Oath Breaker (Sons of Odin Book 3) (5 page)

Chapter 8

A fortnight later, Selia woke early as she always did, before the sun was up. She lay in her pallet, bleary eyed, gazing around the cave. Even though it had been made as comfortable as possible, it was still a cave, drafty and damp. They had tucked the children’s pallets along the wall most protected from the entry, but still the winds whipped through occasionally. The fire pit they’d built helped ease the chill somewhat.

Selia rose now to stir the coals. Eithne would be up soon to prepare the morning meal, so she added kindling to get the fire going again, then a few more small logs. She checked on the children, still fast asleep in their pallets, and adjusted Faolan’s blanket up around his shoulders against the cool morning.

She could go up to the fort to milk the sheep, but it was early yet; most likely Bahati was still asleep. They would spend most of the morning together, first milking, then gathering eggs from the chickens and apples from the trees. She would wait for her friend.

Bahati’s native language was called Tamazight
,
but she only seemed to use it when she was angry.
She spoke some Irish and a bit more of Norse, but the language she used the most with Father Oengul and Catrin was Welsh. Oengul was half Irish and half Welsh, so he spoke both languages equally well. Selia had picked up a good deal of Welsh already, just from listening to him speak with Bahati and Catrin. The four children spoke a strange mixture of languages when they played together.

Eithne snored loudly on her bench across the cave. Sleeping on the damp floor had caused her great pain in her bones when they’d first come here. Ulfrik had built her a sleeping bench several days later, an act which had garnered much esteem from the woman. Now Eithne smiled at him almost as much as she did the children.

Ulfrik was just as clever as he’d always been. Was he trying to soften her heart by being kind to her childhood nursemaid?

She looked over at him, asleep on his pallet with his broad back to her, long, blond hair fanned out against his arm. He appeared so much like Alrik it stole her breath.

She’d always loved to watch Alrik sleep. It was one of the few times he ever seemed peaceful.

She pushed the thoughts of Alrik away. A restless energy enveloped her, and Selia wrapped herself in her cloak to leave the cave. As a purple dawn hovered on the horizon, she picked her way through the forest, following the bubbling stream. A short walk from the cave was another clearing, larger and relatively flat, culminating in a ledge that faced the beach below.

Selia reached the ledge and sat, tucking her knees up and wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. She stared at the water below, willing the soft rhythm of the surf to lull her troubled mind.

The boys had adjusted well to their new environment. They had taken to Eithne immediately, and the woman in turn seemed to feel a renewed sense of purpose with young ones to care for again. She’d grumbled that Ainnileas had rarely been home since his business had expanded, and when he was home he needed very little from her. Caring for the children had changed all that. Eithne now had a spring to her step that Selia hadn’t seen from her since she’d been very young.

Her children were happy. Selia was reunited with the people she loved. Why was she still so unsettled?

The anxiety she’d shared with Father Oengul had not abated; in fact it seemed to fester by the day. Why did it feel as though an unseen hand always had its fingers wrapped around her neck, squeezing the breath from her? Dark thoughts plagued her mind, following her like a shadow, always just a step away. She wasn’t sure if the eyes in the shadow belonged to Alrik, or to his cousin Einarr.

There was a rustling sound of dried leaves as someone approached. Selia turned quickly, her heart pounding in her ears, then released her breath as she saw it was Ulfrik.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He sat beside her, more than an arm’s length away. Other than the morning they had been reunited in Dubhlinn, he had been careful not to touch her. “I like to come to this clearing, too. It’s peaceful. I think if I were building a house I would build it here, overlooking the sea.”

She nodded thoughtfully, following his eyes as he gazed around. “Yes, this would be a good place. But if you were building a house here it would have to have a window looking out on the water. You Finngalls don’t care for windows, do you?”

“They are very impractical,” he agreed.

Selia gave him a tight smile. “Then you should build your windowless house facing a cliff, Ulfrik. Why have a beautiful view if you can’t see it?”

He smiled but didn’t respond, and they both looked out to sea, watching the sun rise. The few moments of banter with Ulfrik had pushed away Selia’s anxiety briefly, but now it returned, dark and foreboding. She shivered.

“Are you cold?” Ulfrik asked.

“No.”

He hesitated. “Do you want to be left alone? I’m sure there is some wood to chop.”

“No. You can stay.”

He nodded, looking across the water again. “It seems like you haven’t slept well since we’ve been on Oengul’s island.”

