Blood and Loyalty: A Viking Blood Romance Novel

by Abigail Riherd

  “She's right, Disa,” he agreed when he saw that chin begin to inch its way towards the sky. She was determined to be defiant. “A few days rest and we'll be able to move that much quicker.”

  She studied her bandaged, soaking foot. “I'd slow us down.”

  “Not on purpose, but yes.”

  “Then go without me.”

  “No.”

  “You didn't even consider it!” she cried, apparently not satisfied by his quick response.

  “I don't have to. I'm not leaving you alone in a town full of people who killed our friends.”

  “Three,” Helga interrupted.

  “I'm sorry?”

  “Three men who killed your friends,” she clarified. “You said a town full of people, but we've done nothing of the sort.”

  Finn breathed deeply. He was not in the mood to deal with the Holmlond pride just now. “Of course.”

  “Sometimes they send one away to deliver messages or another joins them for the same purpose, but it's usually three.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “It seemed as if they might move on soon,” she continued.

  “That's good--”

  “But now that you wandered into town, maybe not.”

  Finn sat on the bench near where Helga was standing, the position lessening his great bulk so he could look directly into her eyes. “Thank you,” he acknowledged. “You've taken a great risk in claiming us as your own. Thank you.”

  She waved off his words and began tidying up, but Finn could tell she appreciated it. “So we're staying,” Disa said, her head against the wall. She was sunburnt and dry, her eyes bloodshot and sunken, and part of her hair was still tangled in the intricate knots Nan had styled the night of the feast.

  “We're staying,” he confirmed. He watched her lashes flutter closed and clenched his fist to keep from touching her face. She seemed so sad. Finn pulled his bag towards him and retrieved the water, holding it under her nose. “Drink this,” he urged, and for once she didn't argue. She took a few gulps and then settled back into the wall, falling asleep within minutes.

  “Your wife is exhausted,” Helga whispered after she’d wrapped his shoulder tightly.

  “She isn't my wife.”

  The woman crossed to the door and paused, a honey cake in her hand for the disappearing boy, no doubt. She met his eyes and Finn saw pity. “I know.”

  Finn was prodded awake a few hours later by a frowning Helga who gestured to the pallet she had made at the back of the hall on a raised platform that had previously been full of tall clay jars. He hadn't heard her move them. I must be more exhausted than I thought. The window was wider than one usually sees, and he couldn't help but appreciate how much easier it would be to fit Disa through it. Finn scooped her up, her face red and lined from being pressed up against the wall. She moaned softly and turned her head into his chest. Finn stood at the edge of the makeshift bed, her body still pressed against him, and tried to school the stab of lust in his stomach at the throaty sound and the weight of her in his arms. Or maybe it was a little lower than his stomach.

  Helga appeared at the window over the platform and snapped her fingers impatiently at him. “Leave her be, and come help me.”

  Finn set Disa down carefully and covered her with the lighter of the blankets; the bed was already warm from the sunshine cutting across its center. He grabbed the furs from the bench and made sure her foot was cradled before he headed outside.

  He came around to the back of the house where a large stretch of earth had been tilled, the dirt loose and disturbed. Helga stood in the midst of the missing clay jars, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the image before him, the squat Helga in her brown apron looking remarkably like a jar herself. She held out the spade he hadn't seen in her hand. “Dig,” she commanded.

  Finn took the shovel dutifully enough but he wasn't quite sure what she required of him. “What am I digging exactly?”

  “Holes, of course! Honestly boy…” She was looking at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

  Finn smiled. “Yes, I've guessed at that, auntie.”

  She lowered her voice as if it was some great secret. “I produce the dairy for the town. The way the winds are blowing, I expect it's going to be an early winter. I need to get these vats of cheese in the ground before the ground is too hard to dig!” She straightened up, her conspiratorial nature gone. “And besides, it's your punishment as my no good son, running off for a tryst in the woods with my poor girl. She may be your wife, but you should have known better what with her weak ankles!” Her voice was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, though Finn thought that might well be the point.

