In Bed with the Viking Warrior

by Harper St. George

  One of the guards spoke up. ‘Lookout spotted her about a league out. She was alone.’

  Magnus nodded, but he didn’t look away from her face. He couldn’t.

  ‘I needed to see you. T-to talk to you.’ The sound of her voice was soothing to some primal part of him.

  ‘Are you in danger? Is the village in danger?’ He’d had men watching for the rebels, but it was possible something had happened.

  ‘Nay, the village is fine. I just... It’s Wulfric...’ She gestured to the guard on her left and he noticed the man had a bundle slung over his shoulder. It looked suspiciously like a rolled-up tapestry.

  ‘Is that your mother’s tapestry?’ When she nodded, it was as if a fist clenched itself around his heart and squeezed. Something horrible had happened if she’d left her home carrying the one thing she valued most. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  ‘Nay, I came to warn you that he’s planning something. I don’t know what, but he wanted me to...to...’ She looked around with unease. ‘Can we speak privately?’

  ‘Aye.’ He grabbed her arm gently, because he couldn’t not touch her any longer, to lead her to his chamber. There was nowhere else he would even think for her to go. She was his and she needed to be where he could keep her safe.

  ‘Who is this?’ Eirik had walked up behind him.

  Magnus stopped. He’d forgotten all about Eirik. Keeping his grip on her arm, he faced the Jarl. ‘This is Aisly, the woman who cared for me.’ Eirik had already heard the story from the men and Magnus had relayed the story of his time there as well. He’d even told him about Wulfric and his suspicion that the father had encouraged Godric’s rebellion.

  ‘From Heiraford?’ His blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  ‘Aye. She’s come to us with information.’ Before Eirik could even demand to hear it, Magnus continued, ‘I’ll speak with her privately.’

  The Jarl looked down at her with an impassive expression, his arms crossed over his large chest. When she returned his stare, he nodded and stepped aside. Magnus led her to his chamber, for the first time noticing how she shivered. It had taken him two days by horse to make the trip from her village. How long had it taken her on foot? As they passed a small group of servants near the passageway, he ordered hot water and food brought to his chamber. The men had started talking again. He heard the phrase ‘fire maiden’ spoken more than once and smiled to himself. She’d become a legend.

  Pushing open the door to his chamber, he allowed her to precede him inside. He followed her but didn’t close the door behind them. If he did, the urge to pull her close would be too great for him to resist. He’d touch her, but later.

  ‘Do you think you were followed?’ he asked as she walked slowly into the room, her eyes taking in the space.

  Shaking her head, she turned back to face him. ‘Nay, I left in the middle of the night, sneaked out when they were changing the guard. They may have an idea that I’m headed here, but I don’t think they’d be that foolish again. It’s clear you have them outnumbered.’

  He stared at her, trying to find something in her tone, in her eyes, that would tell him how she was feeling. Now that they were in his chamber, the fear that had coloured them was faded, but he couldn’t tell what had replaced it. She was guarded. ‘That would be foolish. I hope they’ve learned that lesson.’ As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to call them back. Reminding her of her lost husband wasn’t the best way to start their conversation, especially not when he was responsible for the man’s death. He planned to tell her the truth of that encounter now that she was here, but that would be later tonight.

  Other than a brief tightening of her lips, she didn’t react. Instead, she pulled her shoulders back as if steeling herself for the task and said, ‘Wulfric wanted me to offer myself up to you for your secrets.’ His heart thumped and his groin tightened at the memory of the last time she’d offered herself up to him. The way she’d clung to him as he’d buried himself inside her against the worktable. He could still hear her soft cries and feel her hands clutching his shoulders. He must have taken too long to reply, because she elaborated. ‘Get information from you about the settlement, by becoming your mistress.’

  He had to clear his throat to reply. ‘Aye, I understand.’ He tore his gaze from her and ran a hand over the back of his neck, the skin there suddenly feeling too tight. ‘I’m just not certain I understand why he would suggest that.’

