In Bed with the Viking Warrior

by Harper St. George

  When he spoke of the marriage Jarl Eirik had arranged, it nearly shredded him to see the flash of pain that had crossed her face. Yet it somehow managed to hurt him even more when she nodded her understanding. Pressure squeezed tight in his chest, moving its way up to form an ache in the back of his throat. His arm tightened around her and his hand gripped hers where her fingers had closed over his heart.

  ‘It’s my duty, fair one. I have to see it through.’ The words were needless, because she merely nodded again in understanding.

  ‘Your father would be so proud of you. Do you know that?’ She raised up on an elbow, her copper tresses falling down around her to pool on his chest. Somehow they’d slipped down in bed as they spoke and his head lay cushioned on the down-filled pillow.

  ‘Aye.’ While somewhere in the back of his mind he cared about that, she was more important to him now. It was frightening how easily she’d slipped into that role. Nay, that was understandable. She was easy to love. It was much more frightening to him how easily the urge came to him to turn his back on everything he was. For her.

  She must have read his mind, because her voice lowered to a gentle rasp when she spoke. He’d heard that voice many times. It never failed to warm his blood and send it pulsing straight to his manhood. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Aisly,’ he whispered, his hand shifting so his rough fingertips skimmed over the silky skin of her inner wrist. Her pulse raced.

  ‘Please don’t think me wicked, but...’ Her voice trailed off and she flushed, but she didn’t have to say the words for him to know what she wanted. The longing was in her eyes.

  An instinct, a need, he couldn’t control tore through him. He’d flipped their positions before he’d even realised it. His larger body settled over hers and her smaller one fit itself to him, knowing just how to shift and flex to give them optimal contact. Her soft gasp when the fullness of his erection pressed against the thigh he straddled nearly drove him to the brink of madness.

  ‘You’re not wicked.’ He was the wicked one, enticing her when he had nothing to offer her.

  ‘I just...’ Her brow furrowed as she tried to control herself, but then the words poured out of her. ‘God help me, I want you, Magnus. I know that I’m not entitled to you. I know that we’re enemies and I could never be yours, wife of a Dane. I know that we can never have more than this stolen night, but I want that. More than anything, I want to steal a night with you. Just once more before we have to walk away in the morning.’

  He crushed her mouth beneath his. It wasn’t a practised or gentle kiss, just desperate and searching. She opened beneath him and their mouths ate at each other, seeking solace and closeness. When the need to be even closer caused him to pull away to undress, she stared up at him disoriented. He sat up on his knees, jerking at his tunic and undershirt. She did the same, sitting up to lift the linen dress over her head before tossing it away. His gaze was drawn to her perfect, round breasts with their pink nipples already hardened for him, until she lay back and spread her thighs for him. Then he looked there. That beautiful mound between her thighs.

  ‘Magnus.’ Her voice was a plea as she held her arms out to him, her hungry gaze eating up his chest as it made its way down to the bulge in his breeches. ‘I need you. Please.’

  Greedy for her, he impulsively said, ‘You won’t leave tomorrow. You’ll stay longer.’

  She looked puzzled for a moment but then nodded her agreement. It was all he needed. He tore at the fastenings until he sprang free, pausing only long enough to push the leather down his hips before he was on her. Her hand found him, guiding him to her, and he pushed inside in one deep thrust that tore a cry from her lips. The pleasure of her tight, hot grip was so intoxicating that he couldn’t think for a moment. He could only feel her soft body beneath him, her wet heat surrounding him as he throbbed within her, begging for release. When he finally could latch on to a coherent thought, he realised that he’d hurt her. She was so small and he hadn’t checked to make sure she was ready.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He managed to give voice to the words, though it took effort.

  She whimpered, making him take his face from her neck so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, and when he’d drawn up enough that he wasn’t crushing her, she rolled her hips beneath him. ‘So good...please.’ She rolled her hips against him again, her inner muscles clamping down on him.

  He groaned and somehow lengthened inside her. Despite the way his shaft throbbed and begged for release, he didn’t want to take her harshly. Taking her hands in his, he drew them over her head and pressed them against the mattress, lacing their fingers together. The position spread her out beneath like an offering and he took advantage, pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking deep until she cried out, grinding her body against him. He groaned at the sensation and gave an involuntary thrust into her. It was hard. Deep. By the gods, he’d missed this. His entire body pulsed with need for her.

  ‘Look at me.’ His voice was so harsh and raw that he didn’t even recognise it.

  She obeyed immediately, revealing eyes so dilated with need that the green was a mere sliver. His hips gave another reflexive thrust against her, drawing a soft cry from her lips.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, tightening his fingers around her hands, not daring to break her stare.

  Her eyes widened in surprise but softened immediately. ‘I love you, Magnus. I love you so much it hurts.’ Her voice cracked with emotion, tearing at his heart. He kissed her then, soft and deep. His vicious need for her had abated just enough for gentleness now that he was inside her and as close to her as he could get. When they pulled apart, gasping for breath, he pressed his temple to hers and thrust deep. His low gasp mingled with hers. He couldn’t hold back any more and moved against her, setting a gentle but deliberate rhythm.

