The Heart's Warrior (14 page)

He let her go and stepped away, blowing out a harsh breath, as if he fought his own desire. Then, he reached for her and she was in his arms, his lips hovering over hers. “I’ll not allow Elezer to come between us.”

Kerstin stared into his glittering eyes as he kissed her, deep wrenching kisses that left her gasping. He pulled her up against him, his hardness and heat

shocking as she closed her eyes and returned his kiss.

As his hungry mouth moved over hers, she thought

she had never tasted anything so delicious in all her life.

More than taste, but rather a feeling of drugged euphoria.

An addiction. His passion scalded her and she clung to him, a small cry erupting from the back of her throat.

Spurred by the sound of her desire, Jonas slanted his mouth across hers. His scent enveloped her, staggering her with the effect it had on her senses. Locking her arms 90

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about him, she gasped at the warmth of his tongue against hers. It undid her, his heat. The flavor, the feel of him more than she imagined possible. A raging power that she could not understand, to have, to control, to complete.

By the time he stopped kissing her, she was limp and trembling, unable to stand on her own.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered.

She did, her eyelids heavy with desire.

“Tell me you thought of Elezer while I kissed you,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Tell me he has filled you with as much need as I have done.”

Kerstin wanted to, but she couldn’t lie, even to hurt Jonas. She bit her lip, her throat dry.

He let her go, his expression sharp and fierce. He had proven his point.

Placing her hand against her mouth, she bit down on one knuckle, trying to regain her senses. “You’ll never have my heart.” Her voice sounded weak and watery, not at all convincing.

“I only want your pledge.”

****

There would be no reprieve. Jonas would come for her any moment now; he gave her an hour to prepare. What would he do if she dressed in rags and threw leaves and dirt in her hair?

Alrik ordered her bathed and perfumed. A battering of women descended on her, giving her no opportunity to argue. Her mind screamed with outrage, but she grew resigned to her fate. Yet, her inner soul wept. She mourned her lost love.

She slumped on the bed and watched as Minin

walked to her trunk and lifted the lid. Kerstin paid little heed as Minin rooted around inside for an appropriate gown.

The fire in the brazier burned low, casting gloomy shadows about the room. It suited Kerstin’s mood. Cold night air seeped through the walls and she shivered in her dressing gown. When Minin held up a garment of scarlet brocade, Kerstin sat erect, her eyes wide.

“I won’t wear that.” Kerstin pursed her lips. “I was to 91

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have worn it when I married Elezer.”

“Come, my lady,” Minin beckoned. “Stand and put it on. They’re waiting and it’ll be over soon enough.”

Letta stood before the closed door, wringing her

hands and whimpering. “What will we do, Kerstin? How can we protect you from that horrid man?”

“Hush, mistress,” Minin hissed. “Do you want to

bring bad luck on us all with such talk?”

Letta scurried to crouch in a far corner of the room where she mewled with distress.

Minin brought the dress to Kerstin and a lump of

despair lodged inside her throat. Minin draped the lovely dress over Kerstin’s body. The hem fell to the floor and swirled about Kerstin’s feet in a subtle whisper. She stepped forward, watching the two-foot train flow behind her as she walked.

Next, Minin picked up the calf-length over-dress

made of crimson silk. Kerstin’s father had bought the fabric from a trader in Kiev, who had gotten it from raiders of Baghdad. The merchant said the gods had spun gold into the shimmery material. It had cost Alrik much silver and Kerstin knew the gift presented was meant for her wedding gown.

“Nay,” she whispered, her dream of being Elezer’s wife clawing at her soul.

“Your father ordered that you wear the silk.” Minin lifted the fluid gown over Kerstin’s head. It fell down her body in a clinging sigh, the train pooling at her feet like liquid lava sprinkled with gold dust.

“I suppose my father must be obeyed in
all
things,”

Kerstin grumbled.

Minin patted her cheek and showed an encouraging

smile, then reached for Kerstin’s gilded brooches. The handmaiden fastened one pin to each of Kerstin’s

shoulders, then stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“What jewels do you wish to wear?” Minin turned to pick up a small, wooden jewel box.

