Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2) (3 page)

“Give me the patience to deal with my brother fairly,” he prayed. “And once his woman is healed, I will exalt my father in the way any man of his status should be. Forgive me, Allfather. I have shunned duty in anger…”

He heeled his mount into a trot, once again northbound.

Hours later, he spied a fire through the trees. Sharing a meal with a fellow traveler would put him in a better mood. He dismounted and walked his horse the rest of the distance to the camp, hoping to find someone awake. Several leather bags were stacked near the fire. A half-eaten loaf of bread and wineskin were also set out.

He set his horse free to graze, then approached the sleeping form wrapped in fur. Much to his surprise, it was a woman—her long, dark blond tresses unbound and her delicate throat exposed. With a careful look at her possessions, he discovered her identity. An embroidered cloak was folded neatly on the ground by her pallet. Even her bags were embellished with colorful stitching.

Cursed Lapplander.

Though the Norse interacted with her people, tensions ran high. Many sheep and cows had been stolen from nearby steadings over the years and the thieves were obvious.

He should walk away and forget he discovered a Sami woman bedding down alone. Leave her to fend for herself. There were men of no honor who would pay to taste the tender flesh of a reindeer walker.

As he turned to go, a blade landed in the ground by his boot. Surprised, he stepped back, then gazed at her. The woman was crouched on top of her pallet. Wild-eyed and incredibly beautiful, Roald found himself unable to look away. Something about her held him captive.

“Hvem er du?”
she asked in Norse.

He should be the one demanding to know who she was. These were Norse lands. “Why are you here?”

She relaxed then, shifting to her knees, but never taking her eyes off him. “Don’t waste my time, Norseman. I didn’t wander into your camp. You disturbed my sleep without announcing yourself.”

“Twenty horsemen could have thundered by and you would have slept through it.”

She chuckled. “Are you insulting me, lowlander?”

Roald retrieved the knife, held it up, and inspected the blade. He laughed at it, running his thumb over the blunt edge. “I see your senses aren’t the only dull thing in this camp.”

She climbed to her feet, giving him the opportunity to admire her slim form. Dressed in nothing but a shift and boots, he could see the fullness of her breasts and her shapely hips.

“Give me my knife.”

He shook his head and sheathed the blade in his belt. “You’re in no position to make demands. Tell me who you are and why you’re here, first. If I’m satisfied by your answers, I’ll consider returning the weapon. But only if I have your solemn oath not to try and kill me again. Though your aim isn’t true.”

She’d given him every reason to tease her. And he liked the way her eyes sparked whenever he said something insulting. How long had it been since he’d met a spirited woman who didn’t care if he was the jarl’s son?

“
Jalla
!” she spoke in her language now.

“Calling me an idiot won’t help your cause.”

Her lips thinned in irritation. “You understood.”

“Our people have lived side-by-side for generations, woman. Do you not expect us to learn each other’s tongues so we might communicate?”

“I expect nothing from a Viking,” she said. “For though we are neighbors, there’s never been peace—not true peace.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “But if we are smarter than our forefathers, we can, perhaps, exercise restraint now.”

“Restraint?”

“Respect,” he clarified.

She considered it. “All right.” She walked to the place where the food and wine were set out. “Break bread with me.”

In a show of trust, she turned her back and picked up the loaf. Then she faced him again and tore a large chunk off. “Here.”

Unless Odin willed otherwise, he’d accept her offer. “I will sit to eat.”

Together, they got comfortable near the fire, and she pulled several items wrapped in cloth from one of her bags. The first contained cheese, the next, strips of smoked fish. Though Roald had fresh food in his saddlebag, he’d not miss the chance to know this woman.

“My name is Eva,” she said as she took a drink. “My people come from Malangsfjorden, but we settled in the mountains east of here generations ago. Occasionally, I wander the lowlands to collect plants for medicine. Not all the species I can find here grow in higher altitudes.”

He considered her expression, the way her hands moved when she talked, how she didn’t pause between words. All signs that she spoke truthfully.

