Freya Page 2

  “Freya,” Erik breathed, “every man should make you feel worthy. You are special. In every way.”

  He reached out the back of his fingers to her face, and when she did not flinch, he stroked along her cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I understand why your father and brother were, are, so protective of you. You are a rarity to be protected and cherished. I wouldn’t want to ever see you with a man who doesn’t realize that.”

  A lump formed in the back of Freya’s throat, and she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. She wanted to flee. She wanted to hide her reaction to his nearness, to his tenderness. But her desire for that nearness and tenderness won. She tilted her head towards his hand, and his palm cupped her cheek.

  They stood together as Erik’s thumb grazed back and forth over her cheekbone. Freya looked down to see one of her hands found its way to his chest. Her palm rested over the steady beat of his heart, and the heat he generated warmed her arm all the way to the elbow. In that moment, she was ready to relent. She was ready to admit how much she wanted him, and how much she feared he would reject her once he had her.

  “If you were mine, I would never use you.”

  Freya felt a tear form at the corner of her eye, and Erik brushed it away before it could fall.

  “There you two are,” boomed Ivar.

  chapter two

  Erik and Freya jumped apart like two scalded cats. Freya stepped past Erik with only the briefest of glances.

  “What was that about,” her father asked as she joined him. “Do I need to speak to him? He isn’t trying to pressure you, is he?”

  “Not at all. Something concerned him while we were training, but he didn’t want to bring it up in front of anyone. He didn’t want to embarrass me. He may irritate me to no end, but he is a friend, and I trust him on the battlefield.”

  Freya moved to stand near Tyra and her cousin Bjorn or rather between them as they glared at one another. It was the excuse she needed to end a conversation with her father she was not sure she could steer.

  “Tell your friend she is being unreasonable returning to full training. Does she wish to send herself to Valhalla? Where is the glory in that?” Bjorn huffed.

  Tyra had been badly injured shortly after Freya met Erik. Their tribes fought together against their common enemy, Jarl Hakin Hakinsson and his brother Grímr, and during one of the fiercest battles, both Tyra and Bjorn were nearly killed. Tyra took an ax to her chest when she stepped in front of Bjorn to protect him. They were separated from the others and forced to work as a team. Bjorn’s arm was broken but it healed quickly compared to Tyra’s. Tyra nearly died from loss of blood and then infection.

  “I know I’m not healed, and I’m not back to full training. You sound worse than an old woman. You whittle and whine. It’s annoying.”

  “And I didn’t slog my way through dead bodies with an injured arm and then tend you for a fortnight just to watch you expire because you can’t sit still.” Bjorn’s voice rose with each word, and he punctuated his declaration with a snarl.

  “No one asked you to do all that.”

  “You ungrateful wench.”

  Tyra leaned around Freya and laughed at Bjorn.

  “A wench gets bedded which is more than I can say for the dry spell I hear you are having.”

  Freya wanted to laugh so hard she snorted. Instead she stepped forward to keep Bjorn from strangling her best friend.

  “My fate is tied to yours since you kept me from being killed, and I kept you alive after someone injured you. I don’t want to meet the gods any earlier than they intended just because of your foolhardiness.”

  “And how many times must I tell you it does not tie your fate to mine? Yours has nothing to do with mine. I have released you of any burden or debt you believe exists.”

  Freya caught Sigrid’s stare as she too tried not to laugh. Sigrid walked over and did nothing to contain her laughter.

  “You two are worse than brother and sister,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

  “We are not,” they both replied, and now Freya joined Sigrid’s laughter.

  “You are. You’re worse than Leif and I ever were.”

  “Sigrid, tell this man our futures are no more linked than a bear and a boar.”

  “Of course, something links your futures.” Bjorn gloated at Sigrid’s pronouncement, but it faltered when she continued. “We are all linked as a tribe, and you are both linked with Leif, Freya, and Strian because your lives joined when you were children. Stop sounding like children.”

  Sigrid moved away from the trio as Freya watched Tyra and Bjorn turn their backs to one another. They had always had an antagonistic relationship even as children. Bjorn resented how long Tyra could outmaneuver him when they trained, and Tyra disliked his arrogance.

  There was no more time to talk as everyone moved to their seats for the evening meal. The head table had two more added to accommodate Jarl Ivar’s family along with Jarl Rangvald’s. Ivar sat in the center with his wife Lena to his left and Freya to the left of her. Further down, Lorna, Erik’s mother and Rangvald’s wife, sat with the younger four children. To Ivar’s right sat Leif then Sigrid followed by Bjorn. The table wrapped around so Erik and Rangvald sat between their family and Ivar’s. There was just enough space for thralls to move about as they served the food and replenished drinks. It was an unusual configuration, but it allowed for conversation.

  “Sigrid, Leif mentioned you’d had a vision this afternoon. What have you seen?” Ivar hushed his normally loud voice as he attempted to keep the conversation among the two jarls’ families.

