Weeks away from reaching his goal of two thousand fully trained soldiers to patrol the northlands, Aaron made an important decision. He knew there was only a brief period of time to take the trip he’d put off for years.
At the midday meal, Aaron approached Varinn. “I have private affairs to attend to. Given the current status of our recruits, I am satisfied I can leave you in charge while I’m gone.”
Varinn dropped his piece of half-eaten bread on his plate and eyed him critically. “Tis a strange thing to say without a greeting or providing further detail. You simply announce you’re leaving and I’m supposed to accept it? Curse that Odin-loving bastard for riding with us. Ever since we met Erik the Bald, you haven’t been the same.”
“The man has nothing to do with it.”
Varinn dismissed his lie with a flick of his hand. “Do not withhold the truth from me.”
Aaron ignored his challenge. “I leave after the meal.”
“Take an escort.”
“No.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly.”
He appreciated his friend’s concern. “You cannot convince me otherwise. If I’m needed, send word to the Trondelag.” The conversation ended there.
Varinn had spoken correctly. Erik’s words pushed Aaron over the edge. And he wouldn’t be able to function properly unless he faced his past. Nothing short of an edict from Olaf could persuade him to stay. His trustworthy captains didn’t need him. He planned to ride to Alesund and pay passage on a ship bound for the Trondelag. In four short days, he’d be reunited with his cousin.
Known for his explosive temper, Tyr wouldn’t appreciate an unannounced visit from a banished kinsman. Through his training as a Berserker, Aaron had learned the value of patience and humility. He’d rely on these skills to guide him as he sought forgiveness from the one man he desperately wanted to make peace with. He prayed wholeheartedly that siring children had softened his cousin’s heart.
Kara plucked the last few petals from the wildflower in her hand. “He loves me . . .” The silly childhood game didn’t include
he wants to bed me . . .
Love or lust, she’d undeniably affected the brooding jarl. Possessing that kind of power over a man both thrilled and frightened her. Amelia had warned her about toying with a man’s heart. Especially a Highlander. Born in Scotland herself, the maid considered herself an expert on such matters. In Amelia’s good opinion, Scotsmen were superior to Norsemen and twice as virile. A Highlander would sooner kidnap a lass and claim they were handfasted just so he could bed her.
“. . . he loves me not.” Disappointment ruined Kara’s fine mood. She ripped the last petal from the flower, cast the remnant of it down, and tromped on it. “If that’s how it is, I’ll cut his heart out instead of just playing with it.”
Amelia chuckled. “Never let anyone force you down a path you don’t wish to take. I exaggerated to make my point, child. Jarl McNally is a titled man, not a barbarian. He’s obligated to the king. Winning a Scotsman’s heart is no small thing.”
“I don’t want his love.”
The maid smiled wryly. “Don’t lie.”
As inexpressible as her feelings were, she admitted to harboring feelings and most definitely wanted to feel his lips on hers again. But she’d never opened her heart to anyone. Every second she had spent with him played out in her mind over and over again. Nothing suggested love; not from him
or
her. A wish had simply come true, to experience real passion with a man of her choosing. Most of the women at home did it. Only they weren’t the daughters of Erik the Bald. And those women didn’t run away to track the whereabouts of their lovers when they were supposed to visit a kinswoman.
Damn her weakness.
She cradled her head between her hands.
“Every touch weaves invisible chains around your heart,” Amelia warned.
“
Drit
,” she cursed. “Marteinn’s hands never excited me.”
“Watch your wicked little tongue,” Amelia scolded. “You never shared Marteinn’s affection, never desired him.”
“We held hands.” Kara conveniently forgot to tell her about the kiss.
The maid folded her hands over her stomach. “You shouldn’t require further explanation then.”
Defeated, Kara stood, then brushed dirt and grass from her backside. “No. I wouldn’t dream of giving you the opportunity to hear yourself speak again.”
“Irrational creature.” She slapped Kara’s backside playfully. “Make ready to leave, we’re wasting precious daylight.”
By late afternoon, the heat had grown unbearable. Amelia mopped her forehead with the back of her hand as they brought the horses to a slow walk. Wetlands dotted the countryside and Kara searched for a lake in a secluded area to bathe in.
