The day had been long and tedious. Jarl Eirik had insisted on laying his eyes on every record that Cedric and Annis had created since Grim’s death. Once he had been partially satisfied that taxes were still being collected—he’d do a more thorough audit of the records later—and the farmers, fishermen and villagers had not staged some sort of revolt, the conversation had progressed to Rurik and their marriage.
Rurik had been picked apart by the man. From his childhood with a slave mother to his dubious claim to land in Killcobar with his Uncle Feann to his plans for Glannoventa and Annis, he had spent the better part of the afternoon and evening humouring the Jarl’s questions. In the end, he felt that they had come to a sort of understanding. Rurik would not be cowed by the man, nor would he give up his claim to Annis or Glannoventa. Jarl Eirik had seemed to come to an acceptance of the new arrangement.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to tell. The plan was to head out into the villages as the Jarl surveyed their progress. Rurik was looking forward to the ride and laying his eyes on the land that was now his. However, he was exhausted and would think of tomorrow in the morning. He had sent Annis to bed earlier in the evening when she had begun to sag in the chair beside him at the table. She had surprised him by leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, while whispering, ‘Wake me later.’ Ever since, he had been rigid with wanting her, counting down the hours until the seemingly tireless Jarl sought his own bed.
Two candles still burned low in the chamber as he crossed to the bed. She lay on her stomach in the middle, her auburn hair spread out across the blankets. He was struck again by her beauty and the sense that she was his. His responsibility. His wife. His. Shedding his clothes as he stared down at her, he could not help but wonder if the tenderness he felt for her was becoming something deeper. It was as if his admiration for her had found his desire for her and twisted together so hopelessly that he could not pull one thread from the other. A very real fear had gripped him today when he had considered that Jarl Eirik might find a way to take her from him. Rurik had been prepared to battle for her, to the death if need be. He didn’t know how she had captivated him so completely in such a short time.
Placing the knives at his hips on the chest at the end of the bed, he stepped out of his clothing and climbed under the blankets beside her. His hands encountered smooth, silky skin as he touched her. Sending up a silent plea of thanks, he drew the blanket back from her to look his fill of her naked body. There was not a part of her that he did not think was perfect.
The candlelight painted her skin gold as his fingertips followed the line of her spine down to the twin globes of her bottom. He paused as his gaze caught on an odd scar at her lower back. It was difficult to tell in the uneven light, but it looked like two jagged marks that crossed each other. They had almost certainly been made by a blade. How would she have been scarred in such a way? Surely, Cedric’s training would not have led to that.
Before he could come up with any likely scenario, she sighed and rolled over on to her back. His fingers followed the movement of her hips, coming to rest on the smooth skin above the russet patch of hair between her thighs. His manhood twitched in response to the memory of how good it had felt to be inside her.
‘Annis,’ he whispered, pressing his palm to her belly.
Had his seed taken root in her the night before? A flare of hope sprang to life in him, surprising him with how pleasing he found the idea of sharing a child with her. Children had always been something far in his future. Now he could so easily see them. However, he also liked the idea of selfishly having her to himself for a while. Perhaps it would take months of ploughing before the seeds would find roots.
She shifted, her breathing changing as she turned towards him and came awake. ‘Is it morning already?’ she whispered.
‘Far from it.’
She smiled, though her eyes were still closed as he pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat. ‘Jarl Eirik has not banished you?’
‘If he has, it only means that I have come to take you with me.’ He lapped at the salt of her skin with the tip of his tongue, marvelling at how he was ready for her so quickly. He was infatuated.
‘Like a true marauder,’ she whispered.
He grinned at their play. How easily he was coming to enjoy this sparring with her. ‘It has been too long since I last pillaged. You may find me all the rougher for it.’ He took her nipple into his mouth, drawing it deep and pulling a gasp from her at the same time. Her fingers curled in his hair as she held him tight. He did not allow her to stay him, however, and continued on his path down her body.
‘What are you doing?’ A faint thread of panic entered her voice when he passed her belly.
Instead of answering right away, he settled himself between her thighs, moving down until his shoulders had pushed them apart. Shifting his arms beneath her thighs, he held her open for him. The shadows of the night kept her mostly hidden from him, but he was able to see a slight tinge of pink through the dark red curls.
‘Rurik...’ She sat up on her elbows, staring down at him, her brows together in confusion.
The scent of her longing made his blood thicken in his veins as his need for her pulsed through him. ‘I want to taste your desire for me, Annis. I want all of you.’
It was true. After the trying day, there was some part of him that he did not completely understand pushing him to claim every part of her as his. Because she did belong to him now. Whatever the Jarl ultimately decided, she would belong to Rurik for the rest of their lives.
