by Anthology
“If I were angry, you would know it.”
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath of courage. Never in all her days of pleasing men did she care what they thought. Oftentimes, she’d speak ill on purpose so they’d grow tired of her disdainful tongue and pass her on to someone else. But with Gustaf, she couldn’t help but want to gratify him, to know that when he looked at her, there was pride behind his noble eyes.
By not using the silver he’d given her to live on, she noticed the malcontent that continued to crease his brow. To a degree, she’d insulted him. “If I have not angered you, then I have made you feel less of a man in front of your warriors.”
Gustaf’s hearty scoff caused her to turn her head in his direction. “Is that what you think?” he asked, drawing near.
The twinkle of gaiety lighting his blue eyes held her mouth shut. She froze within her thin leather shoes, stiffening over the proximity of his body with hers. He reached for her wrist and pulled her into his arms. “Only if you were gone from this earth, would I be less of a man.”
His tender words took her by surprise. They were heartfelt and sincere, quite different from the clipped statements he’d made a few moments before. She was not used to a man’s mood swinging like a pendulum from one extreme to the next. It was difficult to keep up.
He playfully nipped at her nose and backed her against the vertical beam of the room. Sandwiched between the dense face of the wood and the solid wall of his chest, she valued the dominance of his character. With just a simple gesture, he expressed authority and power by means of a mighty body and challenging eyes, yet behind all that brawny exterior lay a man as gentle as the tender reeds swaying along the marshes.
She placed her hands on his chest and stroked him around his shoulders, lacing her fingers behind his neck. “I have missed you, my temperate warrior.”
He closed his eyes and laid his forehead against hers. “You do realize your pet name does little to describe the fierceness I would rather be remembered for.”
She rubbed noses with him and reveled in the feel of his body pressed against hers. “Far be it from me to defame your fierce reputation among men, but ’tis not violent hostility I remember in these hands…” She touched each part of him with a delicate brush of her fingertips. “These eyes, these lips...”
His lips found hers the moment she spoke of them. The soft wet heat of his mouth had her gasping in surprise and buckling at the knees. With his arms secured around her, he slipped his tongue past her teeth. Feathers of warmth fanned from her core, spreading throughout her body. She was helpless to the talents of his kiss and welcomed the seductive expertise of his caressing hands.
Pinned against the beam, he ground himself against her, his breathing slow and purposeful. She tightened her arms around his neck and hoisted her legs around his waist. His strong, large hands cupped her bottom as he positioned her over his thick erection.
A hearty moan escaped him and he shuddered, as if a multitude of sensations wracked his body. He spun her from the beam and supported her in his arms, his eyes boring into hers.
“I should build that fire I promised before I lose all might for such a simple task.”
He allowed her body to slide ever so slowly down the length of him, setting her to her feet. She brushed her hands down her tunic, adjusting her clothes, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Words failed her as she watched him tent the logs of turf in the center hearth. There was so much she wanted to say, but had no idea where to begin. She assumed he and his men had completed their mission, avenging Gustaf’s father, else they would not have returned. Yet he never mentioned it or the family he left to save from Gunnar Havlocksen’s deceit. Was his family alive and well? Were they happy to see him after all these years? And how could he walk away from them so easily?
Knowing she had nothing to offer him, she pondered why Gustaf hadn’t just left her behind. Now that he had arrived, she couldn’t help but think conceivably it wasn’t for love, but for duty.
Given the years he’d spent and the lengths to which he’d gone to avenge his father, there was no denying how devoted he could be to a cause. If Gustaf said it would be done, he’d keep his word or die trying. Perhaps, his word to return for her was simply to uphold a promise.
“Why have you lost words for speaking? Are you not happy to see me?”
Æsa shook her head adamantly and busied herself by reaching into the rafters for the herbs she’d hung for drying. “I am very happy to see you, my lord,” she said, fiddling with the knot tied around the stems. “You mistake my silence for displeasure.”
He blew gently on the tiny sparks grasping at the bundles of kindling. His eyes remained fixed on hers. “I cannot read your thoughts no more than you can mine. Speak to me so that I may know what troubles you.”
“There are no words to describe how my heart is feeling. But know that I am relieved by your return.”
He stood from the slow-burning fire, the smoke trailing upward beside him. “You are surprised that I have come back for you?”
She tried to let her spinning emotions settle before answering. There was a seriousness in his eyes, a hint of doubt and confusion projecting from them that warned her to speak carefully. The last thing she wanted was to anger Gustaf with her insecurities. Nervously, she bit her lip. “Forgive me for feeling such things, but I am unworthy of your return.” She swallowed, despite the harsh dryness in her throat. “A man like you deserves a more noble woman than I. You are the eldest son of a chieftain, the pride of your family.”
“And you are the daughter of a brave warrior, a perfect match in my eyes.”
“You didn’t know my father,” Æsa said, bowing her head in shame.
“Nay, I was thwarted of that privilege. But, in knowing you, do I see him. I imagine he was a loving father and a courageous fighter who, for the sake of his family, would not give up the fight against his enemies. He died trying to save you and your mother. There is no greater love than that.”
