His breath grew harsher with every stroke, exciting her, making her hand work faster to bring him to release. His hips moved into the grip of her hand, eager for her stroke, while his hands gripped her hips, holding her tight. When he began thrusting against her, she realised he was close and knew a strange desire to taste him as he had tasted her. She stopped caressing him and pushed against his embrace to move to her knees before him. When her eyes met his, she didn’t even have to voice her request. His eyes were like flames burning into her.
The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair to hold her steady. It was the small bit of control he would always maintain, but she didn’t care. Even that excited her. His thumb stroked her bottom lip and then pressed so that she opened to let it inside. She sucked it while his other hand worked the fastenings on his trousers until he freed his length and pressed the head to her lips, replacing his thumb. Greedy for him, she let him inside and held tight to his hips as he thrust in short, shallow pumps until the saltwater taste of him bathed her tongue and his groans filled the room.
He let her go and pressed his hands heavily against the door to support himself. His legs trembled, and she wondered briefly if he might wish for her to not touch him now, but she couldn’t stop. Her hands moved up his hips, over his stomach and up to his shoulders as she stood. Before he could say anything, she kissed him, her hands meeting behind his neck to hold him close. Much to her delight, he caressed her back as he pulled her close. His entire body shook against hers, but instead of hiding it, or pushing her away, he held her tighter.
She squeezed her eyes shut to block the tears of joy that had come to them.
His lips trailed kisses across her cheekbone and down her neck. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered against her ear as he lifted her, so that she put her legs around his waist, and walked them to bed.
There he took his time and undressed her, kissing each part of her that he revealed, until he was ready for her again. She cried when he joined with her, because it was so perfect and beautiful and everything she knew couldn’t last.
* * *
The morning beckoned, but Eirik couldn’t summon the strength to leave her just yet. He’d kissed her tears away and loved her until they both lay exhausted, but still they hadn’t slept. He was exhausted from spending every waking moment of the past month trying to figure out a way to keep her, to make her understand that he could be worthy of her. But it seemed that hadn’t been a problem after all.
The problem was the life he had planned for himself. It was keeping them apart. If he went on to become jarl, then he would lose her. It was as simple as that. He would eventually have to marry, and he couldn’t expect her to accept that. The mere thought of another man laying claim to her, if the situation were reversed, was enough to drive him mad with anger. He couldn’t assume she would be happy to live that way. A wife would see her as a threat, even if he did install her at the farm. What wife would want a husband who was obsessed with his slave? It wouldn’t work. He didn’t even want to imagine it.
Then there was the betrayal by his father to consider. It shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. Eirik knew the man’s only goal was to see him installed as jarl. He just had never thought his father would stoop to lying to him to achieve it. It left him questioning how he could continue to serve the man, and if he even wanted to be jarl. But what was there for him if he wasn’t jarl?
Merewyn. The answer came through like a shard of light after a storm. Merewyn could be his, but only if he gave up his destiny. Even if he could, what would there be for them?
‘What will happen to us?’
He raised his head from her belly to look down at her. His gaze raked upwards from her narrow waist to the perfect mounds of her breasts, tipped with plump nipples, swollen now from his attention, and up to the slave collar at her neck. He touched it and looked up to her deep doe eyes. ‘I’m not sure. But it’s clear you can’t stay here.’
‘I could wait at the farm with Harold. I’m sure he’d keep me with food.’
He was already shaking his head before she even finished. ‘My father can’t be trusted. I’m sorry that I thought he could. You’ll have to leave with us.’
‘For Northumbria?’ She sat up in shock. ‘You’re not taking me home, are you?’
He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know what the future held for them. If the battle was bad, he’d have to return her to ensure her safety. Their camp would be no place for her. Instead of answering, he rose to his feet and dressed quickly.
‘Eirik? Tell me what you’re thinking.’
He only shook his head and gathered his armour and sword. Maybe her home would be better than the life that was ahead of him. There was only one way that he could even remotely consider it working out, and it was almost not worth considering. It would be unfair to give her hope when he had no idea what could happen. He needed to talk to his uncle before he knew for certain.
‘I don’t know, Merewyn,’ he finally answered when she rose to her knees and perched on the edge of the bed. ‘I only know that there is no future for us here. We leave in three days.’
* * *
Gunnar came for her before dawn on the third day. A short rap on the door was her only warning before it swung open and he stood in the frame, a shadow in the cold night.
‘It’s time to go home.’
She sat up fully clothed, because she’d been expecting someone to come get her very early. Though she’d hoped it would be Eirik. ‘Where is Eirik?’
‘On his boat.’
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Do you know what he’s planning? Is he returning me to my family?’ Of course he was, but she needed the confirmation. There was nothing else for him to do. She couldn’t follow him into battle.
‘He’ll negotiate with your brother. Come, we have to go.’