Opening the beautiful carved lid, she lifted it for Kerstin’s inspection. It contained only a few pieces, but they were each lovely, the workmanship fine and ornate.

Two golden armbands made by Knut for Kerstin’s

eighteenth birthday, a necklace of amber and shells 92

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presented by Kerstin’s mother when she returned from a visit to Eire, several pairs of beaded ear bobs, two rings studded with small emeralds, and a golden fillet with a single, dangling red ruby. Elezer had gifted her with the ruby when they were first betrothed.

Kerstin picked up the fillet. Smoothing her hair into place, she raised the strand and rested it around her head.

Minin gasped. “You can’t wear another man’s gift on your wedding day, my lady. ‘Twill bring bad luck to your marriage.”

“Do you think I care? This marriage is already

cursed.” Centering the jewel in the middle of her forehead, Kerstin peered at herself in the looking glass. The ruby gleamed like a drop of crimson blood against her pale skin. Shaking her head, Minin scurried about the room, tidying up.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Kerstin tried to remain calm. She heard the march of men as they

approached her door, the summons of a heavy fist laid upon the oak planks. There would be no more stalling.

Minin opened the portal wide. Knut stood before the threshold, tall, and somber, his wide shoulders filling the expanse. Kerstin heard the other occupants in the hall, their loud voices and laughter. As her door opened, they became quiet, waiting for her to appear.

The strong smells of cooking meat and honeyed mead filtered through the hall. There was to be a feast and she had no doubt the men had already enjoyed the vibrant wines and ales.

Knut lifted his roughened hand to her. As she

clasped it with her chilled fingers, she looked into his eyes and he gave her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t fear this man, my lady,” he said in a soft voice only Kerstin could hear. “He won’t harm you.”

She scoffed. How she wished she dared believe Knut.

But how could she not fear Jonas when he admitted he believed her guilty of murdering his brother.

Turning, Knut led her out into the hall. Her heart sank when she saw the tall warriors filling the room.

They were dressed in full battle gear; many still wore 93

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their metal helmets. Double-edged swords gleamed at their sides instead of jewels and wedding finery. They opened a path for her leading to the raised dais at the other end of the hall. It reminded her of the story her mother told of the ancient prophet Moses opening the Red Sea so the Israelites might pass through to safety.

Kerstin passed into danger.

Jonas waited on the dais. He wore a horned helmet and held a heavy gold hammer in his fist. Thor’s hammer, a sign of strength and virility. He stared at her, his gaze so intense she blinked and looked away.

Alrik, Sigurd, and the king flanked Jonas. Before them stood a Christian monk, clothed in dark robes, his hands clutching a holy crucifix close to his chest. Perhaps she might petition him for aid.

His long nose, bony cheeks, and chilling eyes showed no compassion.

Kerstin inhaled a deep breath and let it out on a slow exhale. The heavy scent of tallow filled her lungs.

Numerous candles flickered about the room, casting shadows across the carved walls. Thralls lit several torches to chase away the gloom, but nothing could rid the darkness in her heart.

So be it. She still had her pride, after all.

Jutting her chin, she walked the gauntlet of warriors.

How had they crammed so many large men inside?

Through the hall’s open doorway, Kerstin saw blazing bonfires outside where pigs, goats, sheep, and cattle roasted over the flames. An affirmation of the final wedding vows was all the hundreds of men gathered around the steading needed to hear. Then, they would go to war.

Kerstin glanced at her groom. Still dressed in the blue tunic, Jonas’s eyes gleamed like blue ice. He didn’t wear chain mail as the other men, but he watched her without blinking, without a glimmer of emotion on his handsome face.

She looked away for a moment. As she approached,

he removed the horned helmet and set it aside. Kerstin breathed with relief, for it had made him look most fierce.

She detected the ripple of tensed muscles beneath his tunic as he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. She 94

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recognized this as a sign of tension in him and almost laughed.

When she stood before the dais, she looked for a way around the wall of men’s bodies so she might join him.

She lifted an arm to push her way past several husky shoulders and found herself lifted through the air as Jonas bent and grasped her by the waist.

