ask again.’
She felt it in her best interest to refrain from pointing out that he had never asked her to begin with. But she had intended to argue about not being hungry when he rose, and her protest stilled on her lips. It was replaced with a gasp when his hand touched her shoulder.
‘Courage.’ His gaze met hers briefly, and then he turned to address the room.
He held up his arm in a gesture for quiet until the entire hall watched what was about to unfold. The bowl of food sat forgotten in her hands. Her attention settled on the breadth of Eirik’s shoulders.
His voice carried around the room, and something about its deep, even cadence soothed her the slightest bit. It seemed as if he was telling a story because they all looked on with fascination and his speech continued uninterrupted. As she watched him, she realised that, here amongst his own kind, he was hardly a giant. Though one of the tallest, she had seen a few others that topped him. Even Alfred was only slightly shorter. It was Eirik’s solid strength coupled with his height that had made him seem so big. The men she knew from home were not as broad in the chest and shoulders.
The jarl had turned in his seat to watch his son, but stood now as Eirik finished his speech. When the older man spoke she took the opportunity to observe him. His colouring was similar to Eirik’s and he had the same strong jaw, but the face was subtly different. The nose was the same, except for the break, but the jarl’s lips were thin and firm while his eyes were amber, like Gunnar’s. It struck her then that the three of them were related, leading her to wonder if the jarl was Gunnar’s father, as well. He must be, given that Hilla had taught him along with Eirik. She should have asked Hilla more about them.
The older man stopped speaking and turned his head to look towards the door from which she had just entered. Merewyn looked to see men bringing in three chests, which were set on the floor before the dais. Eirik gave the word and they were opened simultaneously. Her mouth dropped open at the riches they contained. One held coloured silks and brocades; the second glimmered with various metals in coins and chains; while the third held packages wrapped in leather and linen. She couldn’t be sure what they held, but the aroma told her spices.
Though she couldn’t understand the conversation, Merewyn knew these were all treasures Eirik had brought back from his trip. He’d probably stolen them all just as he’d stolen her. The jarl moved to leave the dais and walk amongst the riches. The man had yet to acknowledge her, but after he completed a pass of each of the chests, he stopped and looked directly at her. She instinctively held her hands clasped against her, pressing the bowl into her belly. His amber eyes were alive with merriment when he spoke and gestured to her. Eirik stiffened, but he didn’t appear amused. Whatever the jarl had said made Gunnar laugh and drew his attention to her. They were talking about her.
She refused to look at him and instead held her gaze firmly on Eirik. His voice was low and solemn. His fingers were firm when he reached down to grab her arm and pull her to her feet. She dared not ask where they were going, but he took pity on her and answered the unspoken question.
‘Time for bed.’
Eirik led her towards the back of the longhouse. It was darker there because a loft area loomed overhead and blocked most of the light from the fire and candles. Chests and bundles covered in coarse cloths were stored in the loft, but she saw some movement there, too. Just before he led her beneath it she saw a pair of eyes staring down. She barely had time to meet them before she faced the darkness underneath.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust enough to see that the area had been sectioned off into chambers on both sides, with wooden walls that rose up to meet the floor of the loft overhead. Four of the chambers had rough wooden doors, but the other two had scraps of cloth hanging down. The spaces along the walls between the doors were lined with bare wooden benches.
She had just begun to wonder, to hope, that one of those benches was meant for her, when he spoke.
‘You’ll sleep in my chamber.’
Merewyn swallowed as he pushed a door open and entered the chamber before her. She said a silent prayer for strength and followed him over the threshold. The darkness lingered for a moment, and then a lantern flickered to life, revealing the room to her. It was small in relation to the great hall, but much more lavishly decorated than she had expected. This was where he kept his personal treasures. Even Alfred didn’t have this sort of comfort in his own chamber.
The floors were covered, wall to wall, with colourful carpets and thick furs. A large bed took up almost a third of the space. It was made of wood embellished with carvings of animals and piled with pillows. Heavy curtains hung from the corners for warmth, though they were tied back with braided cords. The outer wall was hung with tapestries while another held shields, armour and weapons. She recognised the chain mail he had worn hanging there. Chests lined the floor along one wall below shelves laden with assorted treasures in gold, silver and other materials she couldn’t even name. It was the home of an exotic prince.
She stepped to the shelf nearest her to examine the figurines carved from a beautiful green rock she’d never seen.
‘Jade,’ he supplied. ‘But don’t touch them. Or take them.’
Merewyn dropped the hand she had raised to touch the one closest to her. The door closed and he slid the wooden latch into place. ‘Stealing a jade figurine won’t get me home.’ Her glare would have melted him had he been a normal man.
‘You are home.’
‘This is not my home.’
‘You live here now.’ His voice was cool as he removed the brooches that affixed his cape to his tunic and then walked over to hang the luxurious fabric on a hook.
‘By force.’
Eirik’s brow arched as he loosened the ties of his tunic and then brought it over his head to hang it beside the cape. Her eyes followed him as he walked to deposit the brooches in a small wooden chest that sat on a shelf near her. He moved like an animal, sleek and smooth, with a confidence that irritated her. Her only solace was the sight of the wound she’d inflicted on his biceps. It wasn’t deep, but the cut was still there.
When he was finished he came over to stand in front of her. She took an involuntary step backwards. ‘If you obey me, you could have a good life here.’
‘Are those my choices? Obey you, submit and I won’t be harmed or fight you and...and live to regret it?’ Merewyn couldn’t stop herself from staring at his bare chest. She’d never seen a man without his clothing this close before. His skin was golden and looked like satin covering hard muscle. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but only managed to inhale his smell. That strange scent that was him—an exotic spice she’d never tasted mixed with leather—filled her and somehow made her feel more alone than she ever had before, even on the crossing. Everything about him was foreign. A strange longing flickered to life within her, and she realised that even she felt foreign around him.
‘Submit to my commands, aye.’ Eirik’s hand came up to tip her chin upwards so she looked at him. His solemn blue gaze fixed on hers. ‘But I’ve already vowed to not harm you. I’ll never ask you to share my bed. It’s not a demand I place on slaves.’
Merewyn’s gaze flicked to the bed in a completely involuntary move, but then dropped to the floor when it only made her earlier fears
