Odin's Shadow (Sons Of Odin Book 1) (9th Century Viking Romance) (17 page)

"A bit, yes. But that means nothing. I don't know that Alrik ever really loved Eydis. I honestly never thought he was capable of loving anyone, except for perhaps his children."

Selia gaped at the woman. If what Alrik felt for Ingrid was love, she felt immensely sorry for anyone he hated.

Hrefna gestured with her free hand as though reading Selia’s thoughts. "Not Ingrid so much. Their kinship has always been strained. They are too alike. No, I meant his younger daughters, Adis and Frida. They died with their mother. And whatever goodness there was left in Alrik seemed to have died with them."

"What happened to them?" Selia asked hesitantly.

"They were poisoned, I think. No one knows for sure. It happened last year when the men had gone a-viking. Ingrid was being even more difficult than usual, and her mother was at her wits’ end. And Ulfrik's wife was here, too."

"Ulfrik's wife?" Selia echoed. "Ulfrik is married?"

"Why yes," Hrefna said, as though surprised she didn't know. "He was. He married Eydis' sister Hilda several years ago. He has his own farmstead-Geirr's old house-but he wanted Hilda to stay with her sister while he was gone, since Hilda was large with their first child."

Selia fumed. After spending nearly every waking hour with Ulfrik on the ship, one would think he might have mentioned the fact that he was married. But why did Hrefna speak of Ulfrik's wife as if she no longer existed? Had she and the babe died in childbirth?

Or had they died along with Eydis and her daughters?

"Ingrid was making everyone in the house miserable,” Hrefna continued. “Finally, I could stand it no more, and I offered to take her to stay with Kolgrima for the remainder of the summer. She has kept Ingrid for us before. Ingrid is kinder to her than to anyone else, and that's saying quite a bit. Eydis and Hilda were greatly relieved at the thought of a break from Ingrid, I think. Ingrid and I set off for Kolgrima's farmstead, along with a few thralls. We had been there no more than a day or two when Bolli rode up with the news. The look on his face was such that I hope to never see again."

Hrefna quieted for a moment, lost in the memory, then glanced at Selia as if she had forgotten she was there. "They were dead . . . they were all dead. Eydis, Hilda, and the little girls. No one knew what happened-they had been fine one day and dead the next. I think that was the first time I had seen Ingrid cry since she was a small child."

Selia's eyes were brimming with tears as well. It didn't seem fair that one family should be shrouded with so much sadness, so much pain. "But why did you think they were poisoned?" she queried.

"It was the ale . . . it had to be the ale. By the time we got back two thralls had died as well. Thralls don't drink the same ale as we do," Hrefna explained. "They drink a weak brew, or water. The fine ale is reserved for the family. But the two thralls, thinking no one would be the wiser, had apparently helped themselves to the opened cask of ale and also died. I can think of no other explanation."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"It had to be one of the other thralls." Hrefna’s voice hardened. "The thralls brew the ale. They have access to the alehouse, and they open each new cask as it's needed. One of them must have seen an opportunity and took it. But what I'll never understand is why the thrall waited until Alrik was gone to do it. Why kill women and children when it's the master you hate?"

Someone despised Alrik so much that they killed his family to punish him. They hated him enough not to kill him, but to watch him suffer-to watch the anguish of losing what he loved most slowly destroy him. The cold calculation of such an act sent a shiver up Selia’s spine.

"When the men returned, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do to tell them what had happened. I've never seen Alrik more enraged—he killed half a dozen thralls, at least, before Olaf and Ulfrik could stop him. He wanted to kill them all, slay every one of them and be done with it, but we were able to talk sense into him. It would have been much too expensive to replace so many thralls. So Olaf took them to Bjorgvin and sold them, and he bought new ones."

Selia took a shaky breath, sick with the tragedy of it all. The death of Eydis and her two young daughters, of Ulfrik's wife and unborn child. Not to mention all of the slaves-most likely innocent-killed at Alrik's hand. No wonder people still spoke of the curse of Ragnarr, for clearly there was a dark cloud of misfortune hovering over his house.

"I don't think he mourned much for Eydis. She was a good woman and very comely, yet they were not well suited to each other. But his girls . . . he did love them. He doesn't speak of them and he refuses to visit their graves, but I know it's because he cares too much. And when he looks at Ingrid . . . I think she knows he wonders why she survived but her sisters did not, and it makes her furious. It's why she taunts him so."

