Page 97 of Viking Warriors: Vol. 1-3
But there was another sound—a soft footstep?
The beast raised its snout, nostrils twitching, sensing some other presence. I couldn’t see and hadn’t the courage to turn.
A wolf? Or more than one?
Would they fight over which was to make a meal of me?
And then a steady voice, low and firm, commanded me. “Be still.”
Briefly, I saw the glinting blade. Eldberg threw his axe true, driving it into the boar’s neck. The creature thrashed and squealed, blood gushing. In fury, it lowered its head and rushed to meet its attacker, but Eldberg’s dagger was ready. As it was almost upon him, he sank it through the boar’s snout.
The beast fell immediately. It rolled to its side, pawing the air, and Eldberg acted swiftly, delivering the final thrust to end the creature’s pain.
I closed my eyes, not wishing to see more, my heart still racing. I was aware of Eldberg freeing me—first my feet and then my hands.
His palm was upon my forehead, then his lips, and his arms came around me. Limp and numb, I gave in to exhaustion.
* * *
Iwished the bed would stop tilting back and forth. Tentatively, I touched my forehead. What had happened? The events of the night seemed unreal, though my aches and bruising told me otherwise.
It had been my barking that had brought Eldberg to my exact spot. Of Sweyn there was no sign. The harbour watch reported that he’d taken a small fishing boat and left the fjord not long ago. The vessel might carry him some way if he avoided wrecking on the coastal rocks.
Eldberg helped me out of my filthy clothing, rubbed dry my hair, and wrapped me warm in his bed. He pulled the furs to my shoulders, but still I was chilled.
Ragerta brought warm buttermilk, and he bid me drink, though slowly. He paced the chamber, then folded his arms. His voice was stern. “Promise me that you’ll never leave.”
I was too weary to argue, but neither did I wish to tell him a falsehood.
“You know that I did not. Sweyn took me.”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Of course, since you would hardly have devised to bind your own hands and feet. I ask because I wish you to say it.”
He came to sit beside me, taking my hand. “You could have died.”
It was true. I’d prayed for Eldberg to come, and he’d done so, but I could never promise to abandon hope of my freedom.
Instead, I asked, “Why did you risk yourself for me?”
“Because you’re mine—and a man protects what is his.”
I hadn’t the strength to tell him again that I wasn’t his. I’d long ago exhausted such reasoning. An uneasy peace had fallen between us, his early brutality having spent itself, and there was much for which I was indebted.
Ragerta had brought some of the aloe. Turning over my hand, Eldberg dipped into the pot and touched the soothing balm to the welts on my wrist.
“You haven’t promised yet.”
“I…” The words stuck in my throat. If I said it, what resistance was left?
“Elswyth.” His voice was enticing. He looked down at my hand resting in his, then raised his eyes, locking me in his gaze—liquid dark. “Your lips are trembling.” He spoke softly, leaning in, until his mouth was close to my own.
“No…” I said, knowing it was a lie.
“You’re fevered with need for me—as I for you.”
I wanted to turn away from his kiss, to close my eyes against him, but I couldn’t. I was no longer struggling.
His lips were soft on mine, coaxing me with gentle tugs and nudges, until my mouth was fully open and his tongue slid upon mine. I lost myself in the desire to be caressed tenderly.
