Her Viking Saviour (Lore & Love Trilogy #1)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Someone is calling my name, I must go to them, I must find them. Wynflaed dreamed she ran through a forest of gnarled trees and stumbled on snowcapped rocks.

“Wynflaed, are you well?”

Torben’s voice, accompanied by firm raps on the wooden door, broke into her dream.

Oh, it was Torben. Oh, it was TORBEN !

“Is it morn already?” she called, and looked around the room. The small window allowed sunbeams to light the room and she immediately jumped to her feet.

“It is.” She heard the smile in his voice and scowled.

“I will ready myself and meet you outside.”

“As you wish.”

She heard his footsteps as he walked away. Frantically, she attended to her ablutions and muttered self-deprecating oaths. Did she want to kiss those infuriating lips that left her in desperate want or slap the sensuous smile from his cocksure face? She had seen his grin before she had closed the door in his face the previous night and had fumed because he had seen her jealousy.

She threw on her clothes from the day before and ran a comb through her hair. She smoothed her hands over her dress and took a deep breath.

She entered the open area of the longhouse, looked around, and caught the eye of a young man who pointed towards the doorway. She gave him a smile and quickly walked outside. The first thing she saw was a raven, sitting on the wooden post of a drying rack. Its direct eye contact unnerved her but she could not break the gaze. The raven let out a squawk and took flight, making her start a little.

Mind your senses, Wynflaed , she scolded herself.

She found Torben waiting for her with a hunk of fresh baked bread and some hard cheese.

“I thought you might enjoy a repast as we walk and talk.”

She took the offering with thanks and inhaled the delicious smell of the still warm bread before she tore off a hunk with her teeth.

She caught the gleam of Torben’s white grin.

“Your appetite gives me joy, Wynflaed. I can truly say this is not an emotion I normally feel watching people eat.”

“It must be my ladylike graces,” she said dryly and flourished the bread and cheese in the air.

“I have much to learn about you.”

“And I you, Torben. Where are we going first?”

Wynflaed’s senses were overwhelmed. Torben had showed her so much of Klavik–and introduced her to so many people–she would need days for it to settle into her memory. They had seen food stores, craftsmen, seamstresses, fishermen, hunters, and livestock caretakers. There were farms and crops in each direction. The settlement was organised and ran smoothly. Everyone did their work with a smile–she was impressed. This could be a hard life, but Torben’s people did not make it seem a miserable burden. She recalled those of equal standing back home, and in comparison the people here looked more content. He was a good man who lent a hand or kind word to all he passed, and she felt something she had never felt for another person, pride. This towering Viking who could cleave a person in two with his axe was also a sweet, kind man and she felt herself softening.

“Why do you look at me so gently, Wynflaed?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“I just find it hard to believe that you are real at times. You are so like my captors in looks and the way you live.” She swept her arm across the settlement. “But you and your people greeted me with warmth and made me feel safe.”

Her confusion only deepened after she said the words out loud. Something visceral pulled her to this man. Something that went beyond gratitude or lust. She could see him every day and be content in his presence. Or even prickly, since he did not seem to mind that side of her. His gaze was thoughtful as he absorbed her words and considered a response.

“It is true that any man of the North–whether here or Jutland–who calls himself a Viking is known to many as a heartless heathen. I am a well-travelled, well-learned man. There are some of my kind, but there are many like Guthred. What I have learned is at our core we are all the same. We all bleed red. We all eat off the land. We all hurt, we all love–and we are all human. To place a lesser value on a person because of where they come from or their rank is not humane. And that is what I expect of my people if they wish to be in Klavik. And you, too, Wynflaed, when you are ready to stop seeing us as Vikings but instead as your people.”

His words washed over her, powerful like a crashing wave, but she felt warm inside like a roaring hearth. A shiver travelled up and down her spine and she nodded. She tried to think of words to parry his but she found herself speechless and stepped closer to grab his hand.

“I will. I feel no ill will toward you.”

A mischievous smile spread across his face.

“And what of when I saw you last? You were as frosty as a winter morning.”

She laughed and squeezed his hand, satisfied with the fluid movement from their heartfelt talk to light-hearted banter. Wynflaed was about to respond in kind when she saw Gunhilda headed towards them.

“What has caused that sour look?” Torben asked gently, as he rubbed his thumb over their still entwined hands. She had not led a pampered life, but her skin was creamy and soft, and he seemed to enjoy it.

His head snapped up when she spoke.

“It appears your woman has come to seek out your attention.”