Enthralled: Viking Lore, Book 1 (11 page)

“You can leave your
shift on if you prefer,” he said, facing her and stepping backward still deeper
into the lake. “But your dress will be too heavy and cumbersome. You’d best
remove it.” He halted, his eyes locked on her. Even from a dozen paces away, he
could see the redness in her cheeks and her gaze flickering in uncertainty.

Her hands began
fumbling with first one brooch and then the other as she unfastened her dress’s
shoulder straps. Every few seconds, her eyes flew up to his and fluttered away
just as quickly. She pulled the overlong dress up and over her body. The muddy
hem passed her hips, then her waist, then her breasts, and finally over her
head.

She carefully set the
garment on a nearby rock. Then she bent and removed her leather boots. Her
blush had moved over her neck, her pink skin contrasting
against
the off-white of her linen shift along her collarbones.

“Mayhap your shift will
tangle in your legs once you enter the water,” he said casually, never taking
his eyes from her. “You could leave it on the shoreline as well, I suppose.”

She glanced down,
unsure. Then she got a glimpse of the view he was being treated to and gasped
in shock. The bright sunlight made the shift all but useless in hiding her
form. He could clearly see the outline of each of her slim yet shapely legs,
along with the darker patch of hair between them. The enticing inward curve of
her waist was also visible. Her high, round breasts brushed against her shift,
each with a rosy tip that was barely obscured by the thin linen.

She threw her hands
across her body, but they did little to hide her beauty. Even waist-deep in the
cold northern lake waters, Eirik’s cock jumped and began throbbing. Mayhap this
plan was ill-conceived. Or was this exactly what he wanted all along?

Laurel rushed toward
the water, seeking its refuge to hide her exposed body. She was knee-deep
before she hesitated. At least his little trick of pitting her modesty against
her fear of the water had gotten her that far.

“Come, Laurel,” he
said, reaching a hand toward her. “You are brave enough to face this.” Though
he formed the words to lure her deeper, he surprised himself by believing them.
In the little time he’d known her, he’d learned that she wasn’t one to cower or
run from her fears—except when it came to water.

Slowly, she inched
closer to him. The cold water was making her nipples pebble under the shift. He
forced himself to focus on her face. Her lower lip was captured between her
teeth, the anxiety evident on her delicate features.

“What if…what if I go
too deep and drown? What if I take you down with me?”

Even as she spoke the
shaky words, she continued toward his outstretched hand.

“You’ve already tried
that once,” he said, quirking one eyebrow at her.

She let out something
between an exhalation and a laugh just as she reached his hand and placed hers
within it. He drew her to him so that the water lapped just under her breasts.

Eirik cursed the lake
water for its fortune in being able to envelop her, caress her skin, and wrap
around her curves. Then he cursed himself for such thoughts. He needed to get
his lust under control and focus on the task at hand. He was teaching his
thrall how to swim, not seducing this captivatingly beautiful woman before him.

“First of all,” he
began, but had to pause to clear his throat. “You’ve learned that when you claw
at the water, it will slip right through your fingers. But it will actually
hold you up if you let it. Watch.”

Eirik leaned back so
that he floated face-up on the lake’s surface. He kept his hold on her hand to
show her how relaxed he was. The cool water enveloped his nape and his
free-flowing hair, tickling his ears. He gazed up at the cloudless blue sky for
a moment, savoring the sensations.

He popped upright. “Now
you try.”

She seemed to shrink in
on herself and shook her head. “Nay.”

“I’ll hold your hand
the entire time, and I’ll be right here to keep you safe,” he said.

She locked her dark,
frightened eyes on him for a long moment. Without breaking their gaze, she
slowly started to lean back. Her loose chestnut locks fell into the water inch
by inch until the back of her head was submerged.

Her fingers dug
painfully into his hand. She finally broke their gaze to squeeze her eyes shut,
her breath coming short and shallow.

“’Tis all right,
Laurel,” he said as if she were a spooked animal. “I’m right here.”

He wasn’t sure if she
registered his voice or not, but after a moment first one foot and then the
other appeared at the water’s surface.

“That’s it. You’re
floating.”

Her eyes popped open in
surprise. “How am I…” Her body tensed in uncertainty, and almost instantly she
sank, her head dipping under the water.

Reacting on instinct,
Eirik jerked her up hard by the hand. Her head emerged immediately from
underwater, but he misjudged his own strength and her lightness. Her whole body
rose from the water and slammed into him.

He held her to him,
trying to steady her as she sputtered and panted. His skin felt unnaturally hot
at all the points of contact they shared. Her breasts pressed against his chest
with naught more tha
n
the wet linen shift
separating them. One of her hands, the one he didn’t still have captured in his
own, had come up to take hold of his neck. Their torsos were plastered
together, and he was certain she could feel his cock throbbing against her
belly.

He coughed and set her
down. “You tensed up. But when you were relaxed, the water was holding you.”

She nodded and averted
her eyes. “Is that all for today?”

“Nei, Laurel, it is
not.” For some reason, his words sounded laden with meaning that he didn’t
intend to give voice to. “That is, you should at least try a few strokes on
your stomach.”

Her eyes flitted to
him, wide and questioning. By the gods, he couldn’t seem to find words that
didn’t seem suggestive. “Like this,” he said quickly. He let go of her hand and
took several strokes farther out into the lake, his hands slicing through the
water and legs kicking.

He swam back to her
side, trying to look anywhere but at the wet shift plastered to her breasts.
Thank the gods she still stood in waist-deep water, or else he might forget
himself completely.