The confirmation was more painful than she’d thought it would be, and she took a moment to gather her strength before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Eirik was returning her of his own free will. He could have taken her to the farm. What did the jarl care about him keeping a slave there? She turned to grab the fur she’d slept with, the only thing left in the room. Sweyn and another man had come to empty the chamber the day before, and had taken everything except the bed and tables. Even the silver chest filled with the presents Eirik had given her. She had voiced her displeasure at that, but Sweyn had only looked at her with enough pity in his eyes that she’d felt ashamed without even knowing why.
Pulling the fur around her, she followed Gunnar along the path to the river. Spring hadn’t yet made its appearance, but winter was losing its death grip on the land. The snow had melted along the banks of the river. She felt an odd melancholy to be leaving. The place had only been her home for a short while, but it was where she’d found love with her Northman. She regretted that she’d never see the farm again. Truth be known, the farm felt more like home to her than anywhere. She blinked back a tear and swallowed back the ache in her throat.
She was surprised when Gunnar led her to a boat and followed her on board. She looked for Sweyn, who had crossed with her on Eirik’s boat, but she didn’t see him. None of the men looked familiar to her. This was Gunnar’s boat. Eirik was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t even returning her himself. She strained her neck to find him on his boat, but she wasn’t sure which one it was. The figureheads had all been taken from the prows, so she was at a loss to identify the one with the terrifying dragon she remembered. There were more boats than she remembered, too. At least double the number now than on that trip. They already stretched in a line down river on their way to the fjord.
* * *
It wasn’t until later when they were on the open water and the sun was up that she was able to pick him out. She recognised the sail when it was raised, and then the blond head of the giant helping to raise it. Her belly
gave that little flip as it always did when she saw him after an absence, prompting her to put her hand there and think of the life that it sheltered. If she told him about the child, would it change his mind so that he would keep her? He must know that a baby was a possibility. He must know and not care because he hadn’t bothered to ask.
She turned away in misery and looked back towards the shoreline that had long since disappeared. Her life had changed so much in the brief time since she’d known him, but now it seemed that nothing had really changed at all. She was still unwanted by those she loved. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, vowing not to cry.
Chapter Thirty
She was able to keep that vow all the way up until the moment she saw Eirik. The seasickness had claimed her again, only this time the recovery had been slower, probably due to the baby that she was now certain she carried. By the time she had disembarked, she’d been so weak that she’d leaned heavily on Vidar as he led her to a tent. There were hundreds of them set up just past the stretch of sand that was the beach. Eirik came by the morning after they were settled, standing outside the open flap of the tent and dipping his head just enough to look her over where she lay on a pallet.
She sat up immediately, but he turned his attention to Vidar and the few men who stood outside near the fire. Their voices were too low to make out what they were saying, but there was no mistaking that he was ignoring her. She blinked back tears and got to her feet to go to him, but he took pity on her and came inside, closing the flap behind him.
‘How are you feeling? You’re still pale.’
She nodded, unwilling to spend the few precious moments she might have with him discussing her health. ‘I’m fine. Tell me what’s happening.’
He held himself still, but then the tension drained from him and he drew her into his arms. She gripped his shirt tight and buried her face in his familiar warmth. ‘Whatever it is, tell me, unless you mean to leave me, and if that’s the case then you must know that I won’t stay. I’ll come looking for you.’
He laughed and held her tighter. ‘I’ve spoken to Uncle Einar and we mean to go talk with your brother.’
‘Why?’
‘Do you still want to marry me, Merewyn?’
The question caught her off guard so she pulled back to look at him. The uncertainty on his face was enough to make her stomach clench in pain. ‘Aye, Eirik,’ she rushed to reassure him. ‘I want to marry you more than anything.’
‘If everything goes well, then we will be married. If it doesn’t...I’ll have to send you somewhere safe. Away from the fighting.’
She nodded. Part of her wanted to tell him about the baby now, but she didn’t want to add to his burden, so she held silent. ‘But you will send for me later?’
‘Aye, if I can, when it’s all over. We leave now and should know more in a day or so. I have to go.’ He bent and kissed her, a deep claiming kiss that left no doubt in her mind that he still wanted her. Finally, he reluctantly broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers.
‘Please be safe.’
‘I love you, Merewyn. Never forget that.’
The hardest thing she had ever done was watch him leave.
As far as she knew, he didn’t come back, and on their fourth morning there, Vidar was binding her wrists and helping her mount a horse to follow in their direction. She’d protested the bindings, because they were unnecessary. What would she do? Grab a sword and start maiming Vikings? Take off on her pony for home? The only home she wanted to flee to was the farm and it sat across the sea. But Vidar had shrugged and left the bindings so loose they weren’t effective.
Most of the other men in camp came along with them. Some on horseback, but most on foot.
