Anna Markland - Viking Roots Medieval Romance Saga 02 (6 page)

Perplexed that she was alarmingly jealous watching her sister nursing Ida, Sonja swallowed her pride and tried again. “But consider it, Ingeborg. Your baby and Magnus Kriger were born on the same day. It’s a wonderful opportunity to form a friendship, and perhaps a new alliance.”

She inhaled deeply to calm her racing heart when Olga indicated her agreement. “Sonja is right. The Krigers are powerful and have Rollo’s ear.”

But she wondered what her mother had been told when she scowled at her and added, “And we have to make amends for your sister’s strange behavior. Apparently, she came close to dropping the Kriger baby.”

Ingeborg pouted, though the glint in her eye betrayed her pleasure at Sonja’s discomfort. “But I’m older than she is. Perhaps she doesn’t want new friends.”

Sonja resisted the temptation to throttle her sister. It was true the vibrant Cathryn had nothing in common with the bland Ingeborg, but she mustn’t reveal her plan—to nurture a friendship between herself and Bryk Kriger’s wife. She didn’t fully understand why she pursued such thoughts. She had repeated over and over in her mind that befriending Cathryn was the goal, but her heart knew the truth. She had to see Torstein again.

It was lunacy.

“I’ll send a message, asking her to visit us on the morrow,” her mother said.

“We must go there,” Sonja blurted out without thinking. It was unlikely Torstein would accompany Cathryn on a visit to Karl Ragnarsen’s home.

Her mother arched a brow. “We can’t invite ourselves to the Archbishop’s residence.”

“Mother is correct,” Ingeborg said, unexpectedly showing enthusiasm for the idea. “We’ll invite her for the morrow.”

Cathryn and Bryk stood in the doorway, watching the departing thrall who had delivered an invitation to the Ragnarsen house.

“That’s a nasty black eye,” she remarked. “I hope her mistress didn’t inflict it as a punishment.”

Bryk shrugged and turned to enter the house.

Cathryn followed. “There’s something odd about the girl, as if she’s hiding a secret.”

Bryk shrugged again. “But she made the effort to speak a few words of your language before lapsing into Norse to deliver her message.”

“True. I suppose declining the invitation would be perceived as an insult.”

Bryk furrowed his brow. “Why would you want to?”

Cathryn would have to choose her words carefully. Vikings were defensive of their traditions and she was suspicious of the Ragnarsens’ motives. “Magnus and Ingeborg’s child were born the same day,” she said hesitantly, watching her husband’s face. Reassured when she didn’t detect the hint of a scowl, she continued. “Vikings pledge children to each other as marriage partners, and I understand the reasons for it.”

Bryk smiled, putting his hands on her hips. “But you chose your mate and you want the same for our son.”

Surprised relief unknotted her belly. “You understand.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, causing her heart to flutter. “Don’t worry. I won’t arrange anything for Magnus.”

This man was indeed a gift from God.

He pecked a kiss on her lips. “At least not until he’s older.”

Her spirits fell, but his wink reassured her so she soldiered on. “I suppose establishing a friendly alliance with a wealthy and influential family can’t hurt. Magnus will have a playmate, and—” It had been on the tip of her tongue to mention Torstein and Sonja, but she stopped in time.

She swayed into him when he swirled his tongue in her ear.

“Karl Ragnarsen was a great warrior, but he’s getting old and likely won’t go back to the front,” he said quietly.

His whispered words echoed in her brain, but his warm breath on her ear was distracting.

“His sons Frits and Kennet will use any excuse to get into a brawl. As I recall, this new child’s mother isn’t a beauty.”

She scowled, feigning jealousy, but she stretched her neck, hoping his lips would find their way to her throat. “You’re a married man, Bryk Kriger. You’re not permitted to look at other women.”

He pulled her to his body and there was no mistaking the hard evidence of his desire pressed against her. “I’ll never need another woman, Cathryn. You’re the mate of my soul.”

It elated her that he seemed to understand this important aspect of her Christian faith. Change was difficult for him. His struggle with what to do about Torstein was proof of it, but she didn’t think any less of him. He was a man steeped in his culture.

She too wrestled with conflicting emotions. Meddling might prove to be disastrous, but if Bryk were to allow Torstein to be her escort—

Her husband’s next words brought her back to reality. “I will see you safely to the Ragnarsen’s on the morrow, as protocol demands.”

