Anna Markland - Viking Roots Medieval Romance Saga 02 (7 page)

Torstein was astonished Sonja had ventured in search of him. Her willingness to risk much gave him courage to take hold of her trembling hands. “You’re cold,” he said with a smile.

“You can warm me,” she replied huskily, her eyelids half hooded.

Her sultry voice freed him of his fear she might reject him. “You know of my past, yet still came to me.”

She nodded, smiling, though her nervousness was evident in the rigid set of her shoulders.

It struck him in an instant of blinding clarity that Freyja had destined him to be this woman’s protector. “Do not be afraid, Sonja. I believe the gods have decreed we be together. I will move mountains to make you mine.”

She tightened her grip on his hands as a tear trickled down her cheek. “How can it be, Torstein? My father will punish us both if he thinks I have spoken your name.”

He pulled her closer. “What will he do if I kiss you?”

Her lips parted, her eyes fixed on his mouth. “It would be folly,” she murmured.

He put his arms around her waist, pinning her hands behind her back, drawing her against him. The scent of freshness and purity that clung to her filled his nostrils. “My kiss will be my pledge to you,” he whispered, lowering his head to touch his lips to hers.

She sagged back against the wall of the house, pulling him to her body. A throaty moan escaped her lips as his tongue coaxed her mouth open and she melted into him, welcoming his invasion into her warm mouth. His body responded fiercely, but it wasn’t simply lust filling his senses. He’d never shared the taste of another’s saliva, nor savored the tang of salt on another person’s skin.

Her kiss was life giving. He would never give her up. “This is my first kiss,” he rasped when their lips reluctantly parted.

She smiled, her dark eyes full of longing. “Your mother must have kissed you.”

He shook his head. “My mother called herself a lost soul. She was an Irish princess stolen from her land by my grandfather, Magnus Gardbruker. It seems my grandmother was a jealous woman who allowed him no concubines. He gave his prize to his son, Gunnar, my father.”

“She must have loved you,” she said, cupping his face with both hands. Her loving touch, the first he’d ever experienced, evoked a memory of the Archbishop preaching of the coming of the Holy Spirit and how it had filled the fearful apostles with peace.

He shrugged his shoulders, struggling to force the words from his dry throat. “My mother had seen twelve summers when she bore me. I remember she cried a lot. Gunnar quickly tired of her and she never learned to speak Norse properly. Her one pleasure came from speaking the Gaelig with Padraig, an Irish monk who was one of Poppa’s slaves. She wanted to teach it to me, but Gunnar forbade it.”

“What happened to Padraig?”

“The Franks killed him near Chartres, but I believe his heart died when my mother was sold off in the market at Ribe. There was nothing physical between them. They provided an anchor to the past for each other, a reminder of who they truly were.”

He hoped his anger at the cruelty of fate wouldn’t repulse her.

“It’s ironic,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “Hrolf Ganger brings back a captive from Bayeux, and because he is enamored of her, he never makes her his slave. Poppa is now the legitimate wife of the Duke of the Norsemen, and your mother is lost forever, if she still lives.”

His heart lifted. She understood his torment. “And their son, Vilhelm, will no doubt succeed his father as our ruler.”

“But you have noble Irish blood in your veins,” she said with a sly smile. “They say Irishmen are stubborn.”

He clenched his fists. “You will see how stubborn I can be if anyone tries to part us.”

She frowned and pulled away from him as the sound of a door creaking open came to their ears. “They’re coming,” she whispered.

He gripped her hand. “I must be assured you are with me in this, Sonja. It will be our secret for the time being, but I want your pledge now.”

She stared at her feet. “I don’t have your courage, but I promise myself to you.” She lifted an amulet on a long cord from around her neck and thrust it into his hands, then hurried to the door as her mother appeared.

“There you are, silly girl. Come and say goodbye to our guests. What are you doing out here?”

She yanked Sonja inside, eyed Torstein then slammed the door.

“She was trysting with her future husband,” he said under his breath. He fingered the amulet of hammered copper, then pressed it to his lips. Padraig had secretly taught him to decipher runes. A name stood out on one side as he’d expected. “Sonja,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb over the symbols.

He turned the amulet over, choking out the words engraved into the green metal. “The brightest star shines in the darkest sky.”

The twinkle in the Cathryn’s eye as she graciously bade everyone goodbye steadied Sonja’s thudding heart. “There is no need to bring Ida outside,” their guest said to Ingeborg and Olga. “Sonja can accompany us to the gate.”

Olga hesitated but then waved them away.

Outside the door, Torstein stood like a ramrod, the brown leather cord of her amulet peeking out from the neck of his linen shirt, his hand over the place where her rune-plate rested against his heart. He relaxed at the sight of Cathryn’s smile and reached for Magnus. Sonja had never understood until this day the true meaning of the runes on her birth amulet. She doubted her parents had foreseen what Odin’s oft-quoted words would come to mean for their daughter.

As Torstein wrapped the carrying cloth around his body and carefully settled the babe against his chest, it was easy to see the child loved him. A strange thrill spiraled its way into her womb. “You’ll make a good father,” she said in a scratchy voice she barely recognized.

Cathryn interrupted his reply. “You have a long road ahead, but I will offer prayers to Saint Catherine of Alexandria for you both.”

Sonja bade them goodbye at the gate and watched them disappear into the gathering twilight. She didn’t know who Saint Catherine of Alexandria was, but sensed they had a powerful ally in Cathryn Kriger and her Christian faith.