No wonder Ingrid was so hateful to everyone. She had lost her entire family except for the father who despised her. Selia didn't like the girl any more than she had before, but she understood her better now.

"Are Ingrid and Muirin friends?"

"Friends?" Hrefna laughed. "Of course not. Why would Ingrid be friends with a thrall? No, she only said what she did to get a rise out of her father. And to hurt you, of course. I love Ingrid as my own, but she is not easy to live with. It will take a very brave man—or a foolish one—to ever marry that girl."

As Selia struggled with her uncertainty, Hrefna placed her hands on her shoulders and regarded her with a stern expression. "Selia, do not concern yourself with Muirin. These things always have a way of resolving themselves. Ulfrik will claim the child, and we will forget about this entire mess soon enough."

Chapter 20

Suffering another sleepless night, Selia found it maddening to be so exhausted, yet to lie awake with her thoughts in turmoil. What if Alrik never returned? Although Hrefna had assured her this was typical for him-he was only hunting and would be back as soon as he had killed something-she was unconvinced. Could he be hurt, alone in the woods, slowly bleeding to death? Or was he with another woman, warm and snug in her bed? Both images were equally torturous.

The silence of the house was broken by the soft sound of the front door closing. She stilled, holding her breath to listen—had he finally come home? But several long moments went by. It wasn't Alrik.

But not Hrefna or Olaf either, for if they needed to use the privy they would have gone out the kitchen door. It must be Ulfrik who was awake in the middle of the night, no doubt returning from a visit to Muirin. His bench was in the main room, so he would use the front door when he found it necessary to sneak out.
Or in
.

Grumbling, Selia rolled over. Why hadn't Ulfrik trusted her enough to tell her about his wife and babe? If he had his own farmstead as Hrefna had claimed, then why on earth did he stay here at his brother’s house instead of going home? And furthermore, why didn't he take his lover with him?

She flipped onto her back, her anger rising by the minute. Did he think he could just ignore her and she would forget they had ever been friends? Did the time they had spent together on the ship mean nothing to him? She was owed an explanation at the very least.

Selia flung the blankets aside, pulling her gown over her head with a curse. She didn't bother with shoes, but stormed barefoot into the main room. She stopped in front of Ulfrik's bench, hesitating for a moment. There was no movement behind his closed curtain. Perhaps it hadn't been him coming in the door, after all.

"Ulfrik," she whispered, "Are you awake?"

A few seconds of silence, then a rustling sound. He drew the curtain back and stared at her. "What are you doing out here?"

She frowned. "I need to speak with you."

"In the middle of the night?" As he sat up, the blanket fell into his lap. She averted her eyes from his bare chest as Ulfrik hoisted the blanket around his shoulders.

"Yes, now," she insisted. "You've been avoiding me since Ingrid said what she did about Muirin. You only come home to eat, then you leave without explanation. Why? I'm not a child, you know."

"I've never treated you like a child."

Was he trying to humor her? She clenched her fists. "I know everything," she hissed. "All of it."

He nodded, slowly. "Muirin told me you spoke to her."

She expelled a breath, deflated. Selia had assumed he had been keeping his distance from her so as to dodge an awkward conversation about who had fathered Muirin's child. "If you knew, then why have you been avoiding me?"

His eyes narrowed, and in the dim light he looked exactly like his brother. He spoke with more force than she was accustomed to hearing from him. "Because I'm not like Alrik-when I hurt someone I feel badly about it. And my brother just leaves as always, letting everyone else repair the mess he made. Muirin doesn't deserve this. Neither do you. But there is nothing I can do about it, nothing to make this right . . . and I don't like myself very much for it."

"Oh." She looked away, unable to suffer his unblinking gaze. What a fool she was. This had nothing to do with her, and everything to do with Ulfrik's own guilty conscience. "But if you care for Muirin, why not take her away from here? Hrefna said you have your own house."

He gazed at her for a long time before he spoke. "Yes, I have my grandfather's house. But I would rather not go back there. Did Hrefna also tell you that is where I lived with my wife?"

She nodded, flushing.

"Would you have me leave, then? Is that what you want?"

"No, of course not. I just thought–if you loved Muirin—”

"I don't. But I will take responsibility for her child. If it means that much to you, I will leave, and I will take her with me." His voice held hurt.

