In Bed with the Viking Warrior

by Harper St. George

  That brought forth another revelation. He missed Aisly.

  Nay, ‘missed’ was too tame a word for the emotion that twisted inside him. He needed her with him to fill the hollow ache in his chest. He wanted to show her his world and all that he had accomplished. His boots scraped the wood floor as he walked to the dais further in the room near the back where a table was set and a woman was busy putting out pitchers of mead. Perhaps in time Aisly could come to see that he was the same man she’d come to care about, not the Dane who’d destroyed her life. But that was only likely to happen if she was with him. He half-thought of going back to her one night, scaling the wall and bringing her here. She’d hate him at first, but he was certain he could remind her of how good things were between them.

  He nearly groaned aloud as another memory came to him. This one was a face, a man with dark hair and a sinister smile that he recognised as belonging to Godric. The fool had led a small group of warriors into the settlement at dawn one morning. Magnus suspected their plans had been to attack the night before, but they had found the fortifications such that they couldn’t. Danes on watch had found the small group and brought them inside the next morning. Godric had told them that their maidens had been taken, but when he’d been brought inside to speak to Magnus, he’d led his warriors on a senseless revolt that had included setting fire to a few houses.

  Women and children had been threatened, and in the ensuing struggle to maintain order, Godric had led his men in a fight to the death. There had been no execution. No cold-blooded murder. It had been a senseless clash led by a fool that had resulted in three of Magnus’s warriors being wounded and the Saxons’ deaths.

  Try as he might, Magnus couldn’t regret the action that had brought about the man’s death. Godric had been too full of himself to make good decisions for his warriors or for Aisly. Magnus shuddered to think that she’d ever been at the mercy of such a man. If his exacting justice had saved her from that tyrant, then he couldn’t regret it. He did regret that he might never be able to explain to her what had happened, or how he’d reacted afterwards. Instead of taking the time to talk to the Saxons, he’d reacted in anger and had sent Vidar to level a retribution tax for the actions of the few warriors.

  He’d been so angry with Godric specifically that he’d impulsively ordered Vidar to dispense an exorbitant penalty to the man’s family. It had been a short-sighted move and one that had been dangerous to her. Because of him, she was almost destitute and at the mercy of Wulfric. While she might not appreciate his interference, his first order of business was to figure out what had happened to the coin, wool and tapestries taken from her and see them returned. Returning it also carried the hidden advantage of making sure she was provided for. The wool would give her resources and he felt better knowing that she wouldn’t be facing Wulfric while destitute.

  Vidar and two other warriors, Arn and Leikr—he’d immediately recognised them as confidants—joined him at the table and took their designated spots on the benches, leaving him the one in the middle. He sat and took up the mead they offered, savouring the rich combination of bitter and sweet on his tongue. By the gods, he’d missed it without even realising it.

  ‘It’s good to have you back.’ Vidar raised his tankard again and threw back the rest of its contents. The other men joined in. Someone from the door yelled out another victory cry and more warriors filled the room. They all had questions about where he’d been, so once they’d found seats, he stood and called for quiet.

  ‘I’ve a tale, my friends. You won’t believe it, but I assure you it happened. It starts with battle and death...’ The room started to quiet as his voice rang out. Even the few still filing in hurried to find a seat, their eyes on him. ‘But it ends with a fair maiden with hair like fire and eyes like moss.’ He kept his face stoic as he imagined her face, refusing to allow his feelings for her to be known.

  There were cheers and someone said, ‘A fire maiden.’

  Magnus smiled. The name suited her in more ways than one. ‘Aye, I owe my life to the fire maiden. I’ll only tell the story once, so listen closely.’

  For the next several moments he spoke, telling them about how he’d awakened about to be burned, and going all the way until Vidar had spotted him. Of course, he left out the fact that he’d made a deal with Aisly to get her with child, but he was certain his admiration for her was clear for all to see. It didn’t matter. The men loved a good story and he was happy to give them one. It’d give them something to talk about through the long winter.

  Finally resuming his seat, he noticed Vidar watching him with a measured gaze. ‘What?’

  ‘The fire maiden. Was that the woman walking with you?’

  Magnus stiffened and rolled his shoulders, realising he was overdue for a bath and change of clothes. He didn’t want to talk about her. The story was one thing. The men loved stories and it gave his trip the aura of a saga. He didn’t want to talk about Aisly, but to refuse would only prompt more questions, so he nodded and picked up his tankard.

  Vidar frowned and a knot of unease twisted in Magnus’s gut. A woman put down a bowl filled with roasted root vegetables and fish before him, so he murmured his thanks.

  Vidar didn’t speak again until Magnus had already taken a few bites. ‘The marriage has been arranged.’

  Magnus nearly choked. He’d been right. He wasn’t married or even attached to a woman. Not yet. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Eirik...’ Vidar’s voice trailed off and he grimaced. ‘Jarl Eirik...’ he put emphasis on the ‘Jarl’ as only a younger brother forced to show deference to an older brother could ‘...has arranged the marriage you wanted.’

  ‘The marriage I wanted?’