  ‘He found out about us. I suppose it was no secret the way we...well, the way we favoured one another. But someone saw us together.’

  That got his attention and his eyes snapped back to hers. They’d always been so careful. Well, mostly careful. By the gods, he’d put her in danger.

  ‘That day in the forest,’ she answered his unspoken question. ‘It was Wyn, Arte’s youngest. I think she wanted you and followed us, unsuspecting. Then she heard us later.’ Her cheeks reddened when a servant came through the door bearing a steaming pot of water, and another followed with a meal.

  ‘Eat and there’s warm water for you to use. I’ll leave you to refresh yourself. I need to go talk to the men who found you and prepare in case the warriors from the village are close behind. This is my chamber and no one will harm you here. You have my vow.’

  She nodded, but her gaze was already devouring the food.

  Closing the door behind him, he stood outside his chamber and took a deep breath. Despite how he’d longed for it, he’d never imagined she’d be here. Now that she was, he didn’t know that he could keep his hands away from her. He should. He could still make her no promises, but as he walked away he knew that he wouldn’t.

  Not unless she made him.

  Chapter Twenty

  Aisly was feeling better after a meal and a change of clothes. A servant had brought in her rolled-up tapestry, so after stripping off her dirty clothes and washing, she retrieved the extra underdress she’d packed. She was too tired to put on the heavy wool overdress. Instead, she found a supple velvet cloak hanging on the wall and wrapped herself in it. It must belong to Magnus, because it smelled of him. Her sword had yet to be returned, but she’d ask about it tomorrow.

  She wanted to curl up in his massive bed and go to sleep, but she was in his room and currently uncertain of her welcome. He’d seemed surprised but happy to see her in the hall. She’d nearly been overwhelmed at the relief and exhilaration she’d felt at seeing him again. Relief because somehow she knew that everything would be all right as long as he was around to protect her. Exhilaration because she’d missed him terribly. She hadn’t realised how much until she’d seen him again, yet she’d never seen him like he’d been tonight.

  When she’d spotted him standing behind the table, her eyes had almost passed over him. Except his very presence had held them. He’d obviously been a leader. It was only once they’d settled on him for a moment that she realised he was Magnus. His hair and beard had grown out just slightly more, but there was something in his very presence that had changed. She hadn’t talked to him enough to know, but she would wager more of his memories had returned. He looked like a man possessed of himself.

  Then when he’d walked towards her, she’d realised that his clothing were much richer than any in her village. He’d been dressed in a tunic of some dark brocade with silver embroidery along the hem and his breeches had been a very fine hide. He was a man of some wealth. As leader of the settlement, she had assumed he would be, but it was just odd to see him in that role, however well it suited him.

  She couldn’t keep herself from walking around his spacious chamber, taking in the many trunks that undoubtedly held treasures and the shelves that held armour and weapons. Seeing these bits and pieces of his life made her wonder even more about him. How had he come to be at this place? Where had he come from? They were questions she had no right to ask him. There was no point in her knowing t
he answers, not when there was no place for them. Not when the answers would only leave her yearning for more.

  The door opened abruptly and she whirled to see him standing there, his wide shoulders filling the doorway. Her heart fluttered foolishly before she got a handle on the thing. His eyes widened when he noticed her wearing the cloak and she had this notion that it must be important and she’d been awfully presumptuous to wear it.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just saw it and it looked comfortable. I shouldn’t have taken it.’ She was pulling it off when he closed the door behind him and stepped inside.

  ‘It’s fine, Aisly. Keep it.’ He stepped further into the room, but he seemed agitated. His hands raked over his hair on either side of his head and, except for that initial moment when he’d walked in, he seemed unwilling to look at her. His eyes lit on the small fire.

  She shrugged out of the warm folds of the cloak and placed it across the end of the massive bed. She still couldn’t get over how large it was. It could easily fit two of him. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have come,’ she said, when he hadn’t moved. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.’

