‘Eirik?’ His father’s harsh voice cut through his reverie.
‘Aye?’
‘You’ll go, if there is a need?’
Eirik had been faintly aware of the discussion about two jarls to the south-east who had held out on committing men to the battle. His father was beseeching him to go and personally request their assistance in the invasion. But he knew that it would mean leaving Merewyn behind, and he was reluctant given his father’s bitterness about his refusal to marry Kadlin. He wouldn’t risk taking her out in winter. The danger was too high.
‘Why don’t you send Gunnar?’
‘Gunnar hasn’t seen fit to return home. Besides, they’ll listen to you. They trust you.’
Eirik glanced back to Merewyn before addressing his father again. ‘Aye, they trust me. But I won’t leave the girl unless I know that she’s safe.’
The jarl followed his glance to the girl and was quiet for a long while before coming to a decision and finally nodding. ‘You have my word that she’ll be kept safe while you’re gone.’
‘You’ve changed your mind about her, then?’ Eirik pressed.
His father slowly shook his head. ‘I’ve never held any ill will towards the slave. I only seek to ensure your future. This trip will help you do that.’
‘Then, I’ll go if there’s a need.’
‘Agreed. If we haven’t heard before winter’s end, you’ll go.’
Eirik nodded and bid them all goodnight. Then he headed over to Merewyn and knelt behind her, his need for her far outweighing his need to please his father. The back of his finger caressed the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck. ‘Come to the bath with me,’ he whispered into her ear. She blushed, but nodded and gave him a sweet glance. He waited for her to say something to Mardoll and then wrapped his cloak around her before leading her to the bath.
He cleared the room and filled the tub with steaming water before bringing her inside. It was already steamy, but he poured more water over the stones to heat the room even more. Just as he finished, she walked up behind him. He instinctively knew her intention a moment before her hand ran lightly up his back. Even though he knew it was she, even though he knew that her touch came from a place of tenderness, even though his body hardened in response, he stiffened and the familiar anxiety burned in his stomach.
‘You said I could touch you.’ She smiled when he turned to face her.
‘Aye, I did.’ He was surprised to see that she’d already disrobed, and his eyes drank in the sight of her. It was impossible to explain his reaction to her touch. He’d spent his adult life avoiding any touch that brought him pleasure. After what had happened, it seemed easier, safer, to deny that part of him existed. The response was involuntary.
She moved to put her hand on his chest, but he shifted away just enough to make her stop. The moment the hurt crossed her eyes, he wanted to take it back. So he did the only thing he thought might help, and grabbed her hands and put them both on his chest. ‘Touch me as you want, Merewyn.’
‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not you. It’s just that...’ There really was no way to explain. The truth would lead to too many questions.
‘Does it have anything to do with what Hilla said happened to you?’
Terror knifed through his chest. ‘What did she tell you?’
‘Nothing. She only mentioned that something had happened. That you had known cruelty. Is it true?’ The look of genuine concern on her face wrenched his heart, but it also relieved him. She didn’t know, or that look would have been disgust.
‘Aye,’ he whispered.
As she spoke, her hands moved in gentle strokes across the breadth of his chest and up to his shoulders, only to come back down again. Her fingertips caressed the small scars that crossed his chest. ‘Do you mean these?’
Those were only scars from the many scrapes of battle. He shook his head and closed his eyes to savour the caress that had seemed terrifying only moments ago. She moved close until the length of her body was pressed against him. One of her hands moved up to his shoulder and then down his back until she just barely grazed the scars that Hilla had been referring to.
‘What about these?’ she whispered.
He nodded. Those were the ones he tried so hard to forget existed. He couldn’t help but flinch at her caress, because acknowledging them opened the door to the memory, and he couldn’t let that come over him now. But she must have felt his reticence, because she laid her head against his chest and moved her fingers to lace with his.
‘What about your broken nose?’
As if her words had conjured it, the memory of the blow to his face and the shattering pain turned the black behind his eyelids to the red of that day. There had been so much blood. It had felt as though he’d been drowning in his own blood.
She raised her head to look up at him. ‘I’d like for you to tell me one day.’
He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes to look down at her. Never. He never wanted to let her know how weak he’d been. She was smiling at him and pulled his head down for a kiss.
‘But not tonight.’ Her hand tugged him along as she moved towards the tub. ‘I want to bathe you again. Will you let me?’
‘Aye.’ His voice was hoarse from the unshed emotion building within him. He was at a loss to understand how she so easily unmanned him. He’d been set on there being no tenderness or intimacy between them at all. But he’d been a fool, because having her meant letting her inside, and he had no control over it.
