Chapter Four

Rothgar bent over the basin and splashed water on his face. The icy liquid jolted his body awake, but his head felt as if it were stuffed with moss. He took a small piece of white soap off the top of the chest of drawers. The soap had red hairs stuck to it. Disgusting. He grimaced as he pulled the coarse hairs free, then washed his face. Nothing put him in a grouchy mood more than washing with cold water. Back home, warm water was always available for bathing.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His empty stomach rumbled, and his temples throbbed as if Thor himself were beating on him with his hammer. He had indulged in too much drink and then made a damn fool of himself with Odaria.

What had come over him last night? He recalled the wise phrase, “Be most cautious with beer and another man’s wife.” Ja. The bjorr. Although it had been months since he’d gotten good and drunk, he’d never tried to force his advances on a woman before. Had the sudden burst of life from his shaft driven him mad with lust? Did the tingle of excitement he felt when he kissed Odaria make him lose his senses?

Whatever the cause, she had won out. A Pict had bested him. A Picttish witch, no less. He chuckled. Did Odaria expect him to be afraid of her so-called witchery? If she’d wanted to scare him, she had failed. Despite her threats of hexes, he’d slept like a stone. For the first time in years, he hadn’t been haunted by horrible dreams. In fact, he’d dreamt—

“Is this a fatal spot?”

He stiffened as he felt a cold blade press against his side. His gaze flickered across the top of the chest of drawers. By the gods, how could he have not noticed? His silver dagger was missing. Damn that wench! Odaria had stolen the dagger while he slept. How long had she been lying awake and waiting to pounce? How had she crept up behind him?

“Is this a fatal spot?”

“Ja. Take care not to spill my blood, wench.” He straightened up a little and glanced over his right shoulder. Odaria stood behind him, the dagger clenched in her left hand, tip poised to do damage with one thrust. “I harmed you not last night. What have you of me?”

“Harmed me not? You laid upon me, crushed the air from my chest, and rammed your foul tongue into my mouth. You would have done worse if—”

“The more a man drinks, the less control he has over his actions. Best learn that lesson now, Odaria. Put the dagger down.”

“Nay. I’ve captured me a sea raider and—”

“If I yell, every man downstairs will run up here and descend upon you.”

“Not before I shove this blade into your innards.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Women. It was futile to argue with them, but he wanted to keep Odaria talking. It would distract her. “What do you wish of me?”

“To do my bidding.”

He laughed. “Is this a spell, little witch? Am I to lose all sense of reason and obey your commands?”

“Do not mock me.” She poked him with the point of the blade. “You will—”

“I will give you a sore bottom if you do not remove the dagger from my ribs, sorceress.”

He straightened up a little more. The moment Odaria removed the blade from beneath his ribs, he would show her exactly what happened to pretty witches who played with daggers.

“You will take me away from here, unharmed, in one of your boats … or else.”

He turned to her. Is that what she wanted? It seemed an odd request. “Or else what?”

“Or else I shall … I shall kill all of your men.”

He laughed, then spun to the right and snatched the dagger from Odaria’s left hand. In a flash, he whirled her around and pinned her against the wall. Her green eyes widened as he bent close.

“Open your ears, girl. As I have said before, they are Karnik’s men, not mine. And I see no need to promise what I’ve already decided. You are coming home with me. Whether you agree to it or not.”

She squirmed against him. “Set me free.”

He waved the dagger under her nose. “Learn this lesson, little witch. If you are going to stab a man, stab him and be done with it. Do not talk him to death.”

Odaria narrowed her eyes. “I should have slain you while you slept, wretched sea monster.”

He grinned. “It takes great courage for a woman to draw a dagger on a man. Especially when it is his own dagger.” In a way, he admired her bravery. What other woman would be so bold—or so foolish?

Odaria glared at him again, and the gold flecks in her eyes seemed to glow. “There shall be no bargains between us, Pict. I have already decided your fate.”

