“Naught. I am just happy.”
He nodded and released her hand to wrap an arm around her waist and draw her in. Alrek pressed a kiss to her head and they headed down to the glimmering sea. Even the waves had calmed, only lapping gently at the shore. Indeed they must be blessed.
Ilisa sucked in a sharp breath when she dipped a toe into the sea. Alrek chuckled.
“’Tis cold,” she protested and jerked his arm so he’d follow her in. He let out a hiss and she giggled. “See?”
“And you braved such temperatures to rescue me,” he murmured.
“You were fortuitous indeed to survive such exposure.”
“I was fortuitous to have you happen upon me. Anyone else would have left me to die. You are a giving woman, Ilisa. I admire that about you so very much.”
Her cheeks warmed. Alrek had a way of speaking to her that was so forthright and flattering, as if he knew the words that would speak directly to her heart. “You have given me much in return.”
Ilisa stepped back from the gentle waves and settled on the sand to stare out at the horizon. Alrek didn’t join her immediately. He paused, hands propped on his hips and eyed the ocean. Would he regret being tied to the land? Her warrior was an adventurer. Would he grow bored of her eventually? “Will you miss your homeland?”
He twisted to face her, brows lifting. “Nay.”
“I would miss mine.”
He came to sit beside her, taking her hand in his. “A Viking’s culture is so strong that it carries him wherever he goes. We are explorers by nature, hungry for more.”
“And will you not wish to explore again?”
“I am not young, Ilisa, and I have found all I need right here.” A finger grazed her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I do not doubt there shall be adjustments to be made on both sides of this, hjarta mitt, but I shall always fight for you. Never can I regret loving you.”
Inside, her heart threatened to melt. Who could resist such words? Alrek destroyed her doubts as sure as if he’d taken an axe to them. A finger still under her chin, he shifted closer and put his lips to hers. This was no desperate kiss. His lips explored hers slowly until fire kindled inside her belly and an ache gathered between her thighs. She wound her hands around his neck, fingers under his fair hair, and relished the rough tickle of his beard.
She found herself looking up at the sky as he pushed her against the sand. He loomed over her, his flexing muscles beneath his shirt and his strong features sending a flutter to her belly. To many, he would seem a dangerous man. Not to her, however. She knew of his tenderness and his honour.
Ilisa gripped his shirt and pulled him into her to press a fierce kiss to his lips. The hard body against hers made her nipples peak and more warmth surged between her sex. “I need you in me, Alrek,” she whispered against his mouth.
His slow kisses vanished, his soft hands gone. Her words had awakened the warrior and he was going to take her now. That she affected him so gave her a sense of power. She, a woman who could no more be in battle than she could take another’s life, brought this Viking to his knees. She lifted herself in invitation and he tucked an arm underneath her to bring her breasts to his mouth. Alrek nuzzled them through the material of the dress before yanking apart the laces and putting his hot mouth to her skin and nipples.
Ilisa gasped at the sudden heat and coarse hair on her tender skin. She clutched him to her, stared up at the endless sky and gave herself up to this contradictory man. So rough, so tender. Her Viking, her lover.
Taut skin met her fingertips when she tugged his shirt from his trews. She rubbed her hands up and down his back, urging him on. Raised welts—proof of his savage past—broke up the smoothness of his skin and she traced those too. Whatever had happened in Alrek’s past made him the way he was now and she could only be grateful.
The sand cushioned her body while Alrek kissed up and down her neck, leaving her panting. He took a nipple into his mouth again, the sharp relief making her cry out. She fumbled between them and slipped a hand under his trews. His arousal was hot and heavy in her hand. It pulsed with need and she curled a hand around it.
Alrek groaned. “Ilisa, you addle my mind. I cannot think when you touch me like that.”
She moved her hand up and down, and gazed into his eyes. “Then do not think.”
His blue eyes darkened and he grasped a breast before kissing her savagely. Ilisa could barely break through the haze devouring her mind to keep track of what her hands were doing. Only the scent of Alrek, the feel of him, the taste of him existed now.
