One Night With The Viking

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Pressing her palms to her forehead to ward off the tears that threatened, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and tried to stop the painful memory of how their night had ended. Yet it refused to be stopped and brought with it a fresh wave of pain, jagged along its edges so that it tore at her anew. She’d dozed and awakened to find him dressing, his back to her as he pulled up his trousers. Still floating in the lingering aura of bliss, she had asked him to stay.

‘I never made you any promises.’ Those words still made her wince. When he’d turned, his eyes had been flat and cold, as though he was looking at a stranger. She hadn’t thought that promises had been necessary. Deep in the marrow of her bones, she knew that Gunnar was meant to be her husband and she was meant to bear his children. It was a truth as obvious to her as her own name. There was no doubt that he felt it, too, so she hadn’t even expected him to attempt to deny it.

‘We were meant for each other.’ Her words only amused him. His lips tipped up in that infuriating smile he had perfected long ago.

‘I’m not meant for you. I’m leaving, Kadlin, and I won’t be back. Go on with your life and marry a man who wants you.’

What happened afterward remained a blur. She was sure that she had protested, had argued that he didn’t mean those words, but nothing had chipped away at the wall he had so quickly erected between them. In mere moments, he had left her life as quickly as he had returned to it.

Her face flamed with the memory and a pain-filled groan escaped her chest. She was the fool. She had been too confident that his love for her was as true as her love for him. He’d given her no reason to put her faith in him, but she’d done it anyway. And now he was gone and she would have his child. Her eyes fell closed and she imagined snuggling the babe to her breast while Gunnar looked on, his eyes bright with love and tenderness for them. She would give anything to have him there. To be his wife. To tell him the joyous news of their child and watch him smile as he drew her into his arms. There was no one else she wanted as husband and father to her children. No one. Gunnar had always been the one to fill that role in her fantasies.

Soon, she would have to tell her parents. She didn’t want to dwell on the look of disappointment sure to cross her father’s face. But she didn’t have to tell him yet, so she vowed to simply enjoy the knowledge that Gunnar’s child slept in her womb beneath her heart. Later, she would decide what to do.

* * *

But later came much sooner than she expected. Kadlin was scarcely able to savour the pregnancy for three weeks before a decision was made for her.

‘Hush, little one, Mother comes.’ Her baby brother fussed and sucked at his fist as Kadlin swayed and bounced, trying to find a rhythm that would soothe him until their mother could free herself from the children that ran around her. Kadlin smiled as she watched her four little sisters, the youngest one only three years old, chase their mother across the field. They were like beautiful miniatures of the woman as they ran in descending order of size. What had been a berry-picking excursion had quickly become a game of chase the mouse. Just last year her two brothers would have joined in the fun, but they considered themselves too old for such nonsense now, though they watched closely from their place guarding the baskets.

Kadlin laughed from the shade of the birch and cuddled the baby close, her thoughts on her own child. Though she was still happy, she was no closer to determining a solution. It would be later in the summer before a boat left so that she could send word to Gunnar, but even as she thought it, she realised it wasn’t something that she could do. He had left her and made it clear that he wouldn’t return. He wouldn’t care about a child and she was too prideful to risk yet another rejection. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the hardness in his eyes that night.

‘You are beautiful with a child in your arms, Kadlin.’

The unwelcome voice made her gasp as she turned around to face the one who’d intruded on her privacy. A man with a blade-straight nose and vivid blue eyes approached. Since many of the men were across the sea, the jarl had thought it prudent to send out a contingent of men to help keep order on his lands. Her father had appointed Baldr to lead those men and he must have compensated him well to make him stay instead of seeking out his fortune like the others. Baldr frequently sought her out, making her wonder if he and her father had ever discussed her hand as part of their arrangement. Though he was handsome, there was a cruelty in his face that made her unconsciously hold her breath every time she spoke to him.

‘Hello, Baldr. I wasn’t aware you had returned.’

‘Just late last night. I looked for you this morning, but didn’t find you. Were you ill?’

Kadlin swallowed and spoke the lies that were coming too readily to her lips. Everyone noted her morning absences. ‘I’ve been unwell, but as you can see, I’m feeling much better.’

He nodded and smiled a smile that was a bit too knowing. When his gaze swept over her torso, lingering on the extra fullness of her breasts, she adjusted the infant to hide them. ‘Aye, that’s what your pretty maid said.’

