Читать книгу Longing For Her Forbidden Viking - Harper St. George - Страница 12

It had been nearly a fortnight since he had come to Alvey and first laid eyes on Ellan. In that time Aevir had failed to completely banish the girl from his thoughts. The days were easy enough. They were filled with almost constant sparring and travel that had taken him to the northern corners of Alvey’s border with the Scots. It was the nights, quiet and often fraught with boredom, that made him ache for her. The strong pull between them was attraction in its most raw and unbridled form. It was so rare that he’d never quite experienced it with another woman. Desire, aye, and love, once, but not this nearly overwhelming need to possess another.

Had she been more experienced—and not under Lord Vidar’s protection—he’d have spent his every night in Alvey buried within her. As it was, he’d been forced to look for substitutes, but none of the women who had offered had the completely contradictory charms of sincerity and insolence that she had. None of them had that particular look in their eyes that said to him, ‘Teach me everything you know and I’ll find a way to break you with pleasure.’

The thought made the corners of his mouth turn up in a mocking grin. Ellan could have him in knots over her if she only knew how to wield the power she held. It was an unfortunate situation to find himself in given that the girl in question could very well be a spy planted by her father who was known for his hatred for the Danes. His only consolation was that she did not know how unreasonably besotted he was with her. Though she was bound to figure it out if he kept staring at her.

Her sister had married Aevir’s friend Rolfe after a whirlwind courtship earlier in the day, leaving the evening to be taken up with feasting, stories and music. There was a distinct lack of women within Alvey’s walls, so Ellan danced around the room along with Lady Gwendolyn and a few other wives and serving girls, taking the hand of a man in the large circle and twirling once before moving to the next. Her smile was breathtaking and the way she moved had him wondering if she’d be that uninhibited beneath him.

That thought forced him to look away and stare down into his mead, but the honeyed notes in the liquid only reminded him of the way the firelight played over the gold tones in her hair. Cursing under his breath, he wondered how much more of this celebration he’d be forced to endure.

The couple had long since retired to their bedchamber upstairs for the evening. Given the thin walls and flooring, there was no question that the marriage had been well and truly consummated. The usual ribald comments had begun and Ellan had sat across from him, blushing with each one. More telling was how she would glance over to him, letting him know her thoughts followed his own. Lady Gwendolyn had been indulgent and let the suggestive remarks pass until she had finally proposed more dancing. Aevir had been a fool to think the music would provide any sort of relief from wanting Ellan. In fact, as the evening wore on and his gaze kept finding her dancing form, he was beginning to think that the only way to rid himself of his obsession would be to have her once and get it over with. Jarl Vidar might disapprove, but whatever the punishment was it would be worth it.

Pushing his tankard back, he went to rise and go to her, but Jarl Vidar’s voice stayed him.

‘Aevir, stay a moment,’ Jarl Vidar called.

He sat back down, wondering if his intention had been so clearly written on his face. Frequently the Jarl wore a forbidding expression, but tonight he was relaxed and smiling. His own gaze was drawn to the movements of his lady wife as she danced.

Aevir breathed a sigh of relief that his intentions towards Ellan hadn’t been revealed. ‘Aye, Jarl.’

‘I want you to know that I appreciate you giving me your loyalty. You and your men have already proven to be invaluable assets to Alvey.’

Aevir grinned. ‘We don’t come cheaply, but we’re worth it.’

The Jarl was probably a couple of winters younger than Aevir, which was young for a jarl. It was a testament to how ripe this land was for opportunity to quickly gain status, which was what had tempted Aevir to come fight for Vidar. He’d roamed his homeland, raided the Franks and worked as a mercenary as far away as Constantinople for a handful of years, filling his coffers. His men respected him and he was known as an honest and effective warrior. However, the status he craved had eluded him. To become a jarl in his own right he needed land and lots of it, along with a small army to rule.

Jarl Vidar laughed. ‘Indeed. When you gave me your loyalty, I told you that you’d be well rewarded for it. Well, I’ve finally decided on a marriage that will help you secure the status you desire.’