  “Sorry, auntie.”

  “Well, dig then!” Helga plopped down on a scarred stump and crossed her arms while he worked. It was an easy enough task but the physicality of it still felt good. He was glad to be working, glad to be doing something other than running, other than debating what was worse: touching Disa or not touching Disa. Finn found himself wishing not for the first time that he had stayed at the campsite and killed all those men as they stormed up the hill. His arm was in need of a sword.

  “Hello there, Helga,” waved an older man who was leaning against the stony wall near the road. He carried a basket full of fish under his arm, his giant gray beard as dripping wet as the rest of him.

  “Hello!” Helga stood and put her hands on her hips. “Catch those fish with your teeth, did you?”

  “Wouldn't you like to know?” he crowed. “Mixing up some cheese already?”

  “Wouldn't you like to know?”

  He waggled his finger at her in amusement. “Fengi will tell me where you put it all, won't you boy!”

  Finn felt an elbow jab into his ribs. “What?” he grumbled.

  “He means you,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Oh.”

  “Don't let her give you trouble for stealing away with your beautiful girl. Just make sure she gets a grandbaby out of it this time!” he hollered.

  Finn laughed weakly and Helga thumped him on the back. “Get out of here, you old fool. You’ll have him neglecting his work again.” They waved to each other one last time and the man carried on down the lane with a whistle.

  “What just happened?” Finn asked.

  “Just the neighbors being friendly, Fengi. It figures he'd name you after his dog. I should have named you, I just didn't think of it.” Helga lowered herself back onto the stump. “He's right though. I would like to know how he catches so many fish at this time of the year.” She crossed her arms and frowned down the road in concentration.

  Finn shook his head and went back to digging. There were a few more encounters like that one. His new name must have burned through the village quickly because each neighbor called him by it, all of them alluding to the pretend sex he was having in the woods with his pretend wife.

  At last, he finished setting the last jar into its hole, his hands getting slapped when he made to move the lid. “Ouch.” He shook his stinging fingers. “I was just looking!”

  “That's what they all say.” She bent down over the last pot and pushed the dirt back in around it, marking the tenth little bump in the ground. “That's this batch done!”

  “Is there more?” he asked.

  “Is there…” She looked at him again with that same mixture of amused exasperation before bursting into cackling laughter. “Of course there's more! Come on.” With that, she trod off towards one of the outbuildings across the lush grazing pasture, a few cows looking up with mild interest as she passed.

  Finn ran to catch up with her. “I think Disa gets her laugh from you, auntie,” he grinned.

  She laughed again. “Now you get the game!”

  Disa woke, sticky from the fire in the hearth and the sun pouring through the window. She was disoriented at first, her limbs heavy with sleep. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd dozed off, and she definitely didn't have a
ny memory of making it to a bed.

  She rubbed her hands over her face and looked around, the silence filling her with a sudden unease. She was alone. It was the first time she'd been alone since before…

  ”Finn?” She'd meant to call out but her voice got tangled in her throat, his name barely rising above a choked whisper. She steadied her breathing and made to call again when she saw movement out the window. Finn was crossing the grass from the barn. He was smeared with grime and sweat but his walk was loose and easy. Disa sighed and eased her grip on the window. She’d felt the same panic that morning on their rocky refuge when she awoke and thought he'd left, or worse, the men she'd heard in the night had found them. She'd called out then, and he'd appeared. And she'd called out now, and he appeared, though he couldn't have heard. It was like magic. She tracked him as he walked back towards her and the house. He didn't look up once.

  Finn opened the door and smiled when he saw her sitting up. It was natural and surprising. She grinned back. “I have had the strangest afternoon. Have you been awake long?”

  Disa shook her head. “No, I just woke up.”

  Finn crossed to the shallow basin on Helga’s workbench and plunged his hands into the water. “I thought you might wake up soon. I used it as an excuse to escape.”

