The Viking's Captive(49)

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Duna drew her legs together and watched him leave. Why was he walking so strangely?

Her cunny felt damp, satisfied, and a little stretched. She could still feel his fingers inside her, his tongue on her… there.

She pressed her fingers over her lips. What a thing to do. To have a man kiss her between the legs, make her flail and cry out, allow him to render her mindless with pleasure. A state her friend had spoken of only doing when alone.

‘You will again soon, morrow, with my cock inside you. And then again the day after and the day after that.’

His words came back to her. So that’s what was in store for her. That was what being married would be like. Was that true for all women? Or was it only Viking men who had such mastery of the female form?

She rose from the bed, feeling a little shaky, but was unable to wipe a smile from her face. Her thighs slicked together, and she tipped some hot water into the bathtub, then sank in again.

It was hard to believe the turn of events. She and Halvor had been working alongside each other for weeks, enjoying the summer sun and preparing for harsher weather. She’d found she missed him when he spent long hours in the field, or took the sheep up onto the hill to graze.

And now…

She stared into the flames. By becoming his wife she’d truly accepted her fate to live here, with him, forever. It shifted her mind-set. No longer a captive, but a woman who’d picked this life. Not that she’d thought of escape for a long time.

I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

That thought sent a traitorous sensation over her skin and she scrubbed herself with the soap. Her poor father was likely still frantic about her, wondering what her fate had become. Yet here she was, happy… yes, happy, and about to become a bride.

Quickly she rinsed, then stood, allowing the water to run from her body. After stepping out, she dried and found clean undergarments and a dress that wasn’t ripped.

She filled a bowl with food, then instead of sitting at the table, she went to her own bed and slipped beneath the blanket. Misty joined her and curled up at her side.

Halvor was outside for a long stretch of time. When he came indoors, Duna was snuggled under her blanket with her eyes closed. She was vaguely aware of him moving about, getting a meal then emptying out the bathwater, but she didn’t stir. There’d been something in his tone when he’d told her to sleep in his own bed that made her think she should lay low.

Soon he, too, went quiet and still. Duna then allowed herself to drift off to sleep. Her last night as an unwed maiden.

But her dreams were fitful. Esca was there, his features twisted with hurt, confusion… anger. He was ghostly, and she was trying to reach for him but couldn’t. Somewhere in her sleeping mind she wondered if he hated her for marrying a Viking. If he was trying to communicate from the other side of the grave, and tell her not to do it.

Then he was at the lake, here, by Halvor’s longhouse. Dressed in leather breeches and a woolen tunic he held a sword, one she’d never seen before. His reddish hair was longer than usual and he was staring at her. His eyes wide, his mouth parted as if not believing what he was seeing—her, happy, in love, and with her husband.

“Duna, Duna, wake up.”

“Mmm.” She twisted on the bed and Misty meowed a complaint then jumped down.

“Duna, it’s morning.”

She opened her eyes. The night had gone so fast.

“Here.” Halvor held out a cask. “Milk and honey, to give you strength for the day ahead.”

She smiled and reached out to touch his jawline. He’d shaved and his skin was soft. “Thank you.”

He stood and turned. “Do not be long. I wish for us to leave as soon as the morning chores are completed.”

“Yes, Master.” She sipped the warm drink and it slipped over her tongue and throat. Today was a big day for her, possibly the biggest in her life.

If only it hadn’t started with Esca’s face in her dream. She’d known deep down she’d never wanted to marry him. Now that she had Halvor in her life, a man she did want to marry, she knew how it was supposed to feel. But Esca had been a kind man and a dear friend all of her life.

It made her heart ache to think he was in heaven and hadn’t been given the chance to find happiness. His passing made her sad.





Chapter Eighteen


Halvor rode swiftly to Asmund and Nadir’s farm. He hadn’t taken the wagon, just hoisted Duna onto the steed with him and headed for the hills.

But unlike when they’d first arrived at the farmstead, from the port, now she sat in front of him, holding Ivan’s mane and enjoying having Halvor’s arms around her as he held the reins.

She felt safe in his embrace, and excited about the day ahead. The sun was shining and the meadows were dotted with flowers. Above them birds soared, and several times they’d startled rabbits who’d dashed out of their way with their fluffy white tails bobbing.

When they arrived at Asmund’s he was busy butchering a boar.

Halvor pulled Ivan to a halt. The horse snorted at the carcass and backed up a few paces.

“Steady there,” Halvor said, before speaking in his native dialect to Asmund.

Asmund’s eyes widened then he nodded and replied.

But before he’d finished, Nadir rushed from the house drying her hands on a rag. “You are to be married!” She threw her head back and laughed. “I am not surprised.”