Viking's Love (14 page)

The kitchens were massive and efficient
compared to those at her home. The three women there regarded her
warily and with obvious dislike. Allisande ignored them as Elwynn
put her to work. She had never done more than run her father’s keep
under her mother’s guidance.

Allisande had no idea of the work involved in
one meal that fed the members of the household. It was daunting,
but she worked diligently along with the other women, listening to
their hints and tips as she helped make bread that morning.

Nothing went to waste when it came to feeding
the people here, she was to learn. She watched as the women picked
the carcass of the boar clean to add to the porridge they made to
break the fast. She was listening to Elwynn instruct her on making
butter, and strived to keep up as the woman explained the process
of making cheese and other foodstuffs.

Allisande was an eager pupil. Elwynn was
pleased with her progress as she trained her in running the
kitchens. Once the meal was ready, she and the other women loaded
the food onto large platters and carried them out into the great
hall to put on the trestle tables.

Allisande was glad she didn’t spy her Viking
master among the men who wandered into the hall to join the meal in
progress. As she was setting out pitchers of goat’s milk, she saw
Merta descend from the stairs, looking as satisfied as a cat in a
cream crock as she met her stare.

Joran came down behind her. Allisande looked
away at the sudden reminder that the redhead was obviously of more
importance here than she. She looked away and went about her tasks,
and hurried back to the kitchens.

Joran was frustrated not seeing Allisande
among the women who sat and ate near the fire at the woman’s table.
When Elwynn approached to bring more tankards, his inquiry informed
him his slave chose to take her meal in the kitchen. He frowned and
rose and went to the kitchens, drawing up short when he saw her
sitting upon a stool at a sideboard eating alone.

Allisande noticed his arrival. He could see
her stiffen. She stopped chewing and eyed him questioningly. She
swallowed with obvious discomfort at his presence.

“
You don’t have to take your meals
alone in here.” Joran’s blue eyes were soft. He gestured to her
bowl. “Go sit at the women’s table.”

“
I prefer to be alone, Master.”
Allisande dismissed him with a flick of her gaze. “Or is that an
order? Is it required I dine in your hall?”

Joran glared at her. How like her to twist
his words around to make him look unreasonable and petty? “It’s not
required, but you may enjoy the women’s company.” He refused to
admit he wanted her there so he could look upon her.

“
I have had their company these last
three hours,” Allisande informed him flatly as she pushed her food
around. “I would prefer to eat in peace, if it is alright with you,
Master?”

“
Suit yourself and eat alone!” Joran
stalked away, wondering why he cared where the wench took her
meals. He knew she avoided him. He found he was angry about her
feelings towards him.

He killed her father and was responsible for
her people being enslaved or killed. He knew no amount of cajoling
her would change that fact. It was there between them in the
murderous glint in her eyes. He knew if she had opportunity, he
would find a knife stuck in his heart.

Joran didn’t bother to explain to her anymore
that her father tried to run him through his back like a coward.
She didn’t care. In her eyes, he was a loathsome murdering
barbarian who stole her from her home.

He stalked back to his seat where Merta sat
pouting. He was muttering into his porridge when they all heard a
loud scream rent the air. It came from the kitchens. Grogan and
several other men rose. Joran was already hurrying back.

He drew up short when he saw his captive
standing on the counter, threatening his wolf with a wooden spoon.
His pet merely slavered and begged for scraps upon the floor.
Clearly the wolf terrified her. She was rigid and shaking, face
pale and eyes wide.

“
Get that beast away from me!”
Allisande shouted frantically.

Joran grabbed Thor by the scruff of his neck
and pushed him out of the kitchens. She was trembling violently.
She was shaking from head to toe. Tears brightened her eyes. He
reached for her to draw her off the counter, but she cringed away
from him. She dropped down from the counter to the top of the stool
into a sitting position, breathing raggedly.

“
He is tame, you need not fear him.”
Joran was shaking his head at her strange behavior. “He will not
bite you, Allisande. He begs from everyone. You will soon get used
to him.”

