Her Heart's Surrender Page 5

  Ulrika appeared at her side. “Your wee one seeks his sleeping furs but asked for your attendance, my lady.”

  Tonight would be her first night away from Birgir in six years. She swallowed the knot of worry in her throat. Ulrika cared for her son as much as one of her own children. No harm would come to him. She laid her hand on her husband’s arm. “Hella, Birgir wishes me to sing him to sleep.”

  He blinked. “The boy is six winters old.”

  Still and forever my only child. “He wishes to hear the tales of his heroes in song. Is it not important for him to remember the laws and customs of his ancestors?”

  His brows knit over his eyes. “We’re celebrating our wedding.”

  “It will not take long.” If it does, you can beat me as your father did.

  “I will join you. Joyous as the occasion may be, even a king needs a moment to collect his thoughts.” He pushed his chair away from the table then offered his hand.

  She accepted, and they stepped into the shadows of the hall not lit by the torches and fire pits. In the darkness, she found her bravery again. “Do you sneak through the hidden places in your hall often?”

  “I know how to avoid being seen when necessary,” he murmured “Many times during Ingvar’s drunken moods, I escaped through secret routes. One learned to be quiet unless one wished to face the Bloody Raven’s wrath. I remember these passages well enough.”

  She scoffed. “The favored son? What did you have to fear from him?”

  He gave her a sharp look made worse by the shadows. “Ingvar was his own favorite.”

  She couldn’t deny his statement. Ingvar cared for one person—himself. Unable to trust herself not to make a scathing remark about his father, she remained silent.

  The noise of the feast faded as he pulled her through an open door into the quieter night. Insects sang and leaves shook on the trees overhead.

  His features appeared more honed under the moon. His eyes were deeper, lips, nose, and jaw cut from stone. Hella appeared to be a god in the flesh. A tingle started in Ealasaid’s chest. This stunning man hadn’t taken her to her child but coaxed her outside for another reason.

  “Birgir—”

  “Will learn patience.” He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. “Earlier you told him to fret over nothing. I’m asking the same of you now.” His fingers dipped and paused over the pulse in her throat. “Your heart beats like the wings of a frightened dove. Calm yourself, Ealasaid. There’s nothing to fear with me.”

  She longed to believe him. “I’m not a frightened bird, or sweet lamb, or even a kitten. There’s no need to pacify me with tender words.”

  “Good, because it doesn’t suit me to say them.” He hauled her against his hard chest and kissed her.

  Her skin burned as his rough beard abraded her chin. His lips were hot and searching. Ealasaid pressed her hands to his chest to push him away. His grip seemed unbreakable. The part of her hungry for love didn’t want him to let go.

  His wide palm cupped her right breast. Beneath the soft linen material, her nipple hardened and strained. His fingertip circled the bud. Her toes curled and her stomach tightened in anticipation of his hands upon her bare flesh. Fear abandoned her.

  She kissed him in return and framed his jaw with her hands. Pulling him closer because he filled her with need. He tasted of the spices in the mead and the salt of roasted meat. Beneath the lingering smoke soaked into his clothes, she recognized the tang of juniper berries used to scent his bath water. Her mouth watered as she imagined kissing his battle-scarred chest.

  How could everything change by proclamation of marriage?

  Without the ridiculous tradition of Hella’s men escorting them to their bedchamber, there was no way to prove they’d consummated the marriage. Time to go back and see their duty through.

  Hella pulled away and passed a hand over his hair. “Check on your son, wife, but be prepared to meet me in the bedchamber soon.”

  Chapter Five

  Ulrika waited outside Hella’s chamber. A withering frown divided her shrunken-apple face.

  “Out of the way, old witch. There’s bedding to be done.” Erik slurred as he slammed into Hella’s shoulder.

  “A word with you first, sire?” Ulrika inclined her head to Hella.

  “The king wants his wife. There’s no need for talk. What more is there to understand?” Erik took two wobbly steps toward the thrall.

