Paying the Viking's Price

by Michelle Styles

  Hilda nodded and began to pace the room, moving as if she was completely unsettled again. Edith’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted to be bothered with was Hilda’s problems. She had enough of her own. Brand’s latest kiss seemed imprinted on her brain.

  Her body wanted to believe it would be different with him, indeed she’d never experienced that tingling soaring sensation even in the heady days before her marriage when Egbert had made her feel like she was the most precious object in the world. Her head kept telling her that all men were the same. And she had no idea how Brand would behave if she failed to please him. She flinched, remembering how Egbert had taken his revenge for her shortcomings—first with snide remarks and then increasingly with his fists.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know, Hilda. Give me some courage.’

  ‘You should know that I never shared his bed, not in the sense everyone thinks.’ The words rushed from Hilda as she knelt in front of Edith. ‘He couldn’t... Something had happened and he couldn’t. He blamed you.’

  Edith froze. Never? Egbert had been incapable? ‘But I thought...’

  ‘He couldn’t.’ Hilda glanced over her shoulder. ‘He drank far too much ale and mead. He fell into bed, fumbled my body and snored his head off. I wanted you to know after what you did for me today, saving my life and all. He lied to me when I first arrived. He had said that he was the one who had given me shelter and spoken up for me. And if I didn’t do as he said, he’d give me over to the Norsemen. You did what you said, just as you spoke up for me back there. I feel so guilty.’

  ‘You are my cousin, my kinswoman. Of course I will look after you.’

  ‘Egbert made it clear that if I didn’t play along, I would have no place to lay my head. He’d throw me to the wolves. He slapped me when I didn’t agree at first and called me a fool. I was scared, Edith, scared and wrong.’

  ‘That sounds like my late husband,’ Edith commented wryly, her mind reeling.

  ‘You can’t know what it was like when the Norsemen came. How I lost my world. I couldn’t lose what little I had gained.’ She hung her head. ‘I was jealous of you and all that you had. Egbert’s actions and words tipped the balance. I took what I could to survive. Only now I see I had it all wrong.’

  ‘It is all in the past now.’ Edith put her hand to her stomach to try to quell the butterflies which had suddenly begun to circle. Egbert had been incapable. Even with Hilda.

  Tears shimmered in Hilda’s eyes. ‘Do you truly mean that?’

  Edith’s shoulders grew a bit lighter. Perhaps it hadn’t been just she who had failed at the marriage bed. Egbert might have had a part in it, but what mattered was tonight and how she performed with Brand Bjornson, a man whom all her instincts told her was very different.

  She put her hand under Hilda’s elbow and raised the girl to standing. One good thing had come from this evening—she was speaking to her cousin. ‘You’d best go. We already had one close call this evening.’

  Hilda’s lips curved upwards. ‘I know what you mean. I doubt Brand Bjornson would be pleased to have onlookers. My heart quite soared when he kissed you like that. He is attracted to you. I know these things. You can try being pleasant to him, rather than wiping your hand across your mouth as if it stained you.’

  ‘It was deliberately done to make his mark on me. He doesn’t want me to forget my status. I’m not his wife. I’m his concubine. I serve at his pleasure.’ Edith rubbed the back of her thumb against her aching lips.

  Hilda fluffed out Edith’s hair so it flowed over her shoulders. ‘There, you look fit to eat. I do wish Egbert had not broken your mother’s mirror so you could see how pretty you look.’

  The mirror incident had happened during their final fight when Edith had refused to turn over her mother’s jewels. Edith held no great store by her looks, but she’d loved her mother’s mirror. Many of her earliest memories revolved around her mother having her chestnut hair brushed and watching herself in the mirror. On special occasions Edith had been allowed to peek into it. Her own features never matched the delicacy of her mother’s. And her black hair was so dull compared to vibrant red.

  ‘My late husband deserved all the ill fortune he received after breaking the mirror,’ Edith said as steadily as she could.

  Hilda gave a little giggle. ‘I suppose you are right. I had never thought about it in that fashion. He should never have done that.’

  ‘I know I’m right.’ Edith covered Hilda’s hand. She had to know the worst. Had her desire for a peaceful life made Hilda’s a misery? ‘He never...’

  ‘He never beat me after that one slap. He treated me much as one would treat a beloved dog.’ Hilda finished for her. ‘He saved his violence for you if servants’ gossip is to be believed. He was jealous that you could run the estate so well. He used to rant about it, over and over.’

  Tears pricked at Edith’s eyes. She was grateful for the knowledge, but it still didn’t make the situation any easier. The one thing she could do well, Brand had no interest in her doing.

  ‘We will get our lives back.’ Edith grasped Hilda’s hand. ‘I have to believe that.’

  ‘You treat Brand Bjornson well.’ Hilda slipped her fingers from Edith’s and Edith knew that she didn’t really believe the words, any more than Edith believed them. ‘A well-satisfied man makes life easier for everyone in the household, as my mother used to say.’

  ‘The saying is new to me.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it any less true. You can do it, Edith. Please him rather than confronting and challenging him. I’ve faith in you. We’re all counting on you.’ Hilda hurried away.