  That got his attention. ‘You’re not causing trouble. I left men behind to guard the village, just in case the rebels came back. One of them followed you here, so you were safe the entire time. He didn’t make himself known, because he wasn’t certain of your intentions. He confirmed that you weren’t followed. Whatever they’re planning, it isn’t happening yet.’

  She nodded. She’d had no notion that one of the Danes was following her, but she wasn’t particularly surprised. ‘Nevertheless, now that I’m here I realise how foolish it was. I don’t have specific information for you, only his vague threats. Only that he’d requested I spy on you.’

  ‘Wulfric frightened you. I’m glad you thought you could come to me.’ Though his words were comforting, his jaw seemed tight, as if he were holding back.

  He was right to hold back. They should hold back. Things were different than they were when they touched whenever they were alone together. It wasn’t the same now. But her body didn’t know that. A coil of heat began to unfurl in her belly as she became aware of how broad he was. She hadn’t quite remembered that part correctly. She did remember how solid he felt against her. How safe she felt when he held her. A gentle throbbing began between her thighs and she pressed her legs together to keep it from worsening. That part of their relationship was over.

  ‘I’m glad you’re doing well, M-Magnus.’ Something changed in his eyes when she said his name. A barrier came down. It had been difficult to say, but she was happy she’d tried. ‘Have your memories returned?’

  ‘Much of them.’ He paused, started to speak, then paused again, running the edge of his thumb over his bottom lip, before that hand messed the blond hair at the back of his head. The muscles in his arm flexed as it moved, drawing her attention. ‘I want you to know the truth of what happened the day Godric came here.’

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. It was a blow, a reminder that she really should not have these feelings for the man. He was her enemy. ‘I do not think—’

  ‘Hear me out, Aisly...please?’ He moved as if to touch her but stopped himself and dropped his hand back to his side. ‘He came here with his warriors to fight. It wasn’t about the women. It was about destroying us. He meant to kill as many of us as he could, even the innocents.’

  ‘I don’t...’ This was not the conversation she’d imagined. She didn’t want to talk about Godric or imagine the confrontation between him and Magnus. She turned to blot him out, but he walked up behind her.

  ‘You should know, Aisly. They weren’t murdered savagely.’ Finally he touched her. It was only his fingertips on the curve of her shoulder through the linen of her dress, but it might as well have been naked flesh for the spark of heat that flared beneath his touch. He drew in a shaky breath, making her think he felt it, too. ‘It was battle. They burned houses. Women and children were threatened, innocents who could’ve been killed.’

  The awful truth of that washed over her. She had no trouble believing it, because Godric had spoken often enough of the need to kill them all. He’d said the Danes needed to be wiped from the land before they could pollute the Saxon race by mating. He wouldn’t hesitate to harm innocents if they stood in his way. Deep down she’d known that about him.

  And she’d married him.

  A shudder of revulsion moved through her entire body, leaving nausea lingering in its wake. She’d married that depraved man, yet had felt shamed when she’d found out Magnus was a Dane. He’d been nothing but kind and good, and she’d turned from him. A gasp tore from her, trying to bring with it tears, but she fought them back. She pressed her hand against the ache in her chest and tried to stop them, her body trembling from the tension.

  But he was there. Drawing her back against his warm, strong chest as his arms went around her. That same feeling of peace she always had with him came to her now, making everything better and somehow worse at the same time. She couldn’t draw herself away from him. She turned her head so that she could hear the steady and reassuring rhythm of his heart against her cheek. ‘Please forgive me for doubting you. I know you are good and just, but I let my duty to him sway me. I turned my back on you and that was awful of me. It was so wrong of me to do that after everything you’ve given me.’

  His lips brushed the top of her head and his arms tightened so much it was nearly uncomfortable, but she didn’t want him to let her go. ‘I understand, fair one. You don’t have to explain.’