“You would only know that if you’re not sleeping either,” she muttered.

Ulfrik chuckled dryly. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Selia.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. Ulfrik had given up everything to keep her safe. To admit she felt the way she did would be insulting, at the very least.

“You won’t hurt my feelings if you tell me you’re unhappy, you know,” he probed.

Selia scowled. The man was in her head as always. “I’m not unhappy.”

“I know you worry about him finding us.”

Him
. Alrik. The reason they were in hiding. It would remain so for the rest of their lives. The man she’d loved with a passion that stole her breath, the man she herself had given up everything to be with. The same man who had nearly killed Faolan and had put a slave collar around her neck to keep her from leaving him.

Ulfrik pressed on through her silence. “Do you still love him?”

She looked over at Ulfrik, meeting the intense blue gaze so like his brother’s. He’d asked that same question long ago at the cove. She had loved Alrik then, despite all he had put her through; loved the man as he didn’t deserve to be loved. And had ultimately returned to him, knowing exactly what she was returning to.

This time, however, the answer wasn’t simple. The ugliness that gnawed at her rose to the surface, its shadowy fingers wrapping tighter around her throat.

Selia shook her head, unable to respond at first. How to explain to Ulfrik that she felt nothing but a terrifying emptiness without his brother? For so many years, her entire existence had been entwined with that of her husband, her thoughts and actions consumed by him. Everything she had done, every decision she’d made, had been weighed against how Alrik would react to it. The dance had been done automatically, no more consciousness to it than breathing.

Now, the absence of Alrik Ragnarson left her hollow. Like a tree eaten away from the inside by insects, leaving nothing but the bark intact.

Selia no longer knew what to think. How to feel. The flight from Norway had been a distraction from her emptiness, the urgency of their situation keeping her focused on the goal of safety for her children. Now, she felt adrift in a chasm of darkness. Alone.

Would Ulfrik understand? Could she trust him with the truth, as she hadn’t been able to do with Father Oengul?

“There is something wrong with me, Ulfrik,” she admitted, fiddling with the stem of a leaf so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I think . . . I think I’m
broken
. It’s as though when I stopped loving Alrik I stopped being able to feel anything at all. I’m empty inside.”

He was silent, as though deep in thought, as Selia continued. “My life was about making Alrik happy. About keeping him calm. I was so focused on him, I forgot who I was.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “And now I’m nothing at all.”

Ulfrik reached for her as if to offer comfort, then hesitated, dropping his hand without touching her. “Selia,” he began cautiously, “it doesn’t have to be that way.”

She held silent. Did Ulfrik think she
wanted
to feel like this? Did he think it was a choice?

He continued, his voice soft. “It hurts me to see you suffer. I wish I could take this pain from you. I would take away every sorrow he’s brought upon you if I could.”

Suffer
. The same word Ainnileas had used to describe what Ulfrik felt for her.

She met Ulfrik’s gaze. The guarded expression was gone, replaced by a raw honesty she’d only seen once from him, the day he had kissed her at the cove in Norway. It frightened her now, just as it had then.

No.

She couldn’t permit herself to be hurt again. Alrik had left her an empty shell, fragile and vulnerable. To allow herself to develop feelings for his brother could crush that shell completely. What little there was left of her must be safeguarded at all costs.

But what about the children? Selia had more to consider than just herself. She needed Ulfrik; needed what he could provide for her family. She had two boys to raise and a babe growing in her belly. They needed stability, safety, permanence; a home. As Ainnileas had said, she could do a lot worse than Ulfrik Ragnarson.

Her brother was right. Ulfrik was a good man, he loved her, and he deserved something for his efforts.

She closed her eyes, gathering her courage. Then, straightening resolutely, she looked over at him. “I can never give you my heart, Ulfrik, not the way you desire. There is no love left inside me. He took it all.” Selia drew a deep breath. “But I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for us. If you want me, then I am yours.”

He stared at her for the longest time, his face growing flushed. Selia squirmed under his scrutiny. Ulfrik finally spoke. “What exactly are you offering, Selia?”

It was her turn to blush. Was he going to make her say it? “You know what I’m offering,” she mumbled.

Ulfrik’s breathing quickened and his eyes narrowed on her. She realized too late he was furious, in a rage worse than she had ever seen, other than the day he had nearly killed his brother. Then, she’d been forced to hold a dagger to his throat to stop him.