Impatiently, Alrek tugged up her skirts and yanked down his trews. She relished the loss of control in his wild expression. It was the same need that drove her to writhe mindlessly against him. “Inside me. Pray, Alrek, do not make me wait.”
He positioned himself over her and she wrapped her legs around his hips. She thought he would satisfy her quickly but instead he eased himself in, inch by inch, slowly joining them so she was aware of every moment until they were as close as two people could get.
Ilisa whimpered and clutched his rear, urged him on. “Make me yours.”
Like the crack of a whip, the words triggered a reaction. He used one hand to prop himself up, the other to grab her hip and he withdrew before plunging into her, fast and violently. She reared up on a gasp as liquid pleasure singed through her veins.
“You are mine, Ilisa,” he murmured hoarsely as he raked his teeth up and down her neck, and nipped at her ear.
The whispered declaration made her quiver from head to toe. She dug her nails into his skin and met every thrust. Alrek slipped a hand between them and touched her nub. Jolts of exquisite sensation fired through her and he released a growl when her body tensed around him. Harder, faster. Her mind was a whirl. The tempest of passion swept her up and dropped her in a shuddering, shaking mass of limbs as stars exploded in front of her eyes.
Her vision cleared and she watched Alrek’s face crumple with his own climax. Heat filled her as he tensed and Ilisa released a satisfied moan. The thought that right now they could be conceiving their first child made her chest swell. He relaxed against her, his weight comforting and they lay joined for a while. Ilisa treasured his heavy breaths in her hair and the thud of his heart against her chest.
Something cold tickled her feet and she let out a squeal. “The tide is coming in.”
“I know. And I care not.”
“We cannot lie here and drown!”
“But then I shall never have to be parted from you.”
“Alrek, that is a horrible thought.”
“What?” He pushed back to view her. “Being with me for an eternity?” He tried to look affronted but the twitch of his lips gave him away.
“Nay, drowning. You can be with me for an eternity without drowning!”
“Come then.” He separated them, pulled up his trews and rearranged her skirts before offering her a hand. “Let us live.”
“Together,” she added with a grin, jabbing an elbow in his ribs.
“Aye, together.” Alrek looped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her into him. “Together.”
***
Alrek should have realised all would not stay so beautifully easy forever. Ilisa was a determined woman with a strong will. After several days of blissful lovemaking with a loving, doting woman, the fiery Ilisa had risen once more. He tried to keep the smile from his face as she snatched the basket of wool she intended to take to the village with jerky movements. He couldn’t help himself. He loved fiery Ilisa. Adored the passion in her eyes, the bright colour on her cheeks. The way she spat her words at him. All he wanted to do was kiss those tightly pursed lips into submission.
“I am going,” she declared, “and you are staying.”
“Ilisa, do you really believe you can stop me?”
She paused and narrowed her eyes at him. “If you know what is good for you, you will.”
“What kind of man would I be if I allowed you to travel to th
e village on your own?” he challenged.
“A wise one!” she snapped. “I have always done the journey on my own and have never come to harm.”
“Do not forget Galan threatened you a few sennights ago.”
“And he has not been seen since.”
He ran a hand across his beard. The foolish woman was determined to put herself in danger. “Because I am here!”
Her shoulders dropped and he heard her exhale. “I know you are concerned for me but I must barter this wool or we will starve before long. If you accompany me, I know not what will happen. The villagers will not take to you. You are still the enemy.”
“So I am to stay hidden away for the rest of my days? You are ashamed of me?”
“Nay, not ashamed. How dare you? I am scared for you!”
As fast as his hackles had risen, they dropped at her admission. Taking both her arms, he stared her down. “You are scared for me, and I am scared for you, hjarta mitt. What are we to do? But I am better able to protect myself. Let us go to the village and face whatever life brings together. You promised we would not be separated remember?”
Her chin trembled. “I do not know what I would do if something happened to you, Alrek.”