  ‘That is what I’m afraid of,’ Edith whispered after Hilda had gone.

  * * *

  A faint pink-grey light seeped into the room. Edith lay on her bed, hardly daring to move a muscle. The noise of the feast had died seemingly hours ago and still Brand had not come to bed.

  She hugged her knees to her chest. At first she had feared he would arrive and be disappointed and then she had wondered why he had not come. But she lacked the courage to go looking for him.

  In the early days of her marriage, she’d gone looking for Egbert and had ended with a hard slap to her face for her pains. Lying in this bed brought all the horrible memories back about every time she’d displeased Egbert. Hilda’s confession helped slightly, but she knew she’d contributed to it. Egbert’s touch had never excited her, never made her feel anything but repulsion, whereas Brand’s insulting kiss had sent her senses aflame.

  What could she expect from a Norseman with Brand Bjornson’s reputation?

  For some reason, he had found a better place to sleep. This entire exercise had been designed as a humiliation. That ended now! Edith slammed her fist down on the bed.

  She wasn’t going to stay here, waiting for someone who might never appear.

  Edith knew once the hall started to stir that everyone would know and no one would look her directly in the eye. She’d experienced this before with Egbert and had always vowed that she was never going through such a thing again. Ever.

  ‘I obeyed your order. Now I’m doing what I want.’

  She pulled her gown on, but didn’t bother with any head covering, leaving the bed unmade to show that she had been there and left the room without a backward glance.

  The entire hall was silent. Various different Norsemen lay sprawled asleep where they had passed out. Edith delicately picked her way around them. They smelt the same as Egbert’s men after a feast—ale-soaked.

  Outside, the sky was tinged pale pink. Edith breathed in the morning-scented air. Always this time was her favourite part of the day, when she could think and plan without interruption. For a heartbeat she allowed herself to believe that all this was as it had ever been. Here was home.

  She went into the stables and discovered that t
he stalls were now full of the Norsemen’s horses. Rather than being silent as they had been since Egbert left, they were full of stamping and soft breath. The huge barn smelt right again. Edith went over to Meera, her horse, and rubbed the mare’s nose.

  ‘I wonder what you make of all these creatures invading your stable, Meera?’

  The mare whinnied and butted her head against Edith’s hand, searching for a treat.

  ‘I haven’t brought you anything.’ Edith glanced about her. ‘You can have some hay.’

  She went over and gathered some. She saw with a frown that whoever had been in charge of feeding the horses yesterday had made a mess of the hay, scattering it everywhere. The mare gave her a look of disgust when she put the hay in her manger.

  ‘It is no good hoping for an apple. There won’t be any of those until the autumn.’ Edith scratched Meera behind the ears as the horse bent her head and gobbled the hay. Strictly speaking, she supposed Meera did not belong to her any more, but the horse was more than an animal which she rode, she was a friend and friendship wasn’t dictated by arbitrary ownership.

  Her hand stilled in mid-stroke. She had to hope Brand had different views than Egbert about women riding as well. Her fingers grasped Meera’s forelock. She would ride, no matter what he said.

  ‘But I will try for a carrot,’ she said as Meera lifted her head. ‘Surely Brand can’t begrudge me one carrot or parsnip. Or one ride either.’

  After talking softly to the horse for a little while longer, Edith left the stable. Even without trying, her mind had made a list of things that needed to be done in the stable and yard. Little things if left unattended would result in much larger things happening. She tried to forget it, telling herself that it wasn’t any of her concern now that the fencing was loose or the straw not evenly distributed. And goodness knew how those horses were shod and how much iron would be needed. She had to physically stop herself from going and checking the iron supply.

  She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t any of her concern. Her sole responsibility was pleasing Brand in bed and she hadn’t been given a chance to do that. The thought made the whole morning seem gloomy. She kicked a pebble and sent it skittering across the yard.

  A slight movement by the stable alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone and this was no longer strictly her home. Her body tensed. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Brand had said specifically that she should wait for him in his bedchamber.

  Quickly she thought of her excuse if it happened to be one of the warriors, something that tripped easily off her tongue rather than the real reason. Silently she prayed that she wouldn’t have to use it.

  She watched as the figure grew bigger. Brand. His hair gleamed as if he had been swimming. His shirt clung to his chest, revealing the hard planes and muscles. He might be large, but there was not an ounce of fat on him.

  Her heart beat faster. What gave him the right to look so good in the early morning? She knew she must look a fright, but she also knew that she didn’t have time to withdraw into the shelter of shadows. She brushed her skirt, trying to remove some of the wisps of hay which clung to her gown.

  He stopped. His gaze slowly travelled down her form. Edith forced her shoulders back and silently wished she’d taken the time to put on her headdress. Rather than being the perfection of beauty that Hilda had declared her to be last night, she suspected she looked like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.

  ‘You’re awake and dressed, Lady Edith,’ Brand called out. ‘Ready for another busy day? Or did you have another purpose?’

  ‘I had trouble sleeping.’ Edith pressed her hands together so that she would not be tempted to pick any more hay from her gown. Why did he make it sound like she was up to no good? ‘I did obey your orders. I did go to the lord’s bedchamber.’