She struggled in his grip, and he pressed his body against hers to settle her. To his surprise, heat surged between his legs. A moment later, blood flooded his groin, hardening him. He felt his cock straining against the front of his breeches.

“Let me go. Your sword is poking me.”

He laughed and leaned a little closer to Odaria. By the gods, it felt good to be rendered capable again. After his blade had wilted last night, he’d feared it would never rise again. “My broadsword is in the corner. This,” he said, thrusting his hips against hers, “is a sword of a different kind.”

Odaria whimpered. “I’m sorry about drawing the dagger against you. But I werena gonna hurt you. I merely wanted a boat so I might leave this place.”

He took a step back, stunned. All Odaria wanted was to leave the isle? “Lucky for you, girl, we think alike. I am taking you with me. I have no intention of leaving you behind.”

His words were true. Last night he had decided to bring Odaria home with him, but not as a thrall to be sold in the marketplace to the highest bidder. She would be his prize, his one treasure from Pictland. It didn’t matter to him why she wanted to leave her homeland, only that her willingness to go would make their journey easier.

Odaria gazed into his eyes. “You mean it?”

“Ja.” He nodded. “If you obey me.”

She rolled her eyes. “What must I do? Answer more foolish questions?”

He trailed his finger down her pale cheek. His erection was slowly fading away, but he had no doubt it would return in an instant if he kissed Odaria. Being close to her had cured him of his impotence.

“You must not let the men believe that you are untouched, that I spared you last night. You must behave as if I have taken you several times—and you wish more of it.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Nay. I shan’t act as if I’ve welcomed your lustful—”

He silenced her with a kiss and ground his lower body against hers. Her thin chemise did nothing to disguise her nakedness. He moaned as he felt her nipples harden against his bare chest.

Odaria wiggled against him, but it only served to excite him further. His penis had sprung to life again, this time with a need more urgent than ever. If he kept on this way, his pent-up passions would soon explode.

After a moment, Odaria relaxed in his embrace. As he kissed her again, her lips tenderly moved against his. Perhaps if he did not rush her, she would be more accommodating. After all, she was a virgin. She might require more time to warm to his advances.

When her lips parted slightly, he gently eased his tongue into her warm mouth. Odaria went rigid and shoved him away.

“Nay. None of that.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You are disgusting.”

He scowled. Disgusting? He did not understand. Why did she refuse to let him kiss her fully? Perhaps Picts kissed differently, or perhaps Odaria did not know how to feel passion.

“Other Nordmenn who wish to have at you shall not be discouraged so easily. Do you agree to what I have said? Will you behave as if I have taken you and you were delighted?” He needed Karnik’s men to believe that he’d bedded Odaria. Otherwise they would view him as a pathetic weakling and not a true man.

Odaria crossed her arms over her chest. “Aye. Should the other bits of sea filth ask, you have deflowered me … against me will.”

“They will not ask. I am the only Nordmann here who understands the Picttish tongue. Behave as if we are lovers. Allow me to kiss you. I will not have the men believe I spared you. Understand?”

“Aye,” she grumbled.

“Gut.” He pulled his tunic over his head and strapped the silver dagger to his waist. “And I expect you to prepare me a large morning meal. I’m starved.”

She rolled her eyes. “Wretched Norseman.”

Odaria stomped down the short flight of stairs ahead of Rothgar and entered the main room. More than a dozen Norsemen were seated around the table, eating and talking. They fell silent and exchanged glances as they caught sight of her.

One of the men looked her up and down, then said something to Rothgar. She recognized the ugly bearded man as one of her attackers from last night. Instinctively, she took a step back and bumped into Rothgar. “What did he say?”

Rothgar draped an arm around her shoulders. “He asked for his turn now that I had finished with you.”

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Rothgar spoke to the man, then translated for her. “I told him you are very accommodating and I have not yet taken my fill of your pleasures.” He gave her a light push toward the cookroom. “Now fetch your lover something to eat.”

She folded her arms over her chest to shield herself. It was degrading to walk around in nothing but her linen chemise. The men could see right through it. She ignored the harsh stares of the men and went into the cookroom. “What in the blazes happened in here?”