She clutched his solid forearms as he set her on her feet in front of him, squeezing her waist with his big hands. Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. His gaze centered on the golden fillet. His eyes narrowed and Kerstin squirmed beneath his perusal. The blood red color signified her broken heart. But guilt nibbled at her mind and she wished she hadn’t worn it.

His fingers were strong yet gentle as he caressed her back. One side of his mouth lifted in a subtle smile and his eyes brightened with warmth. His head lowered until their noses all but touched. “You are beautiful.”

Jonas’s words took her off guard. Any compliment

made her suspicious of his motives. Oh, why did this man have to smell so good? It would be easier to hate him if he stank and never washed, if he weren’t so strong and virile.

He leaned nearer, until she felt consumed by his

gaze. She saw the wanting in his eyes and knew it mirrored her own. Would he kiss her? How she longed to taste him again.

“Ahum,” the monk cleared his voice. “You are not yet married, my son.”

“Kiss her, Jonas!” someone yelled. “Show her who is master.”

Several guffaws and shouts of approval filled the room and Kerstin tensed.

Jonas didn’t smile or offer any reassurance. Instead, with his palm riding the small of her back, he turned her to face the monk.

Folding her hands together, Kerstin waited as Jonas stood beside her. She gasped when he fell heavily against her, knocking her askew. Both Sigurd and the king reached to help her steady him.

“I’m all right,” Jonas said as he regained his balance.

He was ill! With her arrowhead still lodged inside his 95

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shoulder, she should have known. Fever, not desire, caused the pink hue of his skin and his glittering eyes.

“Jonas, let Kerstin remove the arrowhead before you drop dead,” King Hakon spoke low.

Alrik stepped forward, his craggy face drawn with unease. “If the arrowhead isn’t removed soon, you will die.” “Aye, son, let the witch tend your wound,” Sigurd whispered as he fondled his war ax. “I’ll stay near to make certain she doesn’t harm you, never fear.”

“I can help you.” Kerstin placed her hand on Jonas’s arm. He hesitated, then took her hand in his own, folding it across his arm before he nodded at the monk. “Marry us now. There’ll be no more waiting.”

Kerstin swallowed the plea that came to her throat.

He would rather die than have her tend him. He still refused to believe she was a healer, and not a witch. Tears burned the backs of her eyes.

“Very well,” the monk said. “Kneel.”

Jonas squeezed her trembling hands and they knelt before the monk. The man of God spoke swift and sure and Jonas showed no more weakness. She could almost believe she imagined it.

Kerstin stuttered through her vows and they were

wed. When the monk pronounced them husband and wife, a shout rang throughout the hall. Jonas stumbled to his feet, pulling her up beside him. Again, Sigurd reached to steady him and Jonas brushed his father’s concerns aside.

Clasping her hands in his, Jonas raised their arms high and presented his new bride to the congregation.

His deep bass voice filled the hall as he married her also by Danelaw. “Know all that I take this woman to wife. Before Odin, I proclaim her mine and will kill any man who tries to take her from me.” He looked at her, his eyes both frost and fire. “I pledge my body to give her strong babes. I pledge my life to give her comfort and to keep her safe. Know that she is now my wife and I accept her freely of my own will.”

Stepping close, Jonas bade her sit in a chair beside the king. Staring into his eyes, Kerstin did so and watched in a daze as he laid Thor’s hammer in her lap.

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Another loud shout shook the rafters as the warriors cheered.

Outside, she heard someone yell. “It’s done! They are wed.”

A deafening roar thundered as the warriors whooped and hollered, loud as a furious winter storm.

An aching knot tightened Kerstin’s throat. For so many years their people had been feuding. Was it possible it would end simply because she wed Jonas? And what of his pledge to her? Did he mean what he said? Though he had not pledged his heart.

Knowing she was doomed to a loveless marriage, her eyes burned with tears.

Sudden silence filled the hall and she felt

lightheaded and weak. It was now her turn to make her vow to Jonas. Clutching the hilt of the hammer with whitened knuckles, she came to her feet. How could she get through this without voicing a lie? She refused to promise something she would not do. With great