“I can’t remember a hotter spring,” the maid complained.
“Nor I.” Kara searched the horizon. “I’m beginning to think it would be better to ride at nighttime.”
They traveled a couple more miles and found the perfect place to stop, a pool surrounded by spruce and oak trees. They tethered their horses in the shade. Soft grass and wildflowers carpeted the ground. Kara stripped off her armor, then struggled to unlace her boots and get free of her tight braies. Once she did, she felt as carefree as a wood nymph. Careful to check the area before emerging from cover, she smiled after she confirmed they were indeed alone. Praise the gods. She unpinned her long hair and then stepped out. Amelia spread a blanket on the ground, then unpacked some food.
“Afraid to show yourself to the gods?” Kara taunted.
“Me?” the maid asked, wiggling out of her gown. “If I traipsed naked in front of the same man for eight years without blushing, I think I have the courage to face the gods.”
Kara eyed her admiringly. Tall and thin, Amelia had perfect breasts and finely muscled legs from years of hard work. Why hadn’t she married again? Kara gazed at her own legs. Father called her slender and graceful. She couldn’t disagree more, she felt awkward oftentimes. It didn’t matter if she was wearing silk slippers or leather boots—she’d never feel comfortable in her own skin.
“Are you going to admire yourself or swim?” Amelia called over her shoulder as she headed for the lake.
“
Etter at jeg sparke deg i ræva
.”
“Catch me first.”
When Kara entered the water, her toes curled. It was freezing. There was a flash of amusement on her companion’s face as her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She swam several yards, then submerged herself, snorting and choking as she resurfaced. Water dribbled down her chin. Amelia wasn’t as adventurous and stayed close to the shoreline. Kara treaded water as she admired the dark woods across the lake. Nothing pleased her more than being outside. Free to explore, free to do as she wanted without her brothers harassing her. She thought she saw movement, but realized it was nothing more than flickering sunlight and shadows. The pleasure of the moment dominated her senses. Nothing could ruin it.
As she floated on her back half dozing, the thundering sound of approaching horses shattered her daydream. She twisted around and searched wildly for Amelia who disappeared into the woods. Kara rushed to reach the shore.
Please . . .
But before her feet hit land, six riders surrounded Amelia, who was now standing at the edge of the forest. Kara froze. She’d stupidly left her weapons by the horses. Now they had no chance of defending themselves or escaping. Two riders dismounted, striding toward her.
“Come out of the water,” the largest demanded.
Unwilling to shame herself by allowing these strangers to see her naked, she crouched in the shallow water. “Turn around first.”
“If you don’t comply, I’ll pluck you out like a wet rat.” There was nothing friendly about this man. His companions chuckled.
Silence ensued as everyone seemed to contemplate Kara’s next move. She’d not risk Amelia’s safety by disobeying. But, what if she could swim to the other side of the lake and find help?
Without clothing or money?
Never.
Swallowing her pride, she looked up. The dark features of the man who demanded she come out scared her.
“Now,” he reminded. “If I wanted to rape you, you’d be on your back by now.”
She was trying not to overthink things, but failing miserably.
“
Drit
,” he yelled, then rushed her.
The moment his boots hit the lake, Kara filled her mouth with water, then shot up, spitting in his face. “Merciless beast.”
He wiped his cheek, his hot gaze sweeping over her body. She refused to tremble. Animals like him thrived on fear. Without warning, Amelia intervened. She ran to the beach, offering her cloak.
“Put it on and I’ll rip it off you. Do as I bid,
now
, and get out of the water.” He glared at Amelia. “You, move.”
“I have a duty to my mistress.” Amelia jutted her chin.
“Stay out of my way. Challenge me again and I’ll punish you.” He shoved her to the ground and then grabbed a fistful of Kara’s hair. She struggled to free herself, only to be dragged to land, then into the forest next to her horses. The blanket and food Amelia had laid out was untouched. He pointed at the coverlet. “Sit.”
Kara obeyed. Fear filled her mind and heart. “Who are you?”
His dark eyes sparkled like a wildfire. “Erling Solheim, an avenging god, I assure you.”
“Devils aren’t gods.”
