Enslaved by the Viking. Harper St. George
Читать онлайн книгу.
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 whatever the gods meted out as the girl was doing and might have taken the time to appreciate her pluck under other circumstances. But he was too aggravated by the untenable lust she roused within him. Instead, he barely suppressed a growl of outrage as he nodded to Vidar and turned to lead the way home.
‘I demand to know what will happen to me now. I have the right to know my fate.’ Merewyn stood firm, refusing the boy’s tug on her arm.
Eirik clenched his jaw and immediately turned back to her. He didn’t stop until he stood just before her, causing her to take two steps back to look up at him. A flash of fear briefly tamped down the fire that burned in her eyes, but it flared back up again.
‘You have no rights here. You’re a slave.’
‘I didn’t mean—’ She cut herself short and glanced away. ‘I know my station here, I just don’t know— Why won’t you tell me what it means?’
Her eyes swung back to meet his, and he was struck by the same uncertainty and loneliness he had glimpsed on the boat. It tugged at something buried deep inside him that he didn’t want to explore. Nor did he want to admit that he had no idea what her presence at his home meant or why he’d accepted her.
‘You’ll learn your place here soon enough.’
Before she could reply, he leaned down and picked her up, slipping her easily over his shoulder. She weighed almost nothing. The girl would be lucky to last the winter here. The thought didn’t help his quickly declining mood. Eirik ignored the taunts and jests directed at them from some of the men, but was happy the girl noticed and ceased her struggling.
He kept her aloft until they reached the outside cooking fires and then wasted no time in dropping her to her feet. Hilla looked up from turning the newly spitted lamb and smiled when she saw them. His father’s most trusted slave rarely smiled, and the fact that she did now was proof of her devotion. She’d spent his boyhood chasing him from every bit of mischief he’d managed to find in her domain.
‘Welcome home, my lord.’ Her gaze slipped to Merewyn, who was doing her best to look dignified after her unceremonious arrival.
Eirik had never brought a female captive home before, so he assumed he’d have to get used to the looks. ‘Thank you, Hilla.’
‘I see your trip was a success. It’s good to see you well.’
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Feed her and get her presentable for tonight. And make sure she gets meat with her gruel. She lost weight on the crossing.’
‘Looks as though she fair near withered away.’ Hilla tut-tutted.
‘Watch for Gunnar. He feels he has a claim to her, but she’s not to be touched.’
‘Aye, that one will not be a problem.’ She nodded to the long cane that was always present near her. It was almost as thick as a branch with a gnarled end.
Eirik smiled at the sight. He and Gunnar had felt the blow of that knot more than once. They’d had a lot of good times in their childhood. Standing toe to toe, they were of the same height and breadth. The only real physical difference between them was their colouring. Eirik was golden where Gunnar was blazing red. They had even been born mere months apart, with Eirik born to their father’s wife while Gunnar had been born to the wife’s sister.
It was almost as if they’d been destined to be rivals.
He turned his attention back to the girl and again noted her unnaturally pale skin. It was the fear. While it was a good thing, it could sap the life right out of people if it went too far. He’d seen it happen and found himself hoping it didn’t happen to her. It gentled his voice when he spoke. ‘Stay with Hilla. She’ll get you food and clothing.’
Merewyn shook from a bone-deep chill that threatened to freeze her solid. She feared that if it did, she’d break into thousands of pieces with no one the wiser, to be swept up and discarded into the fire. That fire taunted her. She stood at the edge of the circle of light cast by the flames and watched them dancing, calling her. She wanted the warmth it offered; every fibre of her being craved it. But she stood immobile. The past days had seen her constantly damp and chilled—there was a comfort in the knowledge that she’d become accustomed to it. What would