by Fabio
"But Reyna is different."
"Yea, albeit she knew the same loss. She was once Princess of Loire, before Wolfgard took all away from her. Her wounds go deeper than mine, even though her status did not fall as far—her place as Wolfgard's adopted daughter has always been an exalted one."
"Not according to her," Viktor commented cynically. "I wish I could understand her better. She is Christian, is she not?"
Sibeal hesitated.
"Please don't avoid the question," he urged. "I have seen Reyna in the mountains, praying with Pelagius."
Sibeal sighed. "Yea, milady is Christian, as I am. Still, I think she has a fear of the "Viking gods, after hearing so oft the legends and myths—and she also reveres the Irish druids, dragons, and fairies I have told her about over the years."
Viktor touched the woman's sleeve. "How can I reach her, Sibeal?"
She studied his face closely. "What is your purpose, my lord?"
Viktor's reply was earnest. 'Only to make her happy, and to stop this obscene feud that has taken so many lives— although I realize that in the short run, Reyna must suffer some for it, until she adjusts to our destiny together."
Sibeal nodded. "I want to believe your motives are true, jarl. But if it happens you have played us both falsely, I vow I will make you rue the day you were born."
"Fair enough," he said. "Now tell me how I can get through to your mistress."
Sibeal smiled. "Long ago, my young husband brought home a puppy that had been abused by peasants. He wanted to drown the bedraggled thing, for it would do naught but snarl and bite."
Viktor chuckled and stroked his jaw. "Who does that story remind me of?"
"Still, I took the foundling under my wing, and would do naught but pet and feed it—even though my hands knew the vengeance of many nips and even gouges."
"What happened? "
Sibeal grinned. "In time it made a marvelous lapdog."
Viktor laughed heartily. "So you are saying I should kill the little termagant with kindness, are you?"
"Mayhap, jarl."
Viktor scratched his jaw. "A smart strategy indeed—if I can only survive milady's sharp teeth in the interim."
TWENTY-ONE
TAKING SlBEAL'S ADVICE, VlKTOR STRUGGLED OVER THE NEXT
several days, to maintain his patience with Reyna. She did eat and drink, and seemed to be regaining her strength. She did not again attack him physically, although her tongue remained as waspish as ever. She continuously insulted Viktor as well as his kinsmen who guarded her while he attended to his other duties. Soon all of his warriors despised the proud, haughty captive.
Hoping to improve her spirits, he decided to take her out riding. Each afternoon he placed her on a shaggy black pony, with her hands bound before her on the pommel to discourage an escape attempt. He bade Svein and Ottar come along as guards in case the Valkyrie should grow too feisty. As the procession of four went down the main street of the village, Reyna and Viktor's warriors inevitably exchanged insults.
"Ogress!" Rollo would call from the door of a slave hut.
"Whoreson!" Reyna would yell back.
"Ravisher! Canute would taunt from the well.
"Brute!' Reyna jeered in return.
"Bitch!" yelled Orm from outside the storage shed.
"Cur!" retorted Reyna.
Meanwhile, Viktor, listening to the invective, could only groan. He had tried without success to stop the verbal assaults between Reyna and his warriors, and had finally consoled himself with the thought that perhaps having the opposing sides vent their spleen in this hostile though non physical manner would forestall actual bloodshed—foolhardy though he had to concede that possibility was!
The woman was equally abusive toward him, when she did not coldly ignore him; thus Viktor was sorely tested in his new plan to follow Sibeal's advice and employ kindness and patience with Reyna. He made a practice of dining with her at night, and she violently rebuked his every overture.
"Would you like some bread, Reyna?" he would ask.
"Rot in Hel, Viking!" she would retort, then grab the loaf.
"Would you care for some wine? " he would offer generously. "Svein tells me the warriors got it when they went a-Viking to Scotland last summer."
"Choke and die on it, Viking!" she would retort, then grab the silver chalice from his hand and gulp heartily.
Almost perpetually, his hands itched to give the stubborn wench a good shaking—or worse—and his jaw ached from the continual gnashing of his teeth.
