Beyond the Sea Mist (22 page)

He brought his mouth to hers and began to kiss her. She trembled, feeling the pressure building inside her. She wanted...oh, God, she wanted... As his tongue filled her mouth, the wave of pleasure crested, surging over her body.

For a time, she couldn’t seem to think at all, then awareness returned. She felt stunned. Never would she have believed she would allow a man to do such things to her. Never would she have imagined how much she would enjoy it.

Magnus lifted her down from the barrel. “I’m sorry about your undergarment,” he said. “I promise when we get to York, I’ll purchase you new clothing.”

York. The reality of her circumstances slammed into her. She must think of her goal. She must not let this man make her his captive, rendering her helpless, not with the threat of brute force as Croa had, but with tenderness and passion. He was a danger to her...to her will, her reason, her freedom.

“I want to go back up on deck,” she said. She couldn’t think with him so near. The thought of what they’d shared seemed to overwhelm everything else.

Magnus was confused. Why did she still want to be away from him? She’d obviously enjoyed what he’d done to her. By Freya, he hadn’t guessed a woman could be so responsive. She’d near turned to flame in his arms. The memory aroused another wave of lust and longing. He wanted more, so much more. Even if he couldn’t properly bed her, there were other things they could do. He thought of something a whore had once told him, about having a lover who kissed her private parts. It hadn’t appealed to him with that woman, especially thinking of all the men she’d been with. But with Ailinn, his lovely, sweet-skinned princess, ah, that was another matter.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Magnus. Please help me up.”

It appeared such delights would have to wait until another time. Perhaps he’d satisfied her so completely, she had no more interest in loveplay.

Resigned, he started to move the barrel out of the way, so he could boost her up onto the deck. His foot struck something lying in the water. He bent down and lifted the object. It was a leather bag containing something very heavy. Metal, from the clinking sound it made. This must be the cache of jewelry and other valuables Ailinn had mentioned.
But she’d said she hadn’t found it!

“Give it to me.” She held out her hand.

He stared at her. “You did find it. Yet you lied to me. Why?”

She didn’t answer. The quick dart of her eyes and the way she licked her lips reminded him of Orm’s description of her as “calculating and sly”.

“I’ve gone to all this trouble to rescue you,” he said. “I risked my life several times to aid you. Why don’t you trust me?”

She shook her head and didn’t answer.

He set the bag on the barrel and opened it. Amazement swept through him as he observed the dazzling contents. He took out an armband and admired the workmanship. There were gold and silver amulets, and several daggers. All of the pieces were heavy and substantial. They looked like things that might belong to a man.
Not a woman
.

He glanced at Ailinn. Her expression was wary and hostile. All at once he realized she’d lied about not only finding the treasure but about it belonging to her. This wasn’t her cache of valuables; it was Croa’s.

“Give it to me!” she exclaimed, eyes narrowed.

He tightened the drawstring. “For now, it stays with me.”

“But it’s mine!”

“I don’t think so. Nothing in this cache looks as if it belongs to a woman.”

“The pieces were my father’s!”

He shook his head. “These things are obviously newly made. Croa must have just purchased them.”

He saw resignation creep over her delicate features, followed by a look of despair. The bleakness with which she regarded him tore at his resolve. A part of him wanted to give her the treasure to make up for all she’d had to endure at the hands of Croa. But he couldn’t do that. He needed these things to pay the crew and maintain control of the ship. Surely she understood that if some other man seized power, she was back to being a helpless thrall.

He tightened the drawstring and left the bag on the barrel. “Come,” he said. “I’ll help you up onto the deck.” As he grasped her waist and lifted her up, her body--which had only a few moments before had melted at his touch--felt as rigid and unyielding as stone.

* * *

Ailinn walked grimly to the tent. She was furious at Magnus for taking the treasure from her. He was no different than any other man. His goal was to dominate and control. To take all power away from her and make all the decisions. It was infuriating. But inevitable.

