Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The ninth day of the men's sojourn on the island

The pale beams filtering through the window dimmed as the hours passed. At last, silver turned to a golden hue. Eldberg slept fitfully, waking several times with a start, surprised to find himself no longer on the floor but lying upon soft furs. The comfort went further than that, of course, for Hedda lay beside him—soft and warm. Her rhythmic breathing told him she had not yet stirred.

Of what was she dreaming? He couldn't begin to guess. So much about her was a mystery, though he often felt he understood her unspoken thoughts.

He studied the small movements of her closed lids and how the changing light fell upon her cheek. His mind was made up that he would take her when he and his men were able to sail from this place. He was determined upon it, even if it meant using force—though he'd rather she came of her own will. If she was to belong to him, it was preferable for her to be willing.

And if she is not?

His pride told him that was impossible—for what man was more powerful than he? And she was a woman who needed a man, for all she might spit and hiss to the contrary.

Another corner of his mind whispered that perhaps she saw beyond his outward strength, to the scarred creature he truly was—marked not just by visible burns but those that existed beneath skin healed red and rough. He'd learned to wear those scars with as much pride as the elaborate markings upon his body for he'd endured deeper pain than most men ever knew.

He would never again let down his guard. Even a seemingly steadfast sworn-man could be tempted to betray his jarl, as Eldberg had found to his cost. Misplaced trust had cost him the one woman who'd truly loved him, and there would be no other to replace her.

Hedda turned, curling toward him and with a sigh, came awake. He waited for her to push away, to show displeasure at his proximity. Instead, she reached for him. Her palm lay where the symbols of Fenrir and Thor met fire-scorched flesh.

"Our men never bothered much with these." She tracedover the curving contours of the wolf's head with its bared fangs, then to the more angular depiction of Mj?llnir , the hammer of the thunder god.

Eldberg was surprised at that for what man of Norse blood would wish to be without them? The symbols were more than adornments. They warded off evil, helping a man face down his fears.

"Where are they, these men of yours, who cared not for the protection of the gods upon their skin?"

Gunnar had told him there were no men here at present, but Eldberg had been led to believe they were merely journeying. It had not escaped his notice that Hedda spoke of them as in the past.

She kept her eyes fixed upon the place where her hand rested.

"I told you, they're dead."

Eldberg knew a lie when he heard it. He moved his hand over Hedda's, capturing it there.

"You told me only that your own husband had passed to Valhalla."

She made a scoffing sound. "More likely, he drifts in Hel, for he deserved not the honor of Valhalla." With some effort, she tugged back her hand, bunching it into a fist beneath her chin. "Some ailment took the rest."

"All?" he asked again.

She pressed her lips closed but shrugged at last.

"A small portion survived, then took their leave, sailing who knows where. Whether they be alive or no, they're dead to us two summers past."

So that was the way of it. ‘Twould ease his plans with no menfolk to suddenly appear. His instinct told him Hedda had not yet given him a full rendering of the truth, but he'd gain that in time.

"How have you managed?" Two years was a long time for these women to have been alone.

"You think us so weak?" Hedda answered scornfully.

"Nay. Only that you must have faced difficulties." Gods forbid the wench admit to such a thing!

"‘Twas easier once our women accepted the men were gone for good. All hands are kept busy, and we share in the bounty of the island. We run things better than the men ever did. ‘Tis fairer, and none shirks their labor."

Eldberg respected that, but another morsel of information had made him prick his ears.

"An island, you say? What name has this place?"

"H?y, on account of the hills." She rolled onto her back, diverting her gaze to the rafters. "There's one, in particular, that rises far into the sky, but it isn't visible from this side of the island."

Eldberg wracked his memory. "I've never heard of it."

"The winters are not harsh, and food is plentiful. Our men went trading rarely," she said curtly.

Hedda hadn't ordered him from the bed, but talk of these absent menfolk clearly riled her. He'd need to step carefully if he wished to satisfy his curiosity. He tried a note of playfulness.

"And, on this island paradise of yours, what's your job, Mistress Hedda—besides keeping everyone with their nose to their duties."

She glanced sideways. "I hunt, with traps mostly, but with bow and arrow for bigger game. Wild pigs roam the interior and goats, too. Then there's preparing of the meat, curing it to make it last. We have livestock penned, of course, but it's good to supplement our fare."

