Enslaved by the Viking

by Harper St. George

  ‘I don’t care if he kills them, but I won’t have that slave come between you. She’s caused enough trouble.’

  Gunnar laughed. ‘He would kill them, aye, but you wouldn’t go unscathed. You’ve lost your own game and you don’t even know it.’

  The jarl said nothing and no one intervened as he took her to his chamber and locked the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  She screamed when Gunnar slung her off his shoulder so that she landed with a thump on his bed. She prepared herself for the inevitable fight, but was taken aback when he simply stood there smirking down at her, mischief lighting the amber in his eyes so that they seemed to glow.

  ‘You’ve lost your mind,’ she concluded. ‘Eirik will kill you.’

  His gaze travelled the length of her body, his cheek smarting red where she’d landed a blow with her elbow as she struggled. Good. It served him right.

  ‘He might try, but he’ll be glad you’re safe. Unless he left you for the use of our guests?’ His brow rose on that.

  ‘Nay, the jarl betrayed his trust.’

  ‘The jarl.’ He laughed without mirth and shook his head. ‘The jarl has a bad habit of meddling. He chose that demonstration so you’d know your place. Eirik places too much faith in fools.’

  Merewyn took a deep breath to try to slow the beating of heart. Her body was still tensed for a fight, but it looked as if Gunnar wasn’t after a fight. Was he? She knew what he said was true. Jarl Hegard had looked at her with such triumph, there was no doubt that he had orchestrated the entire situation so that she would know she had no place there as anything other than a slave. How did he know that what she wanted above anything else was to be Eirik’s wife? How did he know just how to hurt her? There was no doubt left that he would stand in the way of any marriage between Eirik and herself.

  ‘Is my desire to be more to Eirik so obvious?’ She hadn’t been aware she’d spoken the despairing question aloud until he answered her.

  ‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve only just arrived. But you’re a noblewoman. It’s not a surprise that you’d not want to settle for being his slave, his pleasure slave at that, unless I’ve misread the situation.’

  She blushed and looked away, unwilling to discuss her intimacy with Eirik.

  He laughed again, a short bark of laughter that raked across her, unsettling her. ‘So the truth comes out. He is bedding you, which means my debt is finally paid. Move over.’

  She barely had time to move out of the way before he flopped down on to his back beside her. She immediately scrambled to the foot of the bed, her legs protectively curled to her chest. He rubbed his hands over his face, as though he was suddenly very weary, and when he dropped them he regarded her with a heavy-lidded gaze. ‘Don’t worry, little slave. I won’t touch you, even though I’m sure I’d enjoy it very much. Unless you want me to. I can promise you’d enjoy it, too.’ That smirk was back in his eyes, baiting her.

  ‘Eirik would kill you.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’

  She looked away. She’d never known him to tease her before and didn’t know how to react to this side of him.

  By the light of the single candle in the room she could see that the chamber was similar to Eirik’s. There were treasures displayed on the few wooden shelves and chests that she didn’t doubt held even more. But there weren’t as many. Perhaps that was a reflection of his status as a younger son or bastard son. Eirik had explained his parentage and she had to wonder if that accounted for his foul mood most of the time.

  Now that the initial heat of the confrontation was beginning to fade, her body shook a bit. She wrapped her arms tighter about her legs to hold the shaking at bay. The realisation of just how close she’d come to being given to those horrible men was nearly overwhelming. She couldn’t exist here as a slave. She couldn’t.

  ‘He won’t marry you, if that is what you want.’

  His voice cut through her thoughts, as sharp as a blade cutting fat from the flesh. She flinched—she couldn’t stop her reaction any more than she could stop the complete hopelessness that settled over her. Though Eirik had already told her as much, she’d still held out hope that she could make him see how good things could be if she was his wife.

  ‘You’re cruel.’ She refused to look at him, and kept her head down on her knees.

  ‘I’m sorry. I don’t say it to be cruel. But you have to know what’s at stake for him. Eirik wants to be jarl. Hegard wants Eirik to be jarl. A jarl cannot wed a slave.’

  ‘I am a noblewoman. I would be his equal back home.’ She despised the tremble of her voice.