“And I you.” He kissed her gently. “But do not fear for me. Thor is on my side. He has blessed our union and I am not easily defeated. I have defended myself against angry Picts before.”
“Aye, that is what I fear,” she said softly.
“I have no intention of harming any of your people.”
She sighed. “I know. Sometimes though, I fear our culture will always separate us somehow.”
Alrek didn’t respond. How could he reassure her when he knew well how different they were? He was a marauding, vicious Norseman and she a quiet, hardworking Pict. His beautiful woman had been brought up to farm, not to fight, whereas blood had been on his hands before he had reached the age of twelve.
Instead, he took the basket from her and tucked her hands into his. “There will be no troubles, you shall see,” he assured her.
He wasn’t sure but he hoped that no sign of any Picts trying to drive him out of Ilisa’s home since Galan’s visit meant they had little interest in harming him or Ilisa. He didn’t wish to put her in danger but how could he be assured of her safety if he wasn’t with her? What if her countrymen decided to take revenge on her for harbouring the enemy and he wasn’t there to protect her? By the gods, he would die before letting anything happen to her.
They walked several miles before they reached the village. Set on a natural hill, wooden palisades surrounded it and a large roundhouse sat at the centre—the hall he presumed. The wooden huts that radiated from it, while not adorned with intricately carved wood, reminded him of home.
An old man paused to greet Ilisa as they entered the village. He looked over Alrek, brows rising before shuffling on. Ilisa’s palm grew clammy in his and he squeezed her hand. “All will be well,” he murmured. He skipped his gaze from side to side to see the villagers eyeing him with curiosity. Few carried weapons which reassured him a little.
She stopped at a small hut that reeked of animal excrement. A pig pen at one side told him why. The animals shuffled and snorted while a few chickens ran around Alrek’s feet.
“You should probably wait here. Arlen is frail and would not take well to having a Viking in his home.” She hissed the word Viking and Alrek felt his nostrils flare.
He folded his arms and stationed himself outside the building, eyeing passers-by coldly. He might not be proud of his past but Ilisa seemed to forget that his culture was important to him. The Norse had fought hard to expand and bring their culture to other places. He had been brought up to be—above all—proud of being a Viking.
By the time Ilisa had bartered her wool for food, they had gained a small following of village children. Alrek thanked the gods it was only children. While the villagers observed them with distrust, they had shown no aggression. Hopefully they might even come to accept the Norseman in their midst one day. His heart dropped when they neared the gate. Galan and an elderly man—his father maybe, looking at the similarity between them—and two other armed men blocked the way.
“Galan, let us through,” Ilisa demanded. “We mean no harm.”
The father—the chief, Alrek remembered—stepped forward. “You bring shame on your people, Ilisa, by bringing that Viking here. Do you not remember the pain and death his people brought us?”
She thrust her chin up. “Are we to lay the blame of his people at his feet? If so, I can think of many atrocities the Picts have committed. Mayhap we should lay all those at your feet, my lord.”
“Step aside,” Alrek demanded and received a sharp look from Ilisa.
Galan pushed in front of his father and eyed Alrek. “I think perhaps you love her. And who could blame you? She is a fine woman indeed. But she is Pict and you are a Viking. You are a selfish man, Viking. You have put Ilisa in grave danger and you are tempering her heritage. Shall you ask her to worship your gods? To live as a Viking woman in her land? No one will ever accept you and before long, the people will rise against you—and her. You shall bring pain and suffering to her doorstep once more just as your people did in the past.”
Alrek narrowed his eyes at the dark-haired man and glared at him. But deep inside his gut churned and his mind reeled. He would not reveal as much to Galan however. A movement from one of the men caught his eye and he lunged for him, twisting the sword from his grasp and pulling the man into a tight grip. He held the sword out and snarled.
“Let us pass and no one shall be harmed.”
“Alrek!” Ilisa’s eyes were wide,fearful. “They have issued no threats. Release him!”
