and for the first time she found herself wondering about his life. Who was he to this village and what did these people mean to him?
He looked down at her, his gaze raking her face before settling on her own. ‘This is your new life. You’d do well to forget the old one.’
‘You mean forget the life where I was free, to accept being your slave?’ Her eyes flashed her anger, even as the words rang false to her ears. She’d gone to the beach in search of her elusive freedom, but had only managed to find a slavery that was more absolute than the drudgery she’d faced at home.
His strong jaw clenched, and the blue in his eyes burned with fire. ‘Acceptance will make your life here better. Aye, accept that you are no longer the sister of a Saxon lord. You are mine to command now.’ With those harsh words, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. Before she realised what he meant to do, he coiled a rope tight around her wrists and bound them together.
‘You may command me, but I will never be yours.’
He glanced at her face and didn’t reply. But the glance lingered and his thumb traced over the bruise she knew must be fading. There was no pain from the touch, just a strange trembling within her that made her jerk her face away. His hand dropped back to her wrists.
Merewyn looked at his fingers as he worked, noting that he made sure the bindings stayed on the outside of her sleeves. His nails were clean and trimmed, and she wondered how he had stayed so groomed while she was a mess. But then her thoughts moved to what was ahead. Despite the horror of being taken captive and the gruelling seasickness that had claimed her, there had been a strange reassurance to the routine of the boat. Eirik had stayed true to his word and hadn’t harmed her. She was surprised to realise that she’d even come to rely on his strong presence as a sort of security to the unknown. Now that could change.
What demands would be placed on her in this new environment, his home? The look he’d given her when he’d held her against the stone was still a vivid memory. Then there was the way he’d just touched her. It meant things she didn’t even want to think of, but an image from a morning she’d gone into the stable to visit a newborn baby lamb came to mind. She’d thought the place deserted. Everyone should have been in the fields. But there had been a sound.
At first she’d mistaken it for an animal, but as she’d approached the stall, she’d recognised it as human. It had been a moan followed by a series of groans that had heated her cheeks even when she’d been unsure of the source. Then she’d found them. A couple in a carnal embrace. White buttocks, luminous in the darkened space, worked between thighs equally as pale against the straw. Merewyn had watched for two heartbeats longer than was necessary to know what was happening. And she’d left with a strange feeling twisting deep in her belly and had promptly buried the memory.
But it had never really left her and came out to haunt her at odd times, such as nights when she couldn’t sleep or when she’d catch one of Alfred’s men looking at her with an odd expression. His men were universally disgusting creatures with bad manners and coarse habits. The idea of them having such thoughts about her had filled her with revulsion.
The memory of that day came out from hiding now as the Northman attended her. She knew his thoughts were similar to those of Alfred’s men, but she wasn’t filled with revulsion. But, fear? Aye, the fear was there.
‘Why did you take me?’ The white of those buttocks flashed in her mind. She couldn’t banish them. Was that what he meant to do to her? His eyes had claimed her against that stone forge, even if his body hadn’t had the opportunity. He’d wanted to. She’d felt the hard proof of his manhood as he’d pressed her hips against the stones.
Eirik’s gaze touched hers briefly, giving nothing away, before he turned to see to their arrival. The fissure he’d opened widened and she slid ever closer to that abyss in her mind.
* * *
Eirik had been fighting for so long that he had almost forgotten what it was to stand on friendly shores, to not expect an arrow or the thrust of a sword to come his way. The air was heavy with salt and exhilaration as they pulled their boats ashore to be greeted by the villagers. They’d been spotted as soon as their boats had become visible on the horizon. By the time they reached shore, everyone in the village knew they had returned and stood on the beach to welcome them. It didn’t matter that most of the men were from farther inland, from farms and villages farther along the river. A fleet of warriors returned home was cause for celebration. The high spirits always made the men willing to part with small tokens of their treasure to a pretty girl or an eager child.
The boats were unloaded amidst the curious villagers with the bulk of the treasure locked and guarded until it could be divided later. Then the boats were taken around to the river, where they would stay harboured for the winter.
Eirik approached his homeland with the excitement of a man who had been gone for too long. As much as he had anticipated his trip abroad, his first as leader of a fleet, he realised it had been nothing compared to his eagerness to return home. His flesh fairly tingled with it, something he hadn’t experienced since he’d been a young boy awaiting his father’s return.
He searched for Kadlin among the well-wishers, but wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see her. She’d likely be at her home, not staying with his father to await his return. An image of her as he’d last seen her passed through his mind. A goddess come to life with grace and beauty no mere mortal could hope to attain. She’d been a pretty child, but as a woman she was breathtaking. With hair that rivalled the silver moonlight in its radiance and eyes that shone the palest blue, he’d yet to see a woman more beautiful or good.
Why, then, did the face of another intrude on his thoughts? The slave’s defiant eyes replaced those of Kadlin’s to taunt him. His gaze followed the way of his thoughts until he found the girl standing near his younger brother, Vidar. The boy stood with his hand on her wrists.
There was a prettiness about her, in the curve of her cheekbones, the delicacy of her frame. But she was pale and slight while Kadlin was radiant, striking in her colouring and height. Still, there was something that called to him, that had drawn him to her from that moment on the beach. His gaze raked her, moving to where her gown clung to the curves of her breasts and waist, weighed down by the water that drenched the skirt. She stirred the darkness to life within him. He felt it deep in his gut, and it channelled the excitement already coursing through him to his groin.
He wanted to see her without the dress. To know what colour tipped her breasts. Would her nipples be light pink or coral like her lips? He wanted to lay her in his bed and stroke the pale flesh of her thighs before he pushed them apart to reveal her centre. He wanted to see every part of her. The awareness compelled him to look away, angry that she wielded that despised power over him.
He forced a few deep breaths before looking back at her. The colour had yet to return to her face, and she seemed more fragile than when they’d set out from Northumbria. Both were indications of the weight she’d lost on the crossing. He’d have to be more careful with her.
The girl didn’t belong here. She wasn’t as hale as the women here. It was plain to see that she was different from them. Eirik cursed the demon that had made him crave her as he stalked towards her.
‘Come.’ He walked past her with every intention that she follow, but the girl didn’t move.
‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked when he looked back at her.
The fire that had intrigued him before was flashing in the depths of her eyes. Eirik wanted to admire the courage the question had taken. He believed in facing
