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  Freya Copyright © 2019 by Celeste Barclay. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Lisa Messegee, The Write Designer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Celeste Barclay

  Visit my website at www.celestebarclay.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: June 2019

  Celeste Barclay

  ISBN-13 978-1-7339004-2-3

  This book is dedicated to the men who are brave enough and strong enough to love fiercely independent women.

  Viking Glory

  Leif, Viking Glory Book One

  Freya, Viking Glory Book Two

  Freya

  Viking Glory Book Two

  Celeste Barclay

  chapter one

  “Does he have nothing better to do than stare?” Freya huffed as she and Tyra left the training field.

  Freya Ivarsdóttir was a renowned and much feared shieldmaiden and the daughter of a jarl. At twenty-four years old, she had already spent half of her life training and raiding with her Norse tribe.

  Tyra looked back over her shoulder and scanned the field of battling Norsemen as they trained. As Freya’s best friend, Tyra was used to Freya’s sometimes brittle disposition, and she knew when her friend was hiding something. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The ongoing skirmishes against their neighbors and the general way of life in the northern Trondelag meant the men and women tasked with defending their tribes trained daily. Tyra watched as they swung axes, swords thrust, and spears hurled. She looked around at the many longhouses that created the perimeter of the homestead. Women stood outside doing laundry, one woman swept dust out her front door, and several people stood around engaged in easy conversation.

  “I don’t see anyone. Well, maybe a ghost from your past, but he’s watched you for years.”

  “What? No. Wait, what do you mean he’s watched me for years?”

  “Ever since the two of you a few summers ago--- Well, you know. Skellig’s had his eye on you, and I think you broke his heart. I believe he’s hoping for more than just a reunion under the furs.”

  “Never.”

  “Then who could you have meant?” Tyra smirked before adding in a sing-song voice, “Erik?”

  “Who else? The man is a burr I can’t seem to pick loose. He’s always staring and trying to be charming. He couldn’t possibly be any less.”

  “That’s not what the other women are saying.”

  Freya felt a surge of heat and then a chill pass through her before she swallowed. She would never admit how much a comment like that bothered her. The son of their neighboring ally had been staying in their homestead, in her parents’ longhouse, for the past two months. She did not want to admit Tyra was right. Every woman gawked at Erik Rangvaldson, and just about every single woman Freya knew offered some invitation to the man. His height set him apart from everyone but a few. Freya knew from his family’s extended stay that his looks favored his mother, but his temperament favored his father. Dark honey blonde hair and piercing blue eyes seemed to follow her everywhere. Despite all the attention he received, Freya rankled at the perverse pleasure he took at taunting and annoying her.

  “They’re welcome to him,” she retorted. Freya tried to look over her shoulder discreetly, but she was not sly enough. Erik was watching the two women walk away, and he had the nerve to wave, then wink.

  Tyra could not keep from laughing even though Freya picked up the pace with a huff. The women continued to walk away from the training field and up the hill towards the jarl’s longhouse. They were quiet for a moment as they trudged up the hill. It was a short walk, but it gave Freya an opportunity to compose herself.

  “Freya,” Tyra said in a tone only a childhood friend could get away with. “You’re not fooling anyone. Not even yourself.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why waste the energy pretending you’re not attracted to him? It’s clear Erik’s interested in you. He’s the son of a jarl and cousin to your sister-in-law. He’s a fitting choice for you.”

  “If I wanted a good tumble and a babe in my belly. But he has no intention of anything more.”

  Freya swung her long platinum blonde braid back over her shoulder as she adjusted her bow on her shoulder. She caught herself before her nervous habit of jerking her vest more snugly closed got the better of her. Her lithe and well-toned figure was muscular, even more so than her shieldmaiden counterparts, but despite that, she never seemed to be able to hide the ample bosom she inherited from her mother. She was self-conscious and hid it with a faked confidence.

  “Is more what you want?”

  “I never said I wanted any.”

  Tyra shook her darker head as they entered Freya’s parents’ longhouse. They moved through the quiet main room that would later that night fill to bursting with the members of their tribe along with those of Erik’s tribe.

  The two women made their way to the kitchens where Freya’s mother was directing the many thralls and free women who worked in the overheated, crowded space. She smiled as Freya placed her bow in a corner and rolled up her sleeves before washing her hands. She detested touching food with any dirt under her nails. Freya rolled out dough and refused to look at Tyra, who snickered again but let the matter rest. The two women spent the rest of the afternoon assisting the others prepare the evening meal before readying themselves to join the others.

  Erik Rangvaldson watched as the most stunning and most frustrating woman he ever met walked towards the jarl’s longhouse. He never seemed to be able to tear his attention away from her, and his eyes wandered to wherever she was. Erik knew everyone around him knew of his attraction to Freya. He was even sure she knew, but nothing he did seemed to gain him any favor. He remembered his first encounter with Freya, when he arrived two months earlier to inform his father of troubles at home. Freya had been standing on the docks, and in his hurry to find his father, he did not see her. But it was not long before he heard her. She questioned his actions from the very beginning and had been a test ever since. The more time he spent with her, the more his feelings grew from interest to desire to unrequited love. The past two months had been the sweetest torment he had known since he first discovered his body’s reaction to a woman.