Taking in another deep breath of her, he touched her with his tongue. She made a low sound in the back of her throat and her thighs tensed around him. He stroked her from the silken channel that had held him so tightly the night before to the tiny nub of swollen flesh peeking out from between her folds. Putting her knee over his shoulder, he let it go so that he could spread her with his fingers and ease the way for himself. She cried out when he covered her with his mouth.
He savoured every gasp and cry as he sucked her lightly. Only when she fell back, her hips bucking a bit with the rhythm he set, did he let a finger slip inside her. She clamped around him and he pulled it almost all the way free, only to gently work a second one into her. He loved having her under his power like this, his name falling from her lips as he controlled her pleasure. In some small and dark corner of his mind, he gloried in the fact that this at least was new to her. No one had ever given her pleasure like this.
It made him feel more powerful than he had any right to feel, like a god come to earth to pleasure this woman who was his. And he did pleasure her with a single-minded purpose that felt as irresistible as the potion she had laced into his ale on that first night in the tavern.
‘Rurik!’ she cried out and grabbed his hair in a twist that might have been painful were he not beyond all thought except for bringing her to completion. He wanted to hear her cry out as she came for him and then he wanted to fill her and take her until she cried out beneath him again.
In the next moment her body trembled and her cry filled the air. She clenched around his fingers as he tasted her release on his tongue. Only when she began to come down did he move over her. Her eyes were dazed and unfocused, but her arms went around his shoulders as he fell over her, taking her mouth in a deep kiss. He found a nipple with his fingers and plucked it gently but insistently. She groaned against his lips and raised her hips, grinding against him.
‘Do you want me inside you?’ he whispered between kisses.
‘Hurry,’ she said on a breathless gasp.
It was all the encouragement he needed. Lining himself up with her, he pushed inside in one deep stroke that had them both crying out. The way he fit her felt so right, as if he had been made for her. He tried to keep his thrusts slow and measured, wanting to prolong the pleasure for both of them. But having her beneath him like this was too much and, when she wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself up to him even more, he was lost. It wasn’t long before he was taking her with hard, deep thrusts of his hips while sweat rolled down his temple. Having this woman spread out beneath him, begging him for more, was too much. The very moment she began to shake beneath him, her body clenching tight around him, he came with a roar pulled from deep in his chest.
‘Annis,’ he whispered her name over and over into her hair as he fell over her, his lips finding her neck. Her arms held him tight as if unwilling to let him go, so he collapsed on to her, still buried deep inside her. He had never felt this almost complete obsession with a woman before. His hands still fisted in her hair as he spread kisses over her neck and cheek on his way to her mouth. There was no getting enough of her.
When strength came back to him, he raised up on his forearms just enough to look down at her. She smiled up a him, a small tentative smile that reflected his own bewildered wonder. How was it possible that he had travelled all this way with vengeance spurring him on, only to find this woman who was dangerously close to stealing his heart? Had the gods brought him to her?
Her fingers caressed his cheek, so he turned his head to place a kiss in her palm. ‘I never thought I would find anyone like you,’ he whispered.
She let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob, but she pulled him down for a kiss before he could comment. One kiss led to another and he was lost for the rest of the night.
Annis’s heart gave a small but pleasant start the next morning when Rurik took her hand. Tiny feathers of awareness tickled up from her hand to her wrist as he tightened his fingers around hers. He did not smile at her, but his eyes seemed to say so much more than words ever could as they made their way outside.
He had brought her to pleasure twice more last night and once again this morning before they left their bed. He had been slow and lazy—thorough was the only way she could think to describe how he had taken his time in waking her up. It had not mattered that a servant had knocked, or discreetly left a meal for them inside the door. He had not stopped until they were both limp and satiated. Then he had helped her dress, an endeavour that promised far more pleasure to be had later in the day.
Iron clanged outside as they made their way from their home, evidence that Jarl Eirik was already awake and running his men through their paces. No doubt he was impatient for them, but Rurik did not hurry his pace. As two of her men swung open the doors to the courtyard for them, he only gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze and held them. She liked that they had progressed from a supporting hand on her lower back. How quickly they could progress to so much more if they only had the chance.
She pushed back the weight of guilt that threatened to rise within her at the thought. She would tell Rurik everything very soon, as soon as the Jarl left them in peace. He would be hurt—she despised that his pain was necessary—but she hoped with time he could forgive her for the part she had played in Maerr. She did not fool herself that it would be an easy thing to overcome, but she did believe there could be a good life for them eventually. If he would only give them a chance.
Smiling up at him, she tightened her hand on his, making the barest hint of a smile turn up his lips. He would not let himself be so free before the Jarl, so the hint was enough to reassure her. There was the scantest ache between her thighs, a reminder of how recently he had been there. She was amazed to realise she was already wondering how soon they could sneak off for a private moment. The day was meant to be filled with a tour of Glannoventa and the surroundings, but surely there would be something—a copse, a nook—where she could at least kiss him again.