"And now you have six more mouths to feed." He brought his hand lightly to her shoulder. "You should let us help. There must be repairs needed to your roofs or pens for more animals."

"You think we intend to let you stay?" Her tone was sharp.

"You prefer we leave?" Eldberg followed her expression carefully.

"If I had my way, you'd be gone already." The way she met his eyes, he saw that she had no such wish.

"Don't you enjoy having me in your bed?" He let his fingers travel downward, brushing the soft skin of her arm. "If I'm not to your liking, perhaps some other wench will make use of me." He knew it would goad her, but he sensed it was the best way to keep Hedda talking. "Perhaps you want only to keep me until you've had sufficient of my seed to ripen your belly."

"There's nothing I need from you." Her eyes flashed annoyance. "Certainly not a child!"

"Do not all women desire children?" He trailed his touch from the crook of her elbow to the soft contours of her stomach, resting his palm over her abdomen. When Bretta had told him she was carrying his child, it had brought him more joy than he'd ever thought to know.

Abruptly, she pushed his hand away. "Not all."

"A woman with the right man always wishes for children… sons to grow strong in his image and daughters to bring comfort."

"Not I, though there are plenty who feel as you say." There was something deflated in her reply. "The arrival of your boat caused quite a stir."

"And how are they to beget these children with no men to warm them?" As soon as Eldberg voiced the thought aloud, the obvious truth struck home.

A moment ago, he'd teased her with the idea of passing him to someone who'd better appreciate his efforts. Realizing the full extent of what she was alluding to, a sudden rage took him.

"You want nothing from us but to plunder our seed? 'Tis against all nature!"

"I assure you, I argued for another outcome." Hedda sat bolt upright. "But since men are free enough with their favors, why shouldn't we take advantage? Your cocks rise even without encouragement. I doubt a single one of you has been protesting."

"And how many women intend to use us so?" Eldberg sat up as well to meet her eye to eye.

"As many as wish it." Hedda did not shrink from his stare. "Wouldn't that please you to mount all the women of this place like a bull in the field?"

"And when the bulls have done their work? What then?" Eldberg fought to keep his voice level. "A quick swipe with your dagger, and your female-ruled island continues, as if we never were?"

Her silence spoke for her.

Eldberg let forth a string of curses such as would make any man tremble, but Hedda did not flinch. With a stony face, she merely folded her arms.

An unexpected impulse took hold for laughter. The notion was an abomination but a brazen one, to be sure. Women keeping men for sex, then dispatching them when no longer useful! ‘Twas a joke that would make the mischievous Loki proud.Not that Eldberg believed the women would take their plan to its full conclusion.

The most ridiculous part of it was Hedda herself—claiming to want no child nor anything to do with him, yet riding him to more peaks of pleasure this night past than he could count.

"I was among the few who wished to kill you immediately." She suddenly looked sheepish. "The others are too soft for their own good or too desirous of revisiting a man's horn."

"And ‘twas my luck to end up with the hellion among you!" Eldberg stroked his beard. "Though now you've sampled the full strength of my staff, I don't believe you'll banish me from your bed.The whole village might line up at the door, and I'd warrant you'd see them off with that dagger of yours, making sure to keep me for yourself."

"Conceited lout!" Hedda punched his arm. "Cease this teasing, or I shall tie you again."

"You may tie me all you like, as long as it's on top of the bed and not upon the floor. If I'm to be clasped between your sweet thighs all day and night, I'd prefer not to have my arse rubbed raw."

"You're impossible!" Hedda raised her fist once more, but he was too quick for her. Grasping her wrist, he flipped her over, so she faced the pillows, then throwing back the furs, Eldberg gave her behind a swift smack. This he followed by biting the luscious cheek.

Hedda grimaced, looking back over her shoulder. "Stop that, or I'll?—"

"You'll what?" Eldberg lay a kiss upon the reddening mark. "Shout for help to bind me again? Mayhap those who come to your aid will like what they behold and request their favor with me ahead of time." He gave a bawdy thrust with his hips.

"Loathsome!" Hedda muttered. Nevertheless, she lay still as he covered her bottom with more kisses. "And don't be thinking you can lure me into more seduction with that sort of play. I need a rest from your rough ways. If you want to win my mood, tell me something of yourself. You know far too much about me already."