Her heart sank. Nay, Edda, not him. Edda was the only one who had begun to suspect that she was with child. Kadlin had caught the maid sneaking glances at her waistline more than once in the weeks since her morning sickness had begun. No one else had even bothered to question her chastity, but the girl had every reason to suspect. That very morning, she had come in late with Kadlin’s washing water, knowing that Kadlin would still be abed. Edda had looked dishevelled and flushed, making Kadlin wonder if she’d just come from a lover.

She took a step backwards and couldn’t stop her eyes from cutting as harsh as her words. ‘Do you think bedding my servant will make you more appealing to me, Baldr?’

He laughed, a short hissing of breath that barely escaped his chest, and took slow steps towards her. He stopped just before her and reached to touch her hand, a lock of glossy, dark hair falling across his forehead. ‘Men bed her because her beauty is second only to yours. But you must know that they also do it because they know it’s as close as they’ll get to bedding you.’ His fingertips trailed from her hand to the expanse of flesh exposed above the bodice of her gown.

She jerked away, causing his smile to widen. ‘But that isn’t really true any more, is it? Someone bedded you and now his seed has taken root.’

‘You’re depraved.’

‘I want you as my wife, Kadlin, even with that bastard in you. I’ll accept it as my own. That’s more than you’ll get from anyone else. More than you’ve got from the bastard’s own father.’

Those words cut a little too close to the truth. ‘Leave my sight!’ The infant startled at her harsh words and then began to cry. She held him tighter to her chest, but didn’t take her eyes from the man before her. ‘I will never want you, Baldr. Never!’

He glanced behind her to the others who had surely noted her outburst. ‘It matters not what you want, Kadlin. If it’s the jarl’s wish, you’ll accept me into your life.’ His lustful gaze raked her body before settling on hers again. ‘And into your bed.’ With that promise, he turned on his heel and left.

Fingers shaking with a mixture of anger and fear, she handed the baby over to her mother only moments later. She was out of time. Her father would know before nightfall and she had no idea what to do. The worst of it was that she couldn’t even dispute what Baldr had said. Gunnar wouldn’t acknowledge their child. He didn’t want them.

Ignoring her mother’s questions, she ran all the way back to the longhouse and shut herself inside her chamber where she gave in to the despair that had threatened her all along. And waited for the summons she was certain would come from her father.

* * *

It came later that night.

‘What have you done?’

It was the second time her father had asked that question, but she still had no answer for him. She stood just inside the door of her parents’ chamber; it was closed tight behind her to keep the conversation as confidential as possible in such close quarters. The only sounds were the sighs of the baby sleeping peacefully on the bed and her mother’s soft sobs from her chair beside her father. Seeing the tears on her mother’s cheeks made her throat ache with her own unshed tears.

‘What man did this to you?’

She risked another glance at the face she held so dear, only it wasn’t the kind face of the father she cherished. His cheeks were aflame with his fury, and his greying, golden hair was dishevelled, as if he’d raked through it with his hands countless times. Everyone said that he indulged her, that he favoured her too much, and perhaps they were right because she’d never seen him so angry.

‘Leif, calm yourself. Can’t you see that she’s afraid?’ Her mother’s soft voice broke the tension and she held out her hand to Kadlin, but Kadlin couldn’t make her feet move her forward to accept it.

The jarl cursed under his breath and raked a hand through his hair. When he looked up at Kadlin, the anger had receded a fraction, replaced with concern. ‘Were you forced?’

Kadlin shook her head and found her voice. ‘Nay, Father, I was not forced.’

‘So it’s true.’ He sighed as if he’d been hoping that the information he’d been given was wrong. ‘Seduced, then?’

Again she shook her head, nay.

The anger returned. ‘Give me his name.’

‘What will a name do? He’s gone, across the sea with everyone else.’

‘Oh, Kadlin.’ Her mother brought a hand up to cover her lips as she processed those words before continuing. ‘Why? If there is someone you favoured you could have come to us and we could have arranged a marriage before he left.’

Addressing her mother, she spoke evenly. ‘Because you would not have arranged a marriage for us so easily. And because I wasn’t even certain of him myself. I hadn’t seen him in years.’

The jarl shook his head. ‘I have brought countless men before you and you’ve eschewed them all. All of them! Even Eirik. And you ask me what will a name do? I want to know this paragon of masculinity who stole your good sense and virginity when not one of the men I brought before you even turned your head. A name, Kadlin.’

She drew herself up to her full height and took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if her father could kill him now, and besides, he was gone, never to return. She would never see him again, never touch him, never laugh with him. The ache in her throat threatened to choke off her words when she spoke. ‘It was Gunnar. Gunnar is the father of my child.’