  ‘But you’re not home, little slave. You are here, and here you are a slave. Even if he frees you, your status would be too low for a jarl’s wife. Though, I grant, you’d be an excellent mistress.’

  Merewyn closed her eyes against the pain the truth of those words caused. Was that her lot, to accept being a mistress when he took a wife? She couldn’t share him, couldn’t know that he took his pleasure with another, or that another gave him pleasure. He would have children with a wife, and what of her own children? Would they be like Gunnar? Reduced to second best with little hope of having their father’s endorsement?

  ‘Wouldn’t he be jarl no matter who he weds? He is the heir, is he not?’ She did look at him then, not caring if her words were harsh.

  ‘He is not. Sometimes the jarldom passes to the eldest, like with the farms, but sometimes there is bloodshed if someone else has a claim or wants it enough and has the warriors to support him. Eirik wants to be jarl. It’s the only thing he’s ever wanted his entire life. He won’t risk men not endorsing his claim because he married his pleasure slave, noble as she may be.’

  She had to pause before she spoke to fight the painful lump that had swollen in her throat. Nay, Eirik would not marry her if it meant he would lose his place. He’d spent his entire life preparing to be jarl. ‘Do you want to be jarl, Gunnar? Don’t you have a claim?’

  ‘Of course I do, and I’d like it very much.’

  ‘How much? Enough for bloodshed?’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  She stifled her gasp of surprise and outrage. He spoke so calmly, as if they were discussing something besides the death of his brother. ‘Then why save me from those men if you hate Eirik so much?’

  ‘I never said that I hated my brother, only that I want to be jarl. I don’t harbor ill will for him. But that has nothing to do with saving your virtue. I owed him a debt and now it’s repaid.’

  She took a deep breath and broached a subject she was almost certain she shouldn’t be discussing with him. ‘Do you mean that you owe him a debt because you left him that day?’

  ‘He told you?’ She couldn’t have shocked him more if she had sprouted a horn on top of her head.

  She nodded, unsure of his thoughts and if she should have mentioned it.

  His demeanour changed from lazy indifference to hot anger, though if it was anger at himself or her, she couldn’t tell. He sat up, eyes blazing as he pinned her with his gaze. ‘Aye, because I did nothing. I did nothing and he suffered. Go to sleep. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay here in this chamber until he returns. If you do go out, limp a little so it’ll seem authentic. As a matter of fact, you haven’t screamed in a while.’ He lunged for her, and she did scream as she jumped away, falling over the edge of the bed to the floor.

  He poised above her on the bed, knees spread wide. In that moment, she realised that he was every bit as powerful as Eirik, his frame large and exuding strength. His eyes were fierce and bold as they touched her. ‘I told you I wouldn’t touch you. I’m not quite the villain you seem to think I am, but the scream sounded convincing.’ He smirked as he turned, but she couldn’t help but feel that she’d let him down.

  ‘I didn’t mean that I agreed with you. T
hat you owed him a debt.’

  ‘Of course I do. He yelled for me to run and I didn’t even look back. What could one eleven-year-old boy do but run? I ran. It seemed like hours before I found a washerwoman downriver. She sent her boy to find Father and I ran back to help Eirik, but I could do nothing. Nothing but hide and listen to his screams as they beat him.’ He took a deep breath, his voice almost shaking with fury when he spoke next. ‘I could only...only listen and do nothing.’

  ‘You were only eleven.’

  ‘Well, my father thinks I should have died to help him. Perhaps I do, too.’

  ‘You didn’t—’

  ‘Just go to sleep. This isn’t open for discussion.’

  The stir of pity in her chest surprised her. Gunnar was a hardened, cynical man, but her heart ached for the guilt-ridden boy. As he settled down to sleep, Merewyn stayed huddled on the floor at the foot of the bed, and her thoughts turned inwards. Eirik would never be hers here. Gunnar’s words had driven the point home. They were doomed to part. She had always feared it, known it somewhere deep down to be true, but now it was confirmed.