  She moved with him perfectly, calling his name as if it wasn’t the name of an enemy. He loved hearing it wrenched from her lips in pleasure. When the cries became demands that transformed to need, he sped up his thrusts, making them hard and deep, until her body clenched him so tight it was nearly painful. ‘Aye, let me hear you as you come apart.’

  She obliged him, tumbling over the edge, her voice soft against his ear as she found her release. He followed her quickly, pumping his hips hard against her until he came deep within her. He still held her hands, her fingers tight around his, as he fell over her. He was shaking in the aftermath, and as his eyes met hers, he saw the bewildered feeling of wonder that he felt reflected back at him. Something small but profound had changed between them, while nothing had changed around them.

  He was still a Dane, an enemy. He was still destined to marry for power and duty. But between them they’d found something they’d each lacked, something they’d been searching for all along.

  They’d found each other.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Aisly had been exhausted from her walk to Thornby, and even more so after making love with Magnus. She had fought sleep for as long as she could, though, preferring to spend the night talking with him and revelling in their newfound closeness. The uncertainties that had kept them from finding that closeness back in her village were gone. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they’d have only one night, or perhaps it was how things should’ve been all along for them, but Aisly found that she just didn’t care that he was a Dane.

  He was Magnus and she loved Magnus.

  When she finally did close her eyes and succumb to sleep, it was with him wrapped around her. His arms were holding her to his chest and his legs were entwined with hers. There was no need to worry that he’d have to leave soon so that no one would see him. For a few blissful hours, there were no worries at all.

  * * *

  But that all changed with the morning.

  Aisly awoke with a start. Disoriented, she clenched her fingers in the blanket and pul
led it up to cover her nakedness. It smelled like Magnus. A delicious warmth moved through her, soothing her as she remembered him and why she was naked. Her entire body ached a bit from the many ways he’d had her last night, but the pleasure was worth the leftover pain.

  He was already gone. The bed was cool where he’d lain and the sounds coming from the hall told her it must already be late into the morning. She’d been too tired to hear him leave. It was probably just as well, because she’d only have tried to get him to stay. That wasn’t how they needed to start the day.

  She had nothing to offer him that could compare with the life of a king and that was what waited for him with his bride. He deserved that.

  Rising from bed, she dressed quickly and ate the cold breakfast of porridge and bread that had been left inside the door of the chamber for her. Then she retrieved her gold thread and left the tapestry in the corner. It was time for her to go. If she saw Magnus in the hall, she’d take the time to explain to him, if not, then she’d try to leave on her own. It would be easier to escape unnoticed if she wasn’t lugging the tapestry about on her back.

  Truth be told, she rather hoped she didn’t run into Magnus. It would take very little for him to sway her decision and she didn’t want to put him in that position. He wanted to marry for power. She didn’t blame him for it. It was what he’d strived for his entire life. It would simply be easier if she didn’t have to convince them both of that. He was too kind and would try to do the right thing by her if confronted. If she left without a confrontation, she had no doubt that he’d proceed with his plan with his northern bride.

  If she thought it would be easy to blend into the people of the hall, she’d been sorely mistaken. As soon as she emerged into the main room, men and women alike paused to stare at her. She wasn’t certain if it was because she was Saxon, or because she’d spent the night with their master in his chamber. Likely both. Her cheeks flamed, but she couldn’t find it in her to regret her time with Magnus.

  Neither Magnus nor the men who’d been at the table with him last night were present. Good. Ignoring the stares as best she could, she approached one of the women who hadn’t given her a second glance. She was working at the hearth, preparing a stew for the next meal. Loaves of bread were warming on one of the low stone walls of the hearth near her. Aisly asked for one, but the woman only gave her a puzzled look. Remembering that there was a language barrier, Aisly indicated what she wanted and the woman nodded. Aisly took it and dropped it into her knapsack, before making her way outside.

  She wasn’t Magnus’s prisoner, but given her reception last night by the Danish sentries, she hadn’t been certain what to expect when she stepped outside. Just like in the hall, people looked at her, but she couldn’t read their expressions and they seemed content to allow her to walk around unmolested. As she made her way to the front gate, she was surprised at how similar the settlement was to her village. There was a disproportionate number of men—most of them warriors by the weaponry they all seemed to carry—but their work was the same. A blacksmith’s hammer rang in the distance, a woman stirred a large, bubbling pot of laundry, young children chased each other, darting amongst the houses. The conversations around her were in a language she didn’t understand, but as she walked, she had the sense that they were very much the same as the ones back home.

  Perhaps she could convince Alstan of that. Perhaps something good could come from all of this. Cuthbert was reasonable. Alstan could talk to him and convince him that living with the Danes would be the better option. They’d all known Magnus as a foreigner before they’d known him as a Dane and they’d all liked him. Why did that have to completely change now?

  She watched for him as she approached the gate, but he wasn’t to be found. She knew that it was good, but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not get one last look at him. She wished there was someone she could ask about his whereabouts, but there was no way to do that without rousing suspicion. So she kept her head down and walked right through the gate, along with the other people coming and going.

