Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Torben felt Ragnav, Leif, and Leif’s brother, Sven, watching him pace back and forth. They had been counting coins—gold and silver—and taking inventory from the trade, but Torben could not sit still and focus like he normally would.

“What is wrong with Torben? I have never seen him so out of control,” Sven asked with interest. Torben heard him ask the question and ignored it. It had been posed about him and not to him, anyway. “It is a woman that has addled him so,” Leif offered, his brow furrowed.

“One of the freed women?” Sven asked, and his greyish-blonde eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Yes. It is the one named Wynflaed. She has placed a spell on him. Or perhaps it is Loki, the trickster. He would delight in seeing our Torben, usually so controlled, blinded by lust.”

“Ah, I see! He wants to bed her,” Sven stated knowingly, as if that was all that needed to be said.

“No,” Torben said in a firm tone. “It is not like that.” He heard the defensive protest in his voice and knew he would not fool his cousins and brother.

“So, you have come to care for this Wynflaed? In such a short time? This may be fate,” Sven offered thoughtfully.

“I have never seen Torben act the way he does around Wynflaed. I think he fell in love with her the moment he set his eyes upon her. I do not understand why he is not bedding her at this very moment,” Ragnav said with a shake of his head.

Torben just let out a disgruntled sound. He did not yet understand his own feelings so how could he explain them to others? He threw his head back in frustration and growled at his foolishness. He should have not kissed her so soon, he wanted to give her time to adjust. He wanted to get to know her. But she responded so passionately she must feel something as well.

“See how his brain is addled,” Leif said, gesturing to Ragnav and Sven. “He has been reduced to growling like a wolf, he cannot even speak.” They all laughed and Torben glared at them.

“Get back to the task at hand!” A growl was still clear in his tone.

“Do not bite us, Torben. We will stop our jesting, but in seriousness, what of Gunhilda?” Ragnav asked him.

Torben groaned inwardly. He had forgotten about Gunhilda. He had caught a glimpse of her when he introduced the new settlers to the people of Klavik, but he was too distracted by Wynflaed. Gunhilda was a widow and had chosen to continue farming her husband's plot instead of remarrying. He had been a goat herder, and she continued to raise them, milk them, and supply their meat to the settlement. She also provided paid work for the adolescents while teaching them how to care for the goats.

Gunhilda was a free woman and one evening had approached Torben and whispered an invitation in his ear. He had deliberated, but eventually accepted after explaining he did not wish to marry. Neither did she, and a mutual relationship had started that was based on sexual gratification when the feeling struck them. He always went to her and she demanded nothing of him except his attention, but he had started to notice her jealousy whenever she spied him speaking with other women. He had meant to address it upon his return.

“I will speak with Gunhilda. As it stands, there is nothing between Wynflaed and I, so I expect you not to gossip like washerwomen when my back is turned.”

All three men rolled their eyes at his accusation.

“Do not worry, Torben. We will only poke our fun at you when we are alone,” Leif informed him with an innocent smile. Leif’s fairness resembled his more than Ragnav, but he was slender in build and had a softness to his features so people called him pretty, which always made him scowl with distaste. What Norseman wanted to be “pretty”?

Torben decided there was no time like the present and went to seek out Gunhilda. He went to the stables and saddled his horse, Bein, ivory like her namesake. Bein was an Icelandic horse, sure-footed and agile. He had trained her well and they moved as one with his silent commands. Ragnav had been asking to branch out into breeding horses for sale and trade since they had strong mares ready for breeding and a colt that had now grown into a magnificent stallion. He was pleased Ragnav wanted to take on more responsibility and this could be something he cultivated on his own. I will give him free rein . He smiled wryly to himself as he tugged on Bein’s reins.

He rode up the path to Gunhilda’s farm and heard the cacophony of bleating goats. He heard Gunhilda talking to them, admonishing them for their impatience as she threw food out to them.

“Be still, wretched things, lest I make you all sacrifices to Odin.” Fondness for her goats shone through in her empty threat.

“With how many goats you have, Gunhilda, Odin would certainly settle many blessings upon us,” Torben called to her as he dismounted Bein. His horse was so well-trained there was no need to tie her to a post, Torben simply asked her not to move until he returned. Bein eyed the goats and snorted with derision but nodded, and Torben rubbed her neck in thanks.

“Come, let me pour you some mead, Torben. I missed you at my table,” Gunhilda said with a sultry smile.

This will not be an easy conversation . He sighed to himself and followed her into the hut.

Despite her close proximity to the goats, her home always smelt clean. Fresh and dried sprigs of herbs and flowers hung from the rafters and a fire created wisps of smoke to circulate the scented bundles. He sat at her table and observed her as she prepared a mug of mead. She was an attractive woman, fair of skin and hair with pale blue eyes, a Norse woman through and through. Her figure was womanly and strong, evidence of her outdoor labour. She sat across from him and placed a flagon and two wooden mugs on the table.

“You seem distant, Torben. There is a faraway look in your eye,” she observed as she searched his face.

“It was a long journey, Gunhilda. I am glad to be home.”

“Yes, and you have brought guests?” she asked without looking at him, instead plaiting a loose tuft of hair.

“Yes, but settlers, not guests. They were about to be sold and I could not let that happen.”

“Is that not what happens along the trade route? Don’t they sell people?” she asked, meeting his eyes.

“They do, and I steer clear of those markets, but this one caught my eye. And it was Guthred who sold them.”

“Ah, so Guthred made the choice for you,” Gunhilda said, a little relieved.

“Yes and no. My mind was made up before he appeared,” he said honestly. Her eyes narrowed.

“Well, we–the people of Klavik–will all welcome them,” she said with forced cheerfulness.

“Yes, I am going to be very busy, ensuring they settle in. I need to spend more time with Ragnav and Freydis and start preparing for winter. It will give me no time for other pursuits.”

He did not want to hurt her, but he would not shy away from the blunt truth.

“You mean warming my bed?” she asked him boldly.

“Yes. We both said this would not lead towards a marriage,” he said in a gentle tone. He felt he now needed to justify what he thought had been a mutual understanding. The niggling feeling she wanted more poked at him and he cursed himself for not having realised it sooner.

She nodded and bit her lower lip. For a moment, he thought she would cry and despair clutched at his chest. He could never deal with a crying woman.

“You are right. We knew this would come to an end. And you are chieftain of our people. Of course your time will be consumed with family, preparations, and the settlers.” There was a slight edge to her tone, but he saw no tears build up in her eyes and he felt relieved. Coward .

“I am glad you understand, Gunhilda. You are vital to our settlement, all the people of Klavik are grateful for you. Will you come feast with us? We will say thanks with celebrations and pay homage to the gods for another safe journey.”