He saw himself then as she saw him. A wild snarling beast—no better than the wolves. He shoved the Pict away and threw down the blade, his breaths heavy with defeat. He shoved past the men and out of the gate without glancing back.
“Viking,” Galan called. “A ship has been spotted not a day away. They look to be landing soon. Mayhap you should return and be with your own kind. And warn them that if they make an attempt on our village they shall be met with force.”
He paused, drew in a breath and stomped on. Ilisa did not catch up with him until the village palisades were far behind him. She snatched his arm. “Where are you going, Alrek?” she asked breathlessly.
Alrek stopped and turned to face her. “Home.”
“Our home?”
“Nay, my home.” Pain flickered in her gaze, tearing his heart. “Forgive me, Ilisa, I was wrong to think we could overcome our differences and be together. Galan is right. I am putting you in danger here.”
“Nay—”
He cradled her face. “Can you tell me you honestly believe they will let us live peacefully?”
“I—” Tears lined her eyes, ready to fall.
“I have fought and raided too, Ilisa. I cannot say how many innocent people I may have killed.” He gulped as she searched his gaze. “I do not deserve a woman such as you and the chief was right to lay the sins of my people at my feet. I am no better than them.”
Several breaths passed between them. His pulse pounded painfully in his head, his insides crumpled further.
“You are a good man.”
“You are a special woman. I shall never forget you.” He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She sobbed quietly but made no protests. She had to know as well as he did that they had always been doomed to fail. When he drew back, he realised the skies had darkened. He scowled and peered up at them. This was right, so why were the gods angry?
“Come, let us return before it rains. I shall need to keep an eye out for the ship.”
She slipped her hand in his again, the movement so familiar and heart breaking. Never again would he hold her hand or touch her face, hear her voice or taste her lips. But he couldn’t stay. He was no better than his kin. Ilisa lived in a world that had almost eroded her culture. He couldn’t dilute it fu
rther and put her life at risk. Who knew who these Norsemen were? If it was his own crew he’d have no qualms about asking her to come with him, but these men might not take to a Pict woman aboard their ship.
When they reached the farm, rain had begun to fall in fat heavy drops. He ushered Ilisa inside and eyed the cottage. At least he had helped her a little. Her roof no longer leaked and the stone wall was almost complete once more. It hardly felt enough to make up for his people having killed her family and for the pain he was going to leave her with, but better to hurt her a little than put her at risk.
Alrek gulped as she slid off her mantle and he spotted the shaking of her shoulders. Against his will, he curled his hands around her shoulders. “You must see this is for the best. I would rather die than see you harmed. If I am gone you will be safe.”
She nodded. “They will never accept you.” Ilisa turned to face him. “I understand that now and I have no wish to see you harmed, but I shall miss you forever.”
“I… I would take you if I could, but ‘tis too dangerous. I cannot risk your life. Mayhap when I am settled I can come back…?”
“My people need me. I—” A sob split her words. “I shall miss you forever.”
His eyes itched and he had to step away before he crumpled. He didn’t return her words though they rattled through his skull over and over. His throat remained tight and he didn’t trust himself to speak, but he knew he too would miss her for eternity.
Chapter Nine
Ilisa eyed Alrek through a mist of tears. Funny how perfect he looked in his foreign clothing. He suited his Viking garments far better than the Pictish ones. He had been right. They were not destined to stay together. By asking him to stay, she was asking him to forget his culture and put himself in danger. So she remained quiet and they watched the horizon for a sign of the ship. Red sails broke the rainy haze that drifted over the sea shortly before supper time. Though the grey clouds darkened the sky, nightfall remained a few hours away so she imagined the ship would land without any problems.
He straightened his jerkin and faced her. Breathing became impossible. Her fractured heart had shattered in her chest and destroyed her. It was for the best but her mind raged and pleaded with her to tell him to stay, to be selfish. Ilisa said nothing as he stepped forward and took her face in his hands. They engulfed her, rough and warm. She closed her eyes to fend off the tears. Alrek placed the sweetest kiss to her lips—so tender for a man so big.
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