“I am Jarl Roald Blood Axe and I seek a skilled healer. My sister-in-law has fallen ill—gravely ill I fear.” If Silvia died, his family would be torn apart. To happen upon this woman in the middle of nowhere seemed too good to be true. Once again, Roald found himself indebted to the gods, for Allfather must have led him here. “Are you a thrall?”

She snorted. “I am freeborn, Roald Blood Axe. Should I dare ask how you earned that horrible name?”

He withdrew her knife from his weapon belt and laid it on the ground between them. “By having better aim than you.”

She rewarded him with a smile as she reached for the blade. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I missed on purpose.”

“Did you?” He swallowed a mouthful of fish. “I will remember that, woman, and some day, if the chance arises, I will ask you to prove it.”

She laughed, thinking it a joke, then tucked the knife in her boot. “If I have my way, we’ll never meet again.”

Roald wasn’t trying to amuse her. If she was a healer, he’d take her home, whether she agreed to go or not. “Are you a healer?”

“My mother is
noaidi
and I will eventually take her place.”

He appreciated the way she squared her shoulders and raised her chin with pride when she spoke of her life. It left no doubt that Eva was, indeed, a healer. And likely a skilled one. For though the Sami were notorious thieves, they were also known for their magic.

“Then you will accompany me. If you are successful, I will pay you generously.”

“No,” she said. “I have other obligations.”

Unaccustomed to refusal, he cocked his head, even more intrigued. “Your full cooperation is expected.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What happened to mutual respect?”

“When my family is at risk, even peace has its limitations.”

“What if I walk away?”

Did she really mean to test him? To push him beyond civility? “You won’t get far,” he said with some amusement.

R
oald’s last words
were spoken softly, but his hard set jaw suggested how serious he was. Eva considered the cost of refusal. He wasn’t the first chieftain she’d crossed paths with. But this one carried himself differently. Yes, the blatant arrogance remained, and his authoritative tone never wavered, but the flickering firelight revealed something in his eyes. Just as the gods wore many skins, so could a man.

The more complicated the man, the better the chances he had a kind soul. This, Eva truly believed.

She took another drink of fermented milk, then corked her skin. “Many of the elders in my village are sick.”

“I am sorry to hear it,” Roald said. “Does this illness threaten their lives?”

“No,” she admitted. “However, it does make them uncomfortable.”

“Another reason I must ask you to think of my sister-in-law first.”

“Tell me of her symptoms.”

“There is little to report.” He looked frustrated. “Eating and dancing with me one minute, the next, she collapsed and remains unconscious.”

“Did she complain about stomach pains before?”

“No.”

“Fever? A headache? Are the muscles in her legs stiff and weak?”

“No.”

“Did she vomit after you danced with her?”

“No.” He blew out a breath. “What is the point of all these questions?”

Hours could be wasted discussing his sister-in-law’s condition. But, before she agreed to go anywhere with him, Eva needed to know what she was facing. Like any people living outside the grace of her gods, she risked her own life if she failed to provide a cure. If this woman died under her care, instead of blaming the illness, they’d fault her.

“There are many maladies that poison the blood—weaken the body—steal the life force from us. What good could I do if I didn’t know the nature of her sickness?”

“I understand,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be easier to contemplate what treatments you’d choose while standing at her bedside? Where you can properly observe her?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But what rabbit walks into the wolf’s den unprepared?”

He scratched his chin. “Is that what you think I am, Eva? A wolf?”

She averted her eyes. She imagined his clothes hid the heart of a beast of some sort. “If I agree to treat your sister-in-law and she dies, what will you do with me, then?”

“A fair question.”

“Aye,” she said.

“I swear by everything sacred to Odin, as long as you treat Silvia the same way you would your own kinswoman, no harm shall befall you if she dies.”

She raised her chin. “Swear it by my gods, not your own.”

“No.” he stood. “Allfather is the great protector of the northlands. Invoking his name is guarantee enough.”

“I disagree.” She scrambled to her feet, too. “You cannot have it both ways, Viking. Expect me to risk my life for you and refuse to acknowledge the gods that keep me safe.”

“Odin is the patriarch. If your gods truly exist, believe me, it’s by Allfather’s mercy.”