  Hella held up his hand. “Let her have her say.” His gaze drifted over her shoulder to the tapestry of his warring ancestors separating the hall from his bedchamber. After years of waiting, the woman who should have been his long ago was within his reach. A few more moments would change nothing.

  “Thank you, my king. I’m pleased you’ve wed Ealasaid. I’ve known her since you dragged her here from the north. It is my deepest wish that you treat her well. She seems strong, but I worry for her, you see,” Ulrika said. “She is delicate.”

  “Ealasaid Blade Tongue?” He folded his arms. “Have you prepared the wrong bride?”

  The others laughed.

  Ulrika clucked her tongue. “You jest, your grace, but I beg you to consider my words.”

  “Is she ill?” Or pretending in order to delay the unavoidable?

  “Nay, put those thoughts from your mind. She is hale and hearty, despite the old king’s attempts to make her otherwise.”

  “Treason. She speaks ill of the Bloody Raven.” Bjorn put his hand on his sword. “Cease that talk or you’ll be put to death, old woman.”

  Hella shook his head. “Leave her. She speaks the truth. Go on, Ulrika.”

  Erik’s mouth opened, but he snapped it shut again. Bjorn’s hand fell to his side.

  “My lady is fit to be your queen. She’s just and kind, but she needs a gentle hand when it comes to orders. She will not take easily to a tyrant, whether he is master or husband.” Ulrika’s mouth curved up. “I pray you understand, your grace.”

  Bjorn slapped Hella’s back. “We’re Norsemen. We have no need of instructions on how to treat women. They beg for us when we invade because we’re twice the men their husbands are. Now let your king through.”

  Ulrika stepped aside and gestured at the tapestry. “May Freya bless you, my king.”

  Erik snorted. “Ealasaid Blade Tongue needs a firm hand. She’s grown more obstinate since her bastard’s birth and Ingvar dismissed her from his bed. She needs a good fucking from a vikingr cock. She’s probably dry as a fish left on—”

  Hella struck Erik across the jaw. His brother’s air fled in a whoosh as he hit the stone floor.

  The others stared at him as though he’d breathed fire.

  “That is my wife you speak of, not some whore gotten along the road. I am king, and you will respect what is mine. My property, my decisions, and my wife. Do I make myself clear?”

  They murmured in agreement.

  “The purpose of the bathing ritual is to strip away our pasts so we may become man and wife. The old roles of thrall and warrior are replaced by husband and wife, by king and queen. You will resign yourselves to respect Ealasaid as you respect me.” Fury boiled through his veins. It wasn’t a secret Erik didn’t care for the former thrall and still viewed her as such, but Hella would see him exiled before he listened to any more insults about his wife.

  Bjorn reached for Erik’s hand, but Erik jerked away as he stood on his own. He wiped blood from his split lip. “Forgive me, brother.”

  “Let’s have this done.” Hella pushed the tapestry back from the doorway and entered the room. Tradition ordered six men carrying candles to accompany a new groom to his bride’s side to prove the marriage legal. Bjorn, Erik, Erland, and three others crowded the doorway. They sniggered and whispered as Hella crossed the floor.

  Ealasaid looked up at him from the bed. Her face flushed and eyes brightened with anger. The bridal crown tilted haphazardly on her head. Heat from the fire caused the flowers to sag. Her gaze flickered past him to the men. The icy glar
e she gave them would have made the hrímþursar proud. Her Saxon kin must have frost giants in their bloodline. She straightened amid the pile of blankets as though daring them to take another inch of her floor.

  Hella strode across the room and lifted the bridal crown. Their gazes met. This will be over soon. He tossed the crown at Erland’s feet. “You’ve seen us together, now give us some peace.”

  “Good night, my lord.” Erland retrieved the crown then blew out the candle.

  Behind him, one of the men muttered something and the rest broke into laughter before they retreated. They acted as though they were boys instead of seasoned warriors. Erland, the youngest, possessed better manners than the rest. The tapestry fell into place, leaving Hella alone with his wife.