One evening he dared to address the impasse. "Reyna, would it not be much easier if you ceased this show of contempt? You know I must hold you captive until you agree to marry me. There is no other way to end the feud."
"I know what you want, Viking," she sneered. "You want to make me your bride, to get me fat with child so you may gloat to Wolfgard that you have tamed me. You will burn in Hel before that day comes—for I will never become your vessel to win the peace."
"Why, Reyna?" he reasoned. "Don't you want peace?"
She hurled him a glare of defiance and gulped her wine. "Nay, Viking. My fondest wish is to kill you."
"Is it?" he countered with thinning patience. "Then was I having delusions that night in the bath hut when we shared our hearts? We were good together, Reyna, and you damn well know it!"
"You shame me with that!" she whispered, her face hot.
'There was no shame and you know that as well."
"I was sick and weak, and you took advantage," she accused.
"You know I did not!"
"I know we are enemies! I know I despise you, and there will be no peace between us until one of us is dead or you release me."
As the days passed, Viktor began to believe her, and to despair of ever taming her. He also knew time was running out. Wolfgard had lost his dragon ship, but Viktor did not fully trust the enemy jarl not to attempt a rescue of his stepdaughter, even if over land. Thus he kept sentries posted along the fjord and north of the village. Surely within weeks Wolfgard would have a new vessel prepared and could launch a full-scale attack—then what would he do? Instead of drawing Reyna closer to him, she seemed to be slipping through his fingers ...
Although she would never admit it, Reyna the Ravisher was actually feeling more drawn to Viktor the Valiant with each passing day. Ever since the night he had attended her so tenderly at the bathhouse and they had shared such sweet intimacies, she had found herself falling increasingly under his spell. Since then, the Viking's kindnesses toward her had left her confused and vulnerable, terrified she would again give in to the powerful passion he stirred and then lose herself entirely. When he smiled at her lavished her with a compliment, or seemed to stare straight into her soul with his pretty blue eyes, she went all giddy and weak inside, longing to be swept into those strong arms again, to surrender, when surrender itself was an alien concept to her. Viktor was right, she realized ruefully: where he was concerned, her emotions had no shame. Thus she defended herself in the only way she knew how—through spite and rage.
Nevertheless, her captor continued to fascinate and perplex her. And while Reyna was grateful to have left her smokehouse prison, living in Viktor's house now, in such close proximity to him, was even worse torture. Although he slept in an antechamber, he was in her presence far too much, stopping by to check on her several times a day. When she scorned him, he would oft pace the chamber and glower like a temperamental lion, and she would find herself mesmerized by his handsome scowl, the way his tight leather leggings pulled at his powerful thighs. She was tempted to soothe him, to let him unleash all his passion and frustration on her own eager body. He was so handsome, with his thick blond hair and huge, muscled body, too splendid a creature to be merely mortal. Sometimes she half believed Viktor truly was a god now, and if so, how could she, a mere mortal woman, ever hope to withstand him?
The more disarmed by him she felt, the more she railed at his dominance, although she knew she was really fighting hersel
f. Her conviction deepened that she must escape Viktor before he made her defeat absolute.
On the day before the planned Shieling feast, Viktor was out on the hillside with Svein, the two men selecting rocks to build a chimney in Eurich's blacksmith forge, when Rollo and Orm rushed up. Rollo was rubbing a forehead that sported a goose egg, and Orm was staggering slightly, one hand braced at the back of his head. Both men appeared chagrined
Viktor dropped the rock he had just chosen onto a nearby pile, dusted off his hands, and faced his kinsmen with a scowl. The men had been assigned to guard Reyna, and their appearance here did not bode well.
"What has happened to you two?" he demanded. "And where is Reyna?"
"She has escaped, jarl!" cried Rollo.
Exasperation burst in Viktor. "Escaped? How in the name of Valhalla did she get past you both?'
The men exchanged sheepish glances, then Orm admitted, "Mayhap Rollo and I became too involved in our game of chess, jarl. The last time we checked on her, the Valkyrie was napping. Then, in the blinking of an eye, she crept in and knocked us both over the head with an iron tankard."
"Damnation," muttered Viktor. "Do you have any idea where she might have gone?"