  “She’ll never have you.”

  Erik ground his teeth. He recognized the voice, and he was tired of hearing it. He looked over at the man who was an admirable warrior but an ever-present naysayer.

  “Skellig, you seem to understand her well. Is that why she seeks your company so often?”

  “I certainly understood what she wanted when we kept each other warm at night.”

  Erik’s hands fisted before he forced them to relax. He would not show this man just how much it bothered him to know that he and Freya were once lovers.

  “But that was years ago, and she has not been back to you since. The cold must not bother her.”

  “You aren’t--”

  “Could you two refrain from discussing my sister’s private affairs where anyone can hear you?” Leif Ivarrson growled as he approached his new friend and the warrior he respected but did not like. He would never discuss it in the open, but he was glad his sister only spent a moon with Skellig. He did not trust the man around his sister. He suspected there was a
violent streak he wanted nowhere near her. He had no interest in having to kill a reliable and fierce warrior, but he would always choose his sister first.

  Erik nodded and was glad for a reason to change the subject. Discussing Freya with any other man caused rage to fester within his gut. He never directed his anger at Freya, but at himself and whichever man made the mistake of bringing her up. He was unaccustomed to jealousy but had recognized it from the start.

  “Our fathers would have us join them before the meal. There may be new developments.” Leif, who resembled Freya and their mother, exchanged a meaningful look with Erik.

  “Then we should make ourselves more presentable.” Erik nodded to the other man as he and Leif walked toward the bathhouse.

  “You shouldn’t let him goad you. He does it because he can, and you shouldn’t make your feelings so obvious.”

  “That’s quite a statement coming from you after you mooned over my cousin. You still do.”

  “And she’s my wife.”

  “She wasn’t when you met her.”

  “Fate brought us together. I just thank the gods they did. I will never deny how much I love my wife or how enamored I was with her from the beginning. But she reciprocated my feelings. I can’t say the same for you.”

  “You speak the truth even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

  The men entered the bathhouse and stripped down before soaking in the tubs filled with steaming hot water. Both sighed as the warmth seeped into their aching muscles.

  “What do you think our fathers have to say?” Erik looked over at Leif after dunking his head.

  “I have no idea, but I can guarantee it’s about either our enemy or his brother, if not both.”

  “That’s a given. Do you think any more information has arrived about how our nemesis is financing the mercenaries that now make up his army or where they come from?”

  “I don’t know, but I hope so. Just as he intends, these skirmishes are wearing down our supplies and our morale. He dances around, showing himself just long enough to cause trouble before retreating. Who does he think he is? The incarnation of Loki? It’s tiresome. But he does it on purpose.”

  “Agreed. I only wish we could discover where his money comes from. You and the others destroyed his homestead and took anyone who survived as a thrall. There was nothing left for him.”

  “I know that is now a large part of what drives him, but the money! I just wish we could figure out how he is paying for what seems like a never-ending stream of mercenaries.”

  The men finished scrubbing themselves and moved onto the cold-water soak. The homesteaders built part of the bathhouse over an inlet of the fjord. They eased in, but the cold was breathtaking and kept them from further conversation.

  Leif and Erik arrived at the longhouse just as Sigrid, Leif’s wife and Erik’s cousin, arrived. Leif pulled her in for a passionate kiss, and Erik looked away. He was accustomed to the newlyweds’ frequent displays of affection, but they only gave rise to his jealousy again. He longed for that opportunity with Freya.

  “Perfect timing, wife.”

  “Indeed. I need to talk to all of you. Now.”

  Leif looked down at his petite wife and read her look. Erik recognized it too.

  “A vision?” Both men asked at the same time.

  “Yes. And a particularly vivid one.”

  “They seem to grow stronger the further along you are.” Leif rubbed his wife’s belly.

  “True. Please can you stop,” she swatted his hand away with a smile. “I need to speak to your father and my uncle. You are a distraction when you do that,” she ended on a whisper, but Erik still heard her. He could not help but smile. He was happy for his cousin. She had not had an easy start to life.

  Erik spied Freya standing just inside the main room watching Leif and Sigrid. He witnessed her look of longing before their eyes met and the expression snapped away.

  Erik seized the opportunity and walked to her.

  Freya thought about running. She was withdrawn and quiet while she worked in the kitchen. She heard the conversations floating around her and answered when she had to, but she felt more introspective than usual. Her mind kept jumping back to Erik and the way he made her feel. Memories of them fighting together, back to back, swirled through her mind as other, less scary memories jockeyed for their turn. She thought about the time spent bantering and even arguing. Erik kept her mind sharp. He challenged her in ways no one else did. She thought about the way he often defended her ideas or encouraged her to share her thoughts when the tribal councils met. She found all of her drawn to him—her head, her heart, and her body. The longer she spent getting to know him, the more the traitorous trifecta insisted she was already in love with him.

