hopped up and stepped back. She allowed Gunnhild time to draw her knife. Once the other woman was fairly armed, she attacked. She charged forward, driving her head and shoulder into Gunnhild’s middle. Gunnhild flew backwards as Tyra followed her to the ground. Tackled, then pinned, Gunnhild was unable to gain any leverage to swing her knife. Tyra pressed the blade against the other woman’s neck and drew it across. She continued to straddle her as the light faded from Gunnhild’s eyes. She looked at Solvi and Gala in challenge, but both women shook their heads.

  “No man is worth dying over,” Solvi muttered.

  The two women looked down at Gunnhild.

  “She should have known that,” Gala looked at Tyra. “You must have listened to us. Bjorn is a desirable man, and I enjoyed the times I was with him. But he is yours. He always has been. I have no intention of seeking him out. And after this, I’m sure no other woman will either.”

  Tyra wiped her blade across Gunnhild’s chest.

  “Good.” That was all Tyra had to say. She did not feel like saying more nor did she think more needed to be said.

  Bjorn pulled her into his arms, but she was too angry to embrace him back. She waited until Gala and Solvi left before she thrust her hand against his belly, pushing him away.

  “I had no intention of letting them know I was listening. I know you aren’t going anywhere. You should have let them talk because that’s all it was. Now a good shieldmaiden is dead, and I might still face charges for murder. How could you be so reckless?”

  “How do you know so little about women?”

  Tyra staggered back but then lunged forward, her hand coming within inches of Bjorn’s face before he grabbed it.

  “I suppose I should ask the expert.”

  “Stop, Tyra. I’m not an expert, but you can talk to any man, and he’ll tell you the same thing. A jealous woman is a deadly woman. Gunnhild’s threats weren’t made in jest. She wanted what was not hers, and she would’ve tried to kill you for it. It had nothing to do with me. She’s been jealous of you her entire life. She wanted to be Freya’s friend when we were children, but she had nothing in common with Freya. Rather than accept that, she blamed you. She knew I was in love with you. She bedded me to spite you more than she did because she enjoyed me. The fact that I called your name, and she knew I was thinking of you, only made her more spiteful.”

  “And you fed that fire by going back over and over.”

  “No. Realizing that a couple years ago is part of why I didn’t want to be with other women. I may have slept with her when I was drunk, but you were still with Knud.”

  “And just before we left?”

  “I explained that already.”

  Tyra begrudgingly had to admit she understood why that tryst happened.

  “Tyra, she wasn’t going relent. I didn’t trust her not to kill you or get you killed in battle. I didn’t trust her not to cause problems between us. And I definitely didn’t trust her not to gossip. She would’ve destroyed your reputation and questioned your honor. What then? Ivar and Lena would stand by you, but would others trust you on the battlefield? Would others come to your defense? There was no way this wasn’t going to end as it did.”

  Tyra closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She took several deep breaths as she tried to calm the anger and bloodlust that still surged through her veins.

  “You might be right, but it wasn’t your decision to make. You had no right to put me in that position.”

  Bjorn looked chagrined when he nodded.

  “That’s true, but her conversation proved this fight was inevitable.”

  Tyra looked over at the dead women. A woman who she fought alongside only days ago, but Bjorn was not exaggerating Gunnhild’s resentment toward her.

  “What do we do with her?” Tyra looked at him.

  “Tell Erik and Freya. They will be the ones to decide.”

  “Wonderful. Freya will leave her to the animals.”

  “That’s my hope.”

  It was a terse conversation with Erik and Freya with far too many ears nearby, but Gala and Solvi corroborated their story, and Astrid stepped forward to tell the other things Gunnhild said before either Tyra or Bjorn arri
ved.

  “Leave her to the wolves. She deserves no better,” Freya’s decree met with little resistance.

  The Highlanders once again watched the Norse form of justice and only wondered how they ended up making a pact with the devil. They understood matters of honor, but they were not used to women fighting to the death. More than one Highlander looked at the Norsewomen with newfound respect, caution, and interest.

  They rode away from the camp later than they would have liked. They forced the captives to run behind the trail of horses and warriors on foot. The Highland scouts picked up the tracks, and they made progress even though they had to let the captives lag. Strian volunteered to oversee the team of Norse warriors who corralled and herded the thralls. Many were already growing weak and struggling to keep up. The taunts lobbed at them did little to help, but the threats kept them moving. Strian let none of his warriors carry out those threats, but they were an incentive. The day was almost over when the scouts once more returned with news no one expected.

  “We are still a day’s hard ride from Varrich, but we’re on Mackay land. We came across some of our tenant farmers who had their home ransacked and burned by Munros. They said they didna kill anyone, but stole what they could carry then set fire to the crofts and fields.”

  “Bluidy hell,” Alex snapped.

  “But that’s nae all, laird. They said there were Norsemen with the Munros, and a man with a limp and an accent told Neill Munro they needed to hurry if they were going to meet their boats before we reached Varrich. They intend to sail there and sink your cousins’ fleet.”

  “What? How is that even possible? How can they get to their boats that fast?” Alex bellowed.

  “They must have left sailors behind with orders to meet them in a few days times,” The news put Tyra on edge. Any threat to her boat or the ones under her command made her anxious and angry. She looked at Bjorn who was already looking at her.

  “I know, my love. We will get there as soon as we can.”