One Night with the Viking

by Harper St. George

  Not even her own husband. A dear friend, one who had given her so much so that her child would have a name, but she couldn’t even fathom kissing him. Not that he hadn’t tried. Dagan had agreed readily to the idea of marriage when she’d explained her situation to him and broached the idea of marriage. He’d known that he’d only be getting gold and a better station for himself out of the agreement. Not her, at least in the beginning. Yet, even on their wedding night when they’d been secluded in her chamber, he had kissed her. She’d allowed it because she felt that it was so little to ask and refused to let it go any further. However, she’d felt nothing, except guilt because the kiss was unfaithful to Gunnar. Unfaithful. It was a word that meant nothing because Gunnar had left her and she had been a fool for even feeling it.

  But even that wasn’t the complete source of her anger. It was the man himself. The fact that he’d reverted to his grouchy countenance and avoided her as much as he was able in the days since the kiss. When she’d left their encounter, albeit running, she had left thinking that they had reached some new understanding between them. She’d seen past his harsh front and into his heart, yet it hadn’t lasted. Or maybe he was spiteful that she had seen the other side to him and was doing his best to reconstruct that front. She had half a mind to go to his chamber and make him stop hiding from her. If she could shake him, perhaps he would understand that he didn’t need to hide from her. In the end it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t the boy she had loved and despite her desire for him...desire wasn’t love. She was older now and wise enough to know that it was foolish to get the two confused.

  Avalt’s small hand grasped her finger and she brought it to her lips for a kiss, before gently moving away. Catching her gaze on the fur he laid upon, she paused and fought past the sudden catch in her chest. Gunnar had made no enquiries about a possible child. He’d made the choice to remove himself from her life. That night when he’d come to her, he’d come to tell her goodbye. Shaking her head, she rose to her feet and adjusted her clothing, repinning the strap of her apron dress in place.

  She realised now that it had been her own girlish wishes that had possessed her to pull him into her bed. Her need to hold on to him, when he’d never given her any indication that he’d returned her feelings. At the time, she had thought she was being so bold, stripping his barriers away so that he had no reason, no excuse to hide from her. And here she was again, contemplating the same thing. If only his father had been different, if only she could make Gunnar admit that he needed her in his life, if only... She smiled and gave a small, sad shake of her head. All of the if onlys in the world couldn’t make him hers if he didn’t want to be.

  A horse’s whinny made her heart leap to her throat. Kadlin moved into the passageway, bringing the door to her chamber shut quietly behind her.

  ‘Kadlin.’

  Taking a fortifying breath, she walked the few steps to Gunnar’s door and saw that he was already manoeuvring himself so that he could get to his feet.

  ‘Stay in your chamber. I’ll go to the door.’

  His command startled her, because it had been almost exactly what she’d been about to say to him. He’d taken to wearing the trousers she had altered for him with no shirt. She hated that her gaze roved over the broad expanse of his chest before meeting his.

  ‘Nay, I’ll go see who it is. You stay.’

  She was already turning to walk down the passageway when he called to her again. ‘Do not. You don’t know who it could be. There are men about who wouldn’t care that you’re a jarl’s daughter.’

  ‘Aye, but this is Eirik’s land...’ But she paused because that wasn’t entirely true now. ‘Jarl Hegard’s land. Not many would risk the ire of two jarls for the measly supplies we have on hand. Stay.’

  She didn’t give him a choice and smiled when he cursed. Let him deal with someone as infuriating as himself for once. She was still smiling when she opened the door to see Baldr approaching. He was alone, his usual retinue of warriors suspiciously absent. Swallowing her disappointment, she forced her smile to stay in place and offered a greeting, making sure that Gunnar could hear her.

  ‘Hello, Baldr.’ The movement coming from his chamber stopped as she’d known it would. Gunnar would know her father’s warrior.