“I don’t want Torstein to hear of this, but I’m impressed with his fighting skills,” Bryk confided to his wife as she lay sated in his arms in their chamber.

Cathryn giggled. “I admit those aren’t the words I expected after our first lovemaking for weeks, but I’m happy to hear it.”

Bryk struck his palm against his forehead and spooned his body around his wife’s. “I’m a fool,” he whispered into her warm nape. “Forgive me. I should have asked if it was painful for you.”

She shook her head, to his relief. “No. Was it for you?”

It took a moment for him to realize she was teasing. She shrieked with laughter when he tickled her in retaliation.

“Hush,” he admonished. “You’ll wake Magnus.”

“Stop tickling then,” she hissed between gritted teeth. “Tell me more of your progress with Torstein in the training field. I have watched your respect for him grow these past sennights.”

He turned onto his back, marveling he was comfortable divulging things to this perceptive woman he’d never shared with anyone. “He is more my father’s son than Gunnar ever was,” he rasped. “My brother was indolent, content to laze around from sunrise to sunset munching apples if we’d let him. Torstein is a warrior. I was aware he had courage, but there’s a defiance in him I never detected when he was a thrall.”

“He hid it well,” she murmured.

“
Ja
. He did. But it will stand him in good stead. He’s not a big man, and he’ll face stronger warriors. He and Sven Yngre have become friends and are proving to be an effective team. Sven seems to have no problem with Torstein’s past and there’ll be times when something other than strength will win the day.”

She pressed her fingers into his biceps. “That’s not a concern for you, my brawny Viking.”

Predictably, his
pikk
responded. “I was afraid this would happen,” he said.

She furrowed her brow. “What?”

He licked her throat then sucked the little hollow at the base of her neck when she moaned and stretched into him. “After its forced abstinence, my shaft wants to remain buried inside you.”

She kicked off the linens and parted her legs, her eyes widening gleefully when she saw his arousal. “Welcome back, my Rover Bold.”

Cathryn lay listening to her husband’s snoring, filled with love for the brave invader who’d captured her heart and soul.

She regretted keeping anything from him, and had come close to blurting out her secret when Bryk had told her of his admiration for Torstein’s skills.

But in truth the secret wasn’t hers to tell, though she had been complicit in it. At Cathryn’s suggestion, Ingeborg had brought Ida to visit regularly. This much Bryk was aware of. Visits by females and babies held no interest for him.

Sonja accompanied her sister. Bryk was probably aware of that too, but what she was certain he didn’t know was Cathryn arranged for Sonja and Torstein to spend a few stolen minutes together each time she visited.

Not arousing Ingeborg’s suspicions hadn’t been easy, though Cathryn had to reluctantly admit the woman often struck her as witless. There was the ever-present danger of one of the Archbishop’s servants stumbling over the trysting couple. Sonja’s errand to the kitchen was carefully timed. No one would need to investigate the narrow space behind the broad chimney of the brick oven Torstein had discovered.

Cathryn fell asleep fretting over the morrow’s impending tryst. Her heart ached for Torstein and Sonja. It would be their farewell before the army left for the front. She glanced at the triptych atop the armoire, uttered a prayer of contrition, then cuddled into her husband, savoring the heat of his big body. At least she would have the memory to curl into during his absence.

To his way of thinking, Torstein’s growing camaraderie with Sven Yngre proved it was possible to carve out a place in Viking society. Not everyone would reject him. He and Sven seemed to have an eerie ability to read what was in the mind of the other during the training sessions. He was confident they’d make an effective team in the field, and he gave thanks to Thor for providing him a strong ally as he prepared to set off on the road to military glory. Many of the celebrated Viking warriors the
skalds
sang of often fought in pairs.

Soliciting Cathryn’s help was fraught with risk. If Bryk found out it might forever damage their relationship and result in Torstein’s banishment from Bryk’s life. Or his uncle might decide he didn’t deserve his freedom.

Yet his consuming desire to possess Sonja led him to suggest Cathryn make it possible to tryst with her for a few stolen moments when she came to visit. He’d told her of the warm and private alcove he’d discovered behind the kitchen chimney.

She’d hesitated, promising to consider the matter. Then she’d asked to inspect the alcove. She’d peeked around the corner of the chimneybreast then left hurriedly without noticing the rope bed Cook kept there. After the remains of the evening meal had been cleared away and the kitchen lads sent off to the stable, the woman was in the habit of collapsing into the swinging bed after drinking herself into oblivion with home made brew. The peasant believed no one else knew of the hideaway she only used at night. Certainly, Cathryn hadn’t known of it. During the day the bed was rolled up and both ends hung out of the way on a hook in the darkest corner.

Sonja had been nervous during their first tryst and hadn’t noticed the rope bed. They’d talked and held hands. He’d been anxious too, but her sultry voice had calmed him. He’d spent the remainder of the day inhaling the trace of her perfume on his clothes.

The second time, they’d shared a gentle kiss, and she’d commented on the contraption hanging in the corner. He’d unhooked one end and spread the rope bed out. “It’s like a bed,” he’d said lamely, holding up his end. “Cook uses it.”

She’d smiled shyly, and whispered hoarsely that she’d better go.

This day would be their third and last tryst before he left for war. The warmth of the chimney bricks seeped into his back as he waited anxiously for his beloved. He made a decision. He hastily strung out the rope bed between its two hooks, and checked the straw mattress for vermin before she arrived.