The Viking's Captive(13)

After a moment of nurturing it, he nodded at the fire taking hold. “Put it on.”

She did as she’d been instructed.

“Now gather the rest, it all needs burning.”

She wondered when he was last at his home, but didn’t want to waste the breath asking him.

Tiredness was really taking a hold of her. She went about the task with languid movements. Everything was becoming an effort. But soon the beds were clear of old straw and fresh new bedding had been laid on them, along with blankets, which were musty smelling, but appeared clean enough.

Duna found herself looking longingly at the bed. But she dared not sleep. For what would Halvor do to her while she lay in slumber? Chances were she’d wake up with him over her, forcing himself on her. She’d heard such stories about Vikings. They were sex-obsessed beasts.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, shucking off his leather tunic and tossing it onto one of the chairs. “I’ll set traps so we can have rabbit meat morrow, and I’ll find us sustenance for this eve.”

She folded her arms and turned from him.

“And you will eat it,” he said, stepping up close to her. “Because that is my wish.”

“Wish all you want.”

“Not carrying out my wishes will have consequences.” He took a lock of her hair between his fingers. “You might not like those consequences.”

She was sure she wouldn’t.

“And another of my wishes is for you to bathe and wash your hair. It’s the way of Viking women, to keep themselves clean and lice free.”

She wanted to scream at him that she wasn’t a Viking woman, and she had no desire to be. But she didn’t. Instead she turned and glared up at him, hoping he’d see the hate in her eyes, that she thought him the lowest of the low and worthy of nothing more than burning in hell for all of time.

He kind of huffed, then, pushing his fingers through his own hair, causing the messy blond strands to sit back from his face, he reached for a pail. “Like I said, don’t go anywhere. The hills of my homeland have eyes, I will know where you are, and I will hunt you down.”

She didn’t doubt it for a second. And as he strode away, his thickset shoulders swinging beneath his tunic, and his neat, taut ass moving beneath his breeches, she knew she’d never stand a chance in a physical battle with him.

But perhaps she could outwit him. He was just a thick-skinned, small-brained Viking after all.

The longhouse went quiet with Halvor gone. The mice seemed to have taken to hiding, and the sound of the birds didn’t penetrate the thick walls and roof.

Maybe there were no birds in this land of slaves and ill-gotten gains.

She lay on the bed, the warmth of the fire reaching her cheeks. Her joints and muscles ached, she was so tired. The days and nights on the boat, shivering, had caused her back to tense over and over and now it was as if needles were jabbing into her skin. Add in her hunger and the hammering in her head, and she wasn’t able to hold in a groan as she closed her eyes.

Images of the sea and the snake’s head filled her thoughts. The other captives, nestling around her. Esca on the ground. The sound of her father’s voice, pleading and fearful, and surrounded by the clash of iron on iron… iron on flesh.

She whimpered and squeezed her eyes tighter, praying for a deep and dreamless sleep to take her. It would serve her well not to wake up at all. For surely a life here with Halvor was a fate worse than death.

Fortunately sleep did steal her away. It was as dreamless as Duna’s sleep ever was, for she was never without thoughts, emotions, and pictures filling her slumbered mind.

It hurt to move, and she stirred each time she changed position, but soon she drifted off again, enjoying Halvor being out of the house for so long.

When she woke, judging by the light slipping in around the ajar door, day’s eve was encroaching.

Staying completely still, she blinked several times. Her eyes were a little dry from the straw, and she had a tickle in her nose.

It was then she heard it, sloshing water.

His presence in the house came rushing to her. He was more than a physical space, he was energy, like the ocean he loved to sail on, or the horse he rode.

Very carefully, she turned to her left, toward the fire.

Halvor was in the iron bathtub, sitting upright and pouring water from the pail over his head. His eyes were closed, his hair hung in long thick ropes over his ears and down his neck.

The flames created a golden hue on his thick arms and over his broad back. Beneath his flesh, his muscles flexed and danced. Even though his movements were slow and considered, power still emanated from them.

She licked her dry lips, unable to stop staring at him. She’d never set eyes on a man with a body like his. The men in the village… Esca… were pale, their muscles sinewy, like reeds, and their skin didn’t seem to struggle to stretch over their strength the way Halvor’s did.

Suddenly he turned to her, swiping water from his face as he did so. “You’re awake. Good. I am hungry.”





Chapter Six


Halvor had walked away from the longhouse, wondering if he’d made a grave mistake in leaving his new slave woman alone. But he couldn’t keep her in his sights forever. That wasn’t possible.

There were tasks to be performed on the land and in the homestead, which they’d carry out independently. He couldn’t expect a woman to plow the field, that would be his job, but he could expect her to prepare him a meal, tend to the vegetables, and care for the hens. That was something she’d have to do while he was undertaking man’s work.