Viking's Love (17 page)

“
Yes, the murder of all those I love
tells me you are the kindest of men! Spare me your claims you are
not the Berserker barbarian scum you proved to be at Lockwraithe,
for I do not care to listen to your lies!” She was satisfied to see
his face darken with rage at her words.

“
Your father sealed his fate! You know
nothing of what kind of man your sire even was! Your father was a
coward who tried to stab me in the back rather than fight me
fairly! I had no choice!” Joran took a step towards her, shaking
with his ire. The desire to beat her for her rash words was
strong.

Allisande stepped back and quailed from the
rage she saw in him. He shook visibly and was livid. She watched
the haze fall over his eyes and trembled in fear. She closed her
eyes and waited for the blow to fall, but it did not. She opened
her eyes and stared into the cold blue ones that regarded her
angrily.

”
You will not push me to beat you,
Wench! I will not allow you to martyr yourself anymore than you
already have!” Joran backed away from her, his control shaken, but
in check, as he eyed her sourly.

“
Martyr myself! How dare you say that
to me! You have done this to me!” She saw he regained his composure
as quickly as he had lost it. He was very good at controlling
himself, despite what she knew of Vikings in general.

“
How dare I point out the obvious?”
Joran snorted derisively, and eyed her coldly as he looked her over
with a frown. “You’re the one bringing abuse upon yourself! You
have done nothing but create your own discomfort since you arrived
here! Had you not taken a knife to Merta; you would not have been
whipped, girl! You were warned! You lift another weapon against my
people; it will be more lashes for you, only I will do it myself
next time!”

“
You will pay for what you have done to
me and my family, Viking!” Allisande seethed angrily as she backed
away from him. “I will be sure the next weapon I lift is against
you!”

“
Don’t do it, Allisande,” Joran’s
expression was cold as he met her gaze. “You will not like the
punishment for that. Heed me well. I wasn’t lying when I told you
the crime of a slave trying to kill a Chieftain is death. Is that
what you want, girl?”

“
I want to go home!” Allisande cried
the words brokenly. Tears filled her gaze suddenly, tugging at his
conscience. “I did not ask for any of this, Viking! Whatever my
father did wasn’t my doing, nor the gentle souls who died, or who
were sold to pay for his crimes! You have done nothing but punish
the innocent, and for what? Your much-lacking Viking honor demands
you punish women and children?” She laughed hysterically as his
face mottled with rage at her continued defiance. “What honor is
there in slaying women, children, and old ones, I ask? I hope the
screams haunt you for the rest of your miserable life!”

“
You will not go home until the ransom
is paid in the spring. Do not question my honor again, or any lack
of it you would try to see. You push me to show you just how cruel
I can be if you continue with your insults.”

“
What if Collin cannot pay?” Allisande
asked hoarsely, eyes wide. “You have destroyed Lockwraithe. You
have stolen what wealth my family had. You ask for a fortune for me
when you have taken all that there was!”

“
You will remain my slave. I gain
something either way.” Joran had little regard for the anguish she
felt. He turned on his heel and stomped from the room. She cringed
as she heard him lock the door behind him. She would get no
sympathy from Joran the Stonehearted.

Allisande was thinking she would go insane if
she spent another minute in Joran’s room. It was five days since
their last argument. He avoided speaking to her at all. He came to
his bed and tossed her a fur skin, and promptly rolled over and
ignored her. Her back was much improved, merely a bit tender to the
touch.

Janna came to inspect the wounds during her
incarceration. The woman was satisfied she was healing nicely. She
found she liked Janna. They talked about womanly matters, easily
forgetting her circumstances here. She learned Janna had once been
a slave. Grogan had stolen her from her father years ago. The woman
gave a low laugh when she informed her it wasn’t long before he
freed her to wed him.

Allisande listened to her talk about her
three sons proudly, and confided of the one on the way. She was
sorry to see her go when she returned to her duties. She was busily
plotting her escape when Joran entered the room and announced she
was to go below and help in the kitchens. She was eager to be out
of the room, and met his warning glare mutinously.

