Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

A footstool indeed!

After a few moments, Elin requested that she be allowed to get up. To his credit, Rangvald granted her wish immediately, and gave no reproach. Nevertheless, she felt irritated.

She usually enjoyed how they played together, of him directing her in what he wished. All those weeks, it had contented her to nurse him, for it was her nature to look after the needs of others and see them thrive under her care. But now, it gave her satisfaction to please him in more intimate ways.

Her efforts always resulted in her receiving as much gratification as she gave, and she'd grown to enjoy calling him ‘master'—at least, when they were alone together. She wouldn't have expected it, but this submission to his command made her blood race.

Most of all, she liked it when he ordered her in how to recline or bend over, telling her exactly how far to open her legs or how she should touch herself, preparing her body for his penetration. Even in the act of congress, he expected her obedience—directing her in when to clench her muscles, making her lie still while he teased and provoked, or bidding her thrust to meet his strokes.

There were other things, too, which she'd never attempted with Bj?rn but which Rangvald was coaxing her toward—acts she'd always thought of as ‘forbidden'—but when he whispered seductively in her ear, describing what he wished to do, the very fact of those acts being taboo made her yearn for him to impose them on her.

She wanted him to demand she place herself in that delicious predicament of obedience.

Bj?rn had certainly never touched between the cheeks of her bottom. Rangvald, however, wished not only to touch but to kiss her there, to wet her with his tongue, then push his finger inside. He'd told her, with practice, he'd be able to penetrate her with his cock—all of it, right to the hilt! He'd promised that she'd come harder than ever that way, filled inside while he tantalized her bud with his thumb. He'd impressed that she'd need to relax and trust him for that particular pleasure to be possible.

She squirmed, knowing she wanted him to impose on her in that way.

"You see how simple that was?" Rangvald looked entirely pleased with himself. "Next time, I want you to remove all your clothing and rub yourself close to your peak, then kneel as you did just now, with your sex wet for me, begging for release. Perhaps I'll make you wait, or I might use my toe to push you over the edge. Would you like that, little Elin?"

Despite how much she'd disliked the idea, the way he described his plans flooded Elin with desire. She wouldn't mind adopting that position if she was naked, her imagination running wild on what his next move might be…

Even so, I can't bring myself to let him rest his feet on me again. I won't!

"Simple for you, but I can't say the same. It wasn't at all comfortable." Elin was determined to voice her indignation, and she didn't intend to call him ‘master' while she did so.

"Unfortunate." Rangvald's smile faded. "Would a cushion beneath your knees help… until you become accustomed?"

Elin bristled. The cushion was a good idea, but it didn't alter his objectification of her. Nor did she like his assumption that she'd endure anything purely because it was his whim.

"Come to me, sweetling." He beckoned to her. "Kneel here, facing away from me, and I'll work upon your shoulders. Would you like that?"

She was tempted. Rangvald had only twice kneaded her muscles that way, but his hands were deft, even with his right arm lacking strength.

Nay! She straightened . Do not give in so easily. He means to win you over so that you'll concede, but this footstool notion is a step too far.

"I think not." Her answer was abnormally curt.

He narrowed his eyes, but his tone remained even. "Is it the floor you dislike today? Perhaps you'll be happier on the bed. Your master knows best. Help me up, and… while we're about it, ‘tis better for you to remove your gown. Lie naked for me, Elin… all the better for me to caress where you are tight and knotted."

He was being more than reasonable, choosing to ignore that she'd omitted to call him meistari and offering to massage her in a way that would feel wonderful, as well as, no doubt, leading to other pleasurable pastimes.

But he hadn't apologized for making her his footstool. Far from it. He'd merely suggested the cushion until she should become ‘accustomed.' Regardless of her complaint, he thought she should persevere.

Suddenly, his reference to himself as master niggled her. Could he not see that she was riled?

"Not now." Her reply was snappish. "In fact, I have a recollection that I promised to call upon… someone. You shall be alright alone. There are fruits and cheese if you grow peckish."

Rangvald scowled, and a touch of iron entered his voice. "You run away, little Elin, when our games are not yet finished. As your master, I bid you to stay."

"And I say I shall not!" Snatching up her shawl, Elin threw it about her shoulders. "You do not bid me in all things—only those I wish, and I'm tired of this ‘game.'"

