North Sea Dawn

by Susan Amund

  “You are not eating,” he stated disapprovingly.

  “I’m full,” she smiled a little.

  “You had nothing to eat for several days, you should have more now.”

  “I said I’m full, thank you.” She smiled sweetly, but inside she was bristling at his commanding tone. He had saved her, yes, but he wasn’t her keeper.

  “You will eat more after you bathe,” he decided. Julia felt her mouth hang open, but she couldn’t seem to prevent it. “Unless you are ready for more now?” He lifted a piece of bread from her plate, dripping with honey, and offered it to her. She spluttered, blushing. Is he trying to feed me?

  “No? Then we should go to the baths.” He dropped the bread and stood, grabbing a sack from the table and waiting for her. Julia couldn’t decide if she should put him in his place for ordering her around and being so intimately considerate in front of Abjorn and Mary Ellery, or if she should let it go and allow him to escort her to the bath. She caught sight of Abjorn’s suspiciously sparkling eyes and Mary Ellery’s twitching mouth, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Vandalsson seemed completely serious. If he was only trying to look out for her health, she shouldn’t berate him. She frowned, looked down, and caught sight of the tangle of dirty hair that fell over her shoulder. If he was teasing, she could decide what to do about it later - after she was clean.

  “Very well.” She stood, and Abjorn opened the door for them. If she hadn’t been caught completely unawares when Eric swept her feet out from under her and carried her from the cottage, she might have caught the look of confident humor he sent to the Finn.

  They did not meet anyone else on the short walk to the bathhouse. The wind had died down, but the snow was falling as thickly as ever, keeping the islanders indoors and the inhabitants of the keep behind the wall. Once again, Julia found herself tucked against Eric’s warm chest as he walked in silence. Several times she almost spoke, wanting to thank him for returning, for coming to her rescue. In the end, she remained silent, instead admiring the clean beauty of her island coated in pristine snow.

  Balric was waiting just inside the door as they approached the low stone structure. Julia tried to control a blush that inflamed her cheeks at his smile,

  “The snow is getting a bit deep, eh my Lady?” She knew he was only being friendly, there was no insinuation in his words, but she was still embarrassed.

  “Especially without any shoes,” she responded. She flicked back the edge of her cloak to reveal her bare feet and ankles, coated with dust and dirt. Balric frowned in concern and Eric gave her a gentle shake to settle the material over her again.

  “Everything is quiet here, Vandalsson. Is this-”

  “Report to Abjorn,” Eric said sternly. In a quieter voice he said, “It will be taken care of.” Balric seemed to shake off his concern and smiled again at Julia.

  “My Lady.” He took off at a quick pace towards the village and Eric ducked inside the bathhouse.

  “What will be taken care of?” she asked. Eric shut the door and secured the latch so that no one would disturb them.

  “Everything that needs taken care of,” he replied vaguely. He cut her off when she would have continued. “Your things are in the bag.” He handed her his sack. “I’ll check on the fire.” He left without another word, disappearing further into the building. Julia frowned, wondering if he would ever answer her questions properly, or if she was doomed to have to draw information from him like thread from a spindle. She sighed and made use of the enclosed latrine before entering the palaestra, closing the thin curtain behind her. She smiled while she removed her clothing and hung it on a peg. The villagers called it the washroom, but Aelfreic had always called the rooms in the bath by their Roman names.

  Small windows let in milky light through thin slices of animal horn that kept out the weather. A shallow trough was carved into one wall. Cool water flowed through it from an opening on the north and out through a grate in the floor on the south. She took a clean cloth and a small vessel from the supplies on the shelf and rinsed off her body. The cool water raised gooseflesh, but the layers of grime that ran onto the floor and down into the drain made it worth it. Most of the villagers bathed weekly, but Julia had followed her brother’s example of using the bath at the fort every day or two. After the activities of the last week, she was more than in need of clean water and soap. She rinsed out her hair twice, scrubbing her skin with the cloth until it was pink and she was shivering. She replaced the vessel and left her cloth in a basket provided for that purpose before wrapping a clean towel around herself. She dug through the bag, surprised to find not only the simple tunic, chemise, and chunk of soap that had survived her flight from Dunholm, but also a set of men’s clothes. From the size she surmised they belonged to Vandalsson.

  She shrugged. He probably needed a bath as well after his journey and the climb through the passageway to the keep. She decided to do her best to finish quickly, so that he could use the pools before they had to return to the village. She hung her fresh clothes and his on the pegs to let the wrinkles fall out and carried her soap through the next curtain into the frigidarium - the cold bath. She had shown this room to Vandalsson before, his first night on the island. The man was not to be seen, she assumed he was still in the caldarium, the hot bath, tending to the fire. She took her opportunity to snatch a clean washing cloth and drop her towel and soap at the edge of the pool. She made a shallow dive into the water, to get the shock of the temperature over quickly.