His voice shook with emotion. “A business arrangement? My protection in exchange for access to your bed?”

She cringed in mortification. Why did he have to make it sound so awful? “I’m giving you what you want.”

“No. Let me be very clear, Selia, that is not what I want and it never has been. My life would be so much easier if that
was
what I wanted.”

“But—”

Ulfrik cut her off. “I can get what you’re offering at any brothel in Dubhlinn.”

Selia gaped as if he had slapped her. “Why would you say such a thing to me?” she faltered.

“Because it’s true. I love you Selia, I think I loved you from the moment I met you. I’ve never been able to love another woman
but
you, no matter how I wished to be through with you. I damned the gods for cursing me to love a woman who didn’t return my feelings.

“And now you throw scraps at my feet. As though use of your body would be enough. You think I don’t want to touch you? To hold you, to be inside you? It’s all I think about, Selia. It’s all I
dream
about. But never in my dreams did you come to me offering a bargain for your bed.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he held his hand up to stop her.

“I want all of you, Selia.
All of you
. And until I can have that, I want nothing.”

Chapter 9

Selia pushed her way through the forest, not caring that the branches slapped at her skin and snagged her gown as she ran. How dare Ulfrik speak to her so? How dare he make her feel as though she’d sullied him with her offer? A man who had shared a thrall’s bed with his brother didn’t deserve to react with such self-righteousness. She wanted to hit him; hurt him for how he had humiliated her.

She made her way up the hill and across the bluff to the fort. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted to her from the tower dwelling. They’d brought plenty of grain to the island. Catrin loved it so, Bahati had made bread for her every day since.

But instead of veering toward the heady aroma of warm bread, Selia instead turned toward the other tower, the makeshift barn. She had no wish to engage in a conversation with Father Oengul after her shameless proposal to Ulfrik had been so blatantly rejected. The priest could probably smell the rot of sin on her soul. She would need more than a blessing this time.

Selia heard the faint sound of milking as she entered the structure. Bahati’s head came around the side of the sheep as she worked the teats of the animal.

“I wondered if you were coming at all,” she scolded.

Selia gave her friend a faint smile. The woman’s hands, slender and dexterous, milked the last drops.

“Are you finished?” Selia couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice.

“Yes,” Bahati replied. “But if you are needing me, I can be not finished.”

Selia sat across from her, silent for a moment. “I had a fight with Ulfrik.”

Bahati, pouring half the milk into a second pail for Selia, raised her eyebrows. “A fight?”

“An argument.”

“Ahh.” Bahati nodded in solidarity. “Norse dog.”

Selia pressed her lips together as she poked at a stone with her shoe. It wasn’t fair of Ulfrik to be so demanding. To require
all of her
or nothing at all. The ultimatum made her feel sick. Or was it the babe making her so queasy?

“He loves me,” she blurted.

The woman nodded again. “I know this. You care for him as well, I think?”

Selia kicked the stone so hard it hit the side of the structure. “I’m married to his brother,” she muttered.

Bahati shot her an impatient look. “I know who you are married to—the man who made you run away. The man who hurt your boy. I ask if you care for
this
man. Ulfrik.”

Selia chewed at her lip. No matter how justified she’d been in leaving Alrik, she was still married to him. Wasn’t she? It didn’t matter what Ainnileas thought about it. They’d wed in the presence of a Christian priest, albeit as he lay dying by Alrik’s hand.

The concept of divorce was still so foreign. Was simply declaring herself divorced enough for it to be true, as the Finngalls insisted?

Regardless, the thought of actually developing feelings for another man had never crossed Selia’s mind. Her willingness to find a suitable proxy father for her children hadn’t included the idea of
caring
for him.

After Selia’s silence, Bahati pressed on. “I think you do care for this Northman. I think it frightens you.”

Selia gestured with an impatient hand. Bahati knew nothing. She imagined tender feelings where none existed.

Bahati set the pails of milk next to her on the ground, favoring Selia with her penetrating gaze. Selia had been surprised to discover Bahati was only eighteen, and not simply because she had a five year-old daughter. The woman’s enigmatic eyes seemed ancient; wise beyond her years.

“Did he tell you Oengul dipped him in the water?”

Selia drew her brows together. “I don’t know what you mean, Bahati.”

“The water of the Christ god. He dipped the Northman in it.”

Realization dawned on Selia as another wave of queasiness hit her hard. “Ulfrik was baptized?” she whispered.