  No doubt she’d heard every word that passed between the men when they approached the doorway. Her contempt for Ingvar hadn’t extended to Erik, but her attitude might change after this night. He debated apologizing for Erik’s words then decided against it. Let his brother do his own groveling.

  She lowered her gaze and pressed her lips tight. Her hair fell over her right shoulder, hugged her neck, and drew his gaze to the deep cut of her gown. The thin white silk allowed her full breasts and dark pink nipples to show through.

  He ached to rip the material off her.

  Instead, he unfastened the belt around his shirt and discarded it. His shirt came next, but a glance at her revealed she seemed to be riveted by the pattern woven into the blanket. Other women might have fallen all over themselves to be in her place.

  “The boy is sleeping?” Pity she forced him to make conversation about a child—not even his own son—to gain her interest.

  She met his gaze and licked her lips. “Soundly. With more confidence than you, I expect.”

  A direct jab at his earlier words about his father’s death. “I know you didn’t kill him.”

  “If someone heard...” Her eyes rounded. She drew in a breath and regained her composure. “I assumed you gave the morning-gift of your own will. I didn’t ask for anything.”

  “It’s fair for you to have something of your own after...” Losing everything else. He didn’t dare say it out loud. “You are a queen now.”

  “Ingvar came to a bad end, but it wasn’t by my hand. Poison was too clean a death for him.” She scowled. “He deserved worse.”

  He couldn’t argue. “He lived a long life for a man with so many enemies. It’s grave conversation. Let’s not speak of his death again this evening.”

  She smoothed her hands over her hair. The motion caused her breasts to rise and her nipples puckered against the spider web thin silk of her gown. “I don’t care if his name ever passes through my lips again.”

  “It does seem a pity to make such a divine mouth speak any ugly name.” His fingers burned to touch the soft shape of her lower lip and trace the bow of her upper one. He untied his breeches and dropped them with the rest of his clothes.

  Ealasaid’s face colored, then she laughed.

  “Do my red stockings offend, wife? Or is there something else you wish to comment on?” He perched his hands on his hips, displaying his glory.

  “You’re stockings are fine, m’lord. They appear quite warm.” Hair obscured her face. “I have nothing else to quibble about.”

  He lowered himself into a sitting position beside her. Their upper arms touched. “I’ll lend them to you whenever you like. What’s mine is yours.”

  “Generous. I’d offer the use of my gowns, but I think you’d find them uncomfortable given your stature.” Laughter lit up her face. “Perhaps you’d like to borrow my hustrulinet? I think a head covering would spare your skin from the last harsh rays of the harvest sun.”

  He relaxed against the wall. “Indeed. I should start a new custom among my men. We’ll let the shieldmaidens protect us in the longhouses and wear ladies’ garb.”

  “And the Britons shall take us and make us slaves.”

  “Not with you as the warrior queen. You’ll conquer the Angles’ lands and unite the warring tribes in a way they couldn’t dream of. Scattered and stupid, all of them.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “They’ll honor you in song till the end of time, wife.”

  She drew her knees up and rested her chin on them. “You’ve gained a useless wife, I hope you know. I tried to suggest a woman who would fill your hall with children, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you’ll have to take a concubine.”

  He’d considered that too, but his heart wasn’t in talking about other women tonight. Weddings were meant to be happy occasions. “Tell me why Ingvar hated you enough to ruin you in such a manner.”

  “Perhaps I could not stir his desires. He could not bear the sight of me in the light but couldn’t take me in the dark on winter nights with no fire to warm his arse. Or perhaps he found me too corpse-like. There are many reasons why a man might remove a woman from his bed, m’lord.” She hugged her knees tighter. “I took no insult because of the dismissal.”

  “Why do I feel as though you’re holding back part of the truth?”

  “Believe what you will.” She stared into the fire. “Your father knew how to remind thralls of their position in life. He did not waste praise on the undeserving.”