  He lifted his eyebrow. ‘You can obey orders. Good. I wondered if you could only give them.’

  Edith clenched her fists. He hadn’t even bothered to check if she had! He’d simply assumed. Next time, she’d not make the same mistake. From now on, he came to her room, rather than her spending time staring up at the blackened beams in his. ‘Is there some reason you failed to join me?’

  Instantly she wished that she could unsay the words.

  He tilted his head to one side. ‘You looked like a scared rabbit in the hall. I like women willing and eager when I indulge in bed sport. There is no pleasure in intimidating the woman. Both should derive pleasure. Some in the felag do not understand, so I wanted to make sure my stamp was on you.’

  Edith ducked her head. The low purr of his voice rolled over her. She had done it wrong again. Her fear of intimacy had shone too much.

  She swallowed hard. The old Edith would have apologised but he didn’t deserve one. The old Edith was the one who’d allowed Egbert to make fun of her. The knowledge of his deception helped calm her nerves. No man was going to do that to her again. ‘And I prefer a different sort of wooing, but we can’t always have what we want.’

  He came over to her and put his finger under her chin, raised her face so she had to look him in the eyes. They were deep pools of blue. A woman could drown in those eyes.

  ‘There was no need to hurry. I’m interested in more than just bedding my women.’

  Edith put her hand on her stomach and tried to quell the sudden butterflies. What sort of wooing did this mountain of a man have in mind? ‘What sort of wooing do Norsemen do?’

  ‘I like to know a woman’s mind before I know her body. Long gone are the days when I needed the comfort of a warm body in the night.’

  Edith crossed her arms as swift anger went through her. She’d spent a sleepless night and he had never had any intention of bedding her! It had been a cynical ploy to teach her some lesson.

  ‘What was last night about? Why put me through the torment? What precisely did you hope to achieve?’

  He cupped her cheek with his hand. The simple touch sent a warm pulse radiating out through her. She kept her body rigid, but an insidious warmth filled her, winding its way around her belly. She wanted to lean into his touch.

  ‘Miss me that much?’ he whispered and his breath caressed her ear. ‘Is that what you are cross about? I will have to remember for the next time—you dislike being kept waiting. Tonight we will unlock the passion.’

  She bid the weakness in her limbs to be gone. He was attempting to unsettle her again, like he had last night. Or worse, he expected her to fall into his arms like a ripe plum. It was all a mind game with him, an intellectual exercise much like playing tafl. He thought she was starving for affection.

  ‘It wasn’t a question of missing precisely,’ she said meeting his gaze directly. ‘More a question of unexpected thanksgiving for deliverance from something I feared. You had no right to put me through it.’

  ‘I’d every right. You serve at my pleasure. When it pleases me to come to you and not before. Would you deny me that right? You were the one who agreed to the arrangement.’

  She shrugged. She’d no choice but to agree. He seemed content to forge that little fact. ‘So you say, but treating another person like that is not how I do things.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘And you believe you are superior to me? That I should treat you different than other women?’

  ‘You need to learn about Northumbrian manners if you wish to rule here successfully.’ Edith tapped her foot. She wasn’t going to think about other women.

  He drew his eyebrows together. ‘You think me ill mannered.’

  ‘Yes.’ Edith glared back at him. She no longer cared if he did anything to her. He was the one in the wrong.

  ‘You wound my pride.’

  ‘I suspect your pride isn’t even in the slightest dented. You have more than enough pride for the both of us.’

  ‘And you have none.’ He arch
ed his brow. ‘A veritable saint. Well bred and always correct.’

  Edith rolled her eyes. It was such a typical feint, trying to change the subject. Her father had been that way whenever he lost an argument.

  ‘I am proud, proud of things that matter, such as how I have run this estate and how I’ve looked after the people on it.’ She held out her hands. ‘Why should I deny that? Is it wrong to be proud of one’s accomplishments? The sort of pride I despise is the sort which seeks advantage over another.’

  ‘You have a tart tongue.’

  ‘I’ve never seen it necessary to sweeten it with honey and have no wish to start now.’

  ‘You prefer honesty.’

  Edith straightened her shoulders. ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘This is all about you sacrificing yourself for the good of others, serving yourself up as the innocent lamb.’

  Edith swallowed hard. It amazed her that Brand knew of something of Christian imagery. There again, he had been in England for ten years. ‘I don’t recall you making a demand that it had to be one thing or another.’

  Her body stiffened and she waited for the blow. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.

  ‘That will teach me, little one. Make a foolish statement and you will get the better of me. I won’t make the same mistake twice.’

  ‘I’m not little. I’m tall.’ Edith moved the conversation away from the potentially difficult problem of why she’d done it. It appeared that Brand never had any real intention of making her his concubine in truth. Somehow that fact hurt.

  ‘Maybe for a Northumbrian, but in Norway our women match us.’ His countenance took on a faraway look. ‘Strong women are needed to breed a race of warriors as my father used to say.’

  ‘A woman’s strength depends on things other than her height.’

  ‘We are in agreement. Norsewomen are forged differently.’