Bahati nodded. “Oengul did not want a Norse dog on the island. Your Ulfrik said he would be dipped in the water if he could stay.”

“Oh.” Selia released a breath. So it had nothing to do with her. He’d just wanted Father Oengul to trust him.

“He said there was another reason. So he could one day marry you.”

Years before, Ainnileas had been set to marry her off to Ulfrik in return for enough silver to get them home to Ireland. No matter that she was already married to his brother; Ainnileas had always asserted the marriage hadn’t been legitimate since Alrik wasn’t baptized. And he’d vowed Ulfrik’s willingness to be baptized to ensure the legitimacy of his marriage to Selia.

But what did Ainnileas know? He followed the rules he liked and ignored the rest, as he’d done his entire life.

Before she could answer Bahati, a shadow darkened the doorway. Faolan. Selia turned to her son with relief. “Good morning,” she said as he approached, his face still flushed with sleep. “Did Eithne send you to fetch me? I’m sure she’s wondering why I haven’t brought the milk.”

“Yes, Mother,” Faolan nodded with a yawn, holding his hand out for the pail. Selia didn’t give it over, instead studying the small figure of her son.

He and Geirr had stopped calling her
Mamai
after coming to the island. It seemed as if they grew in fits and spurts, without warning. Growing away from her. It surprised Selia how much the switch to the more formal mode of address hurt, reminding her in a way of how it had felt when Faolan weaned himself from her breast. One day he’d been nursing happily, twirling a lock of her hair around his chubby finger, and the next he was finished.

It seemed to Selia she would awaken some future morning to find her little boys suddenly replaced by grown men. The impermanence of them as children gave her such a feeling of melancholy.

But she smiled at Faolan now as she rose with the pail. “Well, I’m off to the cave with the milk. You can go fishing with Geirr and Ingrid, if you like. Are they awake yet?”

Ingrid and Ainnileas had taken to sneaking off late at night to be alone in the woods together, obviously finding the lack of privacy in the cave to be a damper on their passion. But this meant Ingrid slept even later than usual in the mornings, and was even less helpful when she finally arose from her pallet.

Faolan scowled. “Ulfrik took the boat out by himself. He said we couldn’t come today.”

“Oh.” Selia averted her gaze from Bahati’s knowing stare.

There was a fine breeze this morning but Ulfrik kept the sail lowered, preferring to row the small boat instead. He needed to burn off the restlessness that paced inside him, swirling his mind and body into turmoil.

It had been a long time since he’d been this close to eruption, and the thought of losing control was frightening. Selia and her boys had run from a man who couldn’t control himself. Ulfrik couldn’t let them see that the man they had run
to
was nearly as volatile. So he’d taken the boat out, ensuring he could be completely alone until he calmed.

He was furious with Selia for offering herself to him like a common harlot, but angrier with himself at how near he’d come to accepting the offer. He wanted her, craved her, yearned for her as he had no other. All the pent up longing and thwarted desire had rushed to the surface, urging him to
take her
. It had required every bit of self-control Ulfrik possessed not to do so.

He pulled the oars harder, drenched in sweat already but bereft of the relief he needed. Ulfrik’s desperate thoughts still churned like the waves of a stormy sea.

He was tempted to row all the way back to Dubhlinn, find a petite, dark-haired whore, and take his lust out on her. He’d tried that once, long ago, but hadn’t been able to go through with it. Ulfrik had paid the girl for the night and left the brothel without touching her.

He wanted Selia, yes, but the claiming of her body would never be enough. Ulfrik wanted her to love him as she had loved Alrik. He wanted passion to dance in her eyes when she gazed at him, wanted to make her tremble with need when he touched her, wanted her to cry out his name as he buried himself in her depths.

The thought of being inside her nearly drove him to the breaking point again. He imagined Selia’s silky limbs wrapped around him, their bodies writhing and damp, her head thrown back in desire . . .

The rowing wasn’t working. Snarling in frustration, Ulfrik pulled off his boots, cloak and shirt, slinging them to the floor boards of the boat. He stood, balancing carefully so as not to tip the vessel, and jumped into the sea.

The cold water was bracing, making him gasp as he bobbed to the surface. The island was far in the distance; he had rowed for quite some time.

Good
.

Ulfrik gritted his teeth, grabbed the rope floating in the water, and began a slow swim back to the people who needed him to be a better man than his brother.