"She would go to the fjord, jarl, would she not?' put in Svein from behind them.
"That seems logical," Viktor agreed. "She might try to steal a boat and cross over to her own people."
"We must go after her—now," said Rollo urgently.
"Yea, jarl, let us come along and strangle the little witch, then set her out to sea for the sharks to devour," added Orm with a feral snarl.
Viktor was appalled and not about to take along these two, with their battered pride and thirst for revenge. "I shall go after the Valkyrie myself. You two nurse your wounds."
"But jarl—" protested Rollo.
"Are you saying I cannot handle one female alone?" Viktor demanded.
At the pointed remark, the two warriors lowered their heads.
"Jarl, let me help you," offered Svein, stepping up.
Viktor adamantly shook his head. This must be settled between Reyna and me."
He raced down the hillside toward the stable. Had Reyna managed to steal a pony? he wondered. If so, there would likely be no stopping her—she was in a vessel by now and already crossing the fjord.
Inside the stable, he ran across the slave, Nevin, who with a younger, teenage lad was shoveling out the stalls.
"Have you seen Reyna?" Viktor demanded.
"Yea, jarl, she came in here to steal a horse," Nevin replied.
"And?"
"I chased the Valkyrie out with my pitchfork," said the younger slave proudly.
"Then she has no mount?" Viktor inquired with a surge of hope.
"Nay, jarl," answered Nevin. "She has no mount."
(Good," said Viktor, tossing the younger slave a look of gratitude, then tearing off for Sleipnir's stall. If Reyna was on foot, there was a chance he could catch her before she left the wharf.
Moving with feverish haste, he saddled and bridled Sleipnir and led him from the stable. Seconds later, Viktor was galloping across the tundra toward the wharf, vehemently praying that he could still catch Reyna in time. Damn the little Valkyrie and her defiant pride! When would she realize that she could not fight her destiny—their destiny to unite and bring peace to all of Vanaheim?
Well, he was done allowing her to thwart his wishes and deny the love that was meant to be between them.
Soon Viktor was carefully navigating his horse down the rocky fell toward the fjord. His heart rang with new hope as he spotted Reyna in the distance striding down the wharf toward a small moored boat
He dismounted Sleipnir and raced the rest of the way. Even though his boots were made of soft leather, his footsteps thudded across the creaky wharf. Just as Reyna was preparing to board the vessel, she evidently heard him and whirled to face him.
He felt pleased by the panic in her eyes. Too late, she tried to jump down into the boat. He reached her and caught her around the waist in the final split second. She fought like a madwoman, shrieking curses, kicking, and pummeling his chest with her fists. He tried to heave her into his arms but could not contain her in her fury. His wool cloak fell to the wharf as they careened wildly on the unstable wharf—
In the next second, as Reyna's entire body corkscrewed against his, Viktor lost his balance and they both tumbled into the ice-cold fjord! The shock of the frigid water was exquisite, and as it sucked him under, Viktor lost his grip on the mutinous Valkyrie. He fought the powerful undertow, surfaced, and caught a convulsive breath. He spotted her nearby, flailing about, the currents tugging her downriver, a look of horror on her face—
He swam toward her frantically, at last grabbing the sleeve of her garment. The hellcat began fighting him!
"Stop it, Reyna!" he choked out
"I cannot swim!" she cried.
4Then stop fighting me or we both will drown!"
She ceased her struggles, and somehow Viktor managed to tow her back toward the bank. Exhausted and quivering with the cold, he dragged them both out of the freezing river, and they staggered up the craggy hillside together.
And then—as violent shivers racked him—Viktor noticed Reyna's dripping body. She was clad only in her thin linen garment, her boots having been lost in the fjord. The cloth was near-transparent, clinging to her shapely breasts and tautened nipples, her flat belly, even outlining the nest of curls between her thighs—
Despite being within a hairbreadth of hypothermia, Viktor felt arousal sear him. With her breasts heaving as she gasped for air, Reyna was a magnificent ice queen, and suddenly he burned to melt her.