  “It’s not so much what I saw during the vision but what I heard. The men spoke with the same burr as Aunt Lorna. The mercenaries are Scots.” Sigrid looked apologetically to her aunt, who Rangvald married when he brought her back to the Trondelag. After his warband raided her home and killed her parents, she had little reason to stay.

  “Don’t be embarrassed of what you saw, Sigrid. A Highlander can be just as much a bastard as any Norseman. Just remember, we aren’t Scots. We’re Highlanders.” The burr always softened her words even when she smirked at her own husband.

  “I am not a bastard, just an arse.” Her husband responded around a mouthful of food and a smile. He winked at his wife. “Though she is right. The Scots, or rather Highlanders, make war just as easily as we do. They fight amongst themselves more than they fight us. It’s what makes them so easy to raid. Neighbors won’t help neighbors.”

  “We should crush his chances for more warriors.” Freya spoke up. She looked around the table, waiting for one of the men to censure her. Instead she saw looks of agreement, and Erik was nodding his head.

  “Freya is right. We can’t hope to end this until Hakin and Grímr no longer have the resources to keep the fight going. We either convince those working for him to stop, or we force the brothers who plague us to give up.” It was Freya’s turn to nod her head as Erik spoke, but she stopped short when she realized she was agreeing with him. The conversation before the meal still unsettled her, or rather her body’s reaction to Erik’s contact frazzled her nerves.

  “That is why I will go scout.” Freya’s pronouncement received the looks of censure she expected.

  “Absolutely not,” Erik pronounced.

  “That’s impossible,” Ivar spoke over anyone else.

  “Hear me out. Leif won’t sail without Sigrid, and she’s already carrying their first child. Bjorn won’t sail without Tyra because he believes she’s on death’s doorstep and the gods tie their fates. Tyra still isn’t recovered enough for the voyage or the fight. And I’m sorry, Strian, but your leg isn’t healed enough either. That leaves me.”

  “It does not. It leaves me. I understand the Highlanders better than you do. After all, I grew up with one,” Erik argued.

  “And I know the way south better than you. You haven’t raided in months. I returned from one just two moons ago.”

  Erik and F
reya no longer noticed anyone else at the table as they tried to stare each other down. Neither would relent. Ivar and Rangvald looked at one another and shrugged while Lena and Lorna grinned.

  “You may as well let them,” Lorna laughed. “Saves time for all of us.”

  There was no one at the table, except perhaps Erik and Freya, who did not understand Lorna’s true meaning.

  “You are not going, Freya. This is a mission for only a handful of men. I’m not even taking a full crew.”

  “I will give you that. It calls for only a handful. Too bad your ego is too large to fit in that group.” Freya turned to look at her father. “I will leave the day after tomorrow. It will give me time to ready the supplies, choose my warriors,” she shot a glare at Erik for assuming only men could make the trip, “and prepare my smaller boat and horses. I sail in two days at sunrise with the tide.”

  “Your ship won’t be able to accommodate those thralls we may take.”

  “Of course, it will,” Freya cut in. “That’s its design. We use it when we sail inland because it’s shallower and less noticeable despite being longer. It also has a specially reinforced hull at the stern where the floorboards come up to create storage for prisoners. There is a cage of sorts and extra locks to secure it.”

  Once again, they glared at one another.

  Rangvald nodded at Ivar who announced his decision.

  “You both go. In Freya’s boat with just the number of warriors you need to manage. Warriors from both tribes. You leave with tomorrow evening’s tide. Your purpose is to scout. Only engage if you must.”

  “I must speak to my warriors now. Excuse me.”

  Freya stood from the table. She scanned the crowded main room and made her way to five men she knew she could trust to not only fight but to follow her commands without question. They would do more than their fair share of work since they would travel with a diminished crew.

  “Sven, Knutr, Gauti, Frode prepare to sail tomorrow. Gauti and Frode tell your wives they sail too. We scout the Scottish coast.” Freya turned around, but Skellig stood so close their chests bumped together.

  “I’m here. You need not look for me.” Skellig’s sour breath wafted across Freya’s face. He had already imbibed more than his share of mead.

  “I wasn’t.” Freya tried to step around him, but he grasped her arm. Unlike Erik’s touch earlier, this one had no gentleness. With a flick of her wrist, she had a blade in her hand against Skellig’s ribs. “Let go.”

  “You know I’m a better warrior than either of the women. You wouldn’t need them with me there.”

  “I don’t want you.” Freya’s words, though quiet, made everyone around them go silent. Everyone knew this standoff was about more than just this voyage.

  Despite the knife against his ribs, Skellig’s grip tightened. From over Freya’s shoulder came a voice she had never been gladder to hear.

  “Let her go now, or you die here. You don’t manhandle a jarl’s daughter. You have no claim to her.” Erik’s words held weight with their quiet menace.

  Skellig released her with a grin.

  “We shall resolve this on your return.”

  Erik stepped forward and pulled Freya back against him. His stance staked his claim before everyone.

  “It is resolved.” Erik’s hushed words carried now that the entire room watched the exchange.

  Freya listened as the conversation about her no longer included her. She seethed as both men spoke about her as though she was a spoil of war to claim. The matter was far from resolved.