The cookroom was destroyed. The hungry raiders had slit open sacks of oats and flour, spilled milk on the table, and left empty eggshells scattered on the floor. Did they behave like this at home? She rested her hands on her hips and frowned. The mess could be cleaned up easily, but she had another problem. What did Rothgar like to eat in the morning? Cheese? Fish? She knew nothing about him, and yet she trusted him to take her away from Stronsay forever.

She scooped a large portion of oats into a wooden bowl and carried it into the main room. Rothgar had seated himself at the head of the table and was talking to two men. She sneered as she dumped the oats into a pot of water and set it over the fire. How could he sit there and act friendly to them after what they had tried to do to her?

Her mind wandered as she stirred the oats with a wooden spoon. So far today, nothing had gone according to her plan. How could she have let Rothgar get the better of her this morning? She’d had the dagger in his ribs. Her idea to force Rothgar to take her away on her terms had failed. He was not the least bit intimidated by her, even when she brandished a weapon. He didn’t believe she truly was a witch, and he certainly wasn’t tricked as easily as most people she knew.

If anything, she was falling under Rothgar’s spell. His powerful kisses had weakened her and made her vulnerable. Last night she had kissed him and stroked his chest … and this morning … the moment his lips had touched hers, a burning heat had flared deep inside her private places. Part of her wanted Rothgar to reach up beneath her chemise and …

She shook her head and stared into the fire. Despite the lustful urges Rothgar had awakened in her body, she had to resist him. It was the only way she could regain control of the situation. She would never let Rothgar kiss her again—at least not until she was safely off the isle.

The group of Norsemen burst out laughing behind her. She ignored them as she spooned the cooked oats into the bowl. It was obvious that they were talking about her and Rothgar was joining in on the fun. Was he telling them how he’d carried her upstairs and ravaged her all night? Although she didn’t understand their Norse words, the way they looked at her told her plenty.

She carried the bowl of steaming oats to the table. Rothgar winked as she stepped near, then pulled her closer to him. A man at the table whistled. Rothgar grinned and squeezed her buttocks through her chemise.

“Pig!” She slapped his face and dumped the bowl of hot oats into his lap.

Rothgar bolted from his seat, toppling the chair backward. “How dare you!” He grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her across the room.

“Let me go!” She fought against him, but it was a futile effort. Rothgar was twenty times stronger than she was, and he was enraged.

Rothgar dragged her into the cookroom and slammed the door. In the blink of an eye, he spun her around and shoved her against the door. He bellowed at her in his native language and pounded his fist into the door just above her head.

She shrieked and cringed away from him. Now she’d done it. From the way he sounded, Rothgar was going to kill her. She hadn’t meant to strike him. Protecting herself had been an instinctive reaction.

Rothgar clasped both of her wrists in one hand and raised them over her head. She winced and cried out. Her torn skin was still tender from the rope burns. Rothgar leaned close to her, his nose almost touching hers. She pressed her eyes shut and refused to look at him.

“I tried to reason with you.” He squeezed her wrists harder, and she whimpered. “But you refused to obey. You have made a fool of me.” Rothgar grabbed her chin with his free hand and forced her to look at him. “Now you shall learn who is in charge. I can be tender or terrible. The choice is yours.”

Rothgar kissed her. She tried to wriggle free, but he held her fast. Her heart thundered as his kisses became more forceful. As she fought him, he leaned more of his weight on her, pinning her to the door. He was so much stronger, taller, and wider than she was that she didn’t stand a chance of overpowering him.
A wave of panic seized her as Rothgar rubbed his pelvis against hers. She stopped struggling and went rigid. If she didn’t put up a fight, perhaps Rothgar would settle down and release her. Resisting would only anger him further.

A moment later, Rothgar parted her lips and rammed his tongue deep into her mouth. She tried to turn her head away, but it was useless. Rothgar had her at his mercy. His thick, hot tongue entwined with hers, nearly choking her. He moaned and draped her hands around his neck as he rocked his hips against hers.

