The Viking’s Captive Princess

by Michelle Styles

  ‘No, Ranrike. She grew up on a remote estate between here and Ranhiem.’

  In the torchlight, Asa paled slightly. She sank gracefully back down on her chair. ‘From Ranrike. I thought they were all blonde in Ranrike. All except…but she died without children. Bose was quite clear on that.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No, no.’ Asa put a hand up to her face, shielding it from his gaze. ‘Perhaps it is best that Thorkell does not meet her. After the feast, you may take her off to your estate. Keep her there until you tire of her. Yes, perhaps that is best.’

  ‘She played an instrumental part in securing our freedom from the jaarl Sigmund Sigmundson.’

  ‘I have no doubt she did, and she is to be commended for it. I will personally see to it that she returns to her home…unharmed and as soon as possible. It is the least Viken can do to honour such bravery.’ Asa gave a long sigh and her lashes swept down. ‘But Thorkell hates the Ranrike, particularly those with dark hair. He has a long hostility towards them. If you value your concubine’s life, keep her from this court.’

  Ivar clenched his fists. Asa would not do to Thyre what she had tried to do Annis. Thyre would remain his concubine; she would not be sent home. But perhaps Asa was correct about the king. Thorkell might not be willing to meet the Swan Princess’s daughter. He needed to discover the truth behind the Swan Princess’s stay in Viken before Thyre’s parentage put her life in danger.

  Ivar held out his hand. ‘I will take a look at your list.’

  Asa tapped the rune stick against her lips. Her entire being glowed. ‘I knew if I explained the situation to you, Ivar, that we could reach an agreement. Any one of these ladies would make you an admirable wife. Take your time, but do not delay too long as I wish you to have your first choice.’

  Ivar waited until he was out of the chamber before he threw the stick into the nearest fire.

  Thyre’s troubled dreams swirled about her. Sigmund’s face leered up at her before the sea covered it. She leant out but fell down into the water, tried to scream, but no one heard her. She reached out an arm to grab a spar, but her hand encountered empty air. She was drowning in the sea. Sigmund reached up and started to drag her down towards Ran’s net. She kicked out, cried out.

  ‘Thyre! Thyre!’ Ivar’s voice reached her through the dream and held her.

  She sat up with a start and saw that a single rush light burnt. Ivar sat on the bed, looking at her. The light highlighted the planes of his face, obscuring the scar. Her heart turned over.

  ‘You were shouting for me,’ he said, smoothing a strand of hair from her face. Thyre fought the temptation to turn it in towards his palm.

  She took deep steadying breaths and drank in his reassuring male scent. His hair curled slightly at the ends as if it were damp.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ she said.

  ‘A restless dream, from the sound of your cries.’ He made no move towards her.

  ‘Annis visited. She gave me something to drink. It has made my head go fuzzy. I am unused to sleeping in such a large bed.’

  ‘Perhaps, you would like to sleep alone.’

  ‘No!’ The word was torn from her throat. Thyre hated how desperate it sounded. More than anything she wanted to have his arms about her. ‘I mean…it is fine. Dreams have no power to hurt.’

  His hand picked up a tendril of her hair and brought it to his lips and all the while his eyes watched her. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Hold me?’

  Ivar’s arms went around her as her body began to convulse in cold shivers.

  ‘Hush, it is all right. You are alive. He is dead.’

  ‘You knew what I was dreaming.’ Thyre looked up into his eyes, eyes that had become deep pools. ‘How did you guess?’

  His hands stroked her back. ‘It is not hard to guess. The first time you kill someone…’

  ‘I had to…’

  ‘I know. You were brave, Thyre. And you were brave again today.’

  ‘Today?’ Thyre tilted her head. Had he guessed how seeing the hatred in the queen’s eyes had unnerved her? It had been as if Asa could see into her soul and realised who her parents were. A strong son would have been different from the sickly creature she had been as a baby. But now she was a woman.

  ‘I understand you walked to my house with your head held high.’

