The Heart's Warrior (15 page)

discomfort, in a tight voice, she made her pledge.

“I will be this man’s wife. I will care for his home and see to his comforts and do my best to keep harm from his door. I will give him my loyalty—” Her voice faltered.

Their customs demanded she promise him sons and

daughters. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

She imagined a babe with Jonas’s blue eyes and golden hair. What beautiful children he would sire. Without children, what joy would she have in her life?

“In due season, if the gods allow it, I—I will give him fine daughters and sons. I accept—” Her voice wavered and she tried again. “I accept this man as my husband.”

Another roar of approval stung her ears. Jonas

smiled with pleasure and Kerstin found herself clasped in his arms as he kissed her thoroughly, leaving her breathless and shaking. His kiss overpowered her, stealing her breath, leaving her giddy and shaken. When he released her, she stumbled back, the heavy hammer bumping her thigh. Was this her reward for speaking her pledge? She only hoped she lived up to her vows.

One by one, Kerstin found herself kissed by the king, her father, Sigurd, and Knut. The other warriors would have swept her away, but Jonas pulled her behind him 97

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and glared his disapproval.

Minin and the other women fluttered around her,

hugging and kissing her cheeks. Letta hung back, glaring at Jonas as if he were something vile from the trash pit.

For the rest of the evening, she kept to herself at one far corner of the hall.

Kerstin was soon seated beside Jonas at the long

tables and thralls carried in heavy platters of tender meat, golden cheese and fragrant bread. They squeezed their way amongst the men as they plunked their burdens down. The host of men consumed food from glittering gold and silver plates. Toast after toast challenged the women to keep the drinking horns filled with strong ale, honeyed mead and sweet wine.

Her jaw moved as she chewed a piece of tender pork, but Kerstin tasted nothing. She reached for her wine and would have swallowed the meat down, but another toast rang out to Jonas’s virility and the blessing that she produce him a fine, healthy son as their first child.

Kerstin refused to drink and she chewed the meat inside her mouth again and again.

The hall was too crammed for jugglers or skalds to entertain the wedding guests. At suggestion of the king, the men picked up the tables and carried them outside into the cool night air. Kerstin breathed a sigh of disgust as the crowd pushed her along beside her husband.

Someone stepped on the train of her wedding gown and Kerstin was brought up short, almost falling flat on her face. Jonas steadied her, taking her hand in his.

“Allow me, my lady,” he said against her ear, his warm breath sending tingles up her spine.

He smelled of wine, his eyes gleaming with promise as he placed warm kisses against her lips and forehead.

Though she had consumed little wine, she found his touch intoxicating.

Turning her head, she tried to push her hair out of the way. Jonas pulled her to safety and held her close when the crush of the crowd almost trampled her. So many large men were dangerous to a woman’s health.

By the time they made it outdoors, Kerstin felt

bruised and battered. If not for Jonas, she would have been stomped into the ground. She remembered his care 98

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of her when she had been so ill on his ship. Why was he so attentive? Might he be a kind man, or did he act to lure her into complacency?

Outside, Kerstin breathed in great drafts of air, filling her lungs, trying to clear her mind. Her flushed skin prickled as a cooling breeze stirred about the steading. Bright stars glittered in the northern sky. This night should have been for her and Elezer. Though she had agreed to this wedding, it scorched her heart with pain. As they reassembled the tables and distributed the food, Jonas made the ritual offering to the goddess Freya for the bridegroom’s potency. Amidst the cheers of their people, they readied the goat for roasting. In the confusion, Kerstin found Minin and asked her to place the hammer in her chamber.

“I’ll take it, little lamb. You enjoy yourself.” Minin pulled the heavy hammer from Kerstin’s numb fingers and hurried toward the hall.