  “Escape what?” she asked as he bent his face low over the bowl and splashed the back of his neck. She settled comfortably against the wall and laid a blanket in her lap, enjoying the scene of domesticity.

  “Well, my name is Fengi now.”

  “Fengi?” she laughed.

  “Oh, yes. Apparently he is a very fine dog and it is quite the honor to share his title.”

  “Does Helga have a dog?”

  “Helga didn't name me, a bearded fellow who catches fish in his teeth did.”

  Disa laughed again. “Does he really?”

  “He does. I saw the fish. Dozens.”

  “That is a strange afternoon.”

  “I'm not done. I buried cheese today. A lot of cheese. In nonsensical places, too. At least I think it was cheese. It could have been empty clay jars and I wouldn't know.”

  “You didn't look?”

  “Not if I wanted to keep my fingers,” he grinned, plopping down beside her.

  “Is that why you smell like sour whey?”

  “Do I?”

  Disa nodded. “You do. I don't mind,” she added, not wanting him to leave just yet. She was enjoying his lighthearted mood.

  “I'm not surprised. I didn't just bury the cheese, I made it, too. In the barn. I poured and strained and scraped away curd. You should see all the things she has in such a tiny space. I think she even sleeps there.”

  “Instead of here?”

  “Yeah. She's obsessed with her cheese, you should see it. I think she can't stand being away from it or the cows.”

  “But the windows are so lovely and wide in here,” she smiled, running her hand along its edge. “One could fit through it with ease.” Finn looked at her strangely, one side of his mouth quirking up. “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “So, fish teeth and cows and a new name. It sounds as if you’ve been quite busy.”

  “I'm not done. Everyone must know we're here. Half a dozen townsfolk stopped by to say hello to Fengi and applaud what is apparently the latest incident in a rich history of us absconding to the woods.” Disa grinned a little wickedly, feeling her cheeks sting with warmth. “They also reminded me of all the things I'd promised to do around the land.”

  “That was kind of them,” she said in mock seriousness.

  “Very kind, says the girl bundled safely beneath the blankets.”

  “I would help, but I'm injured.”

  “We’ll be here through the winter if I'm expected to finish it all. You can help then.” He slid closer to her feet and looked at her expectantly, waiting for permission. She nodded her ascent and he pulled the furs from under her, putting her ankle on his thigh. “Does it hurt still?”

  “No,” she said quickly. Too quick by the look he gave her. “A little,” she admitted. “But not as much as it did earlier.”

  He unwrapped the weighty, soaked bandage carefully. The swelling had indeed diminished noticeably. “She has great skill,” Finn said with reluctance.

  “You wish she’d been a poor healer?”

  Finn smiled, glancing to meet her eyes briefly before looking back to her feet. “I prefer not to puff up an already overly full pride.”

  Disa wanted to continue the banter. She wanted to say something quick to keep him smiling, keep him close, but her voice was tangled like before. But it wasn’t from fear. Finn was gently running his fingers up and down the back of her ankle, watching the fluid fill in the indents left by the pressure. Disa leaned forward, the smell of sweat and soil drawing her towards him. Something about the familiarity of it suggested safety, made her relax muscles that had been tense for days.

  Finn looked up again, his eyes widening slightly to find her so close. He’d stopped stroking her ankle and wrapped his hand around it instead. The weight and warmth of his palm was sore but not overly so, the feeling shooting awareness into her belly. Her lips parted and she sucked in a quiet breath as Finn leaned forward ever so slightly, shifting his weight into his hands. Disa closed her eyes, her mouth tingling, and they stayed that way for a long moment.