  Vidar smirked. ‘I imagine the bride would be put out to hear you say that. You truly don’t remember?’

  Magnus sat back, his mind churning to find the answer. There was no woman he could remember. There was no one for him besides Aisly.

  ‘The peace-weaver,’ Vidar prompted.

  Then the pieces began to fit. Jarl Eirik had promised him that his hard work would be repaid in the form of a Saxon bride. Jarl Eirik had himself married a high-born Saxon bride. Such brides were known as peace-weavers and Magnus’s marriage would help sow seeds of peace amongst the native Saxons and the Danes. Of course, that bride would have to be high-born so he’d be linked to a well-respected Saxon family.

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘He arrived just after you left to go after the rebels. Do you remember we’d received a message from the south claiming the villages were being plagued by the rebels? You took ten men south to meet up with the settlement leaders there, while I rode to the Saxon village to collect from Godric’s family. At some point, the rebels overtook your group. That’s the battle that left you wounded.’

  Magnus closed his eyes as an image of the ambush came back to him. They’d been in unfamiliar territory and the rebels had come from nowhere. One of his own men had turned on him, slashing Magnus across his temple with a sword. Heir’s brother. He remembered the coward now amongst the rebels he’d trailed to the north just days ago. Both men were traitors. It was the only reason the rebels had stood a chance against them in that battle.

  ‘I remember now,’ Magnus replied and relayed the details of the battle that he remembered.

  Vidar asked a few questions, but once the subject was played out, he said, ‘The marriage has been set for spring.’

  Before that battle, Magnus would have been overjoyed at the news that Jarl Eirik had arranged a marriage. It would mean that all he’d done to leave his destitute childhood behind had finally come to fruition. He was someone now. Despite Vakr, he was a leader.

  Yet it meant that Aisly would never be his, whether she forgave him or not. There was no room for her in his life. At least, not in a way that she’d find acceptable. He still wanted her, though. E
very step that had taken him further away from her, each passing mile had just felt wrong. He wanted her for his own—if that meant keeping her as a mistress, then it was what he would do. The only problem with that would be Aisly. She wouldn’t accept that from him. She wouldn’t accept anything less than everything he had to give her. It was one of the things he’d come to love about her. If he was being honest, he didn’t want anything less for her than the family she wanted for herself.

  He could not give her that. Not in the way she wanted it.

  He had to leave her alone. His breath left his body, leaving that hollow ache inside him to expand until it was almost unbearable. It wasn’t until that moment that he realised he’d been holding to some hope that if he just gave her time, and sent her gifts, and perhaps even visited her a time or two, that she’d remember how much she loved him. She’d never said those words to him, but he knew love in someone’s eyes when he saw it and he had seen it in hers.

  But it wouldn’t help them. If he said no to the marriage, he’d be turning his back on everything he was and everything he’d worked for. And it wasn’t just his own dreams. Their position in the Saxon lands was precarious. There had been many deaths since his time here, both Dane and Saxon alike. His marriage could lessen the futility of those deaths and perhaps even save lives. His marriage could help them figure out a way to live with the Saxons in a truce.

  He had to let her go. She’d be happier that way. He’d have to watch out for her from afar. Knowing that he needed to leave her in his past didn’t stop the knot of dread from settling heavy in his gut as he struggled with acceptance. What if she was with child? Had he seriously thought he’d be able to rest knowing she and their child were out there facing the world alone and not under his roof, under his protection?

  Realising Vidar still watched him, he nodded. ‘I’ll send word to the Jarl. I need to discuss with him the past few years, in case there are gaps in my memory.’

  ‘Already taken care of, my friend. I dispatched a messenger while you were walking around reacquainting yourself with people you’ve known for years.’ Vidar grinned and winked.

  His tone was teasing and Magnus had a memory of his friend as a mischievous boy always causing trouble as he’d followed his older brothers around. ‘Thank you for taking care of things while I was away. Seems you’re ready to be a leader in your own right.’

  Vidar laughed and looked out across the hall. ‘A leader on a ship, aye, a leader here, on land...it’s too restrictive. I value my freedom too much. There’s too much left to see of the world.’

  ‘The Jarl might disagree.’

  ‘The Jarl can go stuff himself. I’ve been telling him that for years before he was Jarl.’

  Magnus chuckled as another memory surfaced, this one corroborating Vidar’s words. The laughter felt empty, though. Now that he realised Aisly was truly far out of his reach, he wondered what joy there would be to life.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A chill swept up her spine, prickling the skin at the back of her neck and setting her cowardly rabbit heart to beating in her chest. The pounding echoed in her ears, momentarily drowning out the words being spoken around her. She’d been summoned to Wulfric’s home. Summoned. He hadn’t stopped by and asked her to share a meal. He’d sent a boy to knock at her door just as she’d been about to go to bed.

  Her heart had leapt for just a moment as it always did when she thought that perhaps Magnus had returned. It was foolish. He’d been gone a sennight with no indication that he’d ever return. What need was there for him to return? She’d given him no indication that she wanted to pursue anything with him. Indeed, she’d actually made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him, proving how big a fool she really was. Had she really thought that she wouldn’t miss him?