Rurik’s face changed right before her eyes. His roar of outrage barely registered as his brows drove together and he lunged before her, driving her behind him with a forearm. The dagger on his hip came out as he got into a battle crouch before her. Distantly, she was aware of a sword striking stone—only after she heard the sound did she realise that it had narrowly missed Rurik, striking where he had been standing only to crash into the wall instead. She had been too much in her thoughts to anticipate danger.
Drawing the dagger kept in her boot, she rose to her full height and went to step around him. ‘Stay behind me,’ he said, his left arm coming out to keep her back as his right wielded his dagger.
Angry and uncomprehending, she glared out at Jarl Eirik and the men who stood near him. There were ten while the rest continued to spar farther off. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she yelled.
The Jarl’s brow was fierce and his gaze was calculating as it roved over Rurik, assessing him. ‘If he is to take Wilfrid’s place, he must prove his ability to protect himself and you.’
‘That was unfair. You had no right to do that. What if you had hurt one of us?’ Outrage filled her voice. Her gaze found the Jarl’s warrior who had swung the sword. She had not noticed him the night before; she was quite certain she would have remembered. His wild mane of hair was pulled back from a face that was all angles, as if it had been chiselled from the side of a cliff, and he was taller than any man she had ever seen. His arms alone were nearly the width of her midriff.
Still the Jarl stared only at Rurik. ‘You were never in danger, Lady Annis. The sword was aimed for Rurik. If the sword had found him, he would not deserve his place as your husband.’
‘That is for me to decide.’ She bit the words out, but, seeing that there was no immediate danger to her, Rurik put a hand on her shoulder.
‘He is right. I must prove myself,’ said Rurik.
Once more taking in the giant, she turned to her husband and lowered her voice. ‘You do not. I chose you. That will be enough.’
‘Perhaps for you, but not for them.’ He gestured over his shoulder and she saw her own warriors spread out farther past the courtyard, between the stone outbuildings and homes farther out. ‘Our own men need to know that I am capable of leading them. It would have come to this eventually.’ The backs of his fingers stroked her chin before he turned back to the Jarl. ‘I will fight any man you choose.’
A cheer went up through the Danes while her own men looked on in silence, but their eyes were gleaming with anticipation. The prospect of any sport seemed to be too much of a temptation to resist. It did not matter that her own heart seemed to have swallowed itself whole. Perhaps Rurik was right and the warriors needed to see this demonstration of brawn to begin to respect him.
‘Valgautr!’ Jarl Eirik’s voice carried to every warrior.
The one who had nearly decapitated Rurik, the near giant, turned to face the Jarl and her stomach plummeted. He could not mean for Rurik to battle that beast. Even as Valgautr raised his sword high above his head to gain a roar of support from the Danes, she did not want to bring herself to believe that this was happening. With one blow of his fist, she feared that he would shatter Rurik’s skull and she said as much in private after she had made her way to the Jarl.
He actually laughed, throwing back his head in a way she had never seen him behave before. She tightened her fingers around her dagger’s hilt, itching to drive it into him. Not to kill him, but simply to stop him laughing. It wasn’t worth it. She had learned her lesson about vengeance, but it did not stop the fantasy from playing through her mind.
‘Why do you laugh?’ she asked, her gaze on Rurik who had moved farther away from the house to a more open space.
‘Because you are likely correct in your assessment.’ He stood with his arms crossed and his legs wide as he watched on with obvious pride. Catching her rage-filled gaze on him from the corner of his eyes, he softened his stance. ‘I won’t allow it to progress that far. Valgautr needs a bit of sport or he becomes ill-tempered.’ When that still did not placate her, he sighed and dropped his arms, turning towards her. ‘If you truly wish for Rurik to stay as your husband, then he must overcome some obstacles to prove himself before your men as well as mine, or no one will accept him and you’ll have a revolt on your hands.’
She took in a frustrated breath and watched as Cedric, who had disappeared briefly, returned from the house, sword in hand. The exhale stopped in her throat when she recognised it as Wilfrid’s battle sword. It had been hiding in the armoury these last few years. Rurik sheathed his dagger, murmuring something to Cedric as he took the sword in hand and gave it a few practice swings.
‘What do you mean if I wish him to stay? He is my husband. It is done.’
He gave her a dubious glance and looked back over to where the men were about to face off. The giant swung his sword around and around in a big arc over his head, gaining the approval of the Danes. ‘He does not have to keep being your husband if you do not wish it. There are ways to do away with it if he has forced you or coerced you in some way.’
His voice lowered and had become almost gentle, as if he were attempting to determine if those things were true. Touched by his concern, she hurried to reassure him. ‘He has not forced me.’