  “Hello, princess.”

  Freya’s lip curled.

  “Hello, son of a pig farmer.”

  “Why must you persist in insulting my father? What has he done to you?” Erik smirked.

  Freya shot him a glare as she walked past, but he caught her arm and steered her to a quiet corner.

  “Release me before you lose that hand.” Freya tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vice even though his hand felt gentle. She could not understand how such a contradiction existed, but part of her did not want him to let go any more than she wanted to admit that. This tug of war between her emotions had been going on the entire time she knew the man. From the day she met him, she felt irresistibly drawn to him, but she fought it with every breath.

  “Hush your waspish tongue for just long enough to let me ask you something.”

  “What?”

  Freya breathed in the fresh scent of Erik’s hair and skin. Tiny droplets from his damp hair dripped onto his collar. She had an overwhelming curiosity to know what his hair would feel like if she were to run her fingers through it. His touch, his smell, his looks, and even the sound of his voice wreaked havoc on her senses. The only one missing was taste. She almost licked her lips. She chided herself and breathed in as she shut her eyes for a long blink. When she opened them, he was staring at her in a way she did not understand. A way that made a low ache begin in her belly while causing irritation to flare in her mind.

  “I’d like to know what Skellig is to you?”

  Freya jerked back.

  “That is none of your business.”

  “It is when I sense he wants more than mere friendship and harbors more than respect for you as a warrior.”

  “It absolutely is not your business. Not what he feels nor what I do.”

  “So, you welcome his attention?”

  “I welcome no one’s.”

  “That much you make obvious, but that doesn’t mean it’s what you feel. Do you welcome his attentions, Freya?”

  Freya’s blue-green hazel eyes looked into his ice blue ones, and she saw a determination there that she might admire if it was directed elsewhere.

  “Erik, it’s none of your business.”

  “That refrain is getting boring. I’m worried.” There. He admitted it, and it made Freya pause.

  She unfolded arms she had not realized she crossed.

  “Why would it worry you when it’s not your concern?”

  “You’re my friend, and I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  Freya opened her mouth to retort that he looked at her just as much, but she was not ready for that conversation, and she was aware that he was the second person that day to tell her Skellig stared at her.

  “We’re friends?”

  “I believe so. I would hope so,” Erik swallowed as he tried to hide what he thought was a beseeching tone. Freya’s lack of surprise made him believe only his ears heard it. “I don’t trust him around you.”

  “He is rarely around me anymore.” Freya watched under her lashes as Erik’s entire body went rigid for a moment. A reminder of her past with another man made his chest tightened.

  “Freya, I’m serious. He doesn’t look at you with admiration or even longing. It’s
something else. I would call it possessiveness. I can’t stop you from choosing whomever you want to warm your bed, but I can say I believe he would be a hard man to live with if you took him as your husband. I suspect he would beat you within a moon of your wedding. You may be the jarl’s daughter, but he will claim you as his property. No woman deserves that, least of all you. It would kill your spirit if you didn’t kill him first.”

  Freya tried to take in all Erik said. He recognized what she had always sensed and the reason she called off their liaison. She also heard him state how he believed a man should treat a woman, a wife. She also knew he was right that if she ever ended up with a man like Skellig, there was little her position as a jarl’s daughter would do to save her. And she would kill any man who attempted to beat her.

  Freya took a moment to consider her reaction. Something she rarely did with Erik, but the deep concern she saw in his eyes made her pick her words with more care.

  “I do consider you a friend,” Freya felt her body sway towards Erik’s at that admission, so she pulled back further into the corner. “I already know this about Skellig. I saw hints in the brief time we were together. I can’t undo the past, and there is no point in regretting the mistake I made in sharing his bed, but I recognized him for who he is. I will never renew my relationship with him.”

  Erik nodded. He wanted to ask who she would consider a relationship with, but as tempted as he was, he did not want to hear the answer. He might be a glutton for punishment with his attraction to her, but he was no masochist.

  “I learned a good number of things from that brief interlude. The biggest lesson was a jarl’s daughter has no business entering a relationship with anyone other than the man she will marry. I keep my dalliances to just that. He is the only man I ever returned to over and over.” Freya shook her head before looking up at Erik, but she could not look him in the eye, so instead she focused over his shoulder. “He was the first man to ever pay attention. My father and Leif scared away all the other men. He persisted, and at first, I admired that about him. He said the right things and acted as though he cared. He soothed my fears and made me feel special. But within that moon I suspected he coveted becoming the jarl’s son-in-law more than he did me. As the new moon began, I tried to break things off, but he was stubborn. By the end of our time together, I had only been with him twice that second moon. The novelty wore off.”