How thoughtless of her to suggest he take his lover to the home he had shared with his wife, who had died carrying their child. She should have realized the reason he remained here, at Alrik's house. The memories at his own home were too painful to bear.

Selia wanted to sink into the floor. Oh, why hadn't she just stayed in bed?

"I don't want you to leave, Ulfrik. I shouldn't have been angry with you. It's just that . . . I miss you."

"You have Hrefna now."

"But I still miss you," she said quietly. "You were my only friend on the ship. You were the only one who was kind to me. And now I've hurt your feelings."

He sighed. "I will always be your friend. But things are different here than they were on the ship. You don't need help with your Norse any longer. There is no reason for us to spend so much time together now. And if we do . . . well, people will think wrongly. Surely you understand."

Selia looked at him without answering. If she spoke, the hot tears that were building up in the back of her throat would spill out.

Ulfrik started to reach out for her, then thought better of it and dropped his hand into his lap. "You shouldn't even be out here now," he cautioned. "Go back to bed, Selia."

She stood there for several moments, reluctant to admit he was right. If someone-Hrefna or Olaf, or heaven forbid, Ingrid-saw them right now they would assume the worst. And if Alrik found out . . . well, she didn't even want to think about that. Her jealous husband was quick to jump to conclusions. Her decision to sneak out here to speak to Ulfrik had not only been foolish, but potentially dangerous for both of them.

"I'm sorry," Selia choked out, then hurried to her room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Selia slept later than usual the next morning. She stretched, slow and languid, and ignored the bustling sounds coming from the kitchen. She rolled over, promising herself she would arise in a few minutes.

She saw a pair of large male boots out of the corner of her eye and sat up with a start, all thoughts of sleep gone. Alrik was sitting at the little table, his long legs stretched out before him with his feet crossed at the ankles. He studied her with his piercing gaze, smiling his most charming smile, and Selia's heart fluttered inside her chest.

No. She was furious with him. He had gotten a slave with child, then left the farmstead without any explanation. She couldn't let him return as though nothing had happened. No self-respecting wife would allow that, and although
she
knew she had lost all self-respect when it came to Alrik Ragnarson, she would be damned if she was going to let him know it.

He crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. The mattress gave under his weight, and Selia found herself tipping toward him. She moved farther away, shooting what she hoped was an icy glare in his direction.

"So you're still angry with me, little one?" He cupped her face, stroking her jaw with his thumb.

Despite herself, she felt her body grow warm with his touch. He was so close she could smell him-both the strong soap he had recently used, as well as the underlying male scent that was uniquely his. With fading resolve, she clambered out of bed to get away from him.

Careful to stay out of his reach, she stood before him. The chilly morning air rent through her thin shift, and Selia crossed her arms to hide her erect nipples.

Laughing, he crossed his own arms as he regarded her. "Are we playing a game then, Selia? You know I'll win."

"You conceited bastard," she spat in Irish.

He raised his eyebrows, not knowing what she said but obviously suspecting the worst.

She continued in Norse. "Alrik, why did you marry me?"

An impatient noise escaped him as he reached for her, but she stepped back. His gaze met hers, all humor gone from his face.

Selia spoke quickly. "I am your wife, not your concubine. I need to know if I should expect my husband to lie with the slaves, or only with me."

"The child isn't mine."

She gestured with an impatient hand. Whether the child was his or Ulfrik's didn't really matter now-it had all taken place before their marriage. What mattered was what happened from this moment on. Would he continue to bed the thralls? Was that the way of all Finngall men?

Although her Norse had vastly improved since she had married Alrik, it was still frustrating not to have the words to explain herself completely. Instead, she reached for his hand. "Alrik," she said as her tears spilled over, "I only need to know you will not do this again."

He closed his eyes for a moment with a sigh, then dropped his hand to his lap.

So this is my answer
. She started to turn away from him, but he caught her wrist. "I married you, Selia—isn't that enough?"

She wiped her tears away. How could he think she would be satisfied to be married to a man who would continue to humiliate her? "No, it is not enough. I wish you had not married me. I would rather be your slave. It would not hurt as much as this.”

He pulled her into a tight embrace. "You are my wife, Selia." His voice sounded hoarse in her ear.

"But you will grow tired of me."

"I won't." His lips found hers, hard and insistent, as if to prove that fact to her. She held herself stiffly, refusing to respond, despite the warmth that spread through her body at his touch.