* * *
As the days settled into a routine of work during the day and time alone with Eirik at night, Hilla’s words haunted her. Though it was still difficult to accept the collar, Merewyn began to realise that she was right. Her duties were largely the duties any wife would perform for her husband. See to the meals, the mending of clothes, and once Hilla knew of her skill at weaving, she was given that to do in the evenings when all other duties had been finished. She began to pay particular attention to the women who weren’t slaves. The fishermen’s wives and those who tended the animals. The only real difference between them and the female slaves, at least on the outside, was the collar. They all worked very hard.
As midwinter set in and drove them all inside, she had even more time with Eirik. They spent many hours in their chamber, where he would spend time teaching her some words from his language. He told her tales of his travels and kept a map set atop a chest so he could point to each place he’d gone. Sometimes he’d even show her the treasures he’d brought back, eager to share them with her.
One night, he gave her a small silver chest he’d said had once belonged to a princess. When she’d opened it to find a rope of gold set with large rubies, he’d set it around her neck so it hung heavy across her breasts. Then he’d made love to her. The necklace was soon joined by more baubles in gold and silver with sapphires, emeralds, amber and even more rubies. Every night she picked a different one to wear, but only in their chamber, where she could pretend that everything was possible.
The collar didn’t matter when they were alone. As long as they were together, the world faded away and she belonged to Eirik, though not because she was a slave. He had captured her body and soul, and she feared that he would always own her, even if one day she found herself free.
In her mind, there was no room for thoughts of anyone else holding her, knowing her so intimately. Even in her dreams when she would imagine standing on the shores of her home again, Eirik was there with her. In the cold light of day, when she would tell herself how irrational that thought was, she would remember that the jarl seemed to disapprove of her intimacy with his son. Not so much the sexual aspect, but the other things. Even though Eirik was careful to maintain an impassive demeanour with her, at least in the hall with everyone around, there were sma
ll tells. He always made sure she never worked too long, and at the evening meal he carefully selected her food. At night when he would tenderly touch her arm to beckon her to bed or the baths as he walked by, she would occasionally look up to see the jarl frowning at her.
And there were times when Eirik wasn’t even in the hall, but she would catch the jarl’s eye. He was always frowning, always unhappy with her. He never addressed her directly, never approached her, but he watched. She knew his censure as surely as if he had voiced his displeasure to her. Whether it was true or not, in his mind she had usurped Kadlin’s place in Eirik’s life. Merewyn feared that he would never accept her, even if they someday married.
She didn’t know how it would be possible to live there and marry Eirik. The jarl would make it unbearable. She didn’t know how it would be possible to return home and marry Eirik. Alfred would make that impossible. The only thing she did know was that she loved him and it would be impossible for her to live apart from him. Even if it meant hiding themselves away at his farm. The only problem with that plan was that spring was looming and she knew that he planned to leave her then to join the invasion of her homeland. She was afraid if he did that she might never see him again.
They needed more time, but time was not on their side.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The long weeks of the usually bleak winter passed in the blink of an eye for Eirik. He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so happy, for the lack of a better word. His days were filled with strategy and mead, while his nights were filled with Merewyn. It should bother him that he was going soft, but it didn’t. It should bother him that he longed for her company more than the brotherhood of his warriors, but it didn’t. His craving for her was deeper than the flesh. She was a salve to his wounds. The closer the time came to leave for battle, the more he actually dreaded leaving.
For the first time in his life, he imagined a future for himself that didn’t include battle and sitting at his father’s table, eventually taking his place. Aye, he’d always had the dream of living on his farm, but that dream had always been a temporary respite from fighting. A few short weeks of rest at a time to recover and then return to his real life. It had never been a plan that was meant to be permanent. Now it was the only way he could think that would enable him to keep Merewyn. But even that was fantasy, because his father would never allow that to happen. Eirik knew, too, that he couldn’t turn his back on the people who depended on him. There seemed to be no answer.
He assumed that was why he craved to spend every waking moment with her. Their future together was so tenuous he wanted to soak up every bit of her while he had the chance. Unfortunately, it also meant that the nightmares had come back to torment him. Except they had changed. While he sometimes still dreamed of what had happened, he usually dreamed of what would happen when she found out. The way she would look at him. That was the nightmare that had awoken him just now. Someone had told her and she had turned from him. In that way, loving her was a curse. But he was willing to live with it if it meant having her.
Especially if it meant waking up from them next to her. It was late and there he sat in bed, trembling like a newborn lamb on weak legs from the aftereffects. She turned towards his warmth, her thigh draping across his and her arm finding his waist. Even then, even with the memory of the terror flowing through him, he wanted to turn to her and bury himself in her warmth, to hide his face in her neck and find oblivion with her. But he couldn’t wake her; it would bring forth too many questions. It would mean she would see him as vulnerable as she had that one night and he couldn’t let that happen.
So after running his palm along the firm length of her thigh, he gently pulled a blanket over her and slipped away before making his way to the fur rug. His intent was to go to the small fire and add wood, but he was too pathetic to go that far just yet. Instead, he collapsed and took deep breaths until he could regain some measure of his former strength.