  ‘I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’ Thyre stretched slightly, pleased her shoulder only mildly throbbed. While she had waited for sleep, she had rehearsed her speech to Ivar. She would seduce him into agreeing to help Ragnfast. Sometimes, it was the only weapon a woman had. ‘It worries me that King Thorkell is away. He needs to know the situation as soon as possible. Ragnfast and Dagmar…’

  ‘It will be taken care of. I promise you that. Asa assures me that the king will return tomorrow. The feast is planned for the following day.’

  Asa. He had been to see the queen. Thyre wondered if she should voice her fears and explain why she needed to see Thorkell alone, without Asa being there. Ivar would probably laugh at her and say that she imagined things, but Asa’s look had dripped with hatred.

  ‘I should let you sleep. In the morning, we can discuss things.’

  He started to move off the bed, away from her. She might never get another opportunity to plead for Ragnfast and Dagmar, unless she could put him in a good mood.

  ‘Please…please stay.’ Thyre curled her hand about his neck and brought his face closer. ‘It is your bed, not mine.’

  He groaned, but his hands went to her body and pulled her so that her breasts were crushed against his chest. ‘Your shoulder needs to heal.’

  ‘We can be careful,’ she whispered against his lips. ‘Annis says that it is healing nicely. It was a clean cut.’

  She claimed his mouth. Their tongues touched briefly. The swirling warmth inside ignited and she deepened the kiss. This was what she needed to keep the dreams at bay.

  Her hands buried themselves into his hair and held him there. She arched forwards, her breasts straining against the clean white shift Annis had found.

  His arms held her close again, but as if he were holding some precious object.

  Thyre lifted her mouth from his.

  ‘You are overdressed.’

  ‘Am I, indeed?’

  ‘Yes, we have light tonight and I want to see all of you.’

  He froze and seemed to withdraw from her. Had she said the wrong thing? She worried he would find another excuse, a reason to leave, and she knew she needed him tonight. She wanted him to keep the dreams away. Nothing could hurt her if he was near. He had whispered that on the boat and she had believed him. Together, they were safe.

  ‘Please let there be light,’ Thyre whispered. ‘Allow me to see you. Allow my eyes to feast. This does not have to be something that happens in the dark.’

  His eyes deepened to a midnight blue. ‘Very well, if you wish it.’

  ‘I do.’ She leant towards him and cupped his face with her hands. ‘I do.’

  ‘Edda…my wife. She was shy…we never had light.’

  Thyre put her fingers against his lips as her insides convulsed. She knew it was wrong to be pleased about doing something different than the other woman. She had never met her and already she resented her. And she knew that was wrong. ‘We can speak of her another time. Tonight is for us.’

  He nodded and she released her breath. His hands lifted his shirt to reveal his golden skin with its traces of scars over his muscles and sinews. The desire to trace each of the scars with her tongue and taste his skin swamped her senses. She dug her fingers into the fur that covered the bed.

  He stopped and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Continue.’ Thyre barely recognised the husky rasp that had become her voice.

  His fingers went to his trousers and allowed them to drop. He stood there, his rampant arousal thrusting outwards towards her. Thyre’s mouth went dry as she thought of him fitting inside her. She was pleased she had not see
n him this way before as it would have made her even more nervous. But now she knew, and she knew this was for her and not for some mysterious lady in the night.

  ‘Do I meet with your satisfaction?’ he asked with a husky laugh.

  ‘There are advantages to the light.’

  She held out her arms, but he shook his head. ‘You need to remove the shift. It is only fair.’

  ‘Since when have you been concerned about such things?’

  ‘I want to see you, Thyre.’

  With trembling fingers she lifted her shift and tossed it on the floor. As she tugged the shift over her breasts, her nipples tingled. Under his hot gaze, they ached even more.

  He knelt down on the bed, gathering her in his arms. His skin brushed hers. She gave in to her impulse and used a finger to trace several of the scars on his back, glorying in how the muscles shifted and changed under her hands.

