Heart of a Viking Read online

  But no thunderbolt hit him. Nothing changed. The world remained far away and Keita was still pliant in his arms.

  Except she was not so pliant suddenly. Where before her body had been soft and accepting, now it was moving and seeking. Her hips pressed into his. Breasts thrust against his chest. Keita pressed deeper into his kisses and held him tighter. There was no escaping her body, and nor did he wish to. He slid the hand on her back down and cupped her rear. The give of flesh made him groan.

  Blood pounded through his skull, not unlike that war drum before. It told him that she was his. It throbbed through his skull. Claim her, claim her, claim her.

  “Thorarin,” she muttered, his name sounding beautiful to his ears with her accent.

  He’d left behind his old name long ago and claimed this one so the taint of his supposed actions would not follow him around. It had been a calculated choice. A way to ensure his old self vanished while he plotted his revenge. Yet with the name on her lips, it truly felt like his.

  He wanted to hear it again but next time while his fingers followed the dip of her bare back, the curve of her rear and the sweep of her shoulders. He would worship her like the princess she was. He’d circle her ankles, touch the backs of her knees, bring his lips to the soft flesh of her buttocks. Then he’d turn her over and concentrate on the front, kneading and easing away every ache and pain her life as a thrall brought her.

  Her hips rocked again, sending a shaft of pleasure-pain through him. He tightened his grip on her hair. She released a low cry but he knew it was not one of discomfort. She felt this as he did. He knew it as surely as the sun would set later that day.

  Somehow, he knew this woman like she knew him—to her very bones, to the core of her. It was as though Odin had crafted two people, destined to live separate lives yet they would go through enough betrayal and horror to align them so perfectly with one another.

  A hand skimmed his arm, then nails dug in. He hissed in pain but couldn’t bring himself to break the connection. Keita did, however. Disappointment speared him. His aching arousal remained, unable to comprehend the loss of her body. Her small mouth was puffy and her hair messier than before. There might not be any physical evidence of his touch but he suspected it would linger with her. Hers upon his body certainly would. Tonight, in his dark farmstead, alone, he’d recall the taste of her and the way her body wrapped about him. A ghostly shadow of her would remain.

  Perhaps it always would.

  By the gods, this was not good. He’d touched the untouchable. Thorarin pushed a hand through his hair and turned away. He could not bear to see the rapid rise and fall of her breasts or the desire still simmering in her gaze. He was putting them both in jeopardy. Had the thought that he would die to protect this woman not already settled in his mind?

  “I will not touch you again,” he vowed aloud, swinging a glance her way.

  She nodded hastily. Keita knew as well as he did this was too dangerous. Her position as pure had to sustain and his as a trusted man was vital.

  “Never again,” he told himself under his breath as they began their journey back to the settlement. “Never again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Keita made her way to Thorarin’s farmstead as she did many nights. And even though a voice in her mind whispered that it was only a matter of time before she gave into temptation, she couldn’t help but return. While Ragni satisfied himself with bed slaves or slept off his mead, she tiptoed out and took the path up to the old building.

  No one paid her any heed. Those who saw her assumed she was intending to bathe and she was careful enough not to give anyone an idea of her direction. The men who did spy her were not as bold as Fleinn. None attempted to bother her for fear of Ragni’s wrath.

  So nothing held her back. Really, she could continue walking until she reached the end of the country. No one would stop her. Perhaps Ragni would come after her but she had discovered the land of the Norse was vast and rugged. More so even than her homeland. She could become easily lost amongst the jagged rocks or thick forests.

  But of course, there was her problem. The Vikings relied on the slaves lack of knowledge, funds and aid to keep them imprisoned. It was likely she’d die fairly soon after fleeing. She’d tumble to her death or be ravaged by wild animals or be set upon by lawless men. If she survived long enough, she’d die of starvation or exhaustion before finding her way to the ocean.

  Nay, what she needed now was patience and strength. Patience to take the time to build up enough funds to purchase aid. She had been stowing away little bits of food that would keep when she could. Soon, she would consider finding a tool to remove her collar. The strength, however, was needed to ensure she resisted temptation.

  Every night since her return, she’d thought of Thorarin’s touch, of his deep kiss. She lay awake at night, in spite of her exhaustion, and recalled every moment. Her heart ached for that touch again. To be held and treasured by another human was something her essence screamed for. For some reason, it was Thorarin that eased that ache. She had no doubt no other Viking could do the same.

  She eased open the door to the farmstead and stepped in. He sat, as usual, by the fire but now on a long bench. Slowly, he was making this place a home. He’d purchased a wall-hanging and some furs from traders who had passed through that sennight. Warmth flickered across the walls from the fire and highlighted his wearied expression. Since returning with her, Ragni had begun to rely on him more and more. Soon he’d have to lead a raid.

  Keita prayed he returned safely.

  What foolish thoughts they were that she should be concerned for a Viking’s safety as he robbed others. But they were there, nonetheless.

  “You finished the bench.”

  He patted it and nodded.

  Keita took the invitation to come and sit beside him. All of this was folly. Spending time with him, enjoying his company, dreaming of his kisses. However, she trusted him to have control where she did not. He’d vowed not to touch her again and she believed he would not.