  ‘Aisly.’ Wulfric’s sharp voice intruded on her thoughts as he successfully gained her full attention. He sat on the bench near his hearth as if he thought standing to confront her would be a sign of weakness. ‘I wanted to give you another opportunity to declare your innocence.’

  Arte sat next to him but looked away from her. She looked at the three other men present, wondering how much aid she could expect from them. Two were elders like Wulfric and the other was a warrior who held some rank with the others. Aside from Arte, they all looked at her with impassive eyes. Nay, she’d get no help from them.

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to remain calm as she recited the same thing she’d told them all in Cuthbert’s hall on the evening of the day her foreigner—Magnus, she must remember him that way—had been found out. She hadn’t known that he was a Dane any more than anyone else had known. She had come upon him nearly unconscious in the forest. She didn’t know why he’d come to their village. It was really all very basic and she couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t believe her. But she swallowed her pride and the anger that threatened, and made herself argue her innocence.

  ‘You must know this is getting tiresome.’ Wulfric sighed.

  ‘Aye, I agree. It’s very tiresome.’

  He cut his eyes at her and rapped his knuckles on the table. ‘I’ve had enough of your insolence.’

  Keeping her hands folded in front of her, she made sure no one could see how they trembled. She knew it was smarter to placate him, but the more interaction she had with Wulfric, the more she realised there wasn’t any way to placate him. He wouldn’t be satisfied with anything short of her leaving, never to return. ‘What do you want of me? I’ve answered your questions, but you are obviously determined to maintain that I colluded with a spy.’

  Arte finally looked at her again, giving her a glimpse of pity in his eyes. Wulfric appeared thoughtful, his hand running absently along the length of his beard. The way he stroked it was almost sensual and it made her skin crawl. She glanced around the home again, looking for some sign of their wives, but it appeared that just the men were present.

  ‘What’s obvious to us is that the Dane was enamoured of you,’ Wulfric said, accusation in his tone.

  She did her best not to flinch. ‘He was grateful for my kindness.’

  ‘How grateful was he?’ His cold eyes flicked down the length of her body, but he’d never dare to say aloud what he was thinking with the others present. Nevertheless, her cheeks flamed at the insinuation and how close to the mark it was. It didn’t help that she knew how easily he could get rid of her if he tried. A part of her questioned why he hadn’t already done something as horrendous as what he’d done to get rid of Beorn and Rowena.

  ‘Let us not draw this out any longer,’ Arte said, a quiet admonishment to his friend.

  Her breath quickened, and she realised that while he hadn’t done anything yet, this was the moment that he would.

  A grin split Wulfric’s face, all too eager to oblige. ‘Certainly. Let us skip over the unnecessary banter. You see, Aisly, we know that there was more to your friendship with the Dane.’

  The air squeezed from her chest as she thought back to all the times she and Magnus had been together. Perhaps they’d been too careless in public and all had been revealed on their faces. Or it could have been that someone had seen him leave her home one night. Or perhaps they didn’t know at all and this was a bluff.

  ‘We know you took him as a lover,’ one of the other men who’d been silent up until now clarified.

  The words hung heavy in the air, taunting her. Blood rushed in her ears and it was all she could hear. The idea that they knew about those precious hours spent with him simply made her furious. She should be ashamed and should probably beg them not to cast her out. But she was angry that they’d dare to sully her time with him.

  ‘You know nothing,’ she managed to say between clenched teeth.

  Wulfric didn’t wait a moment before saying, ‘Bring in the girl.’

  The warrior of the group rose and walked to the door.
She must have been very close, because in moments he returned with Wyn. The girl’s eyes were wide as he led her into the room. Arte stepped forward and took her arm, leading her over to stand next to Wulfric. ‘Tell them what you saw.’

  Wyn visibly swallowed, her eyes landing on Aisly for only a moment before skittering away to settle on the fire in the hearth. That moment was long enough for Aisly to read regret in their depths and on her face.

  It was true. Somehow someone had found out about them. Dread settled like a heavy, wet blanket on her shoulders.

  ‘I saw them together twice.’ The girl’s voice was very small.

  ‘Speak louder and tell us when you saw them,’ Wulfric commanded.

  ‘Once in the forest. I saw them leaving together, and I followed, thinking to help gather Aisly’s larkspur. But they were... They sat against a tree and were...’

  ‘Rutting like beasts,’ Wulfric finished speaking for her, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

  Wyn spared a glance at Aisly as if to say she was sorry, before turning her attention back to the fire.

  Aisly gripped her fingers together even tighter as she remembered that foolish mistake. She’d been too drunk on Magnus and the horribly delicious things his touch did to her to even consider that they might have been followed. He’d been the one to suggestion caution on that day, but she’d brushed his concerns aside. She was a fool.

  ‘And the second time, my dear,’ Wulfric prompted her, his grin firmly in place.

  ‘The day he was found out. They left the hall together...and I followed.’ Her voice lowered on that last and she lowered her face in shame. ‘They went to her home and I can’t say what went on inside.’