She wondered if he suspected what she’d had in mind, but his deep kiss chased away thoughts of slaves and traditions.

Scowling, Bryk paced in front of the cold grate in the Archbishop’s office. “You cannot go alone to the Ragnarsen house, and Rollo has summoned me to another strategy meeting. Unfortunately, Torstein will have to escort you.”

Elation and desperation warred within Torstein. When Cathryn had mentioned the invitation, hope had soared in his heart. Ironically, his uncle was providing him the excuse to see Sonja, for he had no doubt she would be present at the gathering.

Allowing Torstein to be his wife’s armed escort was a measure of Bryk’s growing esteem.

But after an hour in the training field, he was sweaty, his clothing caked with dust.

Cathryn eyed him. “Very well. But he’ll have to bathe first.”

Bryk grinned.

She turned to her husband, her nose wrinkled. “You too before you present yourself to Rollo.”

Bryk’s grin fled. “The river then,” he said grudgingly.

Torstein was heartily glad Cathryn had suggested leaving his new clothing at the house after the baptism, given the cramped living conditions at Alfred’s. “I can change into the tunic I wore to the cathedral,” he suggested, hoping his weak smile didn’t betray his desire to look presentable for Sonja.

Cathryn seemed relieved. “Good idea. We want to look our best for the Ragnarsens and I’d like to get to know Ingeborg better. I should make more friends among the Viking community, and our children were born the same day.”

Then she said something that took him by surprise. “Torstein and I will stay out of the way of her sister, Sonja. She seems flighty. What a state she got into when she was here, almost dropping Magnus. You remember, Torstein.”

He doubted coherent words would issue from his mouth if he attempted a response. Was Cathryn testing the waters?

His uncle snorted then narrowed his eyes at Torstein. “My wife is right. It is a good idea for you to avoid Sonja, don’t you agree, nephew?”

Here again was the familiar challenge. Be subservient, or be a man.

He tightened the muscles in his gut. “We’ll see,” he said, stripping off his soiled shirt. “Beat you to the river,
onkel
.”

Cathryn touched a hand to Torstein’s arm as their destination came into view. “I’ll take Magnus now if you wish.”

She had delayed asking because both man and baby looked comfortable and content. Her son had fallen asleep in the sling tied around Torstein’s body, his knees tucked to his chest. A strong hand supported the babe’s head. As they’d made their way to the Ragnarsen house, Torstein had frequently pressed his lips to Magnus’s forehead.

She didn’t recall ever seeing a Viking male carry a babe across his body this way and supposed Torstein’s upbringing had inured him to any suggestion of weakness. She thought his tenderness made him look strong. He would be a good father.

His future was more worrisome now. It was evident Bryk disapproved of his nephew’s interest in Sonja. Cathryn understood the chasm between them, but this was a new land; surely new rules might come into play.

Perhaps Sonja’s display of nerves at the Archbishop’s house had been caused by feelings she had for Torstein. If love was destined to blossom between them, Cathryn saw nothing wrong with nurturing it. Bryk’s love had brought her new life. Before the Vikings’ conversion to the Christian faith, it was unlikely they would have married, but historic events had changed things. Was a different world awaiting Torstein and Sonja?

“Cathryn,” Torstein said, jolting her out of her daydream. “Do you want to take him?”

She shook her head. “You can keep him if you wish.”

He smiled. “I will, but I expect as the only male I’ll be quickly shooed from the house.”

Her belly turned over. Was Torstein expecting to be refused entry? She would insist he accompany her. “Ingeborg’s father won’t be at home?”

He smirked. “A Viking nobleman won’t attend a gathering of women. It’s beneath his dignity.”

The door was thrust open. She recognized the young thrall who appeared to usher them inside. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of Torstein’s fine clothing.

He whispered her name in greeting. “Puella.”

She avoided his gaze, but Cathryn caught a glimmer of a smile.

Three women bustled into the hallway, one carrying a baby girl. She supposed this sullen individual was Ingeborg, then chided herself for the unchristian thought that it was a pity the babe had such a pronounced nose.