Her parents sat in a stunned silence that was only broken when her mother broke down into sobs again. Her father was unnaturally still before he finally spoke. ‘You gave yourself to a bastard?’

‘He is acknowledged, Father. It’s not as if he’s without a family. Besides, he cannot be blamed for the manner in which he was conceived. I want to marry him.’ Nay, that wasn’t right. Not any more. When would she learn to think of him as part of her past? ‘I wanted to marry him. I don’t know why this comes as such a surprise. As a child, I spoke often of marrying him. But it’s been years since I’ve seen him and I needed to see him again to be sure.’

But her father shook his head. ‘Kadlin...he is not for you. Aye, his father has acknowledged him and raised him, but he has no future. No lands, no place in the world except to swing a blade and count his treasure.’

‘Aye, Father, that’s right. He has treasure from his excursions. He leads his own ship. He has the means to support me and a family. Why was he such a bad choice?’ Not that it mattered now with him long gone, but she couldn’t stop the unreasonable well of anger that rose within her. If her father had sanctioned her choice all along, perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps they could have married years ago.

‘Why was he such a bad choice? Tell me this, Daughter. Where would you live with him? Does he have a home? A hall to keep you warm in the winter, a place to keep your children protected as they grow? He is not that type of man, Kadlin. He’s transient. He lives on only what his father’s good conscience has provided for him and when that ends he will pass his winters in hovels or whatever place he has managed to come by through pillaging, where he will live in constant fear of being killed. And one day he will be killed and what do you suppose would become of you? You would be passed to the next man in line, or perhaps taken as a triumph of his murderer, and you would live with him until he, too, is killed and so on and so forth until you, too, are gone. By then your children will have been scattered to the whims of life. Is this how you envision your future?’

Kadlin shook her head to deny the harsh future he described. ‘Nay, you are wrong.’

‘Am I? Then let us go back to the essential question. Has he offered you marriage?’

She swallowed past the ache in her throat and forced the word out. ‘Nay.’

‘He beds a woman like you, a prize that every bachelor wants, and doesn’t even have to speak of marriage to do it?’

‘Stop it, Father!’ She held her hand up to ward off his words. ‘None of this matters now. I loved him and he left me! Does that make you happy? There will be no marriage. I gave myself to him and he didn’t want me.’ Her voice broke on that last word and tears spilled down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her middle in some attempt to hold herself together, as the pain threatened to rip her apart. Her mother’s arms joined her own and she turned into the woman’s embrace, seeking some nameless solace from the pain of the gaping wound in her heart.

‘You’ll marry Baldr.’

‘No—’

Her father shook his head. ‘Don’t attempt to sway me, Kadlin. He’s offered and I see no other choice. Your child needs a father, a name.’

‘Please, Father.’ Pulling away from her mother, she ran and fell to her knees before him, bringing his hand to her cheek. ‘Please, not him. I don’t like him.’

He smiled wryly and brushed his fingers across her cheekbone, the anger momentarily gone from his eyes. ‘You don’t like any of them, Kadlin. But you must accept that your child needs a father. Do you want him to be a bastard like Gunnar? You’ve seen how difficult his life is. Do you want your son to have the same life? Always at a disadvantage because of the accident of his conception?’

She closed her eyes against the pain of his words, more tears escaping down her cheeks. ‘You know I don’t.’

‘Then marry Baldr. He has promised to care for you and the child.’

‘Nay, Father. He is a cruel man. He frightens me.’

The anger completely left him then to be replaced by something that was even worse. Pity. He cupped her face with both hands and placed a kiss on her forehead. ‘I would do anything to spare you from this pain. If he were here now, I would kill Gunnar myself for leaving you to face this alone. It only proves that I was right about him.’ Taking a deep breath, he ploughed ahead. ‘You will be married now. You have no choice.’

She trembled as a deep, wrenching sob struggled to find purchase in her throat. Her father’s words hinted at a truth she had tried so hard to deny. Gunnar must have known that a child was possible. He must have known that she loved him. He must have known how his leaving would destroy her. But she had to make a choice for her child now. ‘I’ll marry Dagan, but not Baldr.’ Dagan was a childhood friend she had known almost as long as Gunnar. He was kind and good, a fine warrior who planned to leave for the Saxon lands before winter. Though the thought of marrying anyone except Gunnar tore out her heart, if she would marry anyone else it would be Dagan. He would understand that she needed time before...before she could truly be a wife to him. The very thought of it caused another tear to leak down her cheek.

‘Dagan?’ Her father looked pensive and then nodded. ‘He’s from a strong family. He will agree to this?’