“What you say about my father is true, but I have shamed him. As I know I have shamed you.”
“Look at me, Æsa,” he demanded. “Look into my eyes and tell me if you see shame.”
She could barely do so. “A cunning man knows how to hide it. I would be a fool to think you are not ashamed that I was once a whore.”
She saw Gustaf cringe upon hearing that word and his brow furrowed deeply across forehead. “A slave to that life, you are no longer. In my presence, you will not utter that dreadful word ever again. Do you understand?”
Æsa pinched off one of the seeds from the dried bundle of herbs in her hands and nodded her head.
Gustaf came to her in two quick strides, snatching them from her grasp and tossing them on the boxbed. He clasped her wrists together and brought her knuckles to his lips. He planted a kiss upon each and stared longingly in her eyes. “You have brought many things into my life, all of which have made me a happier man than I could ever imagine. But never shame.”
She turned her head in doubt and he reached for her chin, turning it upward to face him.
“Never shame,” he reiterated sternly. “Tell me you believe in what I say, for I cannot continue to love you if you think my every word is a lie.”
For a split second, Æsa’s heart tripped on the string of endearments that fell from her temperate warrior’s mouth. Continue to love you, echoed in her head.
“Say you believe me,” he commanded, pulling her hard into the cage of his arms.
She peered into his eyes and saw a blazing honesty within them. “You love me?”
The strength of his embrace weakened around her, the hard lines around his eyes softened. “I came back for you, did I not?”
Disappointment undulated through her. “Even a bird returns to its native land when winter passes. ’Tis not for love—”
“’Tis the reason I returned.”
Æsa couldn’t take the up and down of her emotions. She felt nauseous and weak. She�
�d not meant to put her all her hopes in one basket, thinking he felt more than a duty toward her, but his straightforwardness about continuing to love her had her pushing to hear the truth from his very lips.
She moved to escape him, but he tightened his grip around her back.
“Let go of me,” she said sternly.
He shook his head. “I am not letting go of—”
She smacked him across the face, her instincts kicking in. “Unhand me,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and shoving.
He grabbed both her wrists and backed her against the nearest wall. Something ignited inside her and she fought to be pinned. Her struggle proved to be futile for he was stronger and more skillful at close combat.
“I am not letting go of the woman I love,” he finished with a growl, fighting against the last attempts she made to wriggle free. “You will hear me first, then I will release you. Not a moment before.”
****
Gustaf gave her time to surrender, her forceful sigh declaring her defeat. The flaming temper of his redheaded beauty delighted him beyond words. It was the first thing he liked about her when he and his men had burst into Ragnar’s home. He remembered the sharp sound of her hand slapping Ragnar’s face when he dismissed her. She was a woman who could hold her own and was not afraid to make a stand, even if it resulted in physical pain.
He smiled when she turned her head to the side, refusing to be affected by his gaze. The meek version of Æsa dissolved and he was thankful. “You are such a stubborn woman. If you knew how much it charmed me, you would not be so obstinate.”
He saw her eyes jerk in his direction, flaring to heated embers as she glowered, and back again at some distant spot in the room. He’d seen that look before, but it had been with Ragnar. Today, the daggers were for him. Again, she fought his grasp.
As he confined her against the wall, he noticed a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin. He could smell the effervescence of the oils coming from the pulse points of her neck while feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his. Her panting made matters worse. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen and, consequently, he found himself in the most precarious position. The only thing wrong with this scenario was the hindrance of clothing between them.
He ignored the blasted sensation of his hammering pulse below his belt and commenced to making Æsa understand how much he cared for her.
“Do you remember the first time we were together, alone?”
Æsa closed her eyes. “Of course.”
“Then you should also remember how much I gave you. I offered all of myself to you without expecting a single thing in return.”
“I know.”
“Realize, my dear Æsa, ’twas not out of duty. And this day is no different. I came back for you for one reason. For love.”
A tear trailed down her cheek from behind her closed lids. The fire in her spirit fizzled out.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
When she opened her eyes and turned her head, he saw the very reason he adored this temperamental woman who’d bewitched him months ago. Though life had thieved every ounce of her self-worth, it had not stolen her heart.
He loosened his grip around her wrists, fearing he might have already bruised her beautiful alabaster skin, and brushed his nose against her cheek, wiping the tear away.
“I am without burden now. I have fulfilled my duty as a loyal son and I have found my family. I am at peace knowing my days of vengeance are behind me. I can start my life anew.”
He held her gaze for some time, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. “You are the only woman I want. There is no other who can alight my lips with a smile, fill my heart with joy, and gratify my soul with pride. Marry me, Æsa, and let me spend the rest of my days doing the same for you.” He released her hands and brought his up to her face, caressing her trembling lip with his thumb. “Marry me.”
Chapter Five
Æsa quivered beneath Gustaf’s caress. His fingertips roamed the delicate skin of her face, erasing the trace of each new tear that fell. He’d answered every question she dared to ask the moment they’d walked through the door. With each second that ticked by, every skeptical thought she’d had about his honorable intentions diminished.