‘What of Wilfrid or Cedric? I know they can be...’ he paused as if seeking the right description ‘...bullheaded in their hatred of Danes.’
Shocked by this concern from him, she said, ‘They distrust and resent your high-handedness. Can you say that you were not here to force me to wed one of your own men?’
‘You must wed, Lady Annis. There is no question of the need for that. Glannoventa’s future must be secured. I do not wish to see you suffer needlessly for that, however. The man I selected would have treated you well, not only because he is a kind and honourable man, but because he would have had to answer to me. We know nothing of this Norseman.’
She had never quite thought of that particular benefit to marrying one of the Jarl’s men. ‘I did not know that you cared,’ she said, keeping her voice light.
‘I have known you as a child and now as a woman. I would see you content.’ When he looked down at her, his eyes betrayed his concern.
‘Rurik is like no man I have met. He is both fierce and kind. I feel that I could be very content with him as my husband.’ Content did not begin to describe the happiness that welled inside her this morning when she had awakened next to him. Given time, she knew that seed of bliss could grow roots that would wind themselves deep into her heart. She did not believe that she was mistaken in thinking Rurik felt the same.
The Jarl grunted and turned back to the men who had begun to circle one another. The giant was the first to move, his sword swinging down in a death blow that whistled through the cold morning air. Every muscle in her body tensed and her heart paused, only resuming when Rurik deftly shifted out of the way, his own sword coming up to block the attack with a loud clang.
Valgautr heaved a grunt, pushing Rurik back with his greater weight. Rurik feinted one way, but spun the other, bringing his sword down in a move that should have been a devastating blow across the giant’s shoulders. Except he twisted almost as fast as Rurik, so he was able to block in the last moment. She wanted to cover her face to keep from watching the spectacle, but she knew it would be folly to show such weakness. Instead, she watched with her hands clenched into fists at her side, barely breathing.
As if aware of her distress, Jarl Eirik put a hand on her back. ‘Calm yourself. Valgautr will not disobey my wishes. Loyalty is his greatest strength.’
In a man so accomplished, it was saying a lot. Annis nodded, but barely drew another breath as she watched the battle unfold over the next few moments. The only sounds were those of the swords knocking together, and the heavy breathing and occasional grunts from the two men fighting. Even the Danes had settled in, watching with fascinated interest rather than cheering their own to victory. The men seemed well matched, despite the fact that the giant greatly outweighed Rurik. What the larger man gained in brawn, Rurik gained in grace and speed. They feinted and swung their swords, crossing the courtyard and moving down the hill, requiring the observing warriors to part, like the prow of a ship cutting through the sea.
Finally, they both heaved for breath, sweat trickling down their brows despite the cold. They had progressed to the stone road cut into the hillside that would lead to Glannoventa and warriors had moved to fill in the space overlooking both sides. Annis could imagine that if no one put a stop to it, their fight could take them into the village and perhaps even into the sea. Neither was willing to give so it seemed they could go on for ever. She stood on the retaining wall above the curve in the road that lead to a steeper decline. If they made it past this point, the battle could turn deadly if one should lose his footing and take a tumble.
‘Enough!’ Jarl Eirik’s voice rang out beside her. The swords clanged together two more times before the men were able to register the command.
The giant was the first to pause, his brows drawing together as he searched for the Jarl’s place on the ridge above them. Rurik never took his eyes from the giant, not trusting that this wasn’t a ploy to catch him off balance. Annis’s chest swelled with pride for how well he had handled himself in the fight. When only days ago she had hoped his skill was not nearly that which he claimed, now she was glad to see that it was far more than she had imagined.
‘You have proven yourself in this, Norseman,’ said Jarl Eirik. The giant hung his head. ‘You have done well, Valgautr. We only wanted to test the man. We shall not kill him yet.’
The giant nodded and raised his hand to Rurik who clasped the man’s shoulder. They congratulated each other as the warriors became animated around them, showering them with praise and taunts in equal measure. She could see in that moment how Rurik had been able to gain the respect of the Glannoventa warriors. The fight had been a necessary step in gaining his place among them.
In the midst of the commotion, Rurik looked up, his eyes finding her on the ridge. His gaze was heavy with meaning as the corner of his mouth tipped up in the hint of a smile. There was a flutter in her stomach as she realised he was seeking her approval. Warmth spread throughout her chest as she watched him make his way over to her, stopping every few steps to accept a congratulations. Finally, he was standing at the base of the retaining wall where she and the Jarl had looked out over the men. In one swift and unexpected move, he vaulted up, his muscles straining as he climbed to where she was and stood beside her.
‘Well done,’ she said, smiling.
His grin widened and he took her hand for all to see. It was a sort of claiming, but it was also a show of solidarity. He was hers as she was his. They were together.