‘Aye,’ she whispered. Dagan had hinted at the idea of marriage before and she had turned him down gently.

Her father nodded. ‘Before the next moon you will be married.’

Chapter Three (#ulink_b0b35f8b-b077-5359-ae79-4270a9027c7b)

Two years later

Gunnar squinted into the grey dawn and tried to make out the figure he was sure he had seen just over the ridge. It had been a quick movement, but too large for a small animal. Though the signs of spring were all around—the frost losing its grip on the earth, the small white flowers peeking out of the dead foliage on the forest floor—it was too early in the season for the larger animals to be out. It must have been a Saxon. The smell of their unwashed bodies wafted across the distance.

It was time for battle. Absently, his fingers reached into his tunic to stroke the lock of silvery-blonde hair he kept tied on a leather thong around his neck. It had become a habit before battle, one that he couldn’t break, even though he had determined to stop thinking of her. More than once, he’d found himself doing it and resolved to cast the lock into the nearest fire, but he never could bring himself to do it. As paltry as it was, the memento was his only link to Kadlin—the only link he would ever have. Stroking it never failed to make him remember how good it had felt to become a part of her that night, to claim her and make her his. Or how her scent, like sunshine mixed with wildflowers, had stayed on his skin for days afterward; and how in summer, when the afternoon sun shone through the clouds after a rain, it reminded him of her scent and would never fail to arouse him.

One night would never be enough with her, nor would a lifetime. He could touch her every day for the rest of his life and it would never be enough. She was the only light able to penetrate the coldness inside him. He’d willingly warm himself for an eternity in her light.

He wanted her. By the gods, he wanted her with him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Her absence left a gaping wound inside that no one could see and it festered worse every day. But she wasn’t meant to be his.

Leaving her after taking her body, after hearing the sweet words she’d whispered in his ear, had been the hardest thing that he’d ever done. He’d lain with many women, but he’d never experienced the overwhelming wave of possessiveness that had overcome him when he’d risen to dress and looked down at her. With his seed glistening on the tender flesh of her inner thighs, he’d felt as if he’d branded her, marked her as his in a primal ritual as old as man. It had taken every ounce of will he possessed to walk away.

He’d only been able to do it because he’d convinced himself that leaving was best for her. She deserved a life where she would be surrounded by those she loved. She was meant to be a jarl’s wife, not the wife of an unwanted bastard. Not the wife of someone incapable of loving and protecting her as she deserved. It was only that memory of how he had failed in the past that had given him strength to ignore the darkness within him that urged him to take her away with him, to leave her to her peaceful life without him.

When his ship had set sail, he’d known that he was entering some of the darkest days of his life. The years away from her had been black; he had no reason to believe that the ones ahead of him would be any better.

The soft crunch of dry twigs alerted Gunnar to his friend’s presence behind him just before Magnus spoke. ‘What do you see?’

Gunnar opened his eyes and tried to shake thoughts of Kadlin away. If he wanted to live, he couldn’t afford distractions. That was the very reason he needed to get rid of that bloody lock of hair; it was a distraction. Nodding to the small break in the trees, he spoke softly. ‘I saw a Saxon. Just there.’ They were both silent, waiting for another movement. After a few minutes, they were rewarded as the figure of a man darted across the opening.

Magnus grumbled in disgust. ‘They should come fight us like men instead of hiding in the trees.’

‘They already tried that and realised they couldn’t win,’ Gunnar muttered as he scanned the treeline, looking for more. Earlier in the week, he and his men had come across a ragtag group of Saxon men. There had been a fight, and when it had become apparent that his men were the stronger warriors, the Saxons had scattered. His men had found some of them, but the rest had escaped and had regrouped and followed them. He didn’t like their cowardice in hiding and his blood pumped furiously at the thought of crushing them. ‘They won’t approach. They’re waiting. We’ll have to root them out.’

Magnus nodded his agreement. ‘There are at least two score. If they met with others, there could be more.’

‘I’ll take some men and ride in behind them. Drive them out into the open.’

‘Why not wait them out? We can handle them.’

Gunnar shook his head, the need to fight outweighing his patience. ‘Nay, we’ll fight them now.’ He turned to go back to camp. They needed to strike fast.

‘Wait, brother,’ Magnus said as he put a hand on his arm. ‘Let us wait. We don’t know how many men are hiding. We don’t need to fight now.’ He paused and when Gunnar seemed unmoved by his logic, he added, ‘It could be suicide.’