  A shadow moved across her lids until they glowed with the light from hearth once more and she opened her eyes. Finn released her ankle and sat up straight, his gaze everywhere but on her. Disa resisted a million different impulses: to roll her eyes or laugh or slap her hands to her face, all born from the desire to banish the carnal notions that had flitted unwillingly into her head. What was she thinking? He was here to protect her, nothing more. She needed to focus on her brother. Her brother was missing. Hell, Finn’s brother was missing. His brother and her betrothed. Disa swallowed a moan. Thank the gods she’d only closed her eyes instead of doing something utterly foolish.

  “Here comes Helga,” Finn said easily, his unaffected manner driving the final knife into her overactive imagination. Disa looked behind her to see a squatty silhouette limping towards the hall. “She should rewrap your ankle for the night. And you should eat.”

  Disa made some sort of noise in agreement as she needlessly smoothed her skirts, keeping herself busy as she listened to Finn’s footsteps cross the room, the panic at being alone warring with the desire to recover her good sense.

  He paused at the door but she didn’t look up. And then he was gone.

  Kree...Kree..Kree…

  The saw made a sound like a hungry seabird and Finn found the noise could fill up his whole head until there was nothing left. He and his partner pulling in turn, the steady, even rhythm making a steady, even cry as sawdust piled around their feet and wafted into their nostrils. They made no move to wipe it away. Their red eyes watered and they kept pulling, kept feeding the hungry saw.

  Kree...Kree...Kree…

  It had been this way at Helga’s farm, tilling up earth for her to use or for her amusement, he still wasn’t sure which. The wet dirt coated his arms and the sun burned his neck and he could almost imagine himself back home before his life had been upended. Every stab into the ground with a spade was a lunge with his sword. The ache in his muscles was from training green boys. The flashing gold from the corner of his eye was a blade, not a girl. Not the Girl. Not—

  Kree...Kree...Kree…

  Anyway, Helga’s was too close and there was only so much dirt to dig, and Finn found himself agreeing readily to a favor for someone down the road. A little distance, a little work, and no flashing gold: that’s what he needed. Work hard enough and anything can become a memory. But repairing fences was too easy. The end of the task loomed in the future and the wait between pounding posts meant thoughts were free to wander. It was too close. His eyes kept drifting back up the hill and he would find himself thinking without meaning to that if the barn were to move just a littl
e to the left he would see a wide window and silhouetted there would be—

  Kree...Kree...Kree...

  A little further, that would do the trick. He just needed to keep working. He was up before dawn and was home long after dusk. The pile of blankets breathing slow and steady beneath the window wasn’t a complication at all but the wind. He had barely enough time to splash fresh water from the washing bowl over his reddened skin before his eyelids were sinking. He would lower himself to the floor with a great sigh and be asleep within moments. Helga had done a lot of frowning and arm crossing at this. How would it look if those bastards spotted a husband on the floor while his wife slept alone only feet away? she cried. Finn would deal with that situation if it arose. He couldn’t--wouldn’t--climb into bed with his brother’s betrothed.

  Only, he did. Both nights now. Disa had cried out in the grips of a nightmare and Finn had been there in a flash, his hands on her bare skin, whispering something, he couldn’t remember, and she’d quieted. Finn wasn’t even sure she knew. She didn’t seem to wake but she sensed he was there nonetheless. She would be shaking and heaving and the moment his skin touched hers she’d---

  Kree...Kree...Kree...Kree...Kree…

  “Steady.”

  “Sorry,” he replied as he slowed his pull to match the man at the other end of the saw. Finn couldn’t recall his name. They’d been sectioning out lumber for most of the day in silence and he’d managed to school his thoughts until now.

  The log began to splinter and the man pulled the saw away, banging on the split with a mallet until it cracked in two. “That’s alright. I think that’s the lot done.”

  Finn glanced around in disbelief but the man spoke true. The seemingly insurmountable pile of lumber they’d faced at dawn was defeated, the short even pieces piled neatly against one side of the barn. “I thought it would take longer.”

  “Aye,” the man laughed. “I think I’d be happy to keep Bassi and his men about if it means you’re forced to stay through the winter. You’d be useful come spring.”