She slid her hands up the back of Rothgar’s neck. Without hesitation, she grasped a double handful of his long hair and yanked as hard as she could.

Rothgar yelped and broke the kiss. As he jerked away from her, she darted to the right, hoping to escape downstairs. Rothgar grabbed the front of her chemise. The delicate linen tore down the front, exposing her entire body. She cried out as Rothgar shoved her against the door.

Odaria closed her eyes. The Norsemen were laughing and cheering on the other side of the door. They were enjoying what they heard. They thought Rothgar was ravishing her as punishment for shaming him.

Rothgar let out a deep groan, and she opened her eyes. To her dismay, he was staring down the length of her naked body. She tried to cover herself, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms over her head again.

“Any other man would open that door and throw you to the wolves.”

“Pray don’t. I’m sorry,” she whispered as she broke down in tears.

“Sorry? I spare you, and you repay me by humiliating me? Do you wish to test me again, woman? I shall set the men upon you …”
“I didna mean it,” she said between sobs. “Pray don’t let them take me. I’ll do anything you ask. I swear it by all the stars in the sky.”

His ice-blue eyes bore into hers. “No more tricks. I will not fall prey to false tears again.” He took a step back and trailed his hand down her nude body. “Lovely.” He chuckled as he cupped her breast. “You shall fetch me a good sum at auction.”

She gasped. Auction? Rothgar meant to sell her? If he did, there was no telling what would happen to her. Being sold at a public auction would be a fate worse than death. Perhaps if she acted sweet, she could make Rothgar change his mind.

“Pray do not sell me. I’ll be good to you,” she said, raising herself on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I promise to share me favors with you soon, but have patience. I need time to grow comfortable with you, being such a big, strapping man and all.”

Rothgar pushed her away. “You think I shall trust you, wench? You put my own dagger to my ribs. I’m wise to your trickery.” He shoved her to the floor and yanked the door open.

“Remain here if you know what’s good for you.”

Rothgar kicked three chairs aside as he stormed through the main room of the gathering hall. Sig and Jurgen stared at him with their mouths hanging open.

He ran his hands through his hair and let out a long breath. “I taught her a lesson.” He glanced over his shoulder.

Odaria lay on the floor sobbing and clutching her ripped chemise.

That wicked Pict didn’t know how lucky she was that he’d contained his anger. In the past, he had killed men for far less than what she had done to him. Humiliating him in front of Karnik’s men had nearly driven him over the edge of reason. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, and he balled his wide hands into fists.

“Might we have our turns now?” Jurgen asked.

He spun around and knocked Jurgen to the floor with one punch. “There’s your answer.” He glared at the other men in the room. “Anyone else wish to make a claim on her?”

Odaria’s sobs grew louder, and he glanced into the cookroom. The strong and forceful woman he’d encountered last night was gone. Odaria made a pathetic sight, huddled over and crying into her hands. A pang of remorse sliced through him like a sword. By Odin’s mercy, what had he done? He wasn’t an animal like Karnik’s men. He didn’t use violence on women.

He marched to the main door. He had to leave, now. If he stayed here another moment, he’d go to Odaria’s side and try to soothe her—or beat out his frustration on Jurgen’s head. Either way, he felt trapped.

“I’m going to talk with Karnik about finding Orvind. If anyone touches that girl while I’m gone—”

“We won’t,” Sig said, stepping away from him. “She’s all yours.”

“And she stays mine.”

He stormed out of the gathering hall and marched to the center of the tiny village. The cool morning air cleared his head, and he started to think rationally.

What was happening to him? He had no intention of harming Odaria. All he meant to do was frighten her into obeying him. He’d only kissed her to give himself a thrill, but the situation had gotten out of control.

As he walked over a hill, he spotted Karnik talking to a group of six men. He squared his shoulders and forced himself to focus on the problem at hand. Orvind was missing, and he had to find him. His troubles with Odaria would have to wait.

