Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Torben observed his sister and Wynflaed as they took stock of each other. Freydis, his beautiful and once carefree sister, had hardened a tough outer shell he could not crack. Worst of all, most of the blame lay with him. She blamed him for not letting her choose a path she believed would lead to her happiness. Wynflaed, to her credit, had neither flinched nor shown any surprise at the scar or cold welcome. She simply returned Freydis’s greeting with a warm smile.

“I am pleased to meet you, Freydis. And no, I do not think it is ugly. It may not be sightly, but a scar is usually a sign of bravery or overcoming something that could have been more dire. And even with the scar, Freydis, you are truly the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.”

Freydis snorted in derision.

“I was. I can admit that vanity. Perhaps that is why the gods thought to punish me and take away my beauty.”

“I disagree, Freydis. God, or your gods, gives hardships to the strong, knowing they can overcome them. But it is clear I will need time to help you see what I see.” Wynflaed spoke plainly and firmly, brooking no argument.

“Why are you here?” Freydis asked, curiosity now entering her hard tone.

Torben was glad his instincts in pairing these two had been right. Wynflaed had handled the meeting exactly as he had hoped. Without any hubris, just honest words with no pity. And he knew his sister well enough to know Wynflaed had engaged her interest once he saw her posture relax.

“It would be best for Torben to explain, he only briefly shared his intentions when we arrived onshore,” Wynflaed told her, giving him a disgruntled look.

Torben’s brow lifted in surprise at her reaction, but he brushed it aside and answered the question.

“Wynflaed and three more of her people have come to make homes with us here in Klavik. If it pleases her, Wynflaed will assist you in taking care of things around here and be of company to you. I sense a kindred spirit and hope you two bring each other joy.”

Wynflaed nodded her approval and Freydis gave the slightest of nods as she continued to stare at Wynflaed with curiosity.

“I would very much like that, Freydis. I was a handmaiden back in Northumbria and have knowledge of how a manor or, in this instance, a settlement is run. I like the idea of putting things in order and I will need you to help me learn the ways of your people.”

Freydis shrugged. “I never cared for this role, and it is not like I shall ever marry.” She threw a hard pointed look at Torben. “So why not? Let us do it together.”

Torben sighed at Freydis’s petulance and gave a sad shake of his head.

“I think only of your safety and happiness, Freydis.”

Will she ever forgive me?

He turned to Wynflaed, who watched their exchange. No doubt she would have questions he was not prepared to answer. He clapped his hands loudly in an attempt to break the solemn mood.

“Come, Wynflaed. I will take you to the bathhouses.”

Torben was silent as he escorted Wynflaed to the bathhouses. It was still daylight, and he could see every emotion that flickered across her face. He knew that she had many questions for him and was surprised she held her tongue. As they approached the bathhouse, he saw her take in the sights of the settlement with wonderment and his excitement to show them to her grew. Differently sized huts, designed to fit single or multiple people, were positioned in a circle with a well in the middle. Bathing was often a social time for the men and the women.

“This is our bathing area,” he said, with a proud wave of his hand, “which is constructed atop natural hot water springs.”

He saw Wynflaed’s eyes light with pleasure at the idea of hot water.

“How wonderful, Torben,” she said, sighing with want.

“There is a stream through those trees but the structures are either bath or steam houses. If you want to bathe, go into a bathhouse where the water is kept warm by the enclosed building. The steam houses are filled with rocks that create a mist you can sit in and then you can go cool off in the stream.”

“Why are they all different sizes?” she asked, pointing to the huts.

“Some are for small groups, some women only, some men only and one room is filled with cloths and soaps. Here. I will go grab some if you want to go into that hut there.” He nudged her toward one of the smaller buildings.

He grabbed a bar of floral soap brought by a trader and a drying cloth. He entered the hut and saw she had already stripped to her shift. A pounding began to beat in his veins as his arousal grew.

“Ahh…Wynflaed, here you go.” He felt awkward as he handed her the soap and cloth.

“Thank you,” she said shyly as she grabbed the items, but he did not let go. His self-control was beginning to wane. In order to change the subject and shift the tension in the air away from the crackling heat between them, he decided to raise her temper instead.

“What caused you to be so offended with me earlier, Wynflaed? He saw a pink tinge spread from her face and chest to her arms and legs.

“I thought you were going to propose an improper task to me,” she told him in a slightly huskier tone and stepped closer to pull the items from his grip. He let them go but took a step forward as well. This was the last response he had expected from her.

“But I did not, so why do you still appear bothered by it, Wynflaed?” She was close enough now that he could see the arousal reflected in her amber gaze. He had not raised her temper but instead raised her lust, which was now burgeoning with his own.

She did not answer, just moistened her lips and he helplessly watched her tongue lave the plump pout. The slip of her little tongue was innocent but enticing and he groaned. His fiery little Wynflaed was not averse to him, but she was still an innocent maiden in a foreign land.

He did not want to take advantage of her, but every fibre of his being told him to capture those sweet, full lips with his own. He cupped her head and spread his fingers through her soft raven curls to pull her closer to his lips. She did not pull away but parted her lips in invitation, which he accepted with a soft growl as a primal urge took over.

He covered her mouth with his own and drank in her passion as she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her soft body to his. His tongue swept her mouth and she met it with her own, fiery and sweetly erotic as her inexperience fuelled her exploration. He pulled her tightly against his body, one hand still at the nape of her neck and the other at the small of her back. He throbbed against her as he imagined the soft wetness between her legs and kissed her hungrily. A voice of sanity reminded him that he was not a man to take someone's innocence, and he forced himself to let her go. He looked down at her ravished face and swollen lips as she breathed heavily.

“I am sorry, Wynflaed. I lost myself, my control. Forgive me. Take your bath and I will have Olga wait for you.” He reluctantly let her go and walked abruptly out of the hut. He sensed her confusion and anger, but he did not turn back. He could not trust himself. In the face of her obvious want and the throbbing ache between his legs, he was close to throwing any good sense aside and taking her then and there.

In the name of all the gods, what have I done?