“
You say one foul word to anyone and
you are back in here, is that clear?” He was relieved when she
nodded quickly. “The shackles will remain on until I am assured you
have no intent to run. Do not try my patience. I am in no mood for
you this day.”

Allisande said nothing. Oh, she would run if
she was given the opportunity. If he thought a chain between her
ankles would keep her his slave, he had another thing coming to
him. She was thinking how dearly she would love to have her sword
in her hand when he stood aside and allowed her to shuffle past.
She found she couldn’t get down the stairs with her ankles
shackled.

Joran gave an impatient curse as he lifted
her into his arms and carried her down the stairs, much to the
surprise of everyone else in the hall who stared at them as he set
the dark-haired girl down.

Allisande shuffled to the kitchens, and
cursed the shackles as the chain clanked against the planks as she
walked. Everyone gazed at her feet, and seemed bemused, until she
pulled up her skirt hem to display the shackles.

“
Why chain the girl’s legs together,
Joran?” Grogan asked in amusement. The Vikings sitting at his table
all chortled in delight at his jest. “It undermines your plan to
get between them, does it not?”

“
It keeps her from running, my friend!”
Joran called out in amusement. “They can come off as easily as they
can go back on too!” This last made his men laugh uproariously.
They sat as the morning meal was served. Joran kept an eye upon
Allisande as she brought a pitcher of milk to the table, grateful
she kept her head down and her mouth shut as several of his men
made lewd comments trying to rile her.

She merely smiled; a murderous gleam in her
eyes. It was enough to silence them. He ate his meal and found
himself watching her as she worked about the hall. He saw the way
she held her head up proudly, and refused to be cowed. She looked
so fetching in his wife’s old garments; he could hardly take his
eyes from her.

He wanted her, he thought glumly, and not
just for sporting. He wanted to hear her laughter and see a genuine
smile from her. She hated him with every fiber of her being, he
knew. Killing her father had been unfortunate.

Harold would have fared far worse in Ivar’s
hands. The Viking warlord would have tortured the man until he
tired of it, and he would have killed him as slowly as possible.
Allisande must be made to see her father was the villain in this,
and not him.

He refused to apologize for killing the man.
The baron got what he deserved. It was unfortunate they were at
odds so much. Allisande was a woman any man would be proud to have
as his own.

Just thinking about bedding the proud beauty
made him squirm in his chair. His randy condition drew more jests
from his men. They saw him lustfully pursuing his slave about the
hall with his gaze. He watched her under his lashes as she bent to
pour milk into tankards. He was unhappy when one of his younger men
fondled her buttocks.

Before he could rise and deal with the
situation, the pitcher of milk was poured into the man’s lap. The
man scowled at Allisande and was careful to avoid cuffing her when
he noted his Chieftain’s dark look in his direction. The girl ran
hurriedly out of arms reach. He was grateful none of his other men
dared touch her after that.

Joran couldn’t be there all the time to curb
their interest in Allisande. He was growing angrier by the minute.
He was relieved when the meal was over, and she disappeared into
the kitchens. Grogan came to sit beside him, and eyed him
knowingly.

“
Put yourself out of your misery and
bed the wench before you give the men the idea she is ripe for the
taking,” Grogan said teasingly. “Everyone knows she sleeps upon the
floor of your room. You either claim her for your own, or another
will, mark my words. She is far too comely a maid for them to
resist, and a slave, no less. Already they see who will seek to
lure the wench alone.”

“
I will kill anyone who dares to touch
her!” Joran growled and eyed him with a scowl. “She is mine! I will
have her when I feel like it, not to appease the men!”