Kerstin watched the woman go, wishing she could

join her and escape the crush of men. Jonas warriors engaged him. Now was her chance to be alone. Picking up her skirts, she walked behind the hall, across the fragrant cow pasture and into the forest of trees. She swept along the timberline where she could still see the bright lights of the wedding feast through the heavy foliage. She pushed tree limbs out of her way, thrilling to her momentary freedom. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath her feet as she moved faster and faster, running across the open moors until she reached the river and followed it to the waterfall.

The roar of the river filled her ears. She stared into the mass of dark, churning water and imagined all her hopes and dreams swept away by the tide of war.

Soon, they would find her gone and come after her.

Wrapping her arms about her, she stared down at the dark waters below. Flinging her head back, she closed her eyes, breathing in the heather covering the windswept moors. Tears squeezed between her lashes and washed her cheeks. Her hair whipped about her as the wind breathed upon her. The red ruby resting in the center of her forehead felt hard and cold against her skin.

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The river surged over great boulders. Though unseen in the dark, she knew the rocks were there, large, frigid, and unyielding. Farther out, shimmery moonbeams

danced upon the water making it look like some eerie floor of glass. It beckoned to her and she longed to go.

Standing at the edge, she gazed down into the swirling mire. How easy it would be to step off and let herself go—

“You’ll find no freedom from me in death.”

Kerstin screamed when she found herself clasped

from behind. Jonas’s arms wrapped around her like steel.

She couldn’t move, or she would have slapped him.

She tried to laugh, but it came out a croak. “You delude yourself to think I’d commit suicide.”

He turned her to face him, as easily as a man might turn a rag doll. She felt every inch of his hot body against her own, hardened with muscle, lean and strong. His eyes danced with light, glittering in the dark like twin points of flame.

Gazing at her face, he reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Don’t cry, Kerstin.” His voice sounded soft and tender. “Death is always at our door and we must find joy where we can. There’s so much for us to rejoice in.” Rejoice? He must be insane.

Through his slurred words, she smelled the

intoxicating aroma of sweet wine on his breath. He must have drunk heavily, as all their people did when they feasted. For some reason, she thought he imbibed to ease the pain of his wound.

Nuzzling her temple, he placed soft kisses upon her hair, then touched the tip of his tongue against the heated flesh just below her ear. The breeze stirred across the moistness and brought prickling sensations to the nape of her neck. Her pulse skittered and she drew back, hating the passion he ignited within her.

He swayed on his feet, his eyes glazed.

“You are drunken,” she said in disgust.

“Drunken on your beauty.” He gave her a charming

smile that almost melted her heart.

She snorted as he lowered his head and placed a

languid kiss against her throat, over her pulse. Though she tried to push him away, her heart pounded and a 100

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yearning grew deep within her chest. She wanted more.

“You’re not the first woman to be forced to marry a man. You’re luckier than most, Kerstin. I’m wealthy, so you won’t starve, and I won’t beat you.”

She stared at him, hoping she could believe him.

His brows drew together in a doubtful frown. “You gave me your pledge.”

His reminder angered her and she jerked against

him. He staggered and would have fallen but he caught himself in time.

“You’re ill.” She moved away from the predatory look in his eyes.

He desired more than a few lazy kisses. She hated that she did, too. Instead, she stepped from the cliff’s edge and backed toward the forest. “You should return to the hall and let me see to your wound.”

The corners of his full mouth lifted in a wolfish grin.

His teeth flashed white, his gaze lowered. “I want to retire to our bed. I cannot afford to let you out of my sight until I’ve sealed my claim.”

He stalked her! Or rather, tried to. If she didn’t know he was ill, she might have laughed at the comical sight of him tottering after her, tripping over rocks and sticks, bumping into trees as she eluded him easily. He could barely keep his feet.

“Hold still, will you?” he asked, reaching for her.

When he fell over flat on his face, she gave a cry of dismay. In the darkness, she peered at him. He didn’t move and she was a good enough healer to recognize he wasn’t faking.

She knelt beside him and shook him, but he didn’t stir. “Jonas? Are you all right?”

Placing her palm against his cheek, she felt the

raging of a high fever on his skin. Again, more urgently, she tried to rouse him. “Jonas, wake up. Don’t lay here like a giant oaf.”