  A trembling hand went to her belly. Her menses were only two weeks late, not nearly late enough to be sure, but she knew a tiny life grew inside her. Her breasts ached constantly, and there was a heaviness in her middle, a strange fullness that she’d never felt before. It was time to think about her child. If she stayed, he or she could grow up like Gunnar. Bitter and resentful, especially if—when—Eirik married and had children with a wife. She closed her eyes at the mere thought and pushed it away.

  She curled into a ball as her emotions warred within herself for dominance. There was no easy answer, but she knew that the same man who cared for her so tenderly wouldn’t treat his children with the cold callousness of the jarl. She couldn’t leave him. But neither could she stay. The jarl had made sure of it.

  * * *

  Merewyn awoke a split second before the door splintered and broke away from the wooden hinges that held it in its frame. The fire was banked in the hearth, but it gave off enough of a glow that she could see Eirik standing there. Her heart gave a little jolt when she realised her wait was over. She’d spent the past five nights in Gunnar’s room waiting for the two men to leave so they wouldn’t dare think they would deserve time with her.

  But her eyes narrowed as she came to the realisation that there was no happiness on his face. He was not in the least pleased to see her. In fact, she wondered if he’d even seen her, as the focus of his sole attention was Gunnar, who was just stirring in bed. He came to his room every night inebriated to the point of oblivion and barely paid her any mind as she slept on a pallet on the floor.

  Her cry of warning was the only thing that roused his attention, just before Eirik roared an oath and ran towards his brother, sword held high over his head. The look on his face was reminiscent of that night he’d beaten the man who had assaulted her at Kadlin’s. There was no trace of pity or mercy in the hard features. She blanched and watched in stunned helplessness as the sword swooped down skilfully to find its mark.

  Gunnar came to just in time to dodge the blow and launch himself to the far side of the bed. He came up looking a bit dazed, but his face cleared quickly enough when Eirik swung at him again. Gunnar jumped away, causing the sword to crash through one of the bedposts. There was a spray of splinters as the weight of the bed curtains pulled the supporting wood beams down at the corner. As Eirik fought the heavy fabric, Gunnar ran to where his own sword rested in its place on the wall between the bed and the door.

  Eirik pulled free just as Gunnar got his hands around the grip and yanked it down. The two blades met with a deafening clang. As they moved, she saw very clearly how the two brothers were vastly different. Eirik was strong and steady, striking with precision and control for all that he was angry, where Gunnar was fast and unpredictable, almost wild in his strikes. Despite their differences, they were a good match, neither of them giving nor gaining ground for long.

  ‘Stop fighting him, Eirik. It’s not what you think. He saved me.’ Her words didn’t seem to get through. ‘Gunnar saved me!’ she yelled louder, to no effect. Just when she was figuring out how to insert herself into the fray, Jarl Hegard came in, followed by Sweyn, each bearing his own sword.

  She had an insane vision of the three of them fighting to the death when the older man ran between them. But Eirik seemed to come to his senses and backed away to allow room for the jarl, though he still held his sword as if ready to swing it. His powerful forearms flexed beneath his sleeves, and his shoulders were tense, ready to strike. Gunnar was shirtless and already his torso was soaked in a sheen of sweat. He, too, was tense, not trusting the interruption to be more than temporary.

  ‘I will kill you for touching her!’ Eirik’s voice was clear and steady above the jarl’s softer murmur.

  ‘Are you sure she’s still yours?’ Gunnar’s taunt landed, and then the shouting began.

  Eirik lunged, but his father’s bulky frame held him at bay. The jarl urged them both to calm themselves and wanted them to go to the hall to talk. Eirik was on the cusp of disregarding his father and laying into Gunnar. She saw it in the way his fingers flexed around the grip of the sword, so she rushed forward and grabbed his arm. ‘Eirik, I am unharmed. Gunnar saved me.’

  His gaze jerked to her as if he had forgotten her presence. The rage and momentary blankness in his stare made her step back in befuddlement. This was not the tender lover who had left her just weeks ago. This was the Viking, tortured and controlled, who had enslaved her.

  ‘Gunnar saved me. Your father was going to give me to two men who were visiting and Gunnar brought me to his room and I’ve stayed here since. He protected me.’