  In the two years since her confrontation with Baldr, he’d surprised her immensely with his behaviour. He’d accepted her marriage with surprising grace, going so far as to wish her well. Even after learning of her husband’s death at the hands of the Saxons, he had not pressed his suit. Instead, he’d sat quietly while it had been her father who had pressed for her to consider marriage again. In the year since she’d moved to Eirik’s farm, he frequently stopped by to check on her during his many trips between her father’s and Jarl Hegard’s home. Sometimes he’d even bring supplies. This time he had a cask of mead strapped to the horse that walked beside him.

  ‘A gift from my father?’ she asked, raising a brow.

  ‘Aye, though I suspect that it’s more a bribe than a gift.’ Baldr smiled as he dismounted and then moved to untie the cask from the packhorse. ‘He misses you, Kadlin, and wants you to come home.’

  ‘I miss him, too, and my mother. However, he knows his constant pressure to marry forced me to leave him. Remind him that I’m perfectly content here on my own, with no need for a husband.’ Only that wasn’t true any more. It was simply best to allow Baldr to believe that so he wouldn’t offer himself as a candidate.

  His mouth tightened, but it was the only indication he gave that he might have taken her words personally. ‘I will tell him...again.’

  She nodded and waved him inside. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you. Some stew, if you want to stay.’

  Setting down the cask next to the other cooking

  supplies on the far side of the front room, Baldr glanced back over the empty benches. ‘It’s quiet here this morning. Where are all the brats from across the field? I don’t think I’ve ever been here without them underfoot.’

  ‘They’re at Harald’s, slaughtering a pig today. We’ve grown tired of fish and mutton and wanted fresh meat before it gets too warm.’ The words had come naturally, too quickly for her to remember that although Baldr had been kind, she didn’t completely trust him. It wouldn’t do to let him believe that they were all alone. Though she knew that Gunnar wouldn’t allow him to harm her and perhaps that knowledge had made her tongue so loose. She might not be able to trust Gunnar in other things, but she knew that he would keep her safe. She refused to acknowledge the sudden warmth that stole through her chest at the thought, or to contemplate its meaning.

  Giving herself a mental shake, she grabbed a bowl and went to the hearth to fill it with stew. ‘Please have some—I was just about sit down to eat. They’ll be back any moment and I’ll be busy preparing the pork. I’ll make another stew, but there will be so much I’ll have to salt it.’

  ‘Many thanks.’ He smiled and took the bowl from her as he sat on an empty bench. ‘Is your son about?’

  She nodded. ‘Sleeping.’ Then she quickly changed the subject, asking about her brothers and sisters back home. They talked of them for a while before moving on to other people from home.

  After it had become apparent that Baldr didn’t know, or was intentionally not mentioning Gunnar’s presence in her home, she had meant to make him aware of the fact at least a dozen times in the conversation. Yet something held her tongue. Though it made no sense because Baldr would have no reason to harm him, she didn’t want to make him aware of Gunnar. Not until Gunnar had recovered his strength, should he need it.

  But he wouldn’t need it today; she was being ridiculous.

  ‘Kadlin.’ Baldr was just leaving, his hand on the door, when he turned back to face her. His unnerving gaze raked over her face before he spoke. ‘I have kept my distance and not pressed you all this time.’

  I
mmediately, her stomach began to churn in anticipation of his next words. She held up her hand to ward them off. ‘Nay, Baldr, not now. I hear enough of this from my father.’

  Pushing the door closed, he grabbed her wrist and held it. It was a gentle hold that didn’t hurt at all, but she tried to tug it away just the same. Only he wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Hear me out.’

  The hard look that crossed his face made her realise that her best option might be to at least pretend to listen to him than refuse him outright. She nodded.