  She took a deep breath when she surfaced. The water had been shockingly cold, but the furnaces in the hot bath warmed the air in the entire building, making it bearable. She had to tread water as the floor of the bath sloped up to the far end. Julia pulled her eyes from the faded painting on the ceiling and reminded herself that she should not monopolize the bath while her guard was waiting so patiently. She retrieved her soap and worked up a good lather to scrub her hair first. She worked through it twice before dunking under water a final time, feeling that she had gotten the dirt out at last.

  A gentle wave in the water made her surface abruptly. She searched the room, but found nothing out of place in the light from the two torches set in the wall. Two? There had only been one when she entered the bath. She stifled a scream when Eric burst out of the water a few yards away. He nodded to her silently and moved to the edge of the pool. As the water became shallower, Julia was shocked into continued silence. He could obviously touch the bottom and was walking to the edge towards the low shelves that held scrubbing cloths and soap. The water lapped against his broad shoulders - she noted a silvery scar that arced around his shoulder blade to his spine. The water lapped at the middle of his back, then his waist. Julia knew she was blushing, suddenly finding the cool water too warm, but she couldn’t look away. She noted with shock that he had thumb-sized dimples just below the muscles of his back, right above his . . .

  She whipped around so fast water sloshed over the edge of the pool and onto her towel. Her breathing was uneven and quick. She set down her soap and cloth and clutched the ledge to keep from going under. She closed her eyes and tried to calm herself, but couldn’t stop the image of his bare skin from entering her mind. She wondered how deep those dimples were, how he would react if she pressed her fingers there.

  “Are you alright?” The deep voice came much closer than she had anticipated, and Julia let out a squeak. A calloused hand on her shoulder turned her, and she forced her eyes to meet his.

  “I am fine.” She was pleased to find her voice was steady, if a bit higher than usual. She glanced down, swiftly, and gave a sigh of relief that the water was too dark to reveal more than the faint blur of movement under the surface. “Generally, men and women do not-” Her calm, polite explanation of why he could not be in the bath with her was interrupted by his growl. His hand left her shoulder to plunge into her hair, pulling it away from her body. She tried to shy away, uncertain with a queasy feeling of unease blooming in her belly.

  “H
e did this.” It was not a question, and it took his brief, light touch on her neck to make her realize he was studying the bruises on her skin - not lusting after her body. She relaxed, feeling almost foolish. Eric had never made her feel that way, had never touched her if she didn’t want it. The two times he had kissed her, he had stopped long before she wanted him to.

  “They don’t really hurt anymore - I’m sure they look much worse than they are.” She smiled a little, finding that she had squeezed her eyes shut, and opened them to meet his gaze. She almost wished she hadn’t. His eyes were fixed on her throat, burning with an anger which was barely leashed. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his jaw tense. “Really, it isn’t that bad,” she whispered. She was almost in awe of the strength of his response. “I didn’t even notice them until the next day. My head and back hurt much worse and I’m sure they-”

  “What?” His voice was still quiet, but he might as well have shouted at her for the way she felt herself reacting. His anger was palpable, and she wanted to curl up on herself and hide away from him. She knew it wasn’t directed at her, but her mind couldn’t communicate that to her fluttering heart or twisting stomach.

  “I only hit the wall once, it isn’t-” He spun her quickly, crowding her against the edge of the pool and pulling her hair away from her body. His growl vibrated the water around them, and Julia found her breathing pick up. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, she knew her reaction was silly. He cursed violently in Norse and she flinched hard enough to tug her hair where it was wound around his hand. That, in turn, pulled on her scalp and the lump from where Dunholm had shoved her into the wall. She cried out, and Eric immediately stilled. He turned her slowly, gently unwinding her hair from his fist.

  “Open your eyes,” he said quietly. Her back was pressed lightly against the stone wall and her weight was supported by one hand on the ledge. She shook her head, trying to breathe evenly. She was being foolish. He wouldn’t hurt her - he wasn’t Dunholm. “My Lady,” he said softly and then, “Julia.” She opened her eyes and met his brown gaze. His face was still hard and his jaw firm, but his eyes were golden pools of worry. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

  “I know,” she whispered. She forced out a shaky laugh. “Would you, just...you are leaning over me.” He immediately sank down into the water so that their faces were even, but he did not allow any more space between them. Surprisingly, that was enough for her anxiety to ease. “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  “I shouldn’t have...I overreacted. I know you are only concerned, but you sounded so angry.” She closed her eyes again, embarrassed to admit how frightened she had been. “When you grabbed my shoulder, I...” Her voice faded away. The soft lapping of the water against stone and the crackle of the torches was the only sound for a few moments. She opened her eyes when he did not respond.

  “Do you believe I would hurt you?” His voice was calm, not accusatory, but Julia was overcome with horror.

  “No! Please, I didn’t mean - I..I am so grateful to you.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude,” he said. Julia deflated. She had hurt his pride. Of course he would never hurt her, and he should be offended that she would react as if he were the enemy.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. This time she braced herself on his forearm and used her other hand to cup his cheek. “I didn’t realize that he scared me so badly, that I would be so skittish.” She watched his eyes for a few moments before removing her hand and gathering up her hair. She pulled it gently over her shoulder and turned so that he could look at her back. “Is it very bruised?” she asked calmly.