  His mouth slipped lower, nuzzling a line down her neck until he reached her breasts. Answering her unspoken plea, he cupped her breasts. His tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other, toyed with them. He suckled each one in turn, making the nipples become harder and more pointed.

  Her back arched up off the bed and molten heat thrummed through her body. She teetered on the edge of a swirling maelstrom of heat and fire. Her hands clutched at his shoulders. She needed him, needed him to assuage this great aching well of desire that engulfed her and threatened to overwhelm her senses. He held her for a few moments while her body convulsed.

  ‘Slowly,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to hurt you. We have all night.’

  ‘And beyond.’ She gave a little laugh and tried to control the trembling in her limbs.

  ‘That as well.’

  His hands eased her back against the pillows. He loomed over her as the shadows from the guttering light played on his body, shifting and dancing. ‘I want to enjoy you and to give you pleasure.’

  ‘I want to touch you,’ she said, her fingers curling in frustration. She wanted to do something, not simply to lie there like some doll. She wanted to be an active participant.

  ‘In a little while.’ He kissed her temple. ‘Allow me to explore your body. Some things are best taken slowly.’

  His hands stroked down her body, gently exploring, but with the same precision with which he had steered the boat earlier. He knew precisely how to elicit a response, from the underside of her wrist to the point just beyond her ears. Each tiny particle of her commanded the same diligent attention. There was nothing rough or sudden. It was firm and assured. He seemed to be aware of each movement that she made, each quiver of her body as a new touch evoked a different tingle of pleasure.

  His fingers lingered on the underside of her breasts, stroking and cupping them before continuing inexorably to the apex of her thighs.

  Slowly, he parted the curls, and his finger stroked her innermost core. Again the banked fires built within her to a raging inferno. She glanced up at him and saw his face had become intent. Slowly he lowered his mouth and where his hand had been, his tongue went. Gliding over her, tasting her, he devoured until her body bucked upwards and she could only whimper.

  He lifted his mouth. ‘More?’

  She tugged at his shoulders. Slowly his mouth moved upwards, covering hers. An intermingled taste of her and him filled her mouth. Both together.

  ‘My turn,’ she whispered, pushing him back on to the pillows.

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Like this?’

  She smiled. ‘Lie back.’

  ‘As my lady commands.’ He put both hands behind his head. ‘I am at your tender mercy.’

  Using the way his mouth had played on her body as a guide, she began to explore the contours of his. Her fingers stroked the ridges and delved into the valleys between his muscles. Her tongue lapped his flat nipples and felt them harden to nubs. She suckled and heard his sharp intake of breath. Ivar’s hands held her arms, but she ignored the temptation to obey his unspoken request; instead, she allowed her mouth to drift lower, to circle his belly button and finally to encounter the heat that was his erection.

  She glanced up, but his lashes covered his eyes and he appeared deep in concentration. Emboldened by the tiny taste, she wrapped her fingers about him and cradled the hard silkiness. Then she deliberately closed her mouth over him and, suckling, she felt him come alive in her mouth.

  ‘Thyre, I need to be in you.’ His voice was a hoarse rasp. ‘Put me in you.’

  She nodded, understanding his desire. Swiftly she positioned her body over his and guided him in. He surged upwards, meeting her. Her body opened and welcomed him. He put his hands on her hips and helped to call the rhythm. Faster and faster. Each time, he drove deeper, longer. Then his hands moved and cupped her breasts, brought them to his mouth and a great shuddering went through her, a shuddering that echoed his.

  As the rush light flickered and died, Thyre regarded Ivar’s sleeping face. His arms were tightly around her as if he could not bear to let her go. Guilt stabbed her. She had meant to ask earlier about Ragnfast and then had forgotten.

  She had to find a way to get to Ranhiem and expose Sigmund’s treachery. Somehow, being here and being happy made it worse to think that Dagmar could be suffering. And Dagmar had said that men were happier after they had made love.