  ‘You’ve played house for over a year now, but it’ll be over soon. Jarl Leif has been generous, but he hasn’t been able to give me what I really want.’ The way his gaze pierced her made it perfectly clear what that was: her. Or more accurately, the station in life that marrying her would give him. He pulled on her wrist to bring her closer, close enough that his breath brushed across her temple as he spoke. It repulsed her, so she leaned back and wondered if she should have armed herself with her kitchen knife. ‘Jarl Hegard has made me a proposition, one that I’m finding difficult to refuse.’

  Dread settled like a weight in her belly. There was only one thing that could be, one thing that would make Baldr so bold after biding his time for so long. ‘This farm.’ The jarl was even worse than she had thought. He could have given it to Gunnar, but he’d had to do the one thing sure to twist the knife deeper. He had to give it away.

  ‘Aye, perhaps more.’ Baldr smiled, the first true smile she had seen from him in ages. It lacked the polite veneer of the ones she had become accustomed to seeing. This one lit up his face and brought that hint of cruelty that he tried so hard to hide back to his eyes. Those eyes gleamed with approval, but not in a way that made her feel valued. He made her feel degraded. ‘You’re smart, girl. Believe it or not, I actually like that in a woman. Sweetens the challenge.’

  ‘I believe it. It must make the spirit-crushing that much more satisfying.’

  Before she had a chance to even realise what he was going to do, he released her wrist and grabbed her braid, twisting it around his fist and reeling her in closer. Her hands immediately went to his chest to push him away. ‘I’d never crush your spirit, Kadlin. I like your fire. I like it so much I plan to marry you. You could stay here in your home, our home, with your bastard. I’d let you keep him as long as you give me sons of my own.’

  The very idea of bedding him made bile threaten to rise up her throat. ‘Don’t do this, Baldr.’ But even as she said it, his other arm went around her waist, pulling her against him.

  ‘I’m not doing anything, yet. I’ll give you time to think about it.’

  ‘Get your bloody hands off her!’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kadlin turned her head to see Gunnar standing just across the front room at the end of the passageway. He wore one of the furs he’d arrived with around his shoulders as a cloak. It was long enough that it dropped almost to the floor, obscuring the heavily wrapped leg and almost, but not quite, hiding the bottom of the walking stick lodged under his left arm. But she doubted Baldr noticed it, because the menacing sword Gunnar held with his right hand was currently pointed at him and demanded his full attention. The fur had fallen back on that side, revealing his naked shoulder and the muscle that had returned there. It was impressive how he managed to hold what was intended to be a two-handed weapon so steady with only one arm.

  ‘I’d heard you had returned, nearly dead and unmanned, Gunnar. Glad to see the rumours were only half-right. You’re not dead. What a surprise to find you staying here.’

  If she had looked back at Baldr, she knew she’d find him scowling at her. The fury from his gaze all but burned the back of her neck. He felt betrayed that she hadn’t told him, as if she owed him anything.

  ‘Get your hands off her,’ Gunnar repeated, his voice tense and solid, but not loud or angry.

  He was controlled and it was that more than the words that made Baldr’s hands loosen. She quickly disengaged herself from him and moved away, but she didn’t want the potential for violence to escalate so she stayed near enough. ‘Thank you for the mead, Baldr. Please give my best to Father.’

  There was absolute silence after she spoke, her words a plea for him to leave. She didn’t want Gunnar to have to outright demand that he go. That was a challenge a warrior like Baldr wouldn’t be able to resist. He wouldn’t be able to leave without a fight then; he’d be forced to prove himself. Gunnar didn’t appear to be at a point where he could handle the situation with tact. Baldr didn’t look at her, but she stared at him, imploring him to take the easy way out.

  Finally, he did. The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly, just enough that he could step back towards the door, his hand raising to open it. When he did, Gunnar let the tip of the sword drop so that it rested just barely on the floor in front of him, still at the ready should he need to use it.

