Chapter 11

The following morning…

From somewhere far off, a rooster called, but Elin wasn't ready to stir. She was far too comfortable beneath the furs. How long had it been since she'd slept so well? Contentedly, she stretched and, turning in the bed, encountered the man beside her.

Rangvald!

He occupied a large portion of the mattress, cast upon his back with one arm thrown above his head. His breathing, deep and rhythmic, indicated he was still asleep. Elin leaned closer, inhaling the warm aroma of his body.

They'd given one another so much pleasure! She'd been eager for more, to submit to whatever he wished of her, but he'd answered in a mumble, closing his eyes, and the next she knew, he'd fallen into slumber.

Shifting to crook her knee over his, Elin pressed her mound to the firm muscle of his thigh. She didn't need to touch herself to know she was wet. His proximity alone was enough to stir the low throb of desire. If he were to wake and move over her, his entry would come as smoothly as swimming with the current.

Wake! Make love to me. Push within my body and bring us both to rapture. Don't you know how I want you?

Of course, love had naught to do with this yearning need. They had not even kissed—upon the mouth, at least! That intimacy had been Bj?rn's alone. Rangvald had not earned the right to claim such a boon, nor had he attempted it.

She tried to imagine how his kiss might feel—the brush of his lips upon hers, soft at first but building in urgency until she melted against him. A deep kiss while he buried his thickened manhood in her sheath, making her gasp and moan. They were wanton thoughts, and she was helpless before them. What sort of woman ached for a stranger's cock without expectation of anything more?

A woman so long without a man's caress that she has lost all discernment?

Gently, Elin rolled away, reaching one foot to the floor, then the other. She'd rekindle the fire and hang some water to heat. Even to her own nose, her womanly musk was obvious, making a wash imperative. She put on her shift in the meantime, padding barefoot about the room.

Rangvald slept on, to her relief. The attraction was strong, and she lacked the will to resist, but before allowing any further intimacy, she wanted to make him aware of the true situation on the island—for him to understand their need for children. She owed him that, and it was better for him to hear from her own lips.

And what do I intend to say?

That, Elin didn't know. She could only hope the right words would come when the time was right.

Breaking off a corner of yesterday's manchet bread, she smoothed goat's cheese upon it and chewed thoughtfully. She was about to help herself to a second when a soft knock came upon the door.

Freya's toenails, who is it?

Elin was accustomed to the women of the island appearing at her door at all hours, and it didn't usually irk her, but this morning, she wished for privacy.

She glanced to where Rangvald lightly snored. Furs covered his loins, but the way he was sprawled in her bed, his dark hair tousled, and with the scent of both their bodies filling the room, she knew how it would look.

As if the two of us have been making free with one another, exactly as I willed it!

The knock came again, slightly louder, obliging Elin to hurry over. Cracking open the door, she peered through to see Frida upon the other side.

"Oh, you're not yet dressed." Frida looked uncertain, as if ready to turn away.

Elin was tempted to let her do so, but she knew Frida wouldn't have come without some purpose.

"Wait a moment." Quickly, Elin took up a shawl before stepping outside.

"I fear I'm disturbing you." Frida bit her lip.

Elin curbed an impatient sigh. Frida was ever thus, and ‘twas necessary to have patience.

"Nay. My time is yours. Has Gunnar's fever returned, or is he pained? I can see him later if you wish it."

"‘Tis not that." Frida cast her eyes downward. "His ankle probably does ache this morn, but his injury is not the reason I've come."

Elin rubbed at her temple. She was in no mood to pander to Frida's vagaries.

"‘Tis the runes!" Frida blurted out, then slapped her hand over her mouth, as if shocked at how loudly the exclamation had emerged. "The runes," she repeated, half-whispering this time, "as we cast yester afternoon."

Elin frowned. A great deal had happened since.

"I was disappointed, but ‘twas foolish of me to press for the answers I wished, rather than accepting the limitation of what you could see. I'm resolved not to dwell upon it."

"I didn't tell you, but I should have!" Frida grabbed Elin's arm, her expression now fervent. "This man, Rangvald, he's more important than I let you know."

Elin's nervous laughter rose unbidden. "What can you mean, Frida? He is just a man, the same as all men." Not that she believed it for a moment. Rangvald was a man, alright, but unlike any she'd met before.

"‘Twas false of me." Frida sniffled, rubbing between her eyes. "I saw a child, Elin."

A thrill of excitement gripped her, but Elin was also confused. Frida had been adamant to the contrary the day before.

"I beg you, forgive me. I was feeling… oh… so many things. I was envious, and Rangvald hardly seemed the right person for you, from all you'd said, but I knew immediately that I'd behaved badly. ‘Tis not for me, or anyone, to judge whatever feelings you have for him or he for you. Even if there is no lasting love between you, it matters not, for a child is a gift from the gods." Frida was babbling, as she often did, but was clearly upset and deeply regretful.

Life wasn't fair, was it—that Frida should foresee a child in Elin's future, and perhaps none for herself—but then, life was unjust in many ways… Elin was not one to hold grudges, and she could almost understand why Frida hadn't wanted to share what she'd seen in the runes.