“That looks a lot more
complicated than floating,” she said dubiously as he stood at her side.

“I’ll help keep you
up,” he replied. “Sink down so that only your head is above water.”

Surprisingly, she did
as he said with only a moment’s hesitation. She truly was coming to trust him.
She lowered herself until just her head and neck were on the water’s surface.

“Now lift your feet
behind you. I’ll have you, don’t worry.”

She slowly raised one
foot so that her heel was above the water. He reached for her stomach as her
body tilted forward. Her weight shifted onto his two hands, one of which
spanned from just below her breasts to her navel, the other of which was
planted on her low belly.

Her other heel appeared
at the surface and her weight was fully suspended by the water and his hands.
She exhaled in shock at what must have been a terrifying position for her, and
he could feel her stomach contract. Unbidden, his cock stirred once more below
the water.

“Now use your arms as I
did,” he instructed, forcing his mind from the ache between his legs. “Place
your hands together and slice them forward, then separate them and make an arc
back to your sides.”

She did as he said, and
to give her the feel of moving through the water, he stepped sideways as if
she’d pulled herself forward. A surprised noise came from her lips, but she
repeated the motion.

“Now kick your legs.”

With her heels above
water, her kicking sent a shower of spray into the air. He laughed as the
cascade of droplets fell all around them.

“That’s it! Now combine
the kicking with the strokes.”

This time he didn’t
have to move—she propelled herself forward. He sidestepped to keep his hands on
her stomach as she continued to kick and stroke.

“Am I swimming?” she
breathed, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Almost,” he said.
“Keep going.” As she returned her attention to her arms and legs, he eased his
hands slightly lower to let her take more of her own weight. Her head dipped into
the water up to her chin, but she kept her limbs working. “This is what it will
feel like as you get better. Soon enough, you won’t need me to support you.”

Suddenly she stopped
her limbs and tilted herself upright, breaking his contact with her stomach.
She looked up at him, her eyes unreadable. She was close enough that he could
see the little flecks of gold in their depths. “I like your support.”

Her words caught him
completely off-guard. He sputtered to come up with a response, but before he
could scrape together the words, she went on.

“Eirik…why do you not
treat me as a thrall? You warned me that thralls are the lowest members of
society, especially utlending thralls. Yet you treat me as an equal. Why?”

He combed his damp hair
back with one hand, searching for a way to explain things to her.

“As I’ve told you,
enslaving our enemies and even trading for slaves is part of our way of life,”
he began. “We believe that our own free people should have more rights that the
enemy thralls we have in our midst. So thralls don’t get a say at council meetings,
nor do they get to enjoy as much leisure as free men and women. They are put to
work, often doing the most menial or grueling tasks.”

She nodded, so he went
on. “But my father taught me that keeping thralls to do your work should be
considered shameful. What kind of man would make another do the hardest work
for him? What kind of leader could claim to hold others’ respect, yet be
unwilling or unable to work alongside the strongest and hardest-working men?”

“You believe that
having thralls tarnishes your honor in the eyes of your gods?” she asked
softly.

“Ja, that’s exactly
it,” he replied, stirred that she seemed to understand. But then he realized
that her voice held a note of sadness in it. She broke their gaze to cast her
eyes at the water between them.

“So I am a stain on
your honor,” she said flatly. “I understand now why you were acting so
strangely the night the Jarl decided that I would remain your thrall.”

Eirik cursed himself
silently. It hadn’t been his imagination—she’d sensed that something was wrong
regarding the council meeting. Thank the gods she didn’t suspect that he’d
actually lied to her and that his uncle still planned on selling her at the
slave market come summer’s end.

“Nei, that is not it,
Laurel,” he said quietly, taking her hands in his. “Your presence in my life is
far from a stain. ’Tis more complicated than that.”

She blinked up at him,
absorbing his words. “What do you mean, more complicated?”

He frowned, struggling
for words. How could he explain things without revealing Gunvald’s true ruling
about her fate? Alaric and Madrena continued to pester and question him about
his decision not to tell Laurel yet, but he didn’t want to worry her
unnecessarily. He
would
find a way to change his uncle’s mind, he vowed.

And how could he explain
to her that though he was drawn to her like no other, he felt honor-bound not
to act on those feelings because she was his thrall? Would an innocent, an
utlending, understand his sense of honor, yet also the ever-deepening pull he
felt toward her?

He sighed. “Even though
you are my thrall, I will not force you to…serve me in any way,” he said, his
voice gruff. “It is true that I don’t keep thralls because I consider it
dishonorable. But now that you have fallen to my keeping, I won’t treat you as other
thralls are treated.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

By Odin, Laurel’s blunt
questions would send even a mountain goat scrambling for solid ground. “I
didn’t force you to kiss me as my thrall,” he said quickly.

She waved away his
objection. “Nay, of course not. But you said that because you didn’t think
having thralls was honorable, you wouldn’t treat me like one,
including…intimacies…”

Finally, she faltered,
which gave Eirik a moment to collect his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have kissed
you,” he said levelly. He needed to say the words out loud to remind himself.
Even now, gazing down at her delicate features, he longed to take her mouth
with his, to pull her against his body, to bury himself—

He cursed, this time
out loud. Thankfully, he hadn’t taught her the words he spouted, and she
blinked in confusion.

“Thralls are regularly
used for such…intimacies, as you call them, and more.”

Her eyes widened and
her lips parted. By the gods, he was going to need to back up farther than
this.

“Where you grew up, men
and women aren’t supposed to touch, let alone have sex. Is that correct?”