‘Eirik?’
He closed his eyes as her voice reached him through the mellow darkness. ‘Go back to sleep.’ Even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak. He silently cursed the demon that drained him.
But it was too late. The blankets rustled as she moved to her feet and soon her hand was on his shoulder. She didn’t speak, but pulled a blanket over them and put her arms around him. They stayed that way for a while until his shaking had stopped and his heartbeat returned to normal.
‘Why haven’t you told me the nightmares still plague you?’ she whispered against his back.
‘They always plague me. It’s not your problem.’
‘Oh, Eirik.’ She tugged his shoulder and moved over him so that he could see the outline of her face in the meagre light. ‘Why do you shut me out? I don’t care what happened to you, except that it still bothers you.’
He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t because it would have hurt her. No matter her intentions, she would care once she knew the truth. There was no way she couldn’t. He wouldn’t even blame her for caring. The truth was, he was starting to feel guilty for not telling her, for making her believe that he was someone he wasn’t. She deserved to know the truth about the man she was spending her life with. He knew he didn’t deserve her.
He rubbed his knuckles across her shadowed cheekbone and imagined the concern he would see in her expressive eyes. ‘Trust me, Merewyn. It’s better that you don’t know.’
‘Better for you?’ There was a bit of pique in her voice.
He swallowed. Aye, that was exactly what he meant. He couldn’t bear that moment, that look that would cross her face.
‘You want to keep me away from you.’
‘It’s for your own good, sweet girl. Please believe me.’
‘Nay, I don’t believe you. You’re leaving in the morning and you haven’t even told me yet. Is that better for me or better for you?’
He was surprised she knew, but assumed Hilla must have mentioned it. It seemed the jarls to the south-east needed convincing, and with only a month until they set sail, he needed to go convince them. ‘I didn’t want to concern you. What’s the difference if you spend the days before I leave dreading my departure or if I tell you in the morning? I still leave either way.’
‘It matters because you...because we... I thought that...I thought that I meant something more to you than just a slave, just a plaything to fill your evenings with amusement.’
He changed their positions so fast that she gasped in surprise. He sat up and pulled her into his lap, one arm holding her tight while the fingers of his other one twined in the silk of her hair. ‘You do matter to me. Your happiness is all that I want.’
‘But not if it means giving yourself to me.’
‘I am yours in more ways than you will ever know.’ It hurt him that she would never know because he could never tell her. What good did it do to tell her that he longed to have her as his wife when it was impossible? What good did it do to tell her that Kadlin’s bizarre notions of love were suddenly beginning to make sense to him? It would do no good at all. Eventually, what was between them would end, because there was no great future for a jarl and his slave. This was it for them. He knew her well enough now to know that she wouldn’t be able to accept what he could offer her. For now, aye, but not for ever.
‘Are you?’ Then she deflated. Her breath came out in a rush and she wrapped her arms around him. ‘I have dreams that we are married and living on the farm,’ she confessed after a moment.
His forehead touched hers and he stroked her back. ‘I have those same dreams.’ It came out before he could stifle it, but it felt right to say it out loud and let her know.
‘I want to marry you, Eirik.’ Her breath caressed his cheek as she spoke.
He almost shivered at the pleasure the words evoked in him. Their marriage couldn’t happen, but he was pleased that she wanted it as much as he did. His lips brushe
d hers in a soft kiss of atonement for what could never be. ‘I promise to take care of you for as long as you’ll have me.’
‘We can’t marry.’ The words came out a bit stilted, evidence of her pain, followed by a solitary tear that fell to his chest from her cheek. ‘Ever.’
He took a deep breath and said the words that he’d never wanted to say. ‘My duty is to my people. I am the next jarl. Even if I set you free, our marriage is not a choice I’m free to make.’ His fingers still trembled against her skin, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of his dream or the emotion coursing through him now.
‘What of your wants and needs, Eirik?’
He stroked her back and pulled her closer. ‘You are what I want and need. I think I knew it even then, when I first saw you on the beach.’
‘Will you set me free?’
His breath caught at the pain of those words. He’d always expected to hear them at some point, but always further in the future. ‘Do you want to be free of me? Would you choose your family over me now...still?’
‘Nay, Eirik.’ Her forehead pressed against his and her breath rushed over his cheek. ‘But I can’t be a slave.’
‘Merewyn, please understand that your collar is the only means I have of protecting you when I’m not around. You’re not a slave to me. I just don’t have another option right now.’
She shook her head and drew away from him, but he held her tight. ‘Nay, Eirik.’ She struggled against him and pushed his chest. ‘I can’t accept that from you. What happens when you leave? Despite how you feel, everyone else sees me as a slave. How do you think I’ll be treated when you leave? Do you suppose Eirik’s slave will be given special treatment?’
Enslaved by the Viking Page 20