Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

He wants me to do what? she screamed inside as she tried to wrap her mind around his proposition.

“…you will like my sister. She has lost some of her spirit and needs help running the household.”

Sister? Household? He had not been speaking of making me his concubine but a handmaiden to his sister and steward of his home!

Wynflaed had never felt so flooded with different emotions all at once. His gaze had been heated when he spoke those words, drenched with carnal desire. She felt excitement and lust burgeoning deep inside her, but also anger at the thought that he would treat her so. His blue eyes and plaited fair hair contrasted so beautifully against his sun-tanned skin and she envisioned what his strong body would be like underneath his clothing.

She blushed so strongly at her wanton and ambitious presumption that he had wanted her in his bed that she felt like she had stuck her face in a roaring fire. He stared at her quizzically as she opened and closed her mouth, unable to think of any appropriate response. Luckily she was saved from having to say anything as they had pulled up too close to the din and were getting ready to depart the ship. The men brought up the oars as they manoeuvred the longship to dock.

She cast a sideways glance at him, pondering what he had said. His chiselled profile was a thing of beauty, how could she not want this man? In truth, she had been avoiding the topic of what skills she could bring to the settlement as she was a simple handmaiden. She had never imagined he would give her such an important task. The more she considered it, the more she realised she was capable of supporting his sister. Her handmaiden skills would aid her. And running a settlement? She had already spent the last few years observing these duties. Surely, she could put them to use.

Wynflaed saw the people of Klavik eyeing her curiously, likely identifying her as a foreigner. Many in the crowd were tall, fair-haired, and smiling. All the tales about their heathenism had made her envision unclean people, but everyone she cast her gaze on looked well-kept. Much better than the serfs back home, who rarely washed. There was the smell of fresh fish and wood smoke, an earthy aroma and not unpleasant. She kept close behind Torben, Ragnav behind her with Hilde and Cynewin as they moved through the crowd. There was so much chatter and laughter, it was overwhelming. She hoped Cynewin and Cola were doing well and she tried to see them around Ragnav’s large frame.

“To the hall for mead and tales!” Torben's booming voice rang out to more resounding cheers, and the crowd thinned. They made their way to a longhouse and its sheer size was impressive. The wooden structure was long–like its name–and tall, covered with intricate carvings she noted as they got close enough for her to see. The opening arch had carved wooden ravens that beckoned them inside and Torben ushered them to the dais.

“My good people of Klavik, how good it is to be home and see your faces full of health and joy. As you can see, I have brought newcomers that will settle with us. Their stories are their own. I will share with you briefly that they were taken forcibly from their homes, and I have promised them safe and protected lives here in Klavik. It goes without saying that you will welcome them and help them settle in.”

Wynflaed watched as his people cheered and lifted their flagons. He spoke Norse but translated his words for Wynflaed, Hilde, Cynewin, and Cola. As she scanned the crowd, she saw mainly composed faces, unperturbed by their arrival. It made the few that looked suspicious stand out more. She locked eyes with a handsome woman who watched her with a narrowed gaze. Wynflaed broke the stare, but she was left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. Torben spoke with an animated Hilde and she stepped closer to his side to join their conversation.

“Ah, thank you, Hilde. Your skills are well welcomed, but before you get started, please eat, wash, and sleep. It has been a long journey for you all. I will have you, Cynewin, and Wynflaed escorted to our bathhouses,” he told her warmly, evidently charmed by her spirit.

“I would like to meet your sister first, Torben, if I may?” Wynflaed asked him.

Torben nodded as he looked at her contemplatively. The intensity of his gaze made her squirm a little and she tried to keep still, not wanting him to know he was unnerving her. She wanted to see what she was to expect from his sister. She found it curious she had not come to welcome them.

“Olga, can you please show Hilde and Cynewin to the bathhouses? Get Cola on the way, I can see him talking with Ragnav.”

The big-boned woman came forward with a welcoming smile. She used her hands to gesture to them as she said “Come, come,” in her heavy accent.

“Olga is one of the many blessings to our people. She is too set in her ways to learn languages, but finds her ways to communicate.” Torben’s blue eyes were still fixed upon her face.

“She seems wonderful, a kind spirit shines around her.” She nodded, sensing Olga’s goodness.

Wynflaed noticed his posture had become tense, and he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. She waited patiently for him to speak, wanting him to know he could trust her.

“Before I take you to meet my sister, I will share something with you.” He paused and scanned her face as if he was searching for something. Understanding? Approval?

“Yes, please share it with me,” she urged, sensing the concern in his voice, and she touched her hand to his wrist as a sign of assurance. She felt a tingle at the skin to skin contact but she did not move her hand. She saw he had felt it as well, his face a mix of heat and curiosity at the spark of physical attraction. But the moment passed quickly as his mind turned back to his sister. She saw the physical change in him, something about her weighed heavily on him.

“My sister, Freydis, suffered an incident some years ago and that has left her face scarred. She is withdrawn at times and suffers deep bouts of sadness that worsen as she gets older. You have a fiery spirit, Wynflaed. I think you can help her see her worth beyond what is skin deep.”

Wynflaed’s heart clenched at the pain and sadness she heard in his voice. Torben cared deeply for his sister.

“I would love to help Freydis, Torben, take me to her.”

Torben led her to the back of the longhouse into a small room that had a fire burning. The room was bare except for a table and chair, where a woman sat.

“Freydis” Torben spoke softly, “I am home, and I have brought someone I would like you to meet.”

Wynflaed wondered if he had spoken too softly as the fair-headed figure did not move. Her hair was like spun silk, plaited with intricate detail in ropes that fell down her back. Just when she thought Torben would speak again, she started to turn and Wynflaed came face to face with the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. Her eyes differed from Torben’s, more green than blue, and her features were ethereal in their femininity. She almost did not seem real. But along the left side of her cheek was a jagged, puckered scar that ran from the corner of her eye to the tip of her chin. It was a pale red in colour, not yet healed white, and Wynflaed’s heart went out to the girl at the pain that wound must have caused her.

“Ugly, isn’t it?” she said in a melodious but hardened tone as she stared defiantly at Torben before casting her gaze on Wynflaed.

She knew the response she made now would determine whether she and Freydis would be friends or foes. Wynflaed searched her feelings and realised she felt no pity. She felt empathy that such a tragedy had occurred, but pity? Feeling sorry for Freydis would not help her. Forthright honesty would.