Eva stared heavenward and spread her arms wide. Though light was creeping into the sky, the stars were still visible. “Tis a selfish thing to say, Roald Blood Axe. Gaze upon the heavens—can you count even a portion of the stars? Do you know where the moon goes once the sun rises? Or where the stars hide from the daylight? No,” she said, staring at him. “So you expect me to believe that one god, this Odin your people worship, is the master of everything I can see and not see?”

“I do.”

She marveled at his closedmindedness. “Then why do you seek my magic?”

“To save Silvia’s life.”

“Ah.” That’s what Eva had been waiting for, to catch a glimpse of his vulnerability. “Then I suggest we reach another compromise. Simply swear by the sun, moon, and stars that you accept responsibility for my well-being, and I will go with you.”

“You’re a willful woman.”

“And you are a desperate man.”

Roald waved her off. “If a meaningless vow will make you feel better…”

“Meaningless?” His disregard for her faith angered her. “I withdraw the offer.” She started to pack up her food.

As soon as the bread was safely in her bag, he spun her around, gripping her arms firmly. “I’ve played your game long enough, woman. Did you really think I’d give you a choice?”

His brute strength didn’t faze her. “There is always a choice, Jarl Roald. A right one and a wrong one.”

“Will you now instruct me on honor?”

Family members often acted out of character when faced with a possible death. But there was no reason for him to manhandle her. “Let me go.”

She met his blue gaze—finding it difficult to refuse him. But not because he’d threatened her. Eva knew how empty male posturing could be. Markkos did the same to her often enough.

“Give up,” he said. “I am bigger and faster.”

“I’ve faced fiercer obstacles than an uncivilized Viking.” As quickly as the words tumbled out of her mouth, she regretted saying them.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. The man exuded strength and power. Even captured her deepest interest from the moment she awoke to him standing in her camp. And though Eva believed in unending kindness to all, he challenged her generous nature.

“Swear by the sun, moon, and stars to protect me, Jarl Roald.”

“Why are you obsessed with the heavenly bodies?”

“If they didn’t exist, we’d lose our way in the dark.”

“I’ve forgotten the traditions of the Sami,” he said. “Your ancestors are counted amongst the stars.”

“Yes.” She couldn’t believe he knew that. “The daughter of the Sun favored my people so much, she gifted us with reindeer. And without them, we’d wither and die.”

“All right,” he acquiesced. “By the light of the stars, if I fail to protect you, may your gods punish me.”

She nodded with approval. “A last thing,” she said, offering her arm. “Touch this mark.”

Roald studied the eight-sided star tattooed on her skin. “What does it mean?”

“Tis the symbol of my family. Prove your respect for my lineage as a healer.”

“Will it end our struggle?”

“Aye.”

“Then by all means…”

He caressed her skin, sending a chill up her arm. She stepped back, fascinated by the involuntary reaction her body had. “Now, if you’ll turn your back to me while I dress.”

He smirked. “A man usually grants a woman privacy as she undresses.”

“Well…” She searched for her gown. “I ask for the opposite.”

He grunted and, once again, gave in. Eva laughed to herself as she pulled her colorful dress over her head and tied the front laces. Roald Blood Axe wasn’t as menacing as he pretended to be.

A
s if the
whole situation with Konal and his new wife hadn’t been agonizing enough… Now, with Eva perched on his horse between his legs, every time he hit a rut in the terrain, her arse rubbed against him. Roald gritted his teeth as he resisted the urge to make her walk the rest of the way. He’d not intended to find an attractive healer. Any he’d ever encountered before were crones, twisted with age and wisdom.

Only a few hours away from home, Roald decided to stop. He dismounted and then helped Eva down.

“I have never been this far south,” she commented as she rubbed her backside. “Nor have I ridden atop a horse for so long. I’m afraid by the time we arrive at your home, I may need the services of a healer myself.”

“Sore?” Roald possessed his own pains that needed relief.

“Yes,” she said.

“Stretch your legs a bit. If you wish to bathe, there’s a creek beyond the trees.” He pointed in the direction he intended to walk.