Karnik broke away from the group and approached him. “How was the girl?” he asked, grinning.

He rolled his eyes. Why was everyone so concerned about him bedding Odaria? Did they all wish for a turn? Or did they secretly know he was previously incapable of lovemaking and wish to torment him?

“She says the man in charge here is called Brennan. He will know of Orvind. Find Brennan, and bring him to me for questioning.”

“As you wish. What of the others in the nets? Shall we bring them down as well?”

“Only for food and water. Keep them swinging until I’ve talked to Brennan. I will reason with him. The sooner he gives us Orvind, the sooner his people will be set free.” He scratched his beard and looked at Karnik. For a man who loved nothing better than a bloody battle, he seemed very interested in the welfare of the villagers. Karnik’s sudden concern for the Picts aroused his suspicions.

“Has something happened to them?”

Karnik’s brown eyes widened a little, and he shrugged. “No. They are fine. We hung them from their precious church.”

He didn’t believe him, but right now he didn’t wish to waste time arguing. Odaria was on her own in the gathering hall. “Fine. Then see that nothing does happen to them.”

He headed back over the hill. There would be time enough to talk with Karnik later. Right now, he didn’t dare leave Odaria’s side for too long. There was no telling what sort of trouble she’d get herself into.

As he entered the main room of the gathering hall, he immediately sensed that something was wrong. The room was silent—too silent. Sig stood near the open cookroom door with his head bowed.

“Rothgar, she—”

He grabbed Sig by the front of his blue tunic and yanked him forward. “What in the name of Thor happened to her?”

“Nothing. She ran off,” Sig answered, then swallowed hard. “After you left, she went upstairs. A moment later, she ran past us out the main door. We didn’t know if we should stop her.”

Upstairs? What would Odaria have done up there? He released Sig and dashed up the stairs two at a time. The door to the bedchamber stood open. “Odaria?” He entered the room and looked around.

Everything in the room seemed to be the same as when he’d left it. Then he noticed the torn chemise lying on the floor. Odaria had taken it off. Did that mean she was running around the village nude?

He ran downstairs and grabbed Sig again. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She—”

“Dammit to hell.” He bolted out the front door and went right, toward the far end of the village. Odaria couldn’t have gone up the hill. He’d just come from that direction, and he would have seen her. Karnik’s men had made their camp near the stone church. Would Odaria go there to seek shelter? He had to find her. If any of Karnik’s men came across her stark naked, they would not hesitate to have their way with her.

He ran through the village, calling her name. Odaria had lived here her entire life. She would know hundreds of places to hide. She could be anywhere. How would he ever find her? It was his fault that she’d panicked and run off. He’d acted like a beast.

A thousand terrible thoughts swirled through his mind as he ran. What if Karnik’s men had already captured her? What if, Odin forbid, she’d stumbled into the camp of the berserkrs? He pushed that horrifying image aside and kept running. If anything happened to Odaria, he’d never forgive himself. Why had he acted so cruelly to her? He had no intention of selling her.

A shrill scream tore him from his thoughts. Odaria! Within seconds, he’d reached the edge of the village. Fifty of Karnik’s men were standing around the church, watching Odaria.

She stood near the stone church, clutching his green cloak around her trembling body. Her mouth hung open, and she was staring at something in front of her.

He looked up. The entire population of the village was strung up in fishing nets and dangling off the sides of the church. The frightened villagers screamed and pleaded for help. He shook his head. It wasn’t a pleasant sight, but netting the villagers had kept them from true harm. Karnik’s bloodthirsty men would be less likely to slaughter them, and he needed them alive for questioning.

“Odaria, come here.”

She clutched the cloak tighter around her body. Something silver sparkled in the sunlight, and he saw that she had used his brooch to fasten the cloak closed over her breasts.

He approached her slowly. Odaria was upset, and he didn’t want to frighten her into running. But why would the sight of the villagers in nets terrify her so?