“
I will not get used to any of this,
ever!” Allisande shouted in fury. He could see she was close to
breaking down. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, and from her
violent trembling, he could see that it wasn’t just the wolf that
was bothering her this day.

Joran withdrew from the kitchens and went
back to the meal, not meeting the looks of concern from his people.
Allisande was struggling with her status as a slave and the many
terrors she faced in his land.

He knew there was little he could say to
alleviate her anxiety. His mood was hampered knowing how she
suffered in his kitchens. He ate his meal and rose and left the
hall. He went to the stable and mounted his horse, wanting to ride
his lands to quiet the demons nipping at his conscience.

Joran was angry at himself for feeling
empathy for the girl. Her haughty manner and sharp tongue hid her
fear well these last days. In seconds, he saw through her guise
when his wolf begged at her feet.

He was used to bringing about such fear to
his enemies, not a potential bedmate. It was disheartening to
realize he had much work in gaining the girl’s trust he wouldn’t
harm her.

He was a man of war, a Viking, not one of her
simpering English suitors. Merta required no honeyed words from him
to get her into his bed. The thought of forcing the girl was
repellent to him. He had to content himself to winning her into his
bed.

Joran smiled confidently as he thought of the
many satisfied women he left behind over the years. He had no
complaints with his prowess. The girl was no different from the
others he bedded. She would just need more persuasion.

The thought of her coming to him willingly
made him ache with a strange longing he didn’t understand, or even
like. He spurred his mount across the fields and cantered into the
square courtyard outside the hall. He dismounted and returned the
horse to the stable.

When he returned to the hall, he noticed
Allisande was helping clean up after the meal and looked miserable
as she loaded the platter with empty trenchers. He approached her
to speak with her, and changed his mind at the last moment and
stalked away.

Allisande must find her own way. He refused
to coddle the spoiled, ill-tempered noblewoman. He knew she would
appreciate nothing from him. His men were in the outer field
practicing at swords. He needed an outlet for his anger as he
joined them.

Allisande failed to notice Merta’s presence
until she stuck out her foot and tripped her, sending the heavy
platter loaded with empty trenchers and wooden bowls flying
everywhere. Allisande was on her feet in an instant.

Allisande regarded Joran’s woman with disgust
as she saw the mess upon the floor. She learned from Elwynn the
spiteful redhead was merely Joran’s leman. She had no power over
her, she learned with relief.

“
You clumsy little bitch! Look what
you’ve done! Clean up this mess before I take a whip to your
backside!”

From the cruel gleam in Merta’s green eyes,
Allisande decided it wasn’t worth the battle to argue with her. She
bent to pick up the trenchers, ignoring the redhead altogether. She
was seething as she bit her tongue.

She was loath to remember Joran’s warnings as
she cleaned up the mess. The desire to beat the redhead within an
inch of her life was high on her list of goals as she wiped up the
mess.

Several women stood outside the kitchens,
watching the scene with interest as Merta stood over the slave
girl. Merta grasped a half-eaten bowl of porridge from the table.
She held it over the girls head as she was picking up the mess.

Allisande gasped as the food landed upon her
head. Before Merta could set the bowl back down, she was flung
backward onto the trestle table with the volatile girl upon her
chest. Allisande held a knife to her throat so fast the women
gasped in fear. Several scurried to find the Chieftain.

“
You will stay away from me, you evil
Nordic whore!” Allisande held the knife to her throat, pushing
porridge out of her eyes as she pressed the knife threateningly.
“If you so much as make a move towards me again, you foul bitch; I
will carve your throat out like a flute, do you hear me? You will
play a pretty tune every time you open your mouth to
speak!”

Joran arrived and saw Allisande straddling
Merta upon the table with a knife to her throat. He heard the
gruesome threat with a grimace. He had her in his home one day, and
already she threatened his leman with violence. He was careful as
he approached, eyes taking in the knife held to Merta with a scowl.
“Put down the knife, Allisande!” Joran saw Merta’s terror and knew
his new slave meant to do her harm if he did not intervene. “Do as
I say!”