“
Do not say I didn’t tell you there
would be trouble.” Grogan smirked as he noted Joran’s look of
possessive jealousy. It was obvious the girl was tormenting him.
The fact he allowed it told him his interest in his slave was far
more than just lust. Joran was angry much of late. The way his eyes
continually followed the girl about were telling. Grogan knew what
ailed his Chieftain. He was deliberately prolonging the inevitable
in hopes of wooing the fiery noblewoman. Joran wasn’t used to women
not throwing themselves at him. For once, he was the one being
rebuffed.

Joran would remember those words later when
Allisande returned to the hall. She received more fondling and
groping as she helped serve the midday meal. She managed to
sidestep hands and embraces as she helped serve his men.

He was fairly spitting in temper as a
handsome young Viking named Terek pulled her onto his lap. She was
struggling as the man held her. Terek chuckled and stood up, intent
on taking the girl from the hall.

His brawny arm hefted her up with him, his
handsome face flushed with pleasure to capture the beautiful slave.
She shrieked and struggled. Finally, the young man saw Joran’s
black look, he set Allisande away from him reluctantly.

She looked at Joran worriedly, afraid he
would think she was the one causing trouble, and scurried back to
the kitchens. Terek ducked his head from his Chieftain’s scowl, and
sat back down.

Joran could take no more of it. He invited
unwanted attention to his slave if he didn’t make his claim of her
known. He wanted to woo the woman slowly, but she did nothing but
vent her hate at him in the weeks following her whipping. The
raging lusts of the warriors in his longhouse had to be dealt
with.

He rose suddenly. His chair fell back as he
pushed away from the table. All who knew him saw his determined
look, and steered clear of him as he stalked to the kitchens.
Allisande was finishing her meal when he approached her.

Allisande could see he was furious. She had
done nothing to merit his wrath. She eyed him coolly and ignored
him. She was about to ask him what his problem was with her when he
grabbed her and jerked her up from the stool. A cry slid past her
lips as he picked her up and tossed her unceremoniously over his
shoulder and walked out of the kitchens.

Joran’s men cheered as he carried her
shrieking up the stairs. He smacked her buttocks and was rewarded
with more sputters of outrage. Joran grinned as he kicked his door
shut and barred it. He set her down and she backed away, seeing his
determined look as his hands went to his clothing.

His gaze never left her fearful one as he
jerked off his clothes quickly and tossed them aside. When he was
standing nude in front of her, he grinned wolfishly as he crooked a
finger at her. “Come here to me, feisty wench. Let me show you to
your new duty.”

Allisande turned to run, but he was upon her
in an instant before she could get away. He chuckled as she flailed
and struggled as he lifted her off her feet, and tossed her upon
the furs in his bed.

He came down on top of her. She gasped from
his heavy weight as he jerked her feet up and unlocked the
shackles, tossing them aside before he rolled her beneath him. He
held her captive under him. He enjoyed the way she thrashed to get
him off of her.

His cock was so hard, every brush of her body
against his made him even more eager to have her. Their eyes met
and she trembled at the sight of the lust in his raging blue eyes.
She uttered a shriek of denial before his mouth crashed over
hers.

Allisande sobbed under his lips as her hands
tried in vain to push him off her. He pinned her hands above her
head, and captured her lips. His kisses were soft and teasing now
as they explored hers.

They grew even more insistent as he parted
her lips. She gasped as his tongue thrust inside her mouth. He was
determined to arouse her as he played with her lips and stroked
them with his own until she was breathless.

Allisande struggled futilely as he yanked her
gown up and pulled it over her head. He flung it away onto the
floor. The feel of his warm nakedness against hers was startling
and made heat gather in her middle.

When his golden head lowered to lash at her
hardened nipples, a soft gasp escaped her. She closed her eyes and
vowed to think of something else during his sensual onslaught.

His mouth blistered a trail of heat and
sensation across her abdomen. She continued to buck to get him off
her, and soon learned it did nothing but encourage him further.
Joran stroked his hands along her tightly locked thighs. She
squeezed her eyes shut as she felt another moan rising in the back
of her throat despite her desire to remain detached from what was
happening to her.