  “I carved this too.” He handed her a figurine. It was a woman, not unlike her. She wondered if he’d been trying for her likeness. Her stomach swooped at the idea of him thinking of her as she did him.

  “For me to paint?”

  “Já.”

  She smiled her thanks and waved away an offered drink. Keita didn’t need the added warmth of the ӧll to muddy her senses further.

  Drawing in a breath, she allowed herself simply to be. Thorarin’s presence appealed, certainly, but also his undemanding manner drew her in. He expected nothing from her, no sweet or witty words. He was happy for her to sit with him and she believed he liked the company or else he would not ask her each night if he would see her again.

  Here, there were no demands. No one wanted anything of her. Gone were the slaves who hated her, the men who desired her and the járl who owned her. For a few brief moments each day, she could exist and nothing more.

  “What will you be working on tomorrow?”

  “I have to finish the roof. We have been lucky with the weather but I think the rain shall return again soon.”

  “That means you will not be able to raid, does it not?”

  “Já, there is no sense in battling the elements and losing ships.”

  She shuddered as she recalled how close to drowning she’d been. When the Vikings had set out to Pictland, she had learned later, the weather had been fine and clear but upon their return a storm had caught up with them.

  It had not been down to her that they had survived. She’d never been so terrified in her life and she didn’t think her goddess had heard any of her feeble prayers or else she would have delivered her back home. However, she had to be grateful for the storm that might have drowned many but saved her innocence.

  “And you shall lead this raid?”

  “Já.” He gazed into the fire.

  “I find it strange you would offer up your life to increase Ragni’s wealth.”

&
nbsp; He turned to her, gaze narrow. “You are insistent that I will not bow down to such a man, are you not?”

  “I fail to understand why a man like you would. I do not believe you do it willingly.”

  She didn’t mention the stirrings of curiosity surrounding Thorarin’s presence and how quickly he had become indispensable to the járl. There were those that said he hoped to gain power, to even unseat the járl. If Ragni had heard as much, he paid no heed, but the járl was unmatched in his arrogance.

  “Is it wrong to wish for a place to live and food in my belly?”

  “You are a clever man. You wish for more, I believe.”

  He shook his head. “When will you learn there are some things you are better off not knowing?” Thorarin said the words softly and she felt no sting behind them.

  “Can I help but be curious about the man who has saved my life not once but twice?”

  “Fleinn would not have killed you,” he said dismissively.

  Keita lifted her chin. “I would have chosen death rather than be taken by him.”

  His gaze arrowed in on her. He shook his head and hooked a thumb under her chin. The move was reminiscent of Ragni’s touch yet she felt none of the crawling sensation that she did with him. Only warmth flourished through her.

  “That does not sound like you, Keita. You are a fighter.”

  She laughed. “I am no fighter.” She lifted a slender arm to make her point.

  “Not in body perhaps, but in heart. You forever talk of hope, remember? Few could hold onto hope in your situation and not have the heart of a warrior. Why do you think the other thralls despise you?”

  “Because I am treated better.”

  “Because you still have hope when they do not. Think you they ever consider their freedom or returning home?”

  Keita shrugged. She could hardly claim to know any of them.

  “They busy themselves with hating you because they have no hope. Their lives have become nothing but servitude.”

  “It is well enough for you to speak of freedom. You have it.”

  “Do I?” He gave her a look that told her more than his words.

  She was right, she knew it. There was more to his arrival here and the way he had worked his way to becoming Ragni’s most trusted man.

  “Why, then, do you stay? What secrets have you that keep you here?”

  “They would not be secrets if I told you, would they?”

  Keita should not but she couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness. She was certain he had taken the money, that Ragni’s trust was misplaced. But she did not believe hers was. Now the villagers were angry at their járl for he was demanding more money to make up the taxes. Life was unravelling for the járl but he only saw what he wanted to.

  “You hate Ragni, do you not? I see it sometimes, when you look at him.”

  “Do you watch me often?”

  “Yes,” she replied honestly.

  “I watch you too,” he confessed.

  She heard the grinding of teeth. Part of her longed for him to reach over and pull her tight to him. Low down in her body, impatient need pulsed through her. Her mind knew better and she offered no invitation.

  “You should leave.”

  “I should,” she replied quietly.

  Thorarin reached over and put a single finger to hers. He stroked it up the back of her hand and down before twining it with her own little finger. She observed the two digits twined together, one large, one small yet perfectly matched. Her own were nearly as coarse and as rough as his but they looked delicate in comparison.

  Somehow the differences between them only emphasised how well they fit together. It would be like that if they lay together she suspected. She had been interested in a few men in her life but never enough to picture what that might be like. Now she could see it all too clearly.

  “How can it be wrong to touch you?” he asked, his voice thick and gritty.

  Keita couldn’t answer that. It was wrong in so many ways. Dangerous and reckless.

  Yet his kisses were the first time in her life she ever felt the world was right. Losing her mother, living with a man who did not love her and sisters who hated her had never been right. Being taken to foreign land was more terrifying than a life with a family who didn’t love her. But being in Thorarin’s arms...She could almost forget the rolling green hills of Pictland.

