Beyond the Sea Mist (24 page)

Or, maybe if he bedded her
one
time, thoroughly and completely, thought Magnus, he’d at least be able to see the matter in a more reasonable light.

It was a plan worth pursuing, but not until he got to York.

* * *

Ailinn was sewing up her ripped kirtle when Brina entered the tent, her blue eyes full of concern. “Orm says Magnus is very provoked with you.”

Ailinn kept sewing. She didn’t want to hear about Magnus...or even think about him. Things between them were so confused. She could scarcely deal with her own feelings, let alone his. She felt trapped, as ensnared as when she was Croa’s prisoner. This time her prison wasn’t the hold of a ship, but the conflict between her heart and her head. She cared for Magnus, perhaps even loved him, yet her sense of responsibility to her family and her heritage wouldn’t allow her to give in to her feelings.

Brina sat down beside her. “Orm told me that Magnus talked of selling you. But when I protested, Orm admitted Magnus wasn’t keen to give you up, despite everything you’ve done.”

“How can Orm tell you these things?” Ailinn asked irritably. “You don’t even speak the same language.”

“We’re learning from each other. Asgar’s helping.” Brina leaned a little nearer, her expression pleading. “The fact that Orm told me of Magnus’s plans—he must think there’s a chance Magnus might change his mind. You must go to Magnus. Tell him you care for him, that you’re sorry for being so difficult and ill-tempered.”

“I’ve not been ill-tempered! At least not unreasonably so.” Ailinn took a sharp, steadying breath. Had it come to this, that she must grovel and beg? The past fortnight had been one long struggle to maintain her dignity and pride.

Brina put a hand on her arm. “You can do it. He’s besotted with you. Far more than even he knows. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

She couldn’t help but remember how it felt to have him kiss and fondle her. If only she could force the memory away. She must remain aware how Magnus sought to control and dominate her. “Oh, aye, the sight of me inflames him.” She spoke in sarcastic tones. “That’s why he near threw me out of his bedsack last night. Which is what we were arguing about. I sought him out, tried to pleasure him, and he drew away from me!”

“But why did you do it? Was it because you desired him? Or, because you sought to get something from him? Some men are easily fooled, but Magnus isn’t like that. You’ll not convince him with lies. You must tell him what’s in your heart.”

Ailinn took another deep breath. “I...I can’t.”

“Why? Because of your pride? Is it truly worth losing your freedom over?”

Brina’s question was a sound one. Ailinn chewed her lower lip and pondered the choice she faced.

“Much depends on how far north you are,” said Vibold. “The time of year affects things as well. The sun shines at a different angle during the sunseason than it does during...” He broke off suddenly.

Magnus turned to see what had distracted the old seaman. Seeing Ailinn approach, he stiffened. What did she want?

“It looks as if the lady wishes to speak with you,” said Vibold. He moved away, obviously meaning to give them some privacy.

Magnus steeled himself against the onslaught of emotions the sight of Ailinn aroused. As usual, he felt weak with longing for her. He fought against it, telling himself how cold-hearted and manipulative she was and how everything she said and did was meant to bend him to her will.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was soft and coaxing.
Another of her feminine weapons in the assault on his heart.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m listening.”

A slight frown creased her brow and she chewed her lower lip. She appeared nervous. Was it because she was uncertain how best to manipulate him, or was she truly uneasy? He did have a lot of power over her. Every aspect of her life depended upon him. Obviously, she didn’t like being helpless and was hoping to gain some advantage. It would be interesting to see what she did.

When she clutched her hands together, Magnus almost felt sorry for her. Then he reminded himself he should feel satisfaction at the sight of her coming to him like this. How much things had changed in the past few days. Now the princess sought out the hireling.

“When we were down in the hold,” she began. “And we...” Her mouth worked. She obviously had a strong reaction to the memory of him pleasuring her. As did he. It had been amazing. Shatteringly intense.

With the next breath, he sought to shove away the memory, to push it back in some far corner of his mind. He couldn’t think about it now or he would weaken. He would pull her into his arms and lose all control.

“I wanted you to know how much I...” Her eyelids fluttered downwards and her cheeks flushed. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. You were ...wonderful.”

She raised her gaze to his for the briefest of moments. Her eyes seemed almost green, and he wondered if their color changed according to what she was feeling. He would like to know what color they were when he fondled her sweet femininity.

With effort, he jerked his musings from that dangerous territory.

“And last night, when I came to you... I was attempting to influence you, I’ll admit it. But that doesn’t change the desire I felt, nor the pleasure I took in touching you. I do care for you, Magnus. I have since the night of the storm when you held me on your lap all night.”

All the anger and bitterness seemed to seep out of him. He felt strangely limp and breathless. But some small part of his mind remained intact. And that part wanted some assurance her words were true. “Prove it to me,” he said. “Make me believe it.”

Her eyes glimmered like torchlight on water. He watched her, wondering what she would do. She brought her hand up and placed her delicate fingers on his jaw. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his.

He closed his eyes and remained utterly still. As much as he longed to pull her into his arms and possess her mouth with his own, he had to know what she would do next.

She kissed him tentatively. Her lips felt soft and sweet. His breathing quickened as raw desire surged through him. She pressed her body against his and kissed him more boldly, licking his lips and opening her mouth, enticing him to respond. He forced himself to hold back.

She ended the kiss and drew away. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, along with fear and embarrassment.

“A kiss is proof of nothing,” he said.

His words seemed to dismay her, and also make her angry.

“What would you have me do?” She glanced around, eyes flashing. “If we had some privacy, I could better show you I care for you.”