"I command you in all that matters." His voice rang out, harsh and unyielding.

Elin paused. Had he dared to shout at her? In her own home?

Where Rangvald's expression had been indulgent, his eyes softly affectionate, they were now blazing.

"By Sleipnir's thundering hooves, you shall not leave!"

That does it! She wouldn't stay to be dictated to.

Rangvald was struggling to rise from the stool unaided. He bent to retrieve his crutch and fell to his knees, cursing all the while. When he looked up, she saw not just anger in his features but pain and reproach.

Still, Elin flung open the door.

She would not be bullied.

The last thing she wanted was for Rangvald to follow her, so Elin ran toward the dunes. Once she scrambled onto the beach, she'd be out of sight, at least from the doorway of her hut.

However, no sooner had she descended the steeply sloping bank of sand than she found herself face to face with Hedda and the copper-maned giant under her charge. From the way Hedda's hair was fluffed about her head and the man, Eldberg, was securing his braies , it was obvious what they'd been up to. Had Elin arrived a few moments earlier, who knew what she'd have found!

"I beg your pardon." Elin made a swift about-turn.

"No need to scurry away on my account," Eldberg called after her. "Elin, is it not? How's that rascal Rangvald treating you? Not tiring you out, I hope?"

Elin looked back in time to see Eldberg's lascivious grin.

"Pay no heed to this lout." Hedda gave him a punch. "His mind is ever in the mud."

With a guffaw, the giant encompassed her waist with one brawny arm and lifted her in the air until she was high enough to receive his bristly kiss upon her neck.

"Stop that, brute!" Hedda kicked her legs, but the way she laughed told Elin she'd no true objection.

Embarrassed, Elin averted her gaze.

The pair were carrying on like freshly-weds, drunk on honey mead. Really, she didn't know what to make of Hedda these days. She was quite unlike herself.

A more contented version, for sure.

‘Twas hard to believe how short a time past, Hedda had been vying to slit the throats of all six of the men, including this one, who she was now obviously besotted with.

"I'll leave you be." Hot-faced, Elin was about to set off in the opposite direction, but an elbow to Eldberg's ribs brought Hedda's release, and she called out.

"Don't be hasty." Hedda brushed herself down. "I need some sensible talk after enduring this cur's company."

"Ha! I could do with some good manly conversation myself. Too much lovemaking addles the brain, as well I know." He wiggled his brows at Hedda and made to grab her again, but she was too quick this time, darting away with a girlish squeal.

Elin gave an inward sigh. As wonderful as it was to see Hedda happy, she'd no stomach for witnessing this sort of amorous play. She needed time for her own thoughts and to ponder what to do about Rangvald.

She'd begun thinking he cared for her. Why else would he share those details from his past about his mother and his sad boyhood? It could only be because he wished her to grow closer to him. She was the one holding back from him, in many ways, although the kiss they'd shared made her want to tell him everything.

Still sparring with Hedda, Eldberg hoisted her over his shoulder. Hedda seemed to have given in, or at least, she was no longer struggling as she had been.

Elin resigned herself. The best way was to pretend she wasn't the awkward third. By the look of things, Eldberg would soon be carrying Hedda off to the bed furs, and Elin would be left alone.

"So, how goes it?" Eldberg asked again, adjusting Hedda's weight. He placed one possessive hand securely over her rump.

Elin pushed down a sudden stab of envy. As annoying as it was to watch these two carrying on like young lovers, Elin wondered how it would feel to have Rangvald subdue her like that. He'd much healing to do before such a thing would be possible, but eventually, he'd be strong enough. Once he could pick her up and toss her over his shoulder, she'd be even more at his mercy.

‘Twas an exciting thought…

However, she was still offended at his treatment of her.

"Rangvald's well enough, though he could do with remembering I've more to occupy me than pandering to his whims." Elin folded her arms.

"A lover's quarrel, eh? You won't mind me dropping in on him? I might knock some sense into that stubborn head of his." Eldberg gave her a wink.

Elin could hardly imagine that. However weakened Rangvald might be, she was certain he wouldn't let Eldberg push him around, regardless of him being his jarl. Nor did Eldberg look the sort to offer anything resembling sage advice on relations between the sexes.

Although what did she know?

Hedda certainly seemed satisfied with her lot.

"As you like. It matters not to me." She shrugged.