  Without a word to either of them, Baldr left, slamming the door in its frame and leaving a heavy and awkward silence behind him. Kadlin wanted to say ‘thank you’, she should have said ‘thank you’. She meant to say it, but Gunnar hadn’t taken his eyes from the door, even after the hoof beats of Baldr’s horse had receded. And she couldn’t take her eyes from Gunnar. He stood tall, every inch the powerful warrior that he had once been. Suddenly, it became clear what the strange noises coming from his chamber had been. The clamour of metal against wood, the clatter as the sword fell to the floor repeatedly, the groans of strain. He’d been getting stronger. At least in his upper body. She had noticed the change when she’d helped him back to his room last week, when he’d kissed her, but she hadn’t fully realised how much he’d changed.

  Gathering her wits about her, she realised how much the exertion must have taken out of him and rushed over to help with his sword. ‘Thank—’

  But he spoke at the same time, cutting her off. ‘That is who you choose?’

  ‘What?’ His words were so unexpected that she had no idea what he meant.

  ‘Baldr.’ Finally taking his gaze from the door, he pinned her with it, making her stop. ‘You would choose him.’ It wasn’t a question so much as an accusation.

  ‘Did it look like I had chosen anything?’

  ‘Aye, it looked like you were about to kiss him.’

  ‘Have you gone daft in that chamber all alone? Have you forgotten what it looks like when a woman wants to be kissed?’

  It was the wrong thing to say. The fire in his eyes shifted to something more dangerous than anger. ‘Aye, I remember well. You showed me only a week ago.’

  She sucked in a tortured breath. She didn’t know why she was surprised that he’d use that against her, but she was and it hurt that he could treat that moment so callously. ‘You’re a brute. If you thought I wanted it, then why would you interrupt?’

  His gaze raked her body, lingering on her breasts. When Baldr looked upon her that way, it made her skin tight and uncomfortable, repulsed. But with Gunnar it wasn’t the same at all. His gaze made her warm, hot, even...achy, and aware of her body in the way that always happened when he looked upon her. She gritted her teeth to fight the idea that she felt anything and waited.

  He was silent for a moment as he studied her, but he didn’t make her wait long before his gaze returned to bore into hers and he answered. ‘Because you are mine, Kadlin. You’ve always been mine.’

  The words hung between them, making the air heavy with their weight. It almost crackled with the power of those words.

  She had been his. There had been a time—most of her life actually—when she would have given anything to hear him say them, because she had been his. Pathetically his. Except now, after all that had passed, they rang hollow. Or too true. Or everything in between. Beating down the very visceral and illogical thrill they caused to shoot through her, Kadlin made sure to keep her voice steady and strong. ‘I was your
s. Once. You let me go.’

  His fury deflated with those words as he let out a deep breath, but it didn’t lessen the intensity of his stare. Whatever he might have said was lost when Avalt’s babble reached them from her chamber and then his sweet voice called to her. It made her realise just what a dangerous line she was toeing, but now wasn’t the time to tell him of their son. Not now when she was too raw to withstand his rejection. Or perhaps it was simply a sign of her cowardice. She didn’t know and couldn’t think about it now with him staring at her.

  ‘Kadlin.’ His hand moved to rest gently on her belly, staying her when she brushed past him to go to Avalt. His voice was softer than his earlier challenging tone. He waited until she looked up at him before murmuring, ‘I only ever did what I thought was in your best interest. Nothing I did was to hurt you.’

  She wanted to believe him. The earnest intention was there in his eyes, but there was too much pain. She’d given herself to him and he’d abandoned her. Didn’t he understand how that had crushed her? How could he claim that she was his when he had never really fought to have her? How could they possibly move forward when she knew that he hadn’t ever cared enough to fight for them? All the questions she had tumbled through her mind at once, weighing down on her.

  ‘Gunnar...’ Silence stretched taut between them, everything they needed to say heavy in the air. It frightened her how easily she could feel herself wanting to give in to him, to accept any excuse that he gave her just so that she could be back in his arms again. But if that was because it was so right or simply because it felt too good, she didn’t know. She’d never been so adrift in her own emotions before.