  “You are not coming, and I don’t want you. We will not speak of this again.” She said to Skellig before shooting daggers from her eyes at Erik as she stepped away from them both.

  “Tell your wives to be ready,” she shot over her shoulder as she left the main room and made her way to her chamber.

  chapter three

  Erik remained in his spot as the standoff continued without Freya caught between them.

  “She made her point clear. Leave her alone.”

  “So now you’ve found your bollocks and are claiming her. She didn’t stick around or agree. I bet your balls are as blue as your eyes.”

  “But she also didn’t declare before two tribes that she didn’t want me.”

  Skellig lunged forward, but it was Erik’s turn to press a blade against him. Except this time Erik pointed the blade just below Skellig’s chin where it met his throat.

  “I wouldn’t,” was all Erik said.

  “Maybe not here.” Skellig smirked before storming out.

  Erik refused to look anywhere but straight ahead as he made his way around the tables back to his seat. He wanted to chase after Freya, but he knew he had to wait or there would be even more talk than there already was. The only thing he was unsure of was whether waiting would cool Freya’s ire or give it more time to grow.

  “Thank you, even if my daughter won’t say it. The man is becoming unreasonable. He will not make that mistake again. You are right. You can count it as resolved.” Ivar waved to one of his henchmen, who followed Skellig, then he nodded to Erik. “Go to her now. If you wait, you may go to sleep tonight and not awake.”

  “She would kill me in my sleep?”

  “She can be merciful.”

  The table laughed as Erik left.

  Erik exited the longhouse but doubled back around to enter through a rear door. He created a gossip firestorm by intervening as he did, but the moment Skellig touched Freya, he lost any sense of reason other than to get to her side. He was ready to tear Skellig apart right there before everyone. He wanted to roar and beat his chest as he pulled Freya against him. Erik wanted everyone, especially her, to know she was his, and he would always protect what was his. But his rational side knew she was not his, and with that show, she might never be. He would try not to make things worse, so he tried to make it look as though he went outside for some air. Erik did not need a few hundred sets of curious eyes following him as he made his way to Freya’s chamber.

  Erik did not pause before knocking on her door. He did not have to wait long before it was flung open.

  “About time.” Freya stood in the doorway with an arm resting against the door and a hand on the door frame. It was clear she had no intention of inviting him in.

  “Were you waiting for me?”

  “To apologize? Yes.”

  “Why should I apologize when you should thank me?”

  “For what?”

  “Is your memory that short? Don’t you remember why you stormed out?”

  “I didn’t storm out, but you are right; you did made me leave.”

  “I never said I did.” Erik grinned as their banter gave him hope. She had not slammed the door in his face.

  “If you aren’t here to apologize, then good night.” Now Freya tried to slam the door shut, but Erik was quick to lean his weight against the door to keep it from closing. He did not push hard enough to move her but enough to slip through. This placed them flush against one another. Freya took a step back, but Erik followed.

  “Freya, he had his hand on you.”

  “I’m aware.” She glanced down before she caught herself, and Erik’s eyes followed. There was a bruise forming.

  He lifted her arm as though it were fragile enough to snap in his hands.

  Erik ground his teeth as he tried to calm the sudden spike of heat coursing through him.

  “I will not kill him for this, but it is his one chance for error. I will kill him the next time he does anything to threaten or harm you.”

  “You have no claim. Even if you humiliated me by making everyone else think so. I don’t need your help. I can protect myself.”

  “You wouldn’t act the same way if someone did this to Tyra?”

  “Of course, I would, but that’s because she’s my best friend. We have always defended one another.” Freya pursed her lips. “And don’t think it’s because we are women that I would defend her or that we must defend one another. She
is like my sister.”

  “And didn’t we agree earlier that we are friends.”

  “It’s different and you know it.”

  “Maybe I don’t.”

  “Then you’re obtuse.”

  “Explain it then. How is it different for me to defend you?”

  “Because I am not your woman. I am no one’s woman but my own. You made me look incapable of taking care of myself. On the eve before a voyage where I must captain a ship of warriors who must believe in me. Who must follow me. If I can’t handle myself when some arse grabs my arm, how am I supposed to convince others to have faith I can protect them?”

  “Or perhaps now people will see we are allies, and we do not fight alone.”

  “Your cousin married my brother. They can’t keep their hands off each other. Believe me, everyone knows we’re allied.”

  Erik looked down at the fiery woman and changed tacks. This was not getting him anywhere. Perhaps a little honesty would calm her. He prayed he was right.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t have intervened. I do know you can defend yourself. But the sight of him touching you, trying to intimidate you, had me charging across the room before I could stop myself.”

  Freya sucked in a breath through her nose. Erik admitted more than she ever thought he would, even if he did not say it all aloud. The fight drained from her, and she wanted to accept what she knew he would offer. However, she also did not want to wake alone after he would inevitably slip out in the middle of the night. She did not want to let herself long for something she knew he would not offer. A tumble a time or two was not what her heart could handle. But she could manage graciousness.