Authors: Samantha Holt
“Aye, I imagine so. At least Galan certainly will.”
His eyes narrowed. “Galan? Who is he?”
Ilisa tilted her head. Had she imagined the tightness in his voice and the tensing of his muscles? He had no idea who Galan was and even if he understood Galan had ambitions to make her his, why should that bother Alrek?
“He is the son of the chief. We have known each other many years.”
He turned his attention back to the fire and stared into it as he spoke tonelessly. “He is a friend and yet he lets you live like this?”
“Lets me? Alrek, he has no say in the matter.”
“You have much land and no man. Why does he not take you as his bride?”
“Aye, Galan would like that very much,” she muttered, “but I will not give my land up so easily. My brother and husband were determined this land would not be lost to the clan leader. He has enough as it is.”
And she would not be lost to a man like Galan who was vain and unpleasant. She suspected his interest in her had started with the land but had been provoked by her indifference. It likely grated on his ego that she did not fall at his feet.
“You do not like this man?” he stated, still staring at the fire.
“Nay, I do not.”
“I do not like to think of you on your own.”
Ilisa let her brow furrow. What an odd mood he was in. “Well I am not alone now,” she said cheerily in the hope of snapping him out of his melancholy.
His head jerked up and a grin cracked across his face. “Nay, you are not.” His grin dropped as he shuddered.
Ilisa came to her feet. “You are still cold. I will brew you some tea.” And now she had stopped obsessing over his muscles, she realised his skin was still damp. She stepped over and put a hand to his arm. Cool, clammy skin met her fingertips. Her stomach bunched. “Alrek, are you well?”
“Aye, aye.” He waved a hand but another shudder wracked his great body.
“I think you should take to bed while I make some tea.”
“I am simply chilled from the rain.”
“You nearly drowned and spent a goodly time in the ocean and were soaked to the skin today. If you value your life, you will go to bed.” She snatched his arm. She had no hope of pulling him up but he sighed in resignation and stood.
“Very well. You are a demanding woman, are you not? Are all Picts so forceful?”
“Nay.” She smiled sweetly. “Just me.”
Alrek fought in vain to keep from shaking until his muscles ached while Ilisa gave him tea and tucked the blanket around him. Once his shirt was dry, she helped him put it on. It stuck to his skin but he couldn’t stay warm. Never had he felt so helpless in all his life. She stroked his head when he grew fevered and strange dreams came to him. The gods were angry with his misdeeds. They wanted him to make amends. Thor in all his might wracked Ilisa’s cottage with lightning and his head pounded with each crash but Ilisa sang, soothing him like the siren she was.
When the dreams receded, he woke to the grey light of dawn streaking in around the door and the gaps in the roof, pooling in beams on the floor. Something soft brushed his arm.
Ilisa.
She must have fallen asleep nursing him. He paused to study her as she slept. She sat on the floor, her head resting on top of folded arms on the bed. Her glorious hair sprawled about her, some spilling onto his chest. Unable to resist, he fingered a fiery strand.
She stirred but failed to awaken. The woman must have tired herself out looking after him. Guilt jabbed him. He’d interfered with her life too much already. Likely she’d had much to do yesterday and instead she’d spent the day playing nursemaid. He would have to think of a way to repay her. Fetching wood and water did not seem enough.
The smoothness of her cheek enticed him, begged him to skim a finger over it. And then trace down, he decided, to her lips that parted in sleep. Would she awaken and nip the top of his finger? Maybe take it all the way into her mouth? Desire stirred and made him hard. Alrek shook his head and tried to ease to sitting without disturbing her but his body ached and he groaned.
Why, by the gods, was he still alive? Were they metering out his punishment? Ilisa’s lashes fluttered and lifted. A pale blue gaze latched onto his, uncertain at first. He saw the clouds of sleep depart and she released a tiny ‘oh’ before lifting her head and fussing with her hair.
“You are awake. And alive,” she exclaimed.
He chuckled and grimaced. His body felt as though someone had tried to pull him apart during the night. Every muscle ached. “Aye, I am alive. Just about.”
“Lie still. I shall make you some tea and food. You were fevered.” She put a cool hand to his head and he hissed but it wasn’t the coldness of her palm that incited such a reaction. Her slender fingers sent a shard of sensation through him, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. “You are still warm,” she murmured and drew her hand back sharply. Had she felt the same?
Alrek observed her while she made the tea and sliced some bread. It seemed he could not stop watching her. Every movement, no matter how simple, captivated him. From the way she tucked a strand of tangled hair behind her ear to the gentle sway of her hips as she moved around the room. He longed to grasp those hips and pull her to him then press kisses behind her ear and tangle her hair further.
