Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

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

Time bled around him, marked only by the following of day after night. The long hours were agony to Rangvald. Each breath he drew in sparked sharp pain in his chest, the hurt receding with each exhale, only to be aggravated again as he pulled in fresh air.

How long can I go on this way?

There seemed to be no end to the torment. The wench had told him the truth of it, at last—how their ship had wrecked and they'd been cast up on this backwater island. A mere six of them had survived, the rest forsaken by the mighty god of the sea, Nj?rer, who'd allowed the goddess Rán to harvest them in her net. What a fate to be consigned to her bed!

He was alive, at least, though his right arm was entirely disabled. The injury raised the unbearable prospect that he might not fully recover, that his sword arm would forever be weak and painful.

That cannot happen. He swallowed back the rising fear. I cannot allow it. His ability to wield a weapon was essential. What else was there?

His gaze slid to the open door and the beam of sun crossing the room. He was no closer to making it out into the fresh air. By the gods, he couldn't even hoist himself to his feet without calling out in pain.

The woman, Elin, breezed around him, offering him water, then propping up his pillows.

She'd been mostly quiet since he'd choked her around his staff, though he failed to understand her surly performance. Surely, she'd wanted him? He'd stirred to find her warm lips wrapped around his shaft. Yet she'd hissed like a cat when he'd forced her to finish the job correctly.

A woman offering her throat should cede to her master. It was only right.

Women!

He winced, tugging in another breath. He liked women for gratification, but living with one was a trial, however appealing she was to look at.

"How is your pain?" She paused in her work.

"The same." He'd thought to conceal the discomfort, to appear braver than the infernal ache permitted, but why shouldn't she hear the truth? Despite encountering many battles, Rangvald had never suffered injury like this.

"You wish for more of the sleep-tonic?" Elin moved to fetch some.

"Nay! And sit still, won't you? ‘Tis enough to drive a man out of his mind, having to watch you ever bustling from one task to the next." He sounded peevish, no doubt, but the confines of the hut were becoming unbearable. If there was one thing that might take the edge off his torment, it was another glorious climax. However, it didn't look likely that Elin would oblige any time soon.

"A poor mood you're in today." She tutted. "Mayhap you'll be less churlish when you hear my news. Your jarl has been granted permission to see you. In fact, he should be on his way now."

"Eldberg?" His heart raced.

Finally, I can speak with him and be free of this place.

Eldberg would have a plan. Rangvald was sure of it.

A rap at the door brought their attention to the man himself, who stood looming there, accompanied by a woman he didn't recognize.

"Rangvald!" Eldberg strode in, brushing past Elin. "How are you, my friend?"

"In pain." He grimaced. "But it's good to see you, my Jarl."

"You make good progress?" Eldberg glanced at Elin, who lingered by the wall, having ushered the other woman away. "I was told you slept for some days after we landed."

"I'm awake, although it seems I'm condemned to struggle for each breath."

Eldberg cast a reproachful look at Elin, as though the mild-mannered wench was somehow to blame. It was a sentiment Rangvald sometimes found himself sharing, however unfair.

"I'm doing all I can," she answered quietly. "Such injuries take time to heal."

"We must offer thanks to our hosts, Rangvald." Eldberg's tone was suddenly chiding. "They've taken us in and cared for us when we had no other hope."

Rangvald frowned. The Eldberg he knew cared little for courtesy and etiquette. Had his head hit the rocks when their ship was wrecked?

"I do my best to show gratitude, but the wench moves about the place like a heifer. ‘Tis impossible to rest." Rangvald scowled at Elin. If that didn't drive her outside, leaving him and Eldberg alone to talk, nothing would.

"And you're the bull penned in with her!" Eldberg laughed at his own joke. "Time to break loose from your tether, eh, Rangvald!"

Elin muttered several curses unfit for a woman's lips and turned on her heel, striding out. Rangvald felt only briefly rueful. His criticism was unjust but necessary. He could hardly speak openly with his jarl while Elin was present.

"You're wise to have dismissed her." Eldberg smirked. "But do not alienate the wench. She might yet prove useful."