Four toddlers emerged from behind the women, all with the same hooked nose. They must have inherited it from their father, since Ingeborg’s face bore no extraordinary features. She was simply plain. It was the silvery blonde hair, rosy cheeks, perfect nose and big dark eyes of the sister standing beside her that drew the eye.

The eldest of the three women glanced at Torstein, her brow furrowed, then held out her hands to Cathryn. “
Velkommen
,” she gushed. “I am Olga.” She waved in the direction of the woman with the baby. “Ingeborg’s mother, and Ida’s grandmother.”

Cathryn noted she spoke in Norse, making no effort to communicate in the Frankish tongue. Nor did she introduce the red faced Sonja, who was doing her best not to look at Torstein.

“Good day,” Cathryn replied to her hostess in Norse. “I am Cathryn Kriger, and this is my husband’s nephew, Torstein.”

She reached to take her son from Torstein’s hands. “And this is Magnus Bernard Kriger.”

Ignoring Torstein, Olga seized Magnus. “He’s heavy!” she exclaimed.

Her son looked like a giant next to the diminutive Ida, whose grandmother cooed and fussed over the two infants who stared at each other blankly. Ingeborg didn’t smile.

Cathryn took the opportunity to speak to Sonja, wanting to alleviate any concerns the girl might have after their last encounter. “Greetings, Sonja,” she said in her own language, kissing the girl’s cheek. “I’m happy to see you again.”

She turned to Torstein who looked like he wanted to disappear. “You remember Torstein, I’m sure.”

If she had any doubts these two young people were attracted to each other, they fled at the sight of their discomfort.

“Torstein,” Sonja murmured.

“Sonja,” he rasped in reply.

Torstein wasn’t used to making choices and decisions. He desperately wanted to stay and gaze upon Sonja’s beautiful face, inhale her delicate scent, coax her full lips open with his tongue, cup her extraordinary breasts, press his shaft to her mons—

At the same time a desire to flee seized him, rooting his feet to the planked flooring. Was she aware now that he was a freed thrall? Puella had probably told her mistress. A woman like Sonja, refined, educated, and from a wealthy family, would feel revulsion for a former slave. Dread knotted his gut at the prospect of the woman he loved despising him.

Olga made the decision for him. “Be gone, young man. We are women here. Nothing of interest for you.”

He doubted Olga was aware of his past. She wouldn’t have allowed him to enter the house. A glimmer of hope flickered.

If Sonja knew, but hadn’t told her mother—

He bowed and took his leave.

Sonja longed for Torstein to stay, but was relieved when he left the house. She wanted to tell him of her regret for the harsh words she’d spoken at their last meeting. Her feelings confused her. She had been brought up to treat thralls as less than human, yet her dreams were filled with Torstein’s face, his voice, his body.

She had never been drawn to men; they were sweaty, boorish and lustful. But Torstein was different. Thinking of him produced feelings and sensations in her body she’d never known, stoking fiery needs.

She studied Cathryn who was making a stalwart effort to engage Ingeborg in conversation, responding with charm and grace to Olga’s ongoing barrage of compliments and questions about her husband, her baby and then Rollo.

Torstein’s former status in life was evidently of no concern to Bryk Kriger’s wife.

Magnus smiled a toothless grin while Olga clucked over him. Ida fussed and fretted in her mother’s arms, but calmed as soon as Cathryn took hold of her.

Sonja deemed it ironic the only person in the room with whom she could have an intelligent conversation was a Frank. The woman’s praise of her attempts to speak the Frankish tongue pleased her, though it produced a pout on her sister’s face.

But her attention was elsewhere. If only there was an opportunity to speak with Torstein. She doubted her mother and Ingeborg would realize she was gone if she left the gathering surreptitiously. But it would be an insult to their guest.

Servants entered quietly with platters of food. Olga gave Magnus over to a flustered Ingeborg and started issuing orders.

“Go to him,” Cathryn suddenly whispered in Sonja’s ear, bouncing Ida on her hip.

Hope and duty clashed. “But I cannot leave,” she whispered back. “You are my guest.”

Cathryn gestured discretely to the door. “Go! You have only a brief time.”

Sonja took advantage of her mother’s inattention and slipped outside. She didn’t see Torstein until she rounded the corner of the house. He stopped pacing when he caught sight of her. They stared at each other for long minutes. Her heart leapt into her throat when he made a move in her direction.