Would she welcome it? She wasn’t an innocent after all. But if he did so, he’d be doing it for himself. To slake his aching need for her. And Ilisa deserved much more than that. All he could give her was a fragment of his time. His countrymen often sailed the shores of Cait and soon enough a ship would be spotted. He knew where they favoured landing and he would seek passage back to the isles. From there he would have to join another crew headed to Iceland.
And there his new life would begin. Free from violence and sin. He would live his life as a farmer and hope to make amends to the gods that way. Clearly his fighting ways had displeased them. Had he not been a bold warrior? He failed to fathom it. He should have died in battle and revelled in the glory of such a death but instead the gods had let him live. And now they were testing him time and again.
Maybe Ilisa was a test too. They had put her in his path to tempt him away from his fate. His journey to Iceland had been brought about by a dream they had bestowed upon him—one of new lands and a growing family. He was to bring forth more sons. That was how he would please the gods and he could not let his attraction to Ilisa interfere with that, nor could he satiate his lust with her.
She handed him a beaker of tea. His fingers brushed hers, the tiniest touch, and her lashes lowered while colour blossomed on her cheeks. So great a need had to be shared, surely? He could not imagine she was not as affected as he.
He sipped the steaming liquid and eyed her over the brim. By the gods, he longed to drag his gaze away. Nothing could come of such desire and yet she had him spellbound. All the reasonings in the world could not force him to stop watching her.
“Has just one night passed?” He had been so delirious, he was unsure.
“Aye. You were plagued with dreams for most of the day but settled shortly after dusk. Likely your time in the sea and in the rain brought on a bout of sickness but you are a strong man and you have fought if off. Likely any other man would have succumbed.”
“I might have done had it not been for your care.”
Ilisa dropped onto the chair beside the bed and took the beaker from his hands to replace it with a platter of bread. “’Tis hard I fear.”
He coughed and jolted upright. “What?”
“The bread. I will need to visit the village and barter for more soon.”
“Oh, aye.” Alrek settled back against the straw pillow and nibbled the bread. His belly grumbled after a day of no food and he finished the bread quickly, much to Ilisa’s amusement. Her lips quirked and forced him to raise a brow. “What?”
“I cannot believe you are hungry and well already.”
“My body feels as though I have been trampled by horses.”
“Well, that is to be expected.”
“I would not know,” he grumbled. Ilisa taking care of him vexed. A man should take care of a woman not the other way around.
Both eyebrows arched and she took the empty plate from him. “I do not believe you’ve never been sick.”
“I do not get sick,” he declared. In truth, he couldn’t think of the last time he had suffered such bad luck. “I have survived injuries with less bother.”
“Aye, I noticed. I suppose as a Viking you expect to be killed in battle. I have seen your people fight. You seem to care little whether you live or die.” Bitterness tinged her voice and he had to keep from wincing.
“That isn’t true. We care very much whether we live or die but if we are to die, we are determined to go down in such a blaze of courage and fire that the gods will remember our names.”
She snorted. “You put much stock in your gods.”
“And you do not?”
“Once our people worshipped gods and goddesses, much like you. But they abandoned us when the Scots and the Vikings began taking our land and attacking our people. There are few who follow the old ways these days. We worship the new god and there is no place for sinners in heaven.”
“You believe me to be a sinner?”
“Do you think I would let you in my home if I did?”
He grinned at her challenging expression. “I think you are a kind hearted woman, Ilisa. You pretend to be strong but inside…”
“I pretend nothing.” She drew up her chin. “I almost left you to drown.”
Alrek laughed and his heart warmed when she followed suit. Her face lit, her eyes twinkled. How he longed to make her laugh more often. Ilisa had suffered much hardship. The steady loss of her people’s culture had to be difficult to bear. How would he feel if his culture was slowly eroded away? Devastated probably. And she was alone, trying to fend for herself in a world that favoured the strong. If he left her, how much longer would she survive? Would this Galan persuade her to be his? Would other Vikings come and raid her farm? There were many who would happily kill and rape her for sport even though it was clear she had few riches.
Again, the idea of taking her to Iceland with him struck. Unable to resist a smile at the image of Ilisa by his side with a brood of children, he failed to quash the notion, as foolish as it was. He barely knew her. Not a huge problem in his mind, after all he’d been planning to persuade a little Pict woman to join him anyway. As long as she was attractive and of good age, he would be happy. He had known a few Pictish women in his time and he’d always admired them. But with Ilisa, it was different. He couldn’t take her away from the farm she worked so hard to keep running or offer her a life with a man she didn’t know.