As he moved closer, he followed Odaria’s wide-eyed gaze. After a second, he realized that she wasn’t staring up at the church as he’d first thought—she was looking beyond it. He stepped to her side and saw her shoulders shaking beneath his cloak.

“What is that?” she whispered.

He looked in the direction she was staring, then spotted the thing hanging upside down from a wooden post.

What was left of the man twitched and twisted in the breeze. One glance told him all he needed to know. Someone had made the villager into a blood eagle. His back had been cracked open, his ribs broken, and his lungs pulled out and spread across his back like wings. Blood dripped down his chest, covering his face in a crimson mask.

“Come with me. You shouldn’t see this.” He reached out to touch Odaria’s shoulder, and she flinched away.

“Don’t touch me.” She looked at him, her green eyes filled with terror. “What sort of demons are you? What is that?”

He rested his hand on her shoulder and glanced at the men watching them. Now he understood why Karnik had feigned such concern over the welfare of the villagers. His men had disobeyed a direct order to not harm anyone. The blood eagle was barbaric, even by their standards. Why had they done it? For sport? How had the villager gotten free of the net?

If he were alone, he would chastise Karnik’s men for what they’d done, but he had to think about Odaria’s safety. He had to get her back to the gathering hall, then reprimand the men.

Odaria shrieked and clutched his hand. He looked over and saw the man hanging from the post wave his arms. He was still alive—but not for long.

Without hesitation, he scooped Odaria into his arms. He spun her away from the church and kissed her forehead. “You are safe with me. I’ll let no harm come to you.” Grown men had been driven mad at the sight of the blood eagle, and Odaria was a sensitive woman. Could her mind withstand such horror?

“I canna take no more,” she whispered before she went limp in his arms.

Rothgar leapt from the chair and rushed to the side of the small bed. He watched, helpless, as Odaria twitched and whimpered in her sleep. Her brows furrowed, and she kicked beneath the sheepskin quilt.

Three hours had passed since he’d carried her away from the sight of the blood eagle, yet she hadn’t woken. Should he rouse her? It was dangerous to disturb a sleeping person, but if her dream was terrifying her, he couldn’t let her suffer.

He shook her shoulder lightly. “Odaria, wake up,” he whispered.

Odaria woke with a scream and sat straight up in bed. She clutched the quilt to her chest as she looked at him.

“Easy. You are safe. It was merely a dream.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Nay. That was no dream. That thing …” She started to cry. “It came after me, and I couldna get away.”

He drew her into his arms and held her. Poor girl. She’d been through so much in the short time he’d known her. What could he say to calm her fears?

“What was it?” Odaria pulled from his arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That creature. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Where did it come from?”

He stood and crossed the room. Should he tell Odaria about the blood eagle? If she knew his fellow Nordmenn were responsible for creating it, she might hate him—if she didn’t hate him already. He took a silver cup off the chest of drawers and carried it to the bed. “Here, drink this.”

She took the cup in her shaking left hand and eyed him suspiciously. “What’s in it?”

“Rum and water. It will settle you.”

“’Twill take more than a bit of weak rum to settle me. I’ll not sleep for a month.” She sipped the drink. “Seeing that thing swinging from the post … If I had a weak heart, I woulda dropped dead where I stood.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. The guilt over how he had treated Odaria still gnawed at him. She was his precious treasure, and yet in one morning he’d done everything possible to cause her to hate him. He wanted to make amends.

Odaria coughed and handed the cup back to him. “I canna drink no more. Me stomach’s not strong after seeing that … What was it?”

He shook his head. “Do not think of it. It cannot harm you.”

“How can I not think of it? When I came upon it, it was moaning and making the most dreadful sounds …”

“I’m so sorry you witnessed that.”

“Pray tell me. What is it? I kin understand it if you tell me what it is.”

He licked his lips and glanced at her. Odaria was a strong woman, and after everything that had happened to her today, she deserved to know the truth. “We call it a blood eagle.”