On her deathbed, his mother had praised his strength, but had bade him not to flaunt it. The son of a slave was not meant to rise high in the world and strength would make him a target for men who wanted to keep him in his place. He’d vowed in that moment that one day he would rise to the same level of the men she feared. Though she wouldn’t be there to see him, he’d walk proudly among them, deserving of every bit of respect that they commanded for themselves. While he had travelled far and wide, the stain of being a bastard son of a slave had followed him. It had become clear to him that marriage to a high-born woman was the only way to rid himself of it.

Vidar’s proclamation shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it did. When he’d first arrived in Alvey and sworn his oath, the Jarl had spoken privately to him about arranging a marriage. At the time, Aevir had accepted it as the next necessary phase of his life. He’d never expected it to happen so soon.

‘Aevir?’ Jarl Vidar’s voice broke through his hesitation. ‘You don’t seem pleased.’

Aevir shook his head. ‘I’m very pleased, merely surprised. Who is the woman?’

He knew that he had failed to appear happy when two identical creases formed between the Jarl’s brows. Leaning forward and lowering his voice, Jarl Vidar said, ‘I know that you were married once before. I understand if you want to wait—’

‘Nay.’ An image of the only wife of his heart flashed through Aevir’s mind. She was laughing at him after he’d slipped on the frozen lake helping to carry a swine to her home. It was the first time he had met her and still how he imagined her during the very rare times he allowed his thoughts to drift that way. He refused to think of her now and forcefully returned her memory to the confines of his heart. His first marriage had been for love; his next would be for status and nothing more. ‘Thank you, Jarl, but waiting isn’t necessary. Who is to be my...?’ He couldn’t say wife. He wouldn’t. ‘Who am I to marry?’

‘Her name is Annis. She is a Saxon relation of my brother Eirik. Her father was a powerful Saxon, he still is, though he operates under Eirik’s rule. The family is a relation of the Northumbrian King Ecgberht, so the marriage will come with a small portion of land.’

‘Not in Alvey?’

The Jarl shook his head. ‘Nay, south, but not as far as Eirik’s land. You’ll essentially oversee the territory between. I had thought to offer the position to Rolfe, but it wasn’t a good fit because he prefers to stay in Alvey.’ He grinned and added, ‘He also seems to prefer Elswyth. The arrangement is much more suitable to a man of your ambition.’

The match was a good one. Aevir would hold a strong position and have access to those who governed. He could marry this unknown woman and keep her at a distance, consummate their marriage and allow her to lead a separate life from him. He could continue wielding his sword while she stayed at home. Depending on her view of the Danes, she might even prefer to live with her family over him. That arrangement was the type he had imagined when he decided that another marriage was necessary for him to achieve his goals.

‘It is a good match. What do you know of this Annis?’

Jarl Vidar smiled. ‘Last time I saw her she was a child, but that was years ago and she’s bound to have grown a bit.’

A bitter taste rose in the back of his throat. He had no liking for child-brides, or women who were forced to marry. ‘Then the girl is an innocent?’

‘Nay, she’s a widow. Her husband, a Saxon, died recently and there were no children.’

Somehow that seemed better. Perhaps she mourned her husband still and wouldn’t expect much from her new one. Still, having the reality of it before him made dread settle like a lead weight in his belly. His gaze found Ellan, her smile bright in the sea of cheers and clapping around her. Just looking upon her warmed something long grown cold within him. He hadn’t realised until this moment that the promise of more with her had started to bud inside his chest. He was forced to rip it out by the roots, for it was a ridiculous notion. Aside from the fact that he suspected she was in Alvey for duplicitous reasons, the truth was that she was a simple farm girl who could not give him the status he craved.

‘When do you think a wedding can be arranged?’ he asked.

Jarl Vidar grinned, apparently convinced of Aevir’s enthusiasm. ‘You’ll meet her after the spring thaw. You can be married soon after. We’ll travel down together, assuming this mess with the Scots allows it.’

Aevir forced himself to smile, but it felt wooden and awkward. It was hardly more than a twitch of his lips. The Jarl seemed content with the outcome, however, and leaned forward to clasp his arm. Aevir stayed a moment to accept the good wishes of the men around him before excusing himself for the evening.