"Do not distress yourself." Elin managed a small smile. "Good news, of course. Thank you… for coming here now."

Was this good news? Elin supposed it must be. She desired motherhood, and for all her doubts regarding Rangvald, he was strong of mind and body and determined—traits she would wish for a son or daughter. ‘Twas perhaps that she'd begun to realize a child was not the only thing she craved…

"You are the kindest of women! The best of us!" Frida was still trying to hold back tears. "I don't deserve it, but if you find it in your heart still to call me friend, it would mean so much."

"Oh, Frida!" Elin wrapped her in a tight embrace. "Of course, we're still friends."

They clung together for some moments until Elin became aware of her neighbor Ulva standing at her door, looking across at the two of them.

"Come now, I'm sure there's work to be done, and here I am standing in my undershift." Elin rubbed Frida's back. "Return to Gunnar. He's a good man, as you deserve. He deserves you, too, I'm sure."

Frida's face shone. "He is a good man. I think… I love him, and he loves me! Oh, Elin, I only hope you find the same happiness! I never knew such feelings were possible. It's beyond anything…" Her cheeks had reddened. "Hark on me! You do know because of Bj?rn, but perhaps you'll find love again, too, Elin. I want everyone to be as happy as I am right now. Only I know things haven't been easy for you. Please, you will seek me out, won't you, if you need a listening ear? Or if, for any reason, you're worried…"

Elin caught her breath. "That's thoughtful, Frida. I thank you, but you must put out of your mind any idea of me being unhappy or… anxious. There's nothing to worry about, and I shall be fine."

"Of course." Hurriedly, Frida gave Elin a kiss upon the cheek, then departed, half-running back to where Gunnar waited.

Watching her go, Elin pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders. Such a strange thing. ‘Twas unlike Frida to tell a falsehood, even one for which she swiftly apologized.

So, the runes foretold a child would come. Elin's head spun. Rangvald was hers for just four cycles of the moon, and one was already complete. There was no time to waste in making sure the prediction came to pass.

Returning inside, she latched the door and went to the narrow window, hooking back the fur hanging there to let the morning light enter. A golden ray fell upon Rangvald, casting a warm glow over his naked skin.

How beautiful he is.

‘Twas not the first time Elin had dwelt upon the fineness of his features—the elegance of his jaw and brow or his slender nose. A curl of ebony clung damply to his forehead.

Sitting upon the edge of the bed, she grazed her fingertips high over his cheekbone. By the fluttering beneath his lids, she saw he was dreaming and of something perturbing. He muttered something she could not decipher, then again louder.

A woman's name? Ann or Annie?

So, there is someone? A small pang entered her chest. Of course, there would be. A man as handsome as this would always have a woman.

Did it matter? He could not belong to her forever, even if she were to desire it. There were others who wished to mate with these men and beget children. Already, she could tell that Hedda and Frida hoped to keep their lovers by their side. ‘Twould be selfish to insist that Rangvald remain only with her. Besides which, once he was stronger, he'd have his own ideas of what suited him.

Easing herself down, she lay beside him. He'd grown quiet again, although there was an anxious twitching through his brow. She brushed her thumb there.

All is well. I shall care for all your needs, and you shall repay me in more ways than you yet know.

As he stirred, a strange warmth flooded her. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze. He brought his hand to cover hers, not to push it away but to capture it. She was breathless at the sudden intimacy.

"You were dreaming."

She said it, perhaps because she hoped he would confide something of what was in his mind. She knew nothing of his life before these recent days, and he'd shown no inclination to make it otherwise.

"All men dream." He made no move to release her. "Women, too. Tell me, what do you dream of?"

She was taken by surprise. He always spoke in a taunting way, but not this time. Did he really wish to know, to understand her better? And was she ready to tell him?

"When I sleep, I… dream of holding a child in my arms again."

"And you want my help with that." The pressure of his hand increased.

She hesitated but a moment. This was her chance to lay all before him without holding back.

"You may have guessed, or your jarl has told you something… we women are alone. The story of how our men came no longer to be here is complicated, for another day perhaps, but the consequence is simple. There will be no more babes born without the willingness of your men.

"I'm not known for good deeds nor for compassion." His lip curled. In disgust? She wasn't sure.

"But you have softness in your heart," she pleaded, wanting to believe it was true. "And… ‘tis only a matter of what comes naturally, of what you must already desire?"

"You know not of what I desire." An edge entered his voice. "But ‘tis true that I lust for you. If you covet my seed, drink to your fill and take me to your womb. Rub me upon your breasts if you think ‘twill ripen them with milk."

Was he mocking her?

She sensed it was so, but she didn't care. The thought of giving herself to him in all the ways of his invention was intoxicating.

"I submit." Elin wetted her lips, awaiting his verdict.

"Very well." The familiar glint had come to Rangvald's eyes. "You agree to my demands without question or denial?" He slid her hand downward, bringing it to his upper chest, his palm heavy over hers.

She nodded, though the way he was looking at her, with such ferocity, brought with it a worm of fear.

What was she agreeing to?