Still, he didn’t budge. Kerstin tried to push him over onto his back but he was so large she could do little more than lift one of his heavy arms.

Coming to her feet, she looked about in desperation.

She caught the musty scent of damp earth. The crashing sound of the water breaking over the falls matched the 101

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shattering of her nerves.

Now Kerstin saw her chance! She could flee, with

Jonas in no condition to pursue her. She would race back and the king could do nothing to stop her from marrying Elezer. She took a step, then stopped. Guilt nibbled at her, holding her in place.

Jonas would die if she left him and the king

might hold her responsible. Though she offered to tend his wound, Jonas refused. Surely the king wouldn’t blame her if Jonas died.

But she had given her pledge and promised her

loyalty. Even resenting him, she couldn’t stand by and let Jonas suffer. If she ran away, her people would be doomed and hate her for it. She might have Elezer, yet nothing else. Not even her honor.

Jonas’s shadowed face paled in the dim light.

Kneeling beside him, she cursed him as she tried once more to awaken him. A rock dug into his chin and she brushed it away. He looked so handsome, so innocent in sleep. So controlling when awake. She had never known such a man.

Should she run for help? He was so big, she didn’t think she could move him even if she wanted to. Bending low, she placed her lips against his ear and whispered.

“Do you want to die, Jonas? If you lie here like a big ox, I will flee to Elezer. Is that what you want?”

Jonas moved and a murmur of disapproval came

from his lips. He lay still again and Kerstin persisted in her efforts, unable to resist taunting him. “I’ll give myself to Elezer if you die. Do you want me to give birth to his son, or yours?”

Rage rumbled from within Jonas’s chest and he

rolled onto his back. In the shafts of moonlight, Kerstin saw his eyes open and spit flame as he glared at her.

“Perhaps I will beat you after all, woman.”

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Kerstin took Jonas’s arm and helped him to his feet.

He tottered and she feared he might fall again, pulling her down with him. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she tried to steady him. He braced a hand on the ground and stood. Together, they walked back toward the

steading. Bent like an old man, he leaned against Kerstin, breathing in raspy gasps. She staggered against his weight and felt bone-chilling dread that it might be too late to save him.

The wound must be inflamed and festered.

They arrived almost within shouting distance of the hall in the clear, crisp night. Somewhere near the south pasture, a dog barked. Boisterous laughter came from the wedding feast. The high, sweet trill of a lute and robust singing rose up from the area around one large bonfire.

Kerstin’s heart squeezed with longing as she remembered happier times when she would have crowded in with the men and women and enjoyed the succulent meats and spicy drinks.

Would she ever feel that kind of joy again?

Jonas pulled up short. Reaching a shaking hand to cup Kerstin’s cheek, he lifted her face so he looked into her eyes.

“Why—why did you stay?” His voice trembled, the

words garbled.

His thumb caressed her lips, making her skin tingle.

Though she longed for it, she prayed he didn’t try to kiss her again. If he fell over, she doubted she could get him back on his feet.

Shrugging, she responded truthfully. “I gave you my pledge, and I always keep my word.”

Jonas smiled, so handsome she had to blink. “Thank you.” Her heart compressed. Though she couldn’t put a finger on it, she realized their relationship changed 103

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somehow. They formed a tenuous bond. Had speaking a few vows caused this? Aye, her promise seemed the only thing left that remained hers to control. Yet, trust and happiness eluded them.

“Come.” She took his hand.

He didn’t argue when she pulled him into a walk, but his footsteps slowed. Kerstin could tell he wanted to ask more questions. How could he think in a rational manner when he was so ill? The man amazed her.

“Just a short ways now,” she said as they passed the cow byre. “You need rest and I’ll tend your wound—”

He crumpled in the tall grass, his great body silent and unmoving as stone. She would not be able to rouse him again. Lifting her hands to her mouth, she cried out,

“Father! Father, come quick.”