“
Nay, she attacked me! Now she trips me
and throws food on me! I will cut her throat and be done with it! I
will take no more abuse from her!” Allisande gazed at him
menacingly.

“
Put down the knife, Allisande,” Joran
said tersely as his men skidded behind him into the hall. He could
see by the looks on their faces the matter was grave. Merta was a
freewoman. A slave attacking a freewoman was punishable by
whipping, even if Merta antagonized her. It was the law. If he
shirked his responsibilities to discipline the girl now, his men
would mock him for it. “Do it now, I say! You make it worse for
yourself if you harm her.”

“
She has harmed me! I do not see you
address it!” Allisande pressed the knife harder to Merta’s throat,
drawing a rivulet of blood.

“
You are a slave, girl! You have no
rights here!” Joran knew he said the wrong thing when he saw her
eyes narrow in hatred and the knife trembled in her hand. “Leave
her be, and I will see she bothers you no more.”

Allisande saw that every Viking was now
watching her holding the knife to Merta’s throat. She drew a ragged
breath and got off the woman, and tossed the knife at Joran’s feet,
her violet eyes meeting his resolutely.

Merta made a fine show of running to his
side, crying and rubbing her injured throat. She tossed a
triumphant look at her rival. Joran gazed down at her
dispassionately. Grogan looked angry and muttered under his breath
as he approached Allisande.

Grogan was responsible for meeting out her
punishment, and wasn’t happy about it as he grabbed her arm and
dragged her out of the hall. Joran could do nothing as he watched
her tied to the post in the center of the square outside.

His people gathered as Grogan retrieved the
whip from within the hall. The women all appeared to be enjoying
the slave’s punishment. Janna looked outraged when she arrived on
the scene. She glared at Merta’s satisfied smirk.

“
You tripped her! We all saw you dump
food upon her! You would trick her into attacking you just to
satisfy your jealousy, Merta!” Janna eyed Joran unhappily. “Please
don’t do this thing, Joran. The girl doesn’t deserve to be whipped.
We all saw Merta trip the girl,” Janna told him, but when she
looked around, the other women would not meet her gaze. She had no
choice but to give up her attempt to stop the
punishment.

“
It’s the law, Janna. She threatened a
free woman. I can do nothing. She was warned before we arrived.”
Joran watched as Grogan ripped open the back of her gown to her
waist, baring her ivory back for all to see. “It would be worse for
her if Merta went to the tribunal. Leave it be! I can do nothing
for her! The girl must learn her place or it could be worse for
her.”

Janna stalked away, unwilling to watch the
travesty within the square. The law demanded ten lashes. Grogan
appeared slightly ill as he drew back the whip and it hissed
forward to snap along Allisande’s spine. The girl flinched, but
made no sound as the first lash fell.

Grogan looked grim as he laid the whip to her
back again. This second lash cut into the tender skin and drew
blood. Allisande trembled and bit her lip, but made no sound. Joran
watched with dread, feeling helpless to stop what was happening.
His people were silent as they watched the English girl take three
more lashes without crying out. She held onto the post tightly with
her eyes closed, her lips moving but no sounds emerged. Joran
wondered what she was saying to herself in those moments as she
valiantly took the lash.

Her back was covered in bloody welts once the
count reached seven. Joran’s eyes were bleak as he watched three
more lashes fall. The girl hadn’t even made a sound. There was
silence in the courtyard. She sagged at the ropes, falling
unconscious when Grogan laid the last lash. He flung the whip at
Merta’s feet, his look of disgust obvious.

Joran was furious as the other thralls cut
Allisande down and she fell to the ground. He approached and pushed
them away as he lifted the unconscious girl into his arms, aware of
her injured back as he carried her into the hall. The Vikings eyed
the girl with a renewed respect for taking the lash with such
resilience. The Chieftain carried her up to his rooms, ignoring
Merta’s whining at his back. Joran opened the door to his room, and
kicked the door shut in her face.