Viking's Love (4 page)

Joran tucked the sword in his waistband and
returned to the deck.

The Vikings left the English holding singing
and brandishing their flagons of wine as they crossed the channel
for the North Sea and home. Horns blared as the drakkars slid back
out to sea in the darkness.

Joran stood alone at the dragon bow of the
ship. He gazed moodily over the dark waves. The raid went smoothly.
The only men he lost were to the Lockwraithe girl’s sword. He would
meet with his father upon his return and give him an accounting of
the raid. He would be free to return to his own stronghold for a
time. The plans to go after the others would be devised.

Allisande of Lockwraithe would not be happy
to learn she was a slave. The rich man’s cosseted daughter would
find little warmth in his land. He wasn’t looking forward to
dealing with the girl’s rage, having witnessed it firsthand. Joran
was a Chieftain in his land. Her life was now his to command. He
frowned when he thought of his real father.

His mother had been given to Ivar the
Boneless as a consolation prize when a land dispute occurred
between the Chieftain, Johan Larsson, and Ivar the Boneless
twenty-five summers before. Joran was the result of that forced
coupling. He would not learn of it until his father died years
later and Ingar confessed the truth.

Joran didn’t question anything when Johan
sent him away to serve at the warlord’s feet. He was a lad of ten
summers and confused by his father’s coldness to him. Johan seemed
to always hold him at arm’s length, never really treating him as
his son.

Joran was embittered to learn the truth of
who his real father was later when Johan died. Ivar embraced him as
his son after that. He grew to love and respect the man eventually,
but he felt uneasy of him just the same.

Ivar was often mercurial in nature. How he
would react when he learned of Osgood’s death couldn’t be
predicted. His legendary rages made one and all fear him. Joran
knew him to also be fair. He would realize Joran had no choice in
it.

Ivar could take the girl for himself, Joran
realized, with a sickening lurch in his chest. His father had many
women. His prowess was legendary. With twelve bastard sons and four
daughters, he only took one wife over the years. His son, Theron,
was the result of that disastrous union.

Joran was outraged by the unmistakable
jealousy that burned within him at the thought of the girl being
taken from him. He could say nothing. It was too late to leave her
behind. He felt uneasy of her fate. Wulfstan would seek to
retaliate against the girl. He ignored his inner warnings that he
owed his half brother more loyalty than he’d shown. The way his
granite-encased heart skipped a beat the moment he looked into
those amazing violet eyes made up his mind.

When Ivar asked him to lead the attack upon
Harold Osgood; Joran felt privileged to meet out his father’s
justice. Joran never took captives before in previous raids. His
people would be shocked by his actions when he brought her home
with him. He knew it wasn’t only her ransom that compelled him to
keep her with him.

When Joran saw her holding his men at bay
with her tiny sword, he’d been riveted by her. His admiration for
her daring made him slow to react as a result, something that
galled him, never having seen such a dainty creature fight with
such valor before.

He should have left her to Wulfstan. He only
earned more of his half brother’s enmity for claiming the girl as
his own. The bitter hatred between them was a constant aggravation
to his leader these days. Ivar wouldn’t like to see his warriors at
odds over a woman, Osgood’s daughter, no less.

Wulfstan would have relished any excuse to
challenge him. Joran never went out of his way to fuel the man’s
hatred. It was there, nonetheless. Wulfstan coveted Joran’s place
at his father’s side since Theron died.

Joran ignored the politics within his
father’s ranks, as he always did. He was preparing for when he
would cease to raid. He had an eye to his future. He thought of his
people. He was eager to get back to his home.

The girl would upset the balance within his
peaceful home. His thoughts turned to his woman. His favorite
bedmate would not like him bringing home the spoils of war. He
suspected there would be trouble when Merta saw him toting his
lovely slave home with him.

Merta believed he would marry her one day.
She came to live at his longhouse after the last gathering of
Chieftains to lure him to her bed. He went there obligingly, but
still had no desire to remarry, much to her and her brother’s
chagrin. He didn’t force her to be his leman. Merta took much for
granted.