Hedda peered up at him. "Something of your childhood. ‘Twas filled with mischief, no doubt. Did your mother despair? Having birthed one such as you, I might guess she crossed her legs forevermore thereafter."

Eldberg sat back upon his heels. It had been many years since any had dared mention his origins, let alone jibed so blatantly. Of course, the wench knew nothing of his past. He would tell her, and she could judge for herself whether there was amusement in it.

"Since I've no memory of any mother, I can hardly say. There was a time of roaming the forest, hungry for anything I could find. Before that, I remember not who had my care. As for afterward, there was nothing maternal in the hands that raised me. ‘Twas berserkers who taught me all I know."

Her eyes grew wide. "Berserkers?"

"Aye. A band of mercenaries who lived wild, traveling from place to place, fighting, stealing. Beornwold, the former jarl of Skálavík had them in his employ for a while. The gods were looking down the day Beornwold paid to keep me for himself."

"He treated you better?" Hedda rested her cheek upon her arm, clearly interested.

"Well enough. I swore allegiance and ne'er gave him cause to doubt me. In reward, having no sons of his own, he named me his successor in ruling over Skálavík and bestowed the hand of his daughter."

A crease appeared between Hedda's brows. "This woman waits for you?"

"Nay. She's long dead, taken by the flames that near claimed my own life." The memory remained grievous. Eldberg hadn't planned to reveal so much, but it was hard to relate one thing without it leading to another.

Hedda looked pained. "‘Twas a harsh-woven thread to bring such a cruel accident."

"No accident." Eldberg clenched his jaw. "The villain responsible paid with his life, though his end was not by my hand. Had it been so, his suffering would have been greater."

"You cared for her very much?" Hedda's voice was quiet.

Eldberg gave a simple nod and reached for the furs, pulling them to cover Hedda and himself.

"‘Tis not to be taken for granted." Hedda continued. "My husband, Einar, never did. I tried to coax such feelings, but he only found fault. Even my hunting he called unwomanly."

Eldberg frowned. He could understand Hedda driving a man to distraction, for she did nothing by halves. However, he sensed that same intensity would bring a fierce loyalty to those she cared for.

"Did you not think to remarry?" she asked.

Eldberg shook his head. "There was someone, briefly—a thrall—but her heart did not belong to me. Perhaps there is only one true mate for each of us, a person we trust entirely. I've had mine, and do not expect to find such again."

Hedda sighed wistfully. "You have your sworn-men at least. There's a closeness among you, is there not?"

"Aye. They're like brothers, but there's a different sort of companionship with someone you…" He'd been about to say love, but that word alone did not convey all he'd felt for his wife. She'd known him as no other had ever done and despite that knowledge—of the bad, which surely outweighed the good—she'd cherished him unconditionally.

"I don't think I've ever felt so." Hedda seemed thoughtful. "With any of the women here, I mean. Not even with my sister."

"And why is that?"

Hedda gave a small shrug. "We're different. I don't understand them—least of all Frida. I have wished it otherwise, but the divide between us only grows."

"Such things cannot be forced," he conceded. "But to return to my men, you're right in thinking they matter to me. I should like to speak with them. For as long as we're here among you, it's best we find a way to get along. There need be no fear on either side, and a man cannot lie on his back all day. We might assist you in other practical ways."

She turned on her side. "I shall brew upon it. Perhaps ‘twould work, but don't think to cross me, my cocksure jarl, or I shall aim my arrows at your backside."

"I well believe it." Eldberg nestled close again. Letting his hand stray round to the small of her back, he pulled her into the warmth of his body.

How her husband had neglected Hedda, he couldn't imagine. Only a fool would fail to appreciate such an exciting and fearless woman. Clearly, the cur hadn't deserved her for it sounded as if his neglect had been of long-standing.

For Eldberg, the notion was inconceivable. A wife, once taken, was another part of oneself to be respected and treasured—guarded at all costs. There was no disagreement that could not be resolved. One did not simply give up. Of course, a man needed to choose wisely and the woman as well—or to have faith, at least, that their guardians had arranged a betrothal worth fighting for.

His chest filled with the old ache. Perhaps, long ago, he and Hedda would have made such a union. As for now, he'd been gifted with one great love and had no expectation for more.

Hedda would understand that, for the hurt she'd experienced would have tarnished her in the same way. They were well-matched physically, and he liked her fighting spirit.

It was enough.