“A what? I’ve never heard of such a bird. What sort of creatures do you have in your land that something so horrible—”

“It was not a creature from our land.” He clasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It was a man.” He looked away. “One of your villagers.”

Odaria gasped and yanked her hand from his. “A man? How could that be?”

He stood and placed the silver cup on the chest of drawers. Although he had great courage in battle, he faltered whenever it came time to talk to a woman. Even when he’d been married, he had never fully understood females. One moment they acted helpless and frail. Then in the blink of an eye, they could tear out your throat.

He kept his back to Odaria. “After I brought you back here, I found Karnik. He told me that a man had escaped the nets and tried to kill one of our men. Karnik had him punished to set an example for the others.”

“By the stars … Your men are demons.”

A heavy silence hung between them. He wracked his mind for something to say that might ease the tension. He didn’t want Odaria to hate him for something Karnik had done.

“If there is anyone from the village, friends or family you wish spared, I can have them released from the nets and taken elsewhere.” He scratched his chin. “It is the least I can do for you.”

“Nay. There is no one.”

He crossed the room and stood near the bed. “Surely you have friends, brothers, sisters, a young man you fancy …”

Odaria’s mouth dropped open. “Are you daft? Last night the whole lot of ’em got together to burn me alive. I shall spare them nothing. Turn them all into blood eagles. ’Tis what they deserve.”

He cursed to himself. Dammit! How could he have forgotten her troubles with the villagers? “Is there not anyone? A relative—”

“Me mother was the only one who cared for me, and”—Odaria bit her bottom lip—“she’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Where has she gone? Why did she leave you behind? Did she—”

“Stop asking me foolish questions.”

He heard a loud clunk and looked behind him. The silver cup he had placed on the chest of drawers was lying on the floor near the door. He stared at it for a second, puzzled. How had it gotten all the way over there? He hadn’t set it near the edge where it could topple over.

“I’m sorry,” Odaria said, wiping her eyes with the bedclothes. “But all I want is to wake up in me cottage and have all this be nothing but a bad dream.” She clutched his arm. “Pray forgive me for what I did downstairs. I didna mean to make you angry with me. Don’t let those men hurt me. Don’t let them turn me into a blood eagle.”

“Hvat?” In the name of Odin, is that what she thought would happen to her? “Neinn, Odaria, no one shall hurt you. I will not let them.”

“But you are one of them. You sailed here with the others. They are your friends.”

He shook his head. “I am not like Karnik’s men. Even years ago when I fara-a-viking, I was never as cruel as they are. Three summers ago, I gave up traveling and raiding. I only sailed here with them as a favor to my uncle. I need to find Orvind. When I leave here, I’m going home for good. I shall not venture away again.”

“But you were going to sell me because of what I did.”

“Never. Not for all the treasures in the world. You are too precious to me. I promise I shall bring you home with me, as we agreed.”

Odaria looked down, and he continued. “I acted like an animal in the cookroom. I lost my temper. I behaved no better than Karnik’s men. But if I could take it all back and behave differently, I would.” With his thumb, he wiped a tear off Odaria’s cheek. “After all you have suffered through today, pray let me make amends with you. Allow me to prove that I am not like the others.”

He walked to the chest of drawers. “While you were sleeping, I went to my ship and brought back gifts for you,” he said as he placed the silver cup back on the dresser.

“Gifts? For me?”

“Ja. Come see.” He lifted his blue canvas bag off the floor and rummaged through it. Would Odaria like the presents he had selected for her? They were not fancy, but he had nothing aboard the ship designed for a woman. He pulled a handful of items out of the sack and arranged them on the chest of drawers.

He glanced up as Odaria climbed out of bed and wrapped his cloak around her. A wave of guilt washed over him as he recalled tearing her chemise and shoving her to the floor. How could he have acted like such a fiend?

As Odaria stepped to his side, he opened a leather pouch and showed her the contents. “These are grooming supplies. A comb, tooth sticks, ear cleaners, and tweezers. I brought you fresh soap and linens to wash with.”

She picked up the pewter tooth stick. “What does this do?”