Though he suspected he could be very happy with her by his side.
“What is it, Alrek?” A crease marred her brow.
“What?”
“You are staring at me with a strange smile on your face.”
His grin widened. “Forgive me, I cannot help myself. You are very beautiful.” He pushed back the blankets and it was only when Ilisa released a scream did he realise he was naked and the proof of just how beautiful he found her had revealed itself. He hastily covered himself again and laughed at the way she had clamped a hand over her eyes.
“You were fevered,” she spilled out, hand still covering her face. “I had to take off your garments.”
“I am covered now.” Alrek chuckled at the blush staining her cheeks as she lowered her hand. “You have seen it all already anyway.”
“Aye, but…” She dragged in an audible breath. “I did not look properly,” she said primly.
“It is really very unfair that you have seen me naked on several occasions yet I have not seen you once.”
Her eyes rounded and he braced himself for a slap or stinging retort but her open mouth clamped shut. Apparently he couldn’t control his mouth around Ilisa. Still at least he hadn’t admitted he had actually seen her in some of her glory. He still hadn’t had a proper look at those glorious breasts.
By the gods, this wasn’t helping his problem. What was wrong with him?
Ilisa stood, leaned over him and brought her lips tantalizingly close to his. He blinked. What was she doing? Her breath breezed over his face and the scent of lavender surrounded him. She must have washed while he was sleeping. Had he missed her naked and wet? Had her pale skin been dripping and succulent while he lay senseless from the wretched fever?
Her blue gaze clashed with his. He saw tiny speckles of brown in them and the way they darkened. Her red lashes fanned out, tipped with gold. On her nose, he noticed she had faint freckles on her nose, so pale he could only see them this close. Alrek itched to kiss each one.
“You, Alrek the Bold,” she whispered, “think you are charming.” A finger dropped to his beard and she scraped a nail along his jawline, the rasp of hair making his cock tingle. He gaped like a fish, his mouth dry. Then she jerked back. “But you are not and if you continue teasing me, I shall throw you back in the sea. And we shall see if your gods think you are worth saving again.”
He bit back a groan when she eyed him with twisted lips. The urge to pull her down and show her exactly how charming he could be burned furiously. By the gods, her puckered lips practically invited him to do so. She thought herself spirited, but he thought her plain tempting. Her fire made him hunger for her more. Who could not like a woman like this?
She snatched his shirt from the back of the chair and flung it at him. He caught it and uttered a curse when she chucked his trews at him too.
Ilisa laughed. “Bathe and get yourself dressed, Viking. I am going to see to the sheep. They won’t need water after last night thankfully.”
“Give me a moment and I shall join you.” She looked like she was about to protest. “I need to stretch my muscles. I am not used to so much time abed.”
She folded her arms and gave a curt nod. “Fine, but make haste. Playing your nursemaid has put me behind on my chores.”
Alrek slipped on his trews and stepped outside while she combed her hair and tidied away the mess from the morning meal. The storm had cleared the skies. White clouds dotted the blue above and wet grass scented the air. Waves crashed below and he drew in a deep breath to fill his lungs. Had the gods’ wrath calmed? He had to decide how best to appease them. He couldn’t help wondering if they’d sent him to Ilisa for a reason. A fever could have easily killed him but they let him live.
The lure of cold water to calm his raging lust had him stripping off and scrubbing himself down with the icy water from the barrel at the side of the cottage. Poor Ilisa did not deserve to be subjected to his needs. He regretted his blithe words though her reaction still made him grin. He shook his head. He suspected the only thing that would control this raging need for her would be another dunk in the ocean. Maybe she would have to make good on her threat and throw him back.
Without bothering to dry himself properly, he slipped on the trews and ducked back intoIlisa’s home. She had braided her hair and it curled over one shoulder. A few loose strands caressed her cheeks, begged to be touched. Alrek almost laughed. He probably should have jumped into the barrel and stayed there. Apparently nothing could cool his attraction to her.
That tell-tale stain graced her cheeks. He loved that. The way she brazenly attempted to tease him one moment and the next acted as coy as a virgin on her wedding night. The woman knew how to keep him on his toes. Her gaze travelled up and down him, lashes lowering and rising like a sail. Heat trailed over him as if she’d touched him and he had to move or else disgracing himself was inevitable. Snatching the shirt from the bed, he yanked the coarse linen shirt over his head, ignoring the temptation the pallet provided. Flashes of images—some memories, some imaginings—fired off in his mind. Ilisa kissing him, stroking his fevered brow. Ilisa beneath him, legs spread wide, breathless and wanting. Her supple skin and luxurious curves. Her welcome heat—