  Of course he understood, further proof that he was everything she didn’t deserve. Not that she could’ve had him had she actually deserved him. The muffled voices of the Danes in his hall penetrated the safety of his chamber. Their words were foreign, but she imagined they were retelling stories of battles, battles they’d fought against her own people. Magnus had led them in those battles. Though she believed with her whole heart that he’d never harm innocents, she could never stay here with him. He could keep her safe, he could make her feel precious, but he could never truly stay with her. His battles would call him away.

  He was an enemy. Alstan could disown her. It would mean turning her back on everything she knew.

  ‘I’m sorry that I ordered my men to take so much from you. I was angry and allowed that to rule my judgement,’ he continued. ‘I have the tapestries still. I want you to have them back.’

  She gasped and turned in his arms. ‘My mother’s?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He was. His eyes had gone soft and warm, just as she remembered they could. This was her foreigner. His wound looked nearly healed. There was a red line bisecting his eyebrow and slashing up into his hairline where the blade had cut, but it was only a little scabbed over and there was no swelling. The masculine beauty of the unmarred side of his face had always been startling, but now that it was matched by the other, he was breathtaking. And he’d been hers. She wanted him to be hers again. She adored the way the firelight caught the gold in his eyes, matching the gold highlights in his hair, the way his soft, perfect lips parted just a bit. ‘I want—’

  ‘Wait.’ The one word cut her short, but he softened it by pulling her against him and cradling her face with one hand. His thumb traced over her lips, making them tingle with anticipation. ‘You should know that I’m to be married.’

  The words hit her like a blow. They left her reeling, forcing her to take a deep gasping breath. It hadn’t even occurred to her that there might be a woman who claimed him, not after she’d arrived and he’d been so kind. Kind. She’d stupidly mistaken kindness for some lingering affection. ‘My apologies. I didn’t think.’ She tried to draw herself away, but he wouldn’t allow her to go.

  ‘It’s not like you think. I’ve never met my bride.’

  ‘Oh.’ She blinked and forced he
rself to look away from his face so she could think. Her gaze settled on the midnight of his tunic. Did it make it better that he’d never met the woman? Aye, it meant that she wasn’t someone he was longing for. She wasn’t someone Aisly had unknowingly usurped. Well, perhaps she had, but it wasn’t as if he had genuine affection for the woman.

  Before she could finish thinking of the implications, he tilted her head up so that she met his gaze. ‘Let me tell you about my life. It will help you to understand.’

  ‘You remember?’ She couldn’t help but smile that he was coming back to himself.

  ‘Aye, a bit.’ He smiled then, too, and it was the first genuine smile she’d seen from him since they’d been apart. It warmed her and filled her with butterflies at the same time. ‘I want to tell you.’

  She was nodding before she’d even thought about her answer. She wanted to know of his life. She wanted to know everything.

  ‘Come.’ His expression sobered as he released his hold on her to take her hand and lead her to the bed. She faltered a little when she realised that was his destination, but he simply swept her up into his arms and placed her squarely in the centre. He paused only to rid himself of his boots, making her stomach flip over on itself as she watched, before he climbed in beside her. How she’d ever thought the bed that had seemed so gigantic when unoccupied could hold two of him, she didn’t know. When he settled his wide shoulders against the headboard, she had to scoot over to give him room. He didn’t allow her to go far and pulled her against his side, where she fit perfectly.

  * * *

  They talked into the night. Long after the voices in the hall had drifted away as the men found their beds. Magnus told her about growing up with Vakr as his father. He told her about his mother and all the babies she’d lost, which he now realised had been due to Vakr’s brutality. Guilt ate away at him, despite the fact that he’d only been a child. Aisly had stared into his eyes the entire time he’d relayed the story and not once had she flinched away from him. Not once had a shimmer of doubt or blame clouded her soft green eyes. They’d shown only love and understanding, and her hand had pressed gently against his heart.