Her brother, Garran Herricksson, never sought
to force his hand in regard to his sister, thankful to separate her
from his wife. The pair never got along. The constant strife
encouraged Garran to look the other way.

So Merta remained with him, hopeful he would
offer for her. He never intended to remarry. The first time was bad
enough. Thoughts of his wife made his face harden at the unpleasant
memories. Aelynn’s treachery destroyed him for any other woman.

They’d married in haste after a brief
courtship. He was blinded by love and her ethereal blonde beauty.
He realized within six moons how unsuited they were for one
another. Aelynn despised his remote lands in the mountains.

She complained incessantly of wanting to go
back to her father’s longhouse. Joran thought if he were a
wealthier man, she would be pleased. He returned to raiding as a
means to increase his wealth.

He heard rumors she was free with her favors
while he was gone and didn’t believe it. His father finally told
him what his wife was doing in his absence. Discovering she was
unfaithful was a blow. To discover she was carrying another man’s
child devastated him.

Aelynn didn’t know which of her lovers
fathered the child. She taunted him for months as she grew big with
the child. Every bit of love he’d ever felt for her was
extinguished in an instant. She died in childbed cursing him. He
buried her and the babe together, vowing to never give his heart to
another woman. After six years, he swore no heart beat in his chest
until the minute he saw Allisande of Lockwraithe.

Joran refused to give into the churning
emotions she created within him, reasoning it was lust, and nothing
more. He hardly knew the girl. Knowing she was Harold’s daughter
should have made him hesitate to feel such admiration. The girl
would cut his heart out if given a chance.

Joran turned away and returned to his
sleeping quarters, pulling the heavy fur covering aside to step
within the makeshift shelter. He didn’t have to look down to know
Allisande was awake. He could feel those hate-filled eyes boring
holes into him the minute he relit the oil lamp upon the floor.

He looked down at her without expression. Her
eyes widened as they met his. He saw no fear in her violet-hued
gaze. She took in his bloodied fur clothing and war paint still
smeared on his face with a look of revulsion. Only her lush,
cherry-colored lips betrayed her as they quivered ever so
slightly.

He smiled and undid his sword belt and let it
drop to the planks with a loud clatter. He pulled off his fur vest
and tossed it to the floor as well. His hands went to the fastening
of his pants. Her bold gaze skidded away. She was blushing. She
struggled against her bonds, but to no avail. He took his time
undressing until he was nude. His eyes never left hers.

Allisande saw his large, powerful body
standing in all its glory. She fought against her bonds like a
rabbit caught in a snare. He grinned despite himself to see it. It
was far preferable than seeing hatred in her amazing eyes. He knew
she believed he would ravish her as so many of her female servants
had been. He allowed her to believe it to keep her cowed to allow
him his rest.

Joran turned and afforded her an
unprecedented view of his hard, muscled buttocks as he padded
across the planks to douse the lamp. He slid nude under the furs on
his sleeping mat, leaving the girl to simmer in confusion in the
dark. She spoke some moments later.

“
I have to relieve myself, Viking,”
Allisande’s waspish tone made him grimace in the darkness. “Or is
it your desire I lie in my own piss, you disgusting
dog?”

Joran chuckled appreciatively. The girl had
an evil tongue. He might have admired her spirit if directed at any
but him. He struck a match and bristled at his prickly captive’s
insistence on insulting him. He relit the lamp and approached her.
He looked down at her in amusement. She was trembling, but he knew
it wasn’t from fear. The girl should have been born a man.

The lady was smoldering in rage. She faced
him standing over her nude without any sign of fear. She avoided
looking directly at his nakedness. He felt himself growing aroused
despite his weariness.

Allisande avoided looking at his nudity.
Joran cursed himself for not availing himself of the girl then and
there. The sudden desire to drag her from the floor was strong
within him. He fought the need within him those few moments,
stirred by her defiance. She struggled against the ropes to get as
far away from him as possible, as if reading his lustful
thoughts.