‘I know,’ Gunnar replied and kept walking the path back to camp. It could be suicide, but not in the way Magnus suspected. He’d never risk the lives of his men. He intended to go alone, to figure out what they were dealing with before leading his men in. He’d gained a reputation for recklessness, but every chance he’d ever taken had paid off. It was why the men under his command had quadrupled in size. They wanted the treasures and accolades those fighting beneath his command had accumulated over the years.

The truth was that he no longer cared if he lived or died. He could have stopped fighting. Eirik had offered him numerous opportunities to take over command posts. He could have become a jarl in this new land in his own right by now, commanding the battle from afar at times. And while that idea had originally held some allure, it had come too late. He’d learned that Kadlin was married to someone else now.

The night he had come face to face with her husband was the night he realised that some part of him had still held out hope. It wasn’t until that moment that he knew he had lost her for ever. And nothing seemed to matter any more. That shouldn’t matter. She’d already been lost to him, but the thought of her touching another was like a knife blade taken to his already shredded heart.

Though he tried to stop it, the memory of that night came back sharp and crisp. The meeting had happened during the first snowstorm of his first winter here. New arrivals from home had only recently joined them so the hall was crowded. Somehow, through the din of multiple conversations and revelry happening around him, her name came to him.

Kadlin.

It took his eyes only moments to identify the one who had spoken it. A man on the other side of the fire had been regaling anyone who would listen about the beauty of his new wife. Gunnar’s heart had stopped for one endless moment when the newcomer described her long blonde hair. Before he’d even realised what he was doing, Gunnar had found himself standing in front of the fool who had only smiled up at him.

‘You have married, Kadlin, eldest child of Jarl Leif?’

The fool had barely managed to offer an acknowledgement before slumping to the floor, knocked cold by Gunnar’s fist. He’d wanted the man to stand and fight him. Blood had pumped through his body, urging him to kill the man for daring to lay any claim to her, but he turned and left the hall instead.

The vision of her with someone else only made the pain in his chest so great that it escaped in a cry of rage that echoed in the sudden silence of the hall. No one was brave enough to approach him. Even Magnus and Eirik only hung back, waiting to see if any of the man’s friends were foolish enough to chase him. Not one of them did. Though he was looking for a fight, he couldn’t blame them. He must have looked like a madman. He was a madman.

Any flickering hope he’d carried within him that he might one day claim her had died out that night. He’d been a fool to let it persist as long as it had. There was nothing left of him. Death was the only cure for the excruciating pain. He’d let out one last bellow of rage and then hung his head as the snow fell around him, collecting on his hair and shoulders. His father had been right. A warrior is all that he was ever meant to be. So a warrior he would be. From that moment onward, his entire life became the fight and nothing else mattered. He had pushed Kadlin from his mind as much as he could and waited for death to claim him.

It hadn’t helped that he knew losing her had been his own fault, somehow. Gritting his teeth to stifle the cry of rage that the memory brought with it, he rammed his left fist into the base of a fir tree and watched the bark splinter beneath the impact. He cradled the hand against his chest and threw his head back to take a deep breath as he savoured the momentary numbness before the pain exploded in his hand. The tree was a poor substitute for the crunch of bone a Saxon nose would have provided—he knew he should have waited for the upcoming battle to vent his anger—but the pressure in his chest had been too great to carry into a fight. There was an aching relief to be found as the pain shifted from his chest to his hand. Blowing out through the pain and then sucking in a deep, wrenching breath, he made his way to his men and forced Kadlin out of his mind.

Motioning a boy over to wrap his hand, he gathered them all to go over the plan for battle. In moments, he was mounted, leading the small group to their location behind the Saxons. He knew the forests in this land so well now that he rode on instinct, knowing the best place to attack, knowing exactly where they would be hidden even if he didn’t know how many there were.

The scream came from nowhere and then it was all around him at once. The Saxons had been circling them, preparing an ambush. His horse, though well trained, reared in surprise just as a spear broke free from the trees. It landed in the beast’s chest, making him scream in pain and lose his balance. Gunnar was unable to jump free as the horse fell backwards. Pain exploded in his legs and head when they landed, then everything went numb and quiet. A strange peace crept over him as he watched the Saxons flood out of the forest to surround his own men. He smiled because he knew that they had given themselves away prematurely and Magnus would surely crush them with his larger group of warriors.

Blackness pulled at him, but it didn’t take his smile. It might not have happened with a sword in his hand or a sword in his belly, but he was dying in battle, a welcomed relief. He closed his eyes and waited for Odin to greet him.

* * *