  A group of warriors seemed to be returning from a training exercise, they dragged their weapons behind them and wiped sweat from their brows. A group of women carried buckets, leaving Aisly to assume they were going to the river for water. It was easy to blend in with them, especially since she’d pulled up her cloak to disguise the fact that she’d lost her headrail.

  The snow had stopped falling and left only small piles in the shadows, so she didn’t worry about leaving tracks. As soon as she was out of direct sight of the walls, she darted into the forest, keeping near enough the road that she could follow it without being seen from the road. She didn’t know where Magnus had gone, so she had no idea how long of a head start she’d get should he decide to follow her. Therefore, she moved as fast as she could.

  * * *

  Magnus stared down the length of his sword at the man who dared to taunt him. Even with most of his men dead around him, the fool still refused to be cowed. Blood and spittle combined to dribble down the twin tails of his beard.

  ‘Kill me now, heathen. I’ll not rest until you and all of your men are wiped from the earth,’ Wulfric said, his words holding little meaning as his arms were being tied behind his back.

  The sentries had come to Magnus at first light. It turned out that Aisly had been followed, though not by men from her village as they’d anticipated. The group of rebel Danes had returned and caught her tracks. Only luck had kept Magnus’s men from doubling back on them. They’d seen the rebels from a distance and had managed to lay low until Magnus and Jarl Eirik arrived with more warriors to confront them. It was only after they’d ridden into their camp that Wulfric had been discovered with them.

  ‘Then you’ll not rest before your death.’ Magnus held his sword steady as his horse shifted beneath him. His men had already dismounted to dispatch the fifteen dead and wounded rebels. Wulfric had survived, primarily because Magnus had been so surprised to see him there that he’d called for his life to be spared. ‘Why have you forsaken your village?’

  The man must be mad, because he only grinned. ‘I’ve not forsaken them. Cuthbert is a weak leader who believes in antiquated principles such as diplomacy with the Danes. Diplomacy will get you nowhere with people set to rule you. You Danes know nothing but aggression and power, so we have to turn it back on you. I wanted to use the rebels against you, but he would hear nothing of it. I did what needed to be done.’

  Magnus frowned down at the man. ‘And what needed to be done?’

  ‘We needed to make peace with the rebels. They wanted women, so I gave them women.’

  ‘You are responsible for the kidnapped maidens?’ His stomach turned as he imagined the maidens at the hands of the ruthless rebels.

  Wulfric shrugged. ‘They were but a small price for the safety of all my people.’

  ‘That’s why Godric never came to plead with us to find them. He came to fan the flames of war.’

  ‘Nay, Dane, he came to talk to you. You killed him in cold blood. That death is on your head.’

  Godric had spoken with the same misguided hatred as the man kneeling before him now. His own illusions had led him to believe that he and a handful of poorly trained Saxon warriors stood a chance against a Danish army. Now Magnus understood why. Wulfric himself lived with illusions and he’d passed those on to his son.

  Instead of answering Wulfric’s allegation, which would have been pointless, he said, ‘You’ll come back to the settlement as my prisoner. I’ll arrange a meeting with Cuthbert and you can answer to him for your poor decisions.’

  Wulfric laughed. ‘Rest assured that, no matter what happens to me now, I will triumph in the end. The rebels will avenge me. They’ll kill you and your men, and they’ll purge your seed from the earth. Just as you have done to mine.’

  Magnus’s heart shuddered in his chest. ‘
I have no child.’ Not yet, though it was possible Aisly carried his child even now.

  ‘They have orders to kill your whore on sight. That should solve the problem,’ Wulfric countered.

  ‘Bind his mouth,’ Magnus ordered, sheathing his sword and riding over to Vidar, who’d been questioning a wounded rebel. ‘What have you found out?’

  Vidar stood over the prone rebel. ‘This was most of them. There is a small handful that split off. They’ve been given orders to take Aisly if they can and await orders from Wulfric.’

  Magnus nodded. Though his heart pounded, he knew that she was safely ensconced within the walls of Thornby. Nevertheless, he felt a desperate need to get to her as soon as he could. ‘They won’t get to her.’

  ‘Who is this woman to you, Magnus? I know she’s the one who tended you, but...’ His voice trailed off and he scratched his head, raking his hand through the length of his hair. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. ‘We have bigger problems. These villagers are no threat to us. The rebels have all but been annihilated. The few left won’t make it through winter.’

  ‘She’s everything to me.’ Magnus had never spoken truer words.

  ‘Everything except your bride,’ Vidar said, his voice insistent, as if that detail had escaped Magnus’s attention.

  It was the one detail that Magnus couldn’t ignore, though he refused to address it just yet. Giving orders to Vidar to finish the task of seeing to the dead rebels and the prisoners, Magnus turned his horse around, Leikr and Arn flanking him, and headed back to her as fast as he could.

  * * *

  ‘Halt!’ Drawing his horse to an abrupt stop, Magnus listened for the sound to come again. His heartbeats pounded out the moments.

  ‘Magnus?’ Leikr whispered, but Magnus only held his arm up for silence.