  “He never wasted praise on anyone. He became king because he frightened everyone into obeying him.” Hella grasped her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. “Ugly, cold, useless. Which of those things are you?”

  “All of them.” Her voice caught. She shivered and despair made her face crumple.

  “Do you truly believe the things he said?”

  She stared at him but didn’t speak.

  “Do you believe it?” He emphasized each word.

  “No. I’m more than those names he called me.” She met his gaze. “I’m a good mother, and I’ll be a good wife for you, Hella.” She pressed her hand to his face and leaned closer. “There is bad blood between my people and yours, but I’ve come to admire the way your kin live. We’re not very different.”

  The way she said his name in her Saxon accent stirred his blood. “I see a good many differences between us.”

  Ealasaid froze. “Forgive me, m’lord, I thought—”

  “For example, your skin is softer than mine. Your chest fuller. Your waist is a narrow thing I can encircle with one arm.” He dropped his head and kissed her throat. “Much to my pleasure, it seems you are missing a second head.” He trailed his hand down her stomach, across the softness of her gown, and let it settle at the juncture where her legs met.

  The soft smile returned. She traced a raised scar on his chest. “Ah, I see. There are many differences. Once, I wished I had big muscles and the strength to fight my enemies with a sword like the one you carry. I used to pretend I could defeat Ingvar. I wished for the life of a warrior. Conquering lands and discovering new people would have suited me.”

  “Now?” He rubbed his palm over her mound. A tremble of excitement took him. “Do you wish for more than the life of a Norse queen?”

  She shook her head, and her dark hair rippled in the firelight. “I’m pleased with my lot.”

  “I regret I couldn’t prevent you from hearing the things my men said in the hall.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “The mead and wine flow freely. They’ll regret their poor behavior in the morning.”

  She lifted one shoulder in a defeated gesture. “There’s no reason to hold a grudge against them. Erik despises me because of his blood father’s death at the hands of my kin. He will come to accept our marriage or he will not, but I don’t believe he’ll repeat any of those things in front of you.”

  “Thor help him if he does.” Hella’s heart pounded against his ribcage. Brothers or not, he wouldn’t allow Erik’s cruel thoughts to destroy Ealasaid. “I’ll see him flogged for it.”

  “I’m sorry for causing a rift between you.” She pressed her warm palm over his heart. “He’s had far too much mead this evening. In the morning, he’ll wonder why his jaw aches, but I t
hink his headache will be much worse.”

  “His head is of little concern to me. He deserves what he takes away from this night. My only thoughts are of my bride.” He nuzzled her neck. The long strands of hair tickled his cheek and tangled in his beard. “And the things I want to do to you.”

  Her breath quickened and she stiffened. “Do you prefer me on my back or my knees, m’lord?”

  The growl started in his chest and pushed through his throat. Ealasaid wasn’t an innocent maiden who blushed at the thought of being bedded. But he hadn’t expected such a question to come from her sweet mouth. She thought him no better than his father. Anger pulsed through him.

  His noise seemed to startle her. She drew away. Before she could utter another apology, he raised himself to his knees. I am not my father.

  Her body appeared rigid, and she clasped her hands together hard enough her knuckles turned white. “I—”

  “Quiet. Come here, Ealasaid.” He crooked one finger.

  “Yes, m’lord.” She scooted toward him until the breathy white gown brushed his stomach. It pooled around her as she sat on her knees. “How can I please you?”

  “You already do.” He wrapped his hand around the end of her gown and pulled it over her hips. Her thighs were smooth, begging for his touch, but he held off as he tugged the material higher.

  Ealasaid worried her lower lip between her teeth as he undressed her. She sat still until she removed her arms from the sleeves then dropped her hands again. The rapid rise and fall of her chest told him she worried yet.

  “Lie back. Let me have a look at what marriage has granted me.”

  “Yes, m’lord.” She dropped onto the blankets with her legs slightly parted.

  Hella lifted her left foot and smoothed his thumbs over the bottom of her arch and into the ball of her foot.

  A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  “Does it tickle?” he asked.