  He did not respond immediately, and she began to think that he would not accept her apology. The silence stretched long enough that her concern for his feelings began to be replaced with irritation. She was baring her naked back to this man and he still wouldn’t accept her apology! My naked back... She blushed; after the riot of emotion over the last few minutes she suddenly remembered that she was naked in the pool, with a presumably naked man not two feet away. Not just any man...Eric Mortvisbrica. Harbinger of Swift Death. Defender of Aurelius.

  Mortification was about to force her to say something she would regret, when she felt his hand upon her skin. He lightly traced the tender spots where she had slammed against the stone wall. Then his fingers burrowed gently into her hair, finding the goose egg and probing so softly she didn’t even flinch.

  “The bruises are fading to yellow and brown. You have a few long scratches too. You only hit the wall once?” His voice was controlled, but she could hear the thread of anger. Strangely, this time it did not bother her.

  “I only recall once, but it happened quickly. The upper corridor is quite rough in places, though. The stone is not as polished as in the Hall.” His hand dropped down to rest on the nape of her neck and she allowed her head to sink forward onto her hands where they gripped the ledge. The heat of his palm relaxed muscles she didn’t know were knotted. From the corner of her eye she watched him reach for her soap, then hesitate.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “If you wish,” she replied. She had a flash of a daydream where Eric had used her soap and his men kept wondering aloud what smelled like lilacs. She smiled, and then his hands were on her back. May I wash you, she finished for him, unnecessarily. Her absolute shock over having such an intimate task performed by someone else, by him, slowly gave way to the pleasure of having his warm hands knead the fragrant lather into her tight muscles. A quiet moan escaped her lips when he hit a particularly hard knot, and she froze. He acted as though nothing had happened and continued gently working his fingers up over the knot on her head and around her tender neck to lightly touch the bruises.

  His hands slowed, finally sliding down her arms to grip the ledge on either side of her. He was close enough to her now, that she could feel the heat of his body through the water, although they did not touch.

  “Rinse,” he commanded softly. She ducked under the water, careful to stay close to the edge so that she would not rub against him. She stayed under longer than was necessary, trying to still her racing heart. She was strangely relaxed and tense at the same time. The aches and pains from her assault and confinement had faded to almost nothing, but her breasts felt strangely heavy and tight. Where ever his hands touched her skin, tendrils of warmth shot straight to her belly. His touch made her want for something to relieve the heat and tension - or make it stronger. She pondered her own feelings as she came up for air. Dunholm had touched her more intimately, with more intent than Eric displayed, and she had wanted to throw up. Where the Norse man touched, she felt like she was melting, and where he hadn’t, she wanted him to. Her face felt like it was on fire, but she wasn’t quite ready to let the opportunity go.

  “May I?” she asked, somewhat breathless. She kept her face turned away, but she still heard his murmured assent. “Shallower water, please. Where I can stand.” She felt him move away, and took a deep breath before turning and following. She was a noble woman. Although the island was small and the hierarchy less absolute than on the mainland, she had still been sheltered as a virgin and a Lady. She had seen men without their shirts before, but always from a distance when they practiced with Aelfreic in the lower bailey. She had seen Simon - but he didn’t count as he was her brother and it had been more than a decade since they had swum naked together in the little harbor.

  Eric most definitely did not inspire sisterly feelings in her, and he was much closer than the men-at-arms practice had been. She swallowed hard and almost choked on the water. She had been sheltered, but soon she would be married and bedded. Either by a man of her choosing or one chosen by the new king. This might be her only opportunity to get an idea of what she should expect. Julia remained hopeful as she bit her lip to hold back a little sigh of appreciation when Eric leaned out of the water to fetch a new cloth and exposed a bit more than his dimples. Hopefully she might get him to feel more than merel
y pity for her injuries when he looked at her naked body. Hopefully, she could convince him that he should continue the courtship they had not really started. Julia firmed her shoulders and found sure footing on the floor of the pool. Aelfreic had always told her that hope was only as good as action made it. She needed action, not just prayers. She stopped with a foot of water between them, the surface lapping above his waist and just barely covering her breasts. His back was to her, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks as she leaned out of the water for the soap and cloth and tried to gather her courage.

  Testing the Water

  Eric stood still in bath, feet braced apart, waiting to see what she would do. He finally had his temper under control, but it still churned under the surface, waiting to be released. He had come out of the hot water room to find her washing her hair. The sight was mouthwatering. She was treading water. Her slender legs made flashing pale shadows under the surface. As she scrubbed, her arms raised over her head bringing her breasts dangerously close to being exposed. He made his decision then.

  She had asked him to convince her. Now would be a good time to start. He shucked his clothes in the washroom and hurriedly doused himself with the cool water there. When he returned, she was just dunking her head under water, so he dropped to the side and slid into the cold pool undetected. He sent her a nod of acknowledgement when he surfaced, and promptly turned his back on her shocked face. She had most likely never seen a naked man before; he was determined to let her know what was waiting for her. He couldn’t help the pleased smile that spread across his face when he heard her squeak.