* * *
By midday, she recognised the manor’s beach and gasped when she saw Alfred on the far side, directly across from Eirik, with almost as many Saxons with him as they had Northmen. It had only been months since she’d last seen him, but her first sight of her brother now was a shock. She remembered him as large, solid, staunch, but the man who dismounted and walked the few steps across the beach to meet Eirik looked old, tired and defeated. He’d yet to glance her way. If that was because he’d failed to see her or because he didn’t want to see her, she didn’t know. At her gasp, Vidar slanted a harsh glance her way.
He was angry he had to play nursemaid and wasn’t out there with his brothers. He’d grumbled as much the entire morning. She couldn’t say that she blamed him. Her strength had returned, and neither of them believed that she needed a nursemaid, but he’d been ordered to mind her all the same.
She tugged at her bindings, wary of what was happening despite her brief visit with Eirik. She wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t happened upon some misguided, noble scheme to return her, believing her safer with her family than in the middle of a war. If that was the case, she planned to tell Alfred of the child growing in her belly at her first opportunity and knew that he would either demand marriage or would refuse to accept her. Either way, she would not go back to the manor.
Only after her lower back started cramping from sitting on the horse so long did Eirik signal and Sweyn walked to collect her. She stomped her feet to force the blood back into them before she walked with Sweyn to join them exactly in the centre of the two sides. She tried to feign a demeanour as stoic as the men, but couldn’t stop herself from letting her gaze linger on Eirik’s unresponsive profile before giving Alfred her full attention.
‘This is the man who took you?’ He indicated Eirik.
Whatever she thought he might say to her, his brusque manner wasn’t what she was expecting. Before she could even think to form an answer, Eirik’s voice interrupted. Menacing and too controlled. ‘Your wife gave her to me.’ He said wife like a curse.
Alfred ignored him. ‘You have been unharmed?’ His voice was so cold that it took her a moment to answer.
‘Aye’ was all that she could manage. This was not the stoic yet gentle brother she remembered.
‘Have you been violated?’
She was so shocked by the question, she couldn’t answer, which prompted Alfred to ask again. ‘Are you intact, Merewyn?’
She shook her head, unable to give voice to the words, unwilling to share that intimacy with this stranger who demanded answers from her. Despite her earlier resolve to tell him of Eirik’s child, it seemed too impersonal now, too callous to blurt it out here in front of everyone. To tell him before she’d even had a chance to tell Eirik. But it was as if this stranger knew.
‘Do you carry his bastard?’
‘Enough, Saxon!’ Eirik’s voice was so forceful it made her jump.
‘It’s my right to know.’
‘Nay, it’s not your right to know. You have no rights here. Your wife gave them away for you. Either we do this now—no more questions—or we go and I’ll take your home by morning.’
Merewyn looked between them, certain something was happening of which she had no knowledge. Before either of them could speak again, they were joined by a monk she didn’t recognise wearing dark robes and the man she recognised as Alfred’s captain of the guard. The monk looked nervous, and as soon as he began to recite the familiar Latin words, she understood why. She’d seen enough babies christened to understand what was happening. Though the setting and bottle of water he uncorked was strange, he was baptising Eirik. The monk wet his fingertip with the water and drew the sign of the cross on Eirik’s forehead.
It happened too fast to be valid. She was certain it couldn’t be legitimate, but as fast as it had begun, the bottle was tucked away and it seemed it was finished. But then the monk immediately turned to another part of his book and began reading.
‘Wait!’ Eirik held up his hand and the monk’s gaze flicked up, though he seemed too afraid to lift his face from the book. ‘Your men should put down their weap
ons now.’
‘Not until it’s finished, Dane.’ Alfred’s gaze flicked to her, starting a hollow deep in the pit of her stomach.
‘We’ll start with the spearmen,’ Eirik continued as if he hadn’t dissented.
Alfred relented and waved his hand. One by one the men tossed their spears. As the monk continued reading, it became clear that it was her wedding day and Eirik was her groom. Her blood roared so loud in her ears that she didn’t hear a thing until the soothing murmur of Eirik’s voice reciting his vows reached her.
Once he finished, more of Alfred’s men laid down their weapons. When it was her turn, she hesitated, prompting Eirik’s first look at her. She hadn’t been expecting warmth in his eyes.
Eirik didn’t smile, but she saw approval in his eyes. It mixed with the warmth to fill the hollowness within her. ‘I’m sorry it has to happen this way.’ He spoke low and in his own language so that Alfred couldn’t understand. ‘But will you take me as your husband?’ She tried not to smile; it didn’t seem right to allow Alfred to see how happy they were. But she nodded and didn’t take her eyes from his as she repeated the vows. Only when it was finished did all of Alfred’s men lay down their arms and Eirik cut the ties binding her wrists.
Gunnar and Sweyn each took a side and ushered Alfred towards the manor, and the Danes followed, even the others who she had thought had been back at camp, could be seen coming from the south-west. Eirik waited until they had been left in relative peace to bring her hands to his lips.
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