For a time, she’d hoped he was different. He’d seemed so noble and sincere, had treated her with such obvious respect and deference. For a time, she thought she might truly be able to trust him. How stupid she was. He was a man. It didn’t matter whether Norse or Irish, they were all alike. Had she not learned that from her father and brothers? If her father hadn’t died, she would have been bartered off in marriage to make an advantageous alliance for the clan. Men didn’t have to endure such humiliation. But because she was a woman, it was her lot in life. Even the priests and holy brothers said so.

Her turmoil intensified, and she told herself she must regain control. Put aside her feelings and try to think clearly. Ah, her wretched, treacherous feelings. And even more so, her traitorous body. Her insides still throbbed with the lingering rhythms of gratified desire. In the future, she must not let Magnus get her alone.

She entered the tent and found all the women inside. Ullach said, “Gormlaith started to feel sick, so we brought her back here.”

“Aye,” Brina agreed. “When Gormlaith turned pale as whey, I knew she must lie down. Besides, we’d finished mending most of Asgar’s garments.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ailinn answered dejectedly.

“What’s wrong?” Brina asked.

Ailinn sat down on the blankets and hung her head in her hands. “Everything. All my hopes are dashed.”

Brina gasped. “Don’t tell me—Magnus has decided to sell us after all. Why? Did you do something to make him angry? Surely you understood that all our futures lay in his hands.”

“Nay, I did nothing to anger him.” Ailinn raised her head and spoke with cold, icy precision. “But he’s done something to infuriate me. He’s taken the treasure. Now everything is hopeless.”

“Hopeless? I doubt that. If you would try to win him over, I’m certain you could. ‘Tis clear he cares for you. You might well be able to take advantage of that, and while you might not regain control of this cache of valuables, you could very likely influence what he does with it.”

“I doubt very much he will agree to use it to hire warriors to win back my family’s lands.”

“You never know. It’s hard to say what a man might be convinced to do if he truly cares about you.”

The dreamy tone of Brina’s voice alarmed Ailinn. “What has this Orm fellow been telling you?” she demanded.

Brina shrugged. “He said that when we reached York, he’ll buy me a new kirtle and shift and perhaps an armband or brooch.”

“And what did you do for him in exchange? Did you kiss him? Let him touch you intimately?”

“Does it matter?” Brina’s voice was uncharacteristically tart. “At one time we were captives kept in the hold like animals. Now we have a chance at some sort of life.”

“What sort of life?” Ailinn exclaimed. “To be the concubine of a Norse seaman and spend the rest of your days in a foreign land far from your home and all that’s familiar? I’d rather have
drowned
,” she added with emphasis.

“But it does seem preferable to being sold as a slave,” Ullach said in a timid voice. “And that was to be our fate until only a day ago.”

Ailinn turned her gaze on Gormlaith. “And how do you feel about it? Have you already chosen the Norse sailor you mean to give your maidenhead to, in exchange for a life a mere step above being a thrall?”

“My head aches too much to worry about such matters,” Gormlaith responded.

Ailinn’s anger eased. Poor Gormlaith. She’d fared the worst of them. “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.

“Nay. But I wish you wouldn’t argue. Brina is only trying to make the best of the things.”

Ailinn felt ashamed. These were her dear companions, as close as kin. After the distress they’d all endured, it was cruel of her to judge them for seeking safety and security where they could find it Turning to Brina, she said, “Do as you will. I won’t gainsay your decision to find a protector. But do remember that kind words and gifts don’t always mean a man is honorable and caring.”

“Nor does taking control over a woman’s property necessarily mean a man is evil,” commented Brina.

“I didn’t say Magnus was evil,” Ailinn said.

“Nay. But you sometimes act as if he were some sort of monster.” Brina touched her arm. “Don’t let your temper and your pride get the better of you. Perhaps if you tried to please him—”

“It’s no use.” Ailinn shook her head violently, in part to keep the tears from flowing. “Even if I tried to act sweet and pleasing, I know he’s not going to give me back the treasure. No man would.”