“We use it with this.” He handed her a rough cloth and a small jar made of green glass. She held the jar up to the window and tapped it. “What’s inside?”

“Tooth powder. It is fashioned from a root and mixed with mint leaves. Pour some on a wet cloth and scrub your teeth with it. The stick is to dig out bits of meat and bread from between the teeth.”

“It seems a bit of a bother. I clean my teeth with sea salt and a green twig.” She pointed at a large red jar. “And that?”

“Perfumed oil. To smell good between baths.” He uncorked the top, offered it to her, and she sniffed. “It is a scent for men, blended with strong spices. At home, the women use a gentler scent, with oils brewed from flowers.”

He smiled at Odaria. Despite his best efforts to please her, she did not seem impressed. What more could he do to win her trust?

“I also brought this for you to wear.” He took a dark blue wool tunic from the bag and held it up for her to see. Would she like it? Intricate swirled patterns were sewn around the edges in silver thread. “It goes with the brooch I gave you.”

Odaria looked at the tunic and frowned. “It shan’t fit me.”

“It will, see?” He held it up in front of her. “It hangs to my knees and shall be a dress on you.” He handed it to her. “Try it on.”

She shook her head. “I appreciate your gifts, but I canna wear that.”

He sighed. “I’m trying to be kind. I’m sorry I tore your chemise, but you cannot wear my cloak with nothing beneath. Pray, take the tunic.”

“I suppose it is the sensible thing to do. Turn ’round.”

He turned his back to Odaria and closed his eyes. Had he gotten through to her? She no longer seemed tearful and frightened, but now she was acting too quiet for his liking. Perhaps she was still overwhelmed at seeing the blood eagle. Didn’t she understand that he was trapped here as well? He wanted to go home, but he couldn’t leave without Orvind.

“See? I canna wear it.”

He turned around. The sharp V-neck of the tunic left Odaria’s breasts mostly exposed, but it covered her to her ankles. She tried to hold the front of the tunic closed, but the long sleeves came down past her hands, covering them.

“If I move, me whole front will fall out.”

He grinned. “So I see.” He reached into his canvas bag and pulled out a long leather thong. “Hold still and I shall bind it shut.”

Odaria closed her eyes as he threaded the piece of thin leather through the holes in the front of the tunic. Standing this close to her reminded him of how vulnerable she’d been in the cookroom.

His fingertips brushed against Odaria’s soft breast, and she gasped. The innocent touch sent a warm tingle through his groin, and he swallowed hard. By the gods, now was not the time to become aroused. But Odaria was a fetching sight. Never before had a man’s tunic ever looked so attractive.

The midnight-blue color complemented Odaria’s fair skin and dark wavy hair. The silver embroidery along the front accented her ample bosom, and the tunic clung to her curvy hips. He finished lacing it and cleared his throat. Odaria opened her eyes and stared up at him. Did she feel the same powerful attraction between them that he did?

“I do not have much success with women. But I pray this proves to you that …”

Odaria rose up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he let out a low groan.

“Odaria, what—?”

A pounding on the door interrupted him. “Rothgar, we have the man you seek,” Haraldur called out through the door.

He sighed. Dammit to hell. Did they have to disturb him now?

“Ja, I’ll be there in a minute.” Odaria looked so sweet and kissable. He longed to touch her but held back. He didn’t want to risk making her angry with him again. “I must go.”

Odaria gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Despite all that has happened, I know you are a good man.” She rested her head against his chest and squeezed him tight. “Pray take me home with you.”

Haraldur pounded on the door again. “Karnik said to call you at once.”

He forced himself to pull away. “I will. I promise.” He stroked her hair, then moved to the door. “There’s plenty of food downstairs. Come eat when you are ready.”

“I shall.”

He opened the door and glanced over his shoulder. Odaria was admiring the stitchery on his tunic. It pained him to leave her when they had just made amends, but he had to speak with Brennan. The sooner he found Orvind, the sooner he could take Odaria home—to be his bride.