He neared his face to hers and took her lips in a gentle kiss. The passion she felt in that simple action caused her heart to soar. She’d never doubt him again.
Gustaf tentatively pulled away, searching her eyes for an answer. She couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “Aye, my lord. I will marry you.”
His lips flashed a huge smile, his cobalt blue eyes dancing with delight. He clasped her face in his palms and kissed her again. His burly arms snaked around her waist and lifted her body off the floor. She felt weightless in his embrace, laughing with him as he spun her around.
This was the happiest day of her life, second only to the moment Gustaf burst through Ragnar’s door and liberated her from the degrading life she’d been forced to live all those years. He was her savior in so many ways and now, he’d soon be her husband. Nothing mattered to her save the day they’d be united in love. Waiting until that joyous day would be the hardest of all.
She closed her eyes and buried her nose in the safe haven of Gustaf’s neck, savoring his masculine scent. It was still hard for her to accept that this was not a dream, for she never thought she’d know true love. She pinched her forearm just to be certain and felt the sting as sure as she felt the muscled arms around her body.
Upon squeezing her arms around his neck one last time, she noticed the embroidered cloth she’d tucked into her sleeve. She remembered how she’d given it to Gustaf before he left and the look of pride in his eyes as he examined the colorful stitches that embellished the edges.
She pulled it free and brought it close to her heart. Slowly, Gustaf set her on her feet, regarding the cloth in her hand. She looked up and saw the pride, once again, twinkling in his eyes.
Taking hold of his wrist, she lay the cloth in his palm and closed his fingers around it. “’Tis not much, but I have naught else to give you. Let this be a token of my love.”
He brought his other hand over hers and bowed. “Of all the gifts bestowed unto me, this is one I treasure most. ’Twas made by your hands and given to me from your heart. I will cherish it always. And soon, I will stand before my family and proclaim my love for you before a multitude of witnesses. After that, I want to fill our home with many sons.”
“And daughters?” she included gleefully.
“Aye—and daughters. I can only hope they resemble your beauty and speak with fire on their tongues.”
“And if they do not?”
“I shall love them anyway,” he proclaimed, “for they will come from your womb.” He reverently touched her stomach. “Our children.”
His eyes turned dark and his touch less innocent. His hand softly caressed her belly and dipped below her navel. She shivered as his fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her desire for him escalated, but his devious grin told her that an idea struck him.
“Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“I need a bath and you will help me.”
“What about your men? What if they return while—”
“Make no mistake. My men are skilled hunters and warriors. No living creature is safe where sword, spear, or bow are concerned.” He took her hand, pulling her toward the door. “But when the task of fishing is in their hands, I have to admit the slippery-gilled beasts are the more cunning. My men will not return for quite some time.”
Æsa didn’t argue with him as he led her from the longhouse and behind the small barn where the babbling of a clear stream cut through the hill. It was far too shallow to completely submerge oneself if standing, but it was pleasantly waist high in one particular spot.
She had bathed at this waterhole many times, but never lingered. She rarely felt safe enough on the isle to strip hersel
f bare for longer than necessary, especially without a trustworthy lookout. Besides, the water was too brisk this time of year to loiter. Judging by the look on Gustaf’s face and the determination of his pace, he didn’t seem concerned with either.
She watched him remove his belt and armor, her heart picking up speed at the thought of seeing her lover’s naked body. Admittedly, she had longed for this moment for weeks, imagining his muscled form standing in the warm glow of the central hearth before he’d slip into the boxbed beside her. But knowing she’d get the pleasure of this sight in the open air had her on edge.
By the time she checked their remote surroundings with a wary eye, Gustaf had already peeled his boots and clothes from his body. He stood at the water’s edge, naked as the day he was born, dipping a toe beneath the surface.
Æsa stood motionless, admiring the man who, for the first time in his life, hadn’t a care in the world.
Under the afternoon sky, his legs were long and powerful from years of carrying a warrior’s body across steep mountains and snow-drifted valleys. Dusted with golden hair, his skin was tan, smooth, and unmarred, save for a few scars across his wide back. In no way did the old battle wounds tarnish his manly appeal. If anything, the marks reminded her of the kind of man he was and how much he had willingly endured to uphold his family’s honor. From the blemishes carved into his skin, to the gentle, compassionate heart beating in his chest, Gustaf was the definition of chivalry.
Slowly, he walked into the water, his eyes on his feet. The rippling stream rushed passed his ankles and eventually over his knees as he strolled further out. When it rose above his waist, he looked over his shoulder. “’Tis warm.”
“And you are a liar,” Æsa scoffed.
A deep laugh erupted from Gustaf as he spun to face her.
She smiled in return. The sound of his joy warmed her very soul. “That is the first time I have ever heard you laugh, my lord.”
He held her gaze for a moment, as if pondering this revelation. “With you by my side as my wife, I trust ’twill not be the last. You bring much happiness to me.”