  She glanced into his eyes and even in the firelight, she noted that mossy colour. Perhaps she couldn’t forget them but he gave her that sense of home. An idea of belonging—not to someone but with someone.

  “Wrong,” she somehow managed to rasp out of dry lips. The word, though quiet, vibrated through the room and wiped away her foolish notions. She eased her finger from his. “I must return to the longhouse. If someone sees me...”

  He didn’t say anything, simply turned his attention back to the fire and nodded slowly. Those great shoulders seemed weighted with defeat. Keita wished she knew more of him.

  Aye, there were times their souls felt entwined, that they knew each other on a level that could not be explained but she still didn’t understand his reasons for being here, why he had stolen that coin and why he was determined to maintain an important position at Ragni’s side. A man like Thorarin should be leading, not scrabbling for favours from a járl like Ragni.

  Keita backed out of the doorway, stealing a last glance at his silhouetted figure. Something weighed heavily upon those broad shoulders. The loss of his family? Something else? How she longed to know.

  She followed the path to the settlement. Darkness reigned but a few torches remained lit around the buildings. She mostly relied on starlight and her memory to guide her way. She might be wearing another fine gown but she was still barefoot and moving off the path meant a painful journey of rocks and twigs in the soles of her feet. Unfortunately, she hadn’t spotted a particularly large errant stone and had to bite back a cry when her foot connected with it. Pain jarred through her and tears sprung in the corner of her eyes.

  Pausing to lean against a tree, she rubbed the bottom of her foot, relieved to feel no blood. She glanced back at the farmstead and ceased rubbing. She scowled. What was he doing now? Against the golden light spilling from the open doorway, she could see him stopping to look around. Then he disappeared back inside briefly only to exit once more. He moved slowly and stealthily until the darkness swallowed him.

  Keita wasted no time in following. He was up to something and she wanted to know what it was. Her pace was not as slow as his and she caught up to him quickly. With the help of the stars, she was able to track his large form and slow down so as not to draw attention. He continued through the trees for some distance and though her feet were suffering from their traipse across the forest floor, she couldn’t bring herself to turn back. Curiosity ate deep inside her. She needed to understand this man, regardless of whether she should or not.

  Thorarin came to a stop and that was when she spotted it—a carved chest. She knew well enough what it held as she’d seen it on Ragni’s table when the taxes had been gathered. She had been right. He was the thief.

  Her heart gave a sickening throb and yet she was almost grateful to be right. It meant he did not really wish to work for Ragni. It meant he did not like her master any more than she did. Whatever his reasonings, taking this money had caused the járl a great deal of trouble. There was simply no way Thorarin didn’t intend that.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, unwilling to wait any longer for the truth.

  He whirled on her, going for a weapon that he wasn’t carrying. Her heart gave another lurch but she held her ground. This man would not harm her.

  “Keita, you should not be here.”

  She closed the distance so she could see him better and study the chest he held. There was no doubting it was Ragni’s. “You are the thief, are you not?”

  “Return,” he ground out.

  “That is the coin, aye?”

  “Keita...” This time t
he word came out like a growl.

  “Why do you steal from him, Thorarin? Why take such a risk? Why do you not leave now with his riches? Flee from here and never look back.”

  “Keita!” he bellowed, making her jolt.

  She retreated a step and the nightlight reflecting in his wild eyes made her tremble a little. He wouldn’t harm her, she knew that, but...

  “Leave. Now. Before you make me do something I shall regret.”

  Something he’d regret? Was this a threat? Had she been fooling herself that there could be such a thing as a good and honourable Viking?

  She lifted her chin and stood her ground. She hadn’t been wrong about that, surely? “You can tell—”

  He closed the gap in one swift step. Thorarin towered over her, muscles bunching and flexing against his garments. Mouth in a firm line, nostrils flaring, he reminded her too much of the men who had taken her, of those who had treated her poorly—even of the járl.

  A tiny sound escaped her, an uncontrollable one that sounded too much like fear. She stumbled away from him and her back struck a tree. Still, he loomed over her, closer again.

  “Leave,” he said low and menacing. “Do not come back to me, Keita, if you know what is good for you. Do not come and sit with me, do not look my way.”

  For several moments she scanned his gaze to make out some flicker of this man she had thought herself so innately connected with. However, he had vanished beneath this ruthless warrior and no hope remained. Slipping out from the trap he’d created between himself and the tree, she fled.

  He didn’t follow her. No footsteps sounded. He let her leave. Her chest ached and her eyes burned while she raced back to the settlement. Her one escape had gone. There would be no more nights by the fire or shared looks. That was probably a fine thing, she supposed. They had taken enough risks as it was, even if their meetings were innocent. And how much longer would they have been innocent? He desired her as she desired him. It was only down to his control that it had not gone further.

  And she had snapped that control. She’d pushed too hard and seen the raw fighter underneath. Keita had not broken through to his desire. Nay, she’d found the savage part of the man and she was not sure she wanted to see that part of him.