“That doesn’t mean all is lost. He seems smitten with you, and now that he’s captain of two ships, he’s in a position to wed you.”

“As if that’s what I seek—to be some Norseman’s wife.” Ailinn shook her head. “The only thing that will satisfy me is to see MacTighe lying dead in the dirt and know that I can once more walk freely on my family’s lands.”

Magnus stared out at the sea, watching the whitecaps glisten off into the distance. Orm came to stand beside him. “You were down there quite a while. Was she worth it? Did she please you well?”

Magnus fought the turmoil inside him. After a moment, he was able to answer. “Oh, aye, she pleased me, in many ways. Indeed, because of her, I no longer have to worry how I will pay the crew when we arrive at York. I’m a rich man, my friend.”

“What do you mean?”

Magnus motioned with his head. “Over there in my sea chest is a bag containing several dozen pieces of magnificent metalwork. Ailinn said the things were her father’s, but I don’t believe her. They look newly made. Croa must have purchased them in Dublin.”

“Metalwork?” Orm asked.

“Aye. Armbands. Amulets. Neck pieces. Daggers crafted of silver and gold and inlaid with jewels. It’s clearly Croa’s treasure hoard.”

Orm slapped him on the shoulder, laughing. “The gods certainly smile on you, my friend. In less than a sennight, you’ve gone from ship’s crewman with a few pieces of silver to a wealthy sea trader. And yet...” Orm raised a brow, “you don’t look happy.”

“It bothers me that Ailinn lied to me about the treasure--and who knows what other things.” He shook his head. “Her dishonesty distresses me. How can I care for a woman I can’t trust? ”

“She obviously hoped to keep the treasure for herself. That’s not unreasonable. I can’t say that if I found this bag of metalwork myself I’d have rushed to share it with you. I’d have done so in the end, aye, but that’s mostly because I know if I kept it, I’d probably end up gambling it away.” Orm grinned broadly.

“It’s not that I think she’s greedy,” said Magnus. “What bothers me is she doesn’t trust me to to take care of her. And that she’d keep something so important from me after all I’ve done for her.”

“After what she’s endured, it’s likely difficult for her to trust anyone.” Orm shook his head. “Listen to me. A short while ago I was warning you about Lady Ailinn. Now I defend her. Perhaps my attitude toward women has softened a bit after spending time in the company of a certain plump, red-haired wench.” He winked.

“You fancy the one called Brina?”

“Aye. I do. Unlike your princess, she seems straightforward and uncomplicated.”

Magnus couldn’t entirely keep the smile from his face. “Now who’s being a fool? No woman is uncomplicated.”

Orm laughed loudly.

This was part of the reason he liked Orm. He could never remain in a foul temper around him. “I do have one concern about this Irish wench and you,” Magnus jested. “Think of the children you would have with her. Their hair would be so fiery bright, you could use them to find your way in the fog.”

“I made no mention of having children,” Orm said. “I’m far too young for that.” He made a face of mock horror.

“Then you’d best keep your distance from her.”

Perhaps that was good advice for himself as well, Magnus thought as Orm left him to join a dice game. He would probably be wise to stay away from Ailinn until they reached York and he’d safely paid off the crew. But it wouldn’t be easy. When he thought of how he’d kissed her and fondled her and brought her to her peak, the memory made him almost instantly aroused.

But the next moment he recalled her behavior in the hold and was filled with an aching disappointment that took the edge off his desire. She didn’t trust him, which meant he couldn’t trust her either. Who was to say she wouldn’t plot against him if it served her purposes? How badly did she want Croa’s treasure back? Badly enough to aid some man in killing him and taking over the ship?

She was a fool if she did something like that. No man would allow her to keep the treasure, and certainly not a man who would kill to gain power. Didn’t she realize he was the most generous protector she could hope for? He’d sought to free her because he felt compassion for her, rather than because he wanted to possess her.