The memory of how Elin's mouth had already ‘proven useful' remained strong, though Rangvald wasn't yet recovered sufficiently to enjoy her to the full.

"What of your wench? You've been assigned one?"

"Hedda is a handful." Eldberg's lips twitched. "But I'm growing fond of her."

"Fond?"

What was Eldberg saying? That he liked the woman?

Rangvald could believe that Eldberg had wasted little time in giving the wench a swiving, but did this Hedda mean more to him?

Eldberg's eyes pierced him. "More importantly, she is fond of me." He paused, as though the declaration was of import. With a swift glance over his shoulder, he leaned closer. "I've begun plans to repair our ship and depart. Naturally, ‘tis best the women know nothing as yet."

Ah. A show of strength and duplicity!

That sounded much more like the Eldberg Rangvald knew and admired.

"You intend to escape without their knowledge?" The plan sounded better by the moment. He could not wait to be healed and leave this tiresome place.

"By and by." Eldberg rubbed at his beard. "We shall need some of them to help us with the oars. If we grow close to those who've tended to us, I suggest we bring them along for the ride." He threw Rangvald a wink.

"You mean to claim yours as a bed thrall in Skálavík?"

Rangvald had ever detested the idea of degrading a woman to such a lowly position, even though other men did so without qualm. Eldberg was never short of a bed mate, but as far as Rangvald was aware, there had been no one special since his wife's tragic death.

"I may even wed her." Eldberg wiggled his brows.

Rangvald shook his head. He'd never thought to see Eldberg marry again. Rangvald had no such desire himself, though he preferred the notion of wedded union above slavery.

"You have indeed grown fond of this Hedda."

"In my way. Perhaps you will acquire a taste for yours, Rangvald?" Eldberg's tone was teasing. "She seems enticing enough."

"Perhaps." He doubted it.

The woman was far too strong-minded for his liking, and while she'd proven able with her lips, he usually favored his lovers bound and powerless when they took him in their mouth. This Elin was too independent.

"Consider it, my old friend." Eldberg patted his left shoulder. "You will need her help in the coming days and may yet desire to take her with you. We are too few to navigate the ship out of the island's rocky bay. We'll need help from some of these wenches, and if we win their trust, ‘twill go easier."

"I see." Rangvald wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was headed. "Are you commanding me to couple with her?"

"Nay!" Eldberg dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "‘Tis not my place to tell a man where to pump his shaft. Rather, I suggest you seduce her with soft words. Make her believe you are on her side, then when the time comes, it will be up to you whether you bring her back to Skálavík. For now, use her to your advantage."

Use her to your advantage.

Eldberg's advice echoed in his ears.

Yes, Rangvald could do that.

He'd need to soften his approach, making her believe he was genuine. ‘Twould not be without good cause. To return to the place he called home was the true quest—Rangvald would do whatever it took to get there.

"I shall do so." Rangvald found himself smiling at the vow, despite the gnawing pain in his ribs. "She's an adequate nurse, but I dare say, with a little training, she could be more."

He didn't mention to his jarl how he'd already enjoyed the heat of her mouth. Elin might seem keen to forget the encounter, but Rangvald found himself oft returning to the remembrance. Clearly, she liked the taste of his cock; ‘twas only his technique of which she was less appreciative.

Shame.

Not that it mattered. Rangvald would work on her, complain a little less, and throw the occasional praise her way. In his experience, women tended to be mollified by such flattery.

Not all women.

His breath hitched at the memory of his mother, sending a pang through his side.

Some aren't fortunate enough to receive even the illusion of adulation. Some have no rights at all…

Eldberg's soft chuckle broke upon that wistful thought.

"There! I knew you would see my logic. Keep her on your side, and when you're healthy, you can relish the fruits of your labor."

Rangvald feigned a grin as his jarl rose. There was room to work with Eldberg's proposal, though only the gods knew how long it would take for his body to be restored. In the meantime, Rangvald could try wooing the wench, showering some attention upon her.

He'd wager having her on her knees again soon enough.