  ‘Ivar…’

  ‘Yes,’ he murmured without opening his eyes. ‘You cannot want more, but I will be happy to try. Had I known having a concubine would be this much work…’

  Thyre felt her cheeks grow hot and the curl of desire started again in her belly. In a few breaths, she would have forgotten everything except the feel of his mouth against hers. She shook her head and cleared her mind. She had to concentrate, instead of letting her body rule her brain.

  ‘Will you help to petition King Thorkell? Now we have…’

  He stiffened and his arms withdrew. Thyre shivered and knew she had said the wrong thing. ‘Why, why do you need to see him?’

  ‘He might be able to help…My mother used to speak of him. They had a friendship of sorts, I believe. He should know about Ragnfast’s predicament.’

  ‘Was what happened between us just now in aid of your request?’ His voice was chipped from ironstone.

  ‘No! I was simply thinking out loud afterwards.’ Thyre shifted uneasily, knowing she had started with the intention, but their joining had turned into something far more. ‘The request to aid Ragnfast might be better coming from me. Perhaps I could say something about my mother. Perhaps he would listen and see that Viken has to help.’

  ‘If you want me to do something, you should learn something about timing.’ Ivar withdrew his arm. ‘My late wife was a master at using her seductive skill to get a new arm ring or a dress. You ask before and not afterwards. Or at least that was her method.’

  ‘And was she successful?’ Bile rose in her throat. She had made a mistake. A dreadful mistake.

  ‘Most of the time. I was young and naïve. I have grown up, Thyre. Such tricks do not move me. Never try them again. They do not do you any credit.’

  ‘Perhaps I should have asked before, but my mind was on other things. I only asked because I was feeling safe in your arms.’

  He slid out of the bed, pulling on his trousers.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Thyre asked, trying to keep the rising panic from her voice. She should never have said anything. He had to understand. ‘You need to say that you will help. You must say it. I am asking for—’

  ‘I shall sleep on the floor, where it is more honest.’ He left the chamber, his back unyielding and upright.

  Thyre hit her hand against the pillow. This was all her fault. She should never have tried to seduce him into agreeing. But she had enjoyed his lovemaking and had felt safe in his arms. And now she had lost his regard and it hurt worse than she imagined.

  Ivar sat looking at the fire. Part of him hoped that Thyre would come after him, but mostly he was glad that she did not. Her actions reminded him of the reasons why he had ha
ted being married to Edda—how she had used to use their lovemaking as an excuse for another present, or another favour, until he had found more and more excuses not to return home. He wanted it to be different with Thyre. He wanted to feel that she was in his bed because she too shared his passion.

  How could he begin to explain about Asa and her not-too-subtle hints about Thorkell and his hatred of the Ranrike royal family? Thorkell’s hatred must come from when the Swan Princess had departed so abruptly. Thyre would not understand that King Thorkell could easily take against her and then they would have no hope of saving Ragnfast or any of her family. Thorkell would proclaim the straits were forbidden. To defy Thorkell would mean challenging for the kingship, and Viken needed King Thorkell’s leadership.

  Once his business was complete, he would take Thyre to his estate. There they could live peacefully without interference and court intrigue. He refused to repeat the mistakes of the past, but a concubine was very different from a wife.

  ‘Here is where you hide your concubine.’

  Ivar raised his eyes to the ceiling. He should have known that his sister Astrid would call at the earliest opportunity and without warning. The last thing he needed now was a lecture from her.

  ‘What do you have to say, brother of mine? I have been waiting for an invitation, but nothing has come.’ Astrid’s shawl quivered with indignation. ‘You invited Haakon’s Northumbrian lady, but not your own flesh and blood.’

  ‘Thyre was injured. Annis is a healer.’

  ‘You think I know nothing? Asger told me again and again about how she saved everyone from that snake of a Ranriken jaarl. Don’t you know how much I value my son’s life?’

  ‘Astrid, it is too early in the morning.’

  ‘I want to see the woman who saved my son.’ His sister tapped her foot on the ground. ‘And you will grant me this request, Ivar. Do you wish the gods to curse me?’

  Ivar shook his head. ‘You and your curses. Always when things go against you, you threaten me with curses.’