He slapped her face. “You’ll learn quickly enough that I have no patience for a sharp tongue. Do as I tell you or you’ll be bruised from head to toe before sunset. Understand?”
Kara nodded in comprehension.
“Where are your clothes?”
She pointed; her sword and shield were on the ground nearby. By Odin, she wished she had her sword in her hands.
“Lying to me about your clothing? You need discipline already. Your gown, where is it?”
“I dressed as a boy for my protection.” She sucked her cheeks in.
He gave her a smug smile. “I believe you. You’re Erik the Bald’s daughter.”
Kara gasped. “How—”
“The trees have eyes and ears.”
“And atrocious manners . . .”
“I’ve watched you train with your brothers in the forest for many months—I admire your perseverance.”
Her face heated as her gaze rested on Amelia’s pale, concerned face. “You attacked us? Injured my brother and killed one of my father’s guards.”
“I cannot take credit for that.” Erling waved at his fellow riders. “My men are solely responsible.”
Shame flooded her body. How could she and her brothers have been so absent-minded to let these bastards get that close? Even Marteinn had missed them. “Why? What did you hope to gain?”
“Access to
you
.”
“Are you going to rape me?”
Despite the dire circumstances, Erling smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that question.”
True, if the man wanted to violate her, he would have done so. “I don’t understand. Are you familiar with my father?”
“I know who he is,” he answered. “But this has nothing to do with your family, Kara. Sometimes a man needs a diversion. When I happened upon you in the woods, the seed was planted. I decided to take you. I’ll teach you to be ruthless—a real warrior.”
“What authority do you have? Are you a soldier?” She felt wretched standing naked and shivering in front of this animal.
“I’m a self-made man,” he said. “Discharged from the king’s service for insubordination and any other misconduct you can name. Instead of crawling back to my father’s home, I chose to establish my own steading. The forest is mine.”
She still feared for her life. Nothing made sense. “So you steal and kill for your living?”
“I do whatever I must to survive.”
A man without limitations.
Kara cringed at the thought of spending time with him. Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy. “You’re a criminal.”
“I’m a loyalist—against anyone who threatens the survival of my country and family. Now . . .” He shoved her. “Get dressed.”
Chapter 7
Timing
After the longboat anchored at the mouth of the river that bordered his cousin’s lands, Aaron disembarked, then walked to the only village nearby to borrow a horse. He rode for hours. He didn’t remember his cousin’s home being this far inland. Perhaps it seemed longer and farther away because he dreaded the confrontation. Tyr had promised certain death if he ever found him in the Trondelag again. Aaron wanted to win back his confidence, his respect. Tyr’s influence stretched to the farthest reaches of the northlands. There wasn’t a jarl in Norway who didn’t seek his friendship. Even Christian leaders respected him.
Days after his banishment, Aaron had determined two choices for his future. Slither back to Scotland and beg his father’s forgiveness or prove himself as a soldier under King Magnus. With Magnus now dead, the chance of seeing his cousin had increased because his own lands were located so close to Tyr’s. The army had met all his needs short of mother’s milk.
As he neared Tyr’s steading, he dismounted and led his horse the rest of the way. As the large house came into view, music filled the air; he smelled roasting meat—a feast. His cousin was a generous man who treated his tenants and thralls as family. Nothing had changed, a gaggle of children were running wild in the fields. Women were working in the vast gardens, while the men drank in the courtyard.
As Aaron entered the courtyard, someone called his name.
Onetooth
. The loyal henchman lived.
“
Fortelle min frende den fortapte sønn tilbake
,” Aaron answered.
“Prodigal son, my arse,” the burly soldier uttered as he ducked inside the house.
Memories brought a smile to Aaron’s face. Within the span of two breaths, Tyr appeared in the doorway with a young boy perched on his back. No mistaking the boy’s parentage, he favored his father. His cousin swung his son around, then set him on his feet.
“
Mine øyne bedrar meg, fetter?
” Tyr’s lips curled in revilement.
Aaron ignored the words and hissing sounds coming from the men sitting nearby. This was the moment he’d anticipated . . . how he proceeded would have great consequences. It might give him a new future or deprive him of one altogether. “No, cousin, your eyes don’t deceive you.” He knelt at Tyr’s feet, bowing his head.