Sensing that it was now or never, he intended to persuade Ellan to spend the rest of the night with him. He was leaving to patrol the northern border in the morning and could spare one night to know what it was like to lose himself inside her. From the way she had proclaimed it her right to kiss whomever she wanted, he imagined she wasn’t quite as innocent as the Jarl believed. Because Rolfe had married her sister, Aevir had begun to suspect the proclamation was simply to ensure her safety. She wasn’t actually a blood relative to the man, so any punishment for touching her would likely be in the form of a fine. It was a price he was willing to pay to be with her.

He immediately looked for Ellan again and his heart stuttered when he couldn’t find her dancing. Lady Gwendolyn and the other women laughed and held hands as they turned in a circle, but there was no Ellan.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he opened the door and hurried out into the cold night, genuinely concerned that a man might have taken her. The mead had flowed easily tonight and the wedding had made many of the men more eager than usual, himself included. The yard was deserted as almost everyone was packed inside the hall. Some had already sought their beds for the night, but it was too cold to linger outside. A light rustling of fabric had him walking around the corner of the hall to see her leaning back against the side, her face raised to the night air. Several strands of hair had fallen from her braid and the crown of ivy she wore tilted to the side, but somehow the dishevelment only made her more beautiful. There was a tightening deep in his belly as he watched her and that more than his conversation with Jarl Vidar made his voice harsh when he asked, ‘What are you doing out here?’

Her eyes widened as she opened them. ‘Aevir! You frightened me.’

He almost despised how much he wanted her. The sentiment did nothing to soften the tone of his voice. ‘It’s not safe for you out here alone.’

His tone seemed to startle her for a moment, but she quickly, gathered her wits and gave him a hesitant smile. ‘But I’m not alone...you’re here now.’

Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed with exertion. A fine mist of sweat shimmered on her face, making him ache to taste the salt of her skin. ‘And why do you think that makes you any safer?’ Somehow, he had drifted closer so that he stood directly in front of her. The mead seemed to dull everything around them while bringing her into sharp clarity before him.

She looked up at him and said with perfect innocence, ‘Because I know that you wouldn’t harm me.’

Her bottom lip was plump and moist, causing him to remember how she had kissed him back in the larder. ‘You’re right. Pleasure is so much better.’

His palms pressed into the coarse wood at her back on either side of her. He felt like a moth must feel being drawn to the flame that would surely destroy it, but being powerless to resist its beauty.

She gasped as if only now grasping the particular danger she was in and her hands came up to rest on his chest. She didn’t push him away, however. ‘You know that Lord Vidar wouldn’t allow...’ She swallowed audibly and seemed unable to finish her thought.

All instinct now, he leaned down so that his mouth nearly brushed her ear. Her scent overwhelmed his senses, causing his body to clench with arousal that made him feel drunk as it swept through him. ‘Come to bed with me, Ellan.’

‘Aevir,’ she whispered her outrage, but when her gaze met his he could see the answer to his arousal in her eyes as a smile tugged at her lips.

The promise of gratification pulsed through him. He could take her here against the wall if he wanted, but it wouldn’t do. She deserved a bed and he deserved an entire night to purge her from his mind.

‘Ellan!’ Lady Gwendolyn’s slightly breathless and alarmed voice filled the night. ‘Are you out here?’ Sounds of merriment came through the open doorway of the hall.

Ellan’s wide eyes met his and she gave a regretful shake of her head before ducking underneath his arm to flee. ‘I’m here. It was stuffy inside, so I came out to get some cool air,’ she said as she rounded the corner.

Lady Gwendolyn’s reply was lost as they walked inside and closed the door behind them. He let his forehead drop against the rough wooden wall and released a breath of frustration. Half of him thanked the gods for intervening before he made his obsession with her worse, while the other half wanted to sling her over his shoulder and take her off to his bed where he would spend the rest of the night with her legs wrapped around his waist.

Finally, he took in a deep breath and straightened. The cool air into his lungs brought the return of clarity and rational thought. It was good that they had been interrupted. He shouldn’t have been willing to risk the Jarl’s ire to be with her for a night. Tomorrow he would return to the northern border as planned to help quell the threat from the Scots and he vowed to forget the girl who had bewitched him.