"Excellent!" Eldberg appeared surprisingly eager. Having given Hedda a firm slap on the behind, he let her slither down, leaving her swaying slightly while he wasted no time in setting off up the dunes.

Pink in the face, Hedda patted her hair, looking wistfully after him.

"Well… I needn't ask how the two of you are getting along." Elin began. "Never did I think to see it, Hedda! Are you so utterly smitten? And after all your talk of these men being a danger to us!"

Hedda wrinkled her nose. "I was a little headstrong on that count, though with fair reason. I've quite changed my mind. Eldberg can be a gruff old beast, yet he's surprising in all sorts of ways."

"I can well guess." Elin sniffed. "But there's more to a partnership between man and woman than bedsport!"

"Hark at you!" Hedda smirked. "Is this Rangvald lacking a firm enough staff, or are you too coy to tuck into the feast?"

Elin glared. She wasn't about to share details of what she and Rangvald indulged in behind closed doors.

"Suit yourself." Hedda smiled smugly. "I'm only offering a listening ear. If you've any complaints, I'm happy to listen. Meanwhile, I suggest you try to be less serious. These men are a blessing, and more fool you if you don't take advantage."

"Is that all you can think of?" Elin couldn't hide her peevishness. "Swiving until you're giddy? What happens when your time is finished? Will you pass him along with good wishes?"

It was Hedda's turn to scowl. "That shan't be happening. Eldberg is mine. No other would be able to put up with him nor keep him in his place. Besides which, he's devoted to me."

"And what of your heart, Hedda? Are you likewise devoted?"

Hedda raised her chin. "Leave me to govern my heart. I've discovered there is some small space in it for this man, and perhaps that shall grow. If the time comes for these men to depart the island, I may even go with him. He is jarl, as you know, and I should have a comfortable life at his side."

"Pfft!" Elin could barely hide her disapproval. This was far more the Hedda she was familiar with—always wishing to hold superiority over others. It would suit her to go to this wealthy place of Skálavík, to wear fine clothes and jewels and be waited upon.

Still, something told Elin that Hedda did not speak entirely the truth.

She'd seen how Hedda looked at Eldberg. If she were to find a way to return to this man's home, it would not be purely for riches. Elin could tell Hedda's emotions were engaged beyond shallow gain.

"I recall I have traps to check." Hedda shook her head. "I'll leave you to your misery, for I see that is all you have. Beware, Elin, or you'll be so bound up in bewailing what you lack that you'll forego seeing what's worth claiming under your nose."

Hedda stalked off, and despite the snub, a pang of guilt stabbed Elin's chest.

I oughtn't bait her. She has always been proud. ‘Tis no wonder she's reluctant to admit how her heart may be engaged, for Hedda will always see that as a vulnerability.

As for Hedda venturing upon the sea to make such a journey, if she was considering it, that spoke far more loudly than words, for Elin knew of Hedda's fear of the open water.

Many years had passed since the drowning of Hedda's older sister, but Elin doubted not that Hedda still thought of it. She would swim in the inland pools but had an aversion to the sea itself. Branka's death had changed Hedda's life irrevocably, in ways more far-reaching than her dislike of the ocean, for her marriage to Einar would never have occurred were it not for the loss of his original intended.

She is more to be pitied than scorned. Let her find her contentment where she can, and I should do the same. Life is too short for petty quarrels.

Elin looked back toward the settlement. She would never leave the island herself, but if Hedda's happiness lay across the sea, she did not begrudge her that path. Each was responsible for their own heart, and while Elin was wary, she also did not wish to live with regret.

How long would Rangvald be hers?

Hedda was right. She ought to treasure him, for these days were numbered. Regardless of whether he remained under her roof beyond their allotted time or wished to be mated with another of their islanders, Elin could not ignore facts.

The way Hedda spoke assured Elin of one thing. As she'd suspected, this Eldberg must have hopes of repairing their ship and some plan for returning to his home. If Hedda was willing to travel with him, who knew how many others might feel the same.

Not just their women, but Rangvald, of course. He would certainly go, whether his jarl commanded it or not, for what was there for him here?

A single kiss—however tender—and some begrudgingly shared memories from his past did not mean Rangvald loved her.

Like the men who'd walked the island before him, he would leave when he had the chance, and perhaps it was for the best. No matter what the runes had foretold, there was no proof that their futures would remain entwined.