Alrik's hand cupped the base of her skull, holding her head as he kissed her. His lips followed the trail of tears as they coursed over her chin toward her throat. He gripped her hair to force her head back slightly as his hot mouth brushed her skin.

Selia bit back a moan.
Bastard.
Did he think she could be placated with desire? Although she could not deny him her body, she could deny him her pleasure. She would die before she would let him know how much she wanted him.

He seemed to understand what she was doing, and he didn't care for it. He shook her a bit, scowling; held her wrists behind her back, causing her breasts to strain against the fabric of her shift. Then his mouth was on her, suckling at her sensitive nipples right through the fabric.

She felt her knees begin to buckle. She couldn’t hold out for much longer. He teased her with his teeth, and a moan escaped her lips.

Alrik laughed in triumph, flipping her onto the bed with a wicked smile.

Their coupling was over quickly, as always when he was angry. Alrik found his release, rolling from her with a snarl. Selia sat up and tugged at her shift to cover her nudity. She met his gaze, careful to keep her face emotionless.

He appeared to be a bit ashamed of himself as he fastened his breeches. He stared at her for a long moment.

“Don’t play games with me, Selia,” he finally warned. “I’ll always win.”

She dressed without another word to Alrik, nearly running headlong into Ingrid as she hurried from the bedroom. The girl glared at her. Already furious, Selia had to restrain herself from slapping Ingrid's hateful face. The face that looked so much like Alrik's. She was no match for her husband in size or strength and would never be able to physically hurt him, but she sized up his insufferable daughter with a shrewd eye.

The girl seemed to sense this unexpected edge in Selia, and did what she did best—egg it on. Her eyes narrowed at Selia. "Whore," she mouthed, with a smile of pure evil.

In an instant, Selia's hand whipped through the air, landing on Ingrid's cheek with a resounding smack. The girl gaped at her, speechless. Selia watched with satisfaction as the pink outline of her handprint arose on Ingrid's face.

Ingrid lunged for her with a cry of fury, knocking her to the ground as she tried to claw at her face. Selia was vaguely aware of Hrefna's voice shouting at them to stop. Ingrid was stronger and heavier than she had anticipated, but Selia had spent most of her life wrestling with Ainnileas. She had learned long ago how to deal with a stronger opponent.

She grabbed a fistful of Ingrid's hair and pulled with a brutal twist. The girl screamed, grabbing for Selia's hand in an attempt to keep her hair from being ripped from her scalp. Selia jabbed her knee into the girl’s ribs, knocking the breath from her.

Ingrid gasped and sputtered, and Selia took advantage of the moment by rolling on top of her. But suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and lifted her off Ingrid.

Alrik held her still as she struggled and cursed against his arm. Ingrid leapt to rush toward Selia, but was jerked back with a snap as Ulfrik grabbed her.

"Irish bitch!" she screamed, fighting to get away from Ulfrik.

"
Enough!
" Alrik bellowed. Ingrid shut her mouth but continued to glare at Selia with murderous eyes.

Hrefna hurried to Selia, eyeing her for any obvious wounds. "Are you all right? Ingrid, if you hurt her—”

The girl could not contain herself. "If
I
hurt
her
? That bitch attacked me, I tell you!”

"
Ingrid.
" Alrik released Selia to tower over his daughter threateningly. Ingrid stood tall, just as fierce, and Selia cringed despite herself as she waited for the inevitable blow.

But Alrik did not raise a hand to her. "You have been allowed to run wild for too long. You have been coddled and spoiled just to keep the peace in this house. I tell you now, that time is over. You are not a child. Indeed, you are old enough to be married although I would have to search far and wide to find a man foolish enough to marry you. But I swear this to you—if you raise a hand to my wife again, if you so much as speak to her with disrespect, I will find a husband for you. I will pay him to take you, if need be, to be rid of you once and for all."

The girl stared up at her father in disbelief. She looked around at her family, imploring them with her eyes to intervene on her behalf. No one made a move to help her. The look on Ingrid's face was pitiful to behold; equal parts anger, humiliation, and fear as she realized what the consequences would be if she erred once more.

Selia was unable to gloat. As much as she hated Ingrid, she felt an odd twinge of sympathy for her. She looked away, pulling the strands of Ingrid's hair, pale and insubstantial as a spider’s web, from her fingers.

Alrik had been right earlier. He would always win.