He took a step nearer, feeling he would explode with the lust her words aroused. “Would you? What would you do? Would you lie back naked and spread your legs for me? Touch my manhood? Guide it inside you?”

Her eyes turned greener than ever. He imagined that at the moment of penetration, they would be the color of moss. “Aye,” she whispered, “I would do whatever you wish.”

A part of him reveled in this moment. She’d agreed to yield to him, to satisfy his most intense yearnings. But another part was aware that what she offered had little to do with what was in her heart. Desperately reining in his body’s response, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “But passion is not trust, nor love either. You offer me your body, but you might do that with any man you were trying to bend to your will. I want more than that.”

He could tell she was really angry now. Angry and confused. He felt sorry for her. Perhaps he should relent. She
had
said she cared for him.

“What do you want me to do?” Her face was flushed with fury, her eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg you not to sell me? Is that what you want?”

“Is that what you’re afraid of, that I’ll sell you to another man?” With a twinge of guilt, he realized he’d considered doing that very thing.

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her feelings. “Oh, it’s no use!” she cried. “I can’t change who I am! Sell me, then! I vow I’ll fight any man who claims to be my master until I no longer have breath in my body!”

She whirled and stalked away. He watched her go, feeling disgusted with himself. Why hadn’t he responded to her kiss? Accepted her words? She’d said she cared for him. Said he was wonderful. Wasn’t that enough? Why had he been so harsh and cold? Was it to make up for the way she’d treated him in the beginning?

With a sense of shame he realized he’d proved her right. Like Croa, he’d sought to control her, to make her submit to him. But her pride, her stubbornness, that was part of what he admired. Part of what drew him to her.

Now he’d treated her so badly, she would probably never speak to him again. He turned to stare out at the sea.

Vibold came to stand beside him. “Women are much like the ocean,” the old man said. “They can be unpredictable, treacherous and cruel. But when they’re calm and content, there’s nothing so beautiful. You can’t force them to do what you wish, any more than you can control the sea. But you can seek to find their rhythm, to learn their heart. Sometimes that’s enough for good sailing. That woman...” He gestured. “She needs to be bedded. Not ravished nor forced, but coaxed into accepting you. Think on it, my friend.”

Magnus sighed. “I will.”

* * *

The
Dragonsbreath
— followed closely by the
Seawolf
—made its way down the river to the settlement of York. Ailinn and the other women watched from the prow. Hearing Brina whisper and giggle for the thousandth time about how Orm had promised to buy her something in the settlement, Ailinn gritted her teeth. She wanted to tell Brina not to be a fool. Clearly, Orm’s goal was to bed her, and he was using the enticement of buying her some trinket or bauble as means of bending her to his will. How easily her maid could be won over.

As soon as she had the resentful thought, Ailinn realized how unfair she was being. At least Brina had found a protector, and one she genuinely liked. Orm wouldn’t allow Brina to be sold. Or, he might use his earnings from the journey to purchase her. Either way, Brina would be safe. The same was true of Ullach. Asgar was always coming around and offering her food—to fatten her up, he said—and then staying to talk while she ate. No man had approached Gormlaith yet, but Ailinn suspected it was only a matter of time. The young woman had barely recovered from the blow to her head.

Things had turned out well for her companions, and none of them seemed distressed or concerned for the future any longer. Only
she
had a sense of doom looming over her.

She told herself it was because she was a princess that things were different for her. As the daughter of Conlach O’Donovan, she had a responsibility to the people who’d been under her father’s protection, and to her ancestors who’d shed their blood to claim the lands that were her heritage. She couldn’t forget that. And if her heritage meant she must make decisions that broke her own heart, then so be it.

That was the awful thing, how much it hurt. Worse than the thought of being sold to another man was the idea Magnus was the one who would be selling her. He didn’t want her. After all he’d done to free her from Croa, he’d decided she was too difficult. Too proud and haughty. Aye, she was all those things. She couldn’t help herself. If she hadn’t remained strong, she’d have died of despair on the journey to Dublin. Her will and determination were all that allowed her to survive.

But none of her reasoning changed how she felt about Magnus. Dear Magnus. How she loved him. Loved the way he looked. The grace and confidence with which he moved. The deep rumble of his voice. The way he could be so gentle, despite his size. The way he kissed. Dear heavens, she dare not think about that!
 She forced herself to gaze straight ahead, watching the ship’s progress up the river. Then, all at once, she could control the urge no longer. She glanced backwards.

The sail had been taken down and the crew sat on their sea chests, wielding the long oars that had been stored along the sides of the ship. Magnus wasn’t among the rowers, but stood in the stern of the vessel near the old seaman who steered the ship.

Observing Magnus’s tall, proud figure, Ailinn felt a stab of regret like a blade to the heart. Tears stung her eyes and she quickly turned back toward the prow. It wouldn’t do for him to see her watching him. She had no desire to give him the satisfaction of letting him know she cared anything at all for him. With effort, Ailinn forced her thoughts to practical matters. She wondered how long it would take Magnus to find a buyer for her in York.

Then another thought came to her. What if she could escape before he sold her? But how would she survive alone in a Norse longphort? Nay, she couldn’t simply run away. She needed a plan.

The key was Croa’s treasure. If she could steal even one piece of it, she might have the means to barter with some man to take her back to Ireland. But how to find a man she could trust? There must be a way; she would have to think on it.

Having a plan—feeble though it was—made her feel better. She turned her attention back to their surroundings. The land on either side of the river had been cleared, and fields of ripening grain and the thatched buildings of farmsteads could be seen from the ship.