  Eirik looked first to Gunnar, who stared back at him with fury blazing in his eyes, and then to the jarl, who had the grace to look chastened. ‘You would give her away? You vowed to keep her safe.’ His voice was so calm it sent a ripple of terror down her spine.

  The jarl stared back at him before answering, ‘She has no place here. My first duty is to your future.’

  Those few words made the tension in Eirik’s shoulders drain away, so that when he took a few steps back, the sword hung down at his side. He looked as if the air had been knocked out of him, but in moments he’d recovered and his face was hard, resolute.

  ‘Come.’ He grabbed her arm and pulled her with him as he walked towards their chamber.

  ‘You cannot keep her!’ The jarl’s voice followed them, bringing Eirik to a stop just before walking out the door.

  ‘I will keep her.’ Eirik glared at him.

  ‘You will marry. If not Kadlin, then someone else worthy of you, not this slave.’

  ‘She is a noblewoman.’ The continued calm of Eirik’s voice made her uneasy.

  ‘She is nothing here. She will never be anything here. You will never be anything here if you keep her.’

  Eirik’s jaw worked as he watched his father. She wanted to intervene, to offer some solution, but could only watch in horror at the drama playing out before her. Then Eirik’s gaze shot to his brother and he spoke, addressing Gunnar and then Sweyn. ‘We leave for Northumbria in three days. Start loading the boats.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eirik grabbed her arm and pulled her to their chamber. Once there he let her go, slammed the door and sheathed his sword before throwing it across the room so that it knocked down an entire shelf. Its contents went clattering across the floor. She jumped, but didn’t take her eyes from him. Outwardly, he looked calm, deathly calm, and that frightened her. She wanted to hold him, to assure him that things would be fine, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know that anything would be fine.

  Giving him a moment to calm himself, she went around the room lighting candles before coming to stand before him. ‘Eirik, I know what you must have thought. You left that morning b
efore you let me talk to you.’

  He closed his eyes, and her gaze caught on his throat as he swallowed hard. When he opened them, he seemed to do so with new resolve, and he looked at her, but she wasn’t sure that he was actually seeing her. It made her chest ache to know that he expected her to reject him, or that maybe he had thought she had chosen Gunnar over him.

  ‘I still love you. Nothing that happened in your past could ever change that. I love the man you are now...the one who stole me from my home, but gave me so much more than I had before.’ She approached him as she spoke, but was still hesitant to touch him. He seemed almost like a stranger to her, this new person who stood before her with all of his secrets finally bared. But not as foreign as she had imagined when they had first stood together in this very chamber. He was the Eirik she loved, only better because now she really knew him. There was suddenly so much more to explore together.

  That thought gave her the courage to touch his chest, her hands moving slowly but with purpose up to his shoulders. ‘There will never be another man I choose over you. Never.’

  He shuddered beneath her palms and watched her warily. ‘How can you say that when I am so weak?’

  ‘Not weak. You had no choice. You survived, and you’re even stronger for it.’

  But he shook his head. ‘I did survive, but not without damage. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again. Do you know that the entire time I was gone I didn’t have a single nightmare, but I still couldn’t sleep because I needed you? What kind of warrior am I?’

  She wanted to smile, but kept the way her heart flipped in her chest to herself. ‘A warrior in love.’ Certain of her place now, she slowly stroked a hand down the broad expanse of his chest and over his flat stomach. ‘I love you. Please let me show you that you’re worthy of love, of pleasure.’

  He didn’t move, and his breath came heavy above her ear. For a moment they simply stood locked in an embrace, but when he didn’t resist, she moved her hand lower until she cupped him. He hardened and lengthened beneath her touch. He wanted her touch. When she was certain he wasn’t going to push her away, she squeezed gently and moved her hand in a rhythmic stroke against him. His ragged gasp of pleasure made her heart leap in happiness, which made her bold in her eagerness to touch him. She worked her hand in the waistband of his trousers and reached in to grab the hard velvet length of him. She closed her fingers around him, noting that he was hotter than she’d imagined he would be, and moved her palm in smooth, even strokes up and down his length.