Thinking of her spitting with fury and
struggling violently should he try to force her to his furs gave
him little incentive to follow his urges. He never had to force any
woman to his bed, and wouldn’t start tonight. He was too tired to
tame the she-wolf. He had only a few hours to sleep and she was
keeping him from it.

The sight of her tied up at his feet was
making him think of carnal thoughts. There would be time enough for
that when he got her back at his home. For now, he wished only to
sleep.

“
So, you ask my favor only to insult
me? I weary of your accursed tongue! You best heed me or feel the
back of my hand, Girl!” Joran bent to drag her up, marveling at how
light she was. He was wary even with her tied. He led her to an
enclosed area reserved for her purposes. His large hand clamped on
her arm and encircled it easily.

Allisande was small-boned and compact. The
supple muscles on her arms gave evidence she practiced with the
sword daily. She was slight in height, and reached the middle of
his chest. He saw her fight and wasn’t about to underestimate
her.

“
How can I be tied and take care of my
needs at the same time, Viking?” Her haughty voice reminded him she
was a lord’s daughter. “Untie me at once!”

Joran met her sharp look with a fierce frown.
“I will not make the mistake of untying you. I have seen what you
can do when your hands are free.” He stalked away as she mulled
over her dilemma. She muttered behind the enclosure. “I think I
liked it better when you were silent, Wench!” After several
minutes, she appeared outside the enclosure, glaring at him with
those glittering eyes that wished him dead. He tossed another fur
skin upon the floor and guided her back, pushing her down roughly.
“Sleep, Allisande of Lockwraithe. I have no desire to bed you this
night. It’s only rest I crave.”

“
You will find yourself relieved of
that foul organ if you should even try!” Allisande spat furiously,
her glittering eyes daring him to test her. “I will kill you if you
touch me, Viking dog! You will regret your ever taking me from my
home!”

“
Aye, I fear your shrewish tongue has
already had an adverse effect upon me.” He gestured mockingly to
his now flaccid manhood with a hearty chuckle, earning a hostile
curse from her. “Perhaps we should find some more pleasing things
for you to do with that foul mouth, eh?” He raised a golden eyebrow
meaningfully and was relieved to see her eyes widen with horror. He
smiled before he turned to his sleeping mat, and doused the lamp
once more. “Sleep, Woman, lest I change my mind and show you what I
have in mind.”

Joran lay awake for some time, despite his
exhaustion. Thoughts of the English beauty lying only feet away
made him uncomfortably aware of his growing needs. He gritted his
teeth with the effort to stay where he lay and ignore his growing
desires.

The Englishwoman wasn’t for him, he
thought to himself countless times. He fought to push away his
lust. He closed his eyes, determined to sleep, when she spoke
again.
Thor’s teeth, but the woman was
annoying!
Did she not know when to shut her
mouth?
He fumed as he listened to her hissing at him
like a snake poised to strike.

“
You will pay for what you have done
this day, Viking! I will avenge my father and my people. I will
have you flayed alive and left to roast in the sun, with your
entrails a feast for the carrion.”

“
Go to sleep and cease your threats,
girl!” Joran grew angry with her continued nettling of him when he
desired to sleep. “You are little more than my slave now, my lady,”
he mocked her scornfully. “I will see you sold at the slave markets
in Oslo if you persist. Your new master will not be as lenient as I
have been.” His words had the desired effect and silenced her
quickly. He waited to deal harshly with the girl if she continued
to push him. Soon he heard her even breathing as exhaustion
overtook her.

****

The Viking ships crossed the channel to the
North Sea. With fairer weather than expected, they would arrive in
Norway sooner than planned. Joran didn’t untie the noblewoman until
they were far out to sea the next day. He allowed the maid,
Elspeth, free movement of the ship to tend to her lady following
their departure from Britain’s shores.

Elspeth was so bruised she could hardly be
identified from Wulfstan’s abuse of her. Allisande tried to reclaim
her sword from him when she saw her servant return to her that
morning looking so battered.