"My God," he muttered, staring at her with raw lust—
In the next instant, Reyna's doubled-up fists slammed into his jaw. It hurt like hell!
For the first time in his life, Viktor totally snapped, Reyna's unremitting scorn sending him over the edge. He caught the wet mop of her hair in a wrenching grip, heedless of her cry.
"You little brat!" he roared. "Is there no end to your defiance? You have insulted me, insulted my men, thrown contempt into the face of my every kindness. Now I have saved your worthless hide—at the risk of my own life, I might add—and you dare to strike me? I tell you, now I know why men in the Dark Ages behaved like animals—it is because the women drove them to it! Well, you, my lady, are about to learn a lesson you will remember for the rest of your life!"
Grabbing her wrist and moving with ruthless determination, Viktor dragged Reyna's resisting body to a rocky ledge. He sat down, hurled her across his knees, and brought his hand down on her bottom, hard. Only the sound of her low sob stopped him, wrenching him to his senses—
God, what was he doing? He was all but behaving like the brutal primitive man he was determined never to become. He had nearly crushed Reyna's spirit—something he had never wanted to do.
As angry at himself as he was frustrated with her, he muttered a blistering expletive and hauled Reyna up on her knees beside him. Her eyes were bright, yet still defiant. Her trembling lower lip revealed her vulnerability.
"Why tears now, Reyna? he asked hoarsely. "I thought you were unreachable."
Convulsively, she whispered, "Wolfgard used to—"
Patience at this point was totally beyond Viktor. He caught her face in his hands and demanded, "Used to what?'
To thrash me with a whip."
Viktor groaned, wanting desperately to pull her close and comfort her, but feeling, for the moment unworthy, and fearing she would still resist him. "And now you have brought me to his level. Or have I done that to myself?"
She stared at him, appearing anguished and uncertain. A tear slid down her cheek as she whispered, "I did it to you. Viking."
Her honesty touched him, but could not assuage his feelings of hurt and alienation. Staring at her starkly, he asked, "Reyna, Reyna, why do you fight me so when all I want is to love you?"
"I fight what you make me feel, Viking," she a
dmitted.
He pulled her closer, until their foreheads touched and their breath mingled. "Why must you think of me as your enemy when I only want what is best for you and all our peoples? When will you realize mat I am truly your friend, that I am on your side, that I yearn to become your husband and lover?"
She drew back slightly, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I do not know how to believe it."
'Then I will show you, love."
The emotion in 'Viktor burst as he pulled Reyna onto his lap and kissed her with all the pent-up passion in his body. He felt her stiffen in his arms and could not bear her resistance, her fear—whatever barrier it was that still held them apart. Desperate, he forced his tongue between her teeth, plunging into her sweet mouth, thrusting and retreating again and again until at last she whimpered in pleasure and surrender. Then she was responding in kind, curling her arms around his neck and pushing tentatively against his tips with her own tongue. The trusting innocence of her kiss made Viktor's chest ache with emotion.
"Yes, darling," he murmured coaxingly into her mouth. "Kiss me just as I've kissed you."
With a low cry, she complied, latching her lips on Ms, pushing her tongue into his mouth, until pleasure and raging lust totally swamped him. His arms crushed her closer and his lips and tongue claimed and plundered.
His heart pounding with fierce need, Viktor pressed her down beneath him on the ledge and began unfastening the ties on her bodice. Momentarily uncertain, she tried to stay his hands, but he only slowly kissed each of her lovely, resisting fingers while she watched, fascinated. When he pushed her hands aside and resumed undressing her, she did not resist, and the sound of her labored breathing was glorious to his ears.
He freed her breasts, staring greedily at the ripe mounds. He fingered the taut pink nipples, his manhood throbbing in tortured readiness as he watched the little peaks grow even harder.
"You want me," he whispered.
She did not reply, but her expression was eloquent, her eyes so languid, her cheeks so adorably flushed with expectation. He kneaded her breasts with his large hands, and she moaned and laced her fingers through his in an unconsciously sensual gesture. A moment later, his hands pressed hers down on the rock, his mouth took her breast, and she moaned in delight. He tongued the nipple and she arched against him, panting softly.