Stolen by the Viking Read online

  When they returned to the ladder, Caragh paused. ‘If you want to go home without Alarr, Breanne, we can find another way.’

  Breanne hesitated, knowing that Alarr would fight back against anyone who tried to take her. But despite his possessive demeanour, he had never mistreated her. With each passing day, he granted her a little more freedom. She had revealed more about her life than she had intended, but it was strange to realise that it had lifted the burden. Nearly a fortnight had passed, and no one had come for her, save Alarr. To a certain extent, the ground between them was shifting. It was not yet friendship...but she did not consider him an enemy, either. If her father’s men tried to harm Alarr, it would bother her.

  And she didn’t know what to think of that.

  Caragh paused a moment, resting her hand upon the ladder. ‘What do you want to do, Breanne?’

  ‘I’m not certain,’ she confessed. ‘Alarr did save me from the slave market when no one else did.’ The bitterness returned, even though she realised it was difficult for anyone to track her by sea. ‘I feel as if I owe him the chance to take me home,’ she admitted.

  And yet, she knew so little about the man. It was far too soon to trust him. In the end, she said, ‘I will think upon it and let you know.’

  ‘As you will. But be careful.’ Caragh met her gaze for a long moment before she led the way up the ladder.

  The air was warmer above ground, and once they returned to the centre of the settlement, the scent of stew and fish kindled her hunger. The older women had remained behind with the younger babies, and the waiting food was a welcome sight. Breanne searched for Alarr, and when at last he caught her gaze, there was no denying the heat within it. His tunic was damp with sweat, and his eyes drank in the sight of her. He looked as if he wanted to take her hand and drag her into a darkened corner. Her heartbeat quickened at the thought. She felt a sense of guilt about her attraction, but then Caragh’s words came back to her. He desires you.

  Her flush went all the way to her toes. She wasn’t accustomed to attention, for she preferred to remain apart from others. Men usually ignored her, except when King Feann had forced her to stand before them. Or when he had seated her beside him on the dais at the queen’s place. It made her feel uncomfortable to have so many people watching her. She had only agreed because she knew there was no one else.

  She wondered if Caragh’s words were true, that Alarr’s family had great wealth. Why then, would he go to such a pretence? Or why would he journey so far?

  Breanne couldn’t imagine any reason at all. If she asked him, he would never admit the truth. She would have to gain his trust, possibly even his interest. He might be more willing to speak if she behaved in a softer manner towards him. She was unaccustomed to using feminine wiles upon a man, but she needed to know if Alarr posed a threat to her foster father.

  He joined the other men, lining up for food. She held back, waiting her own turn, but to her surprise, he crossed the space and stood before her. ‘You need to eat,’ he said, offering her the wooden plate of food.

  ‘But that’s yours,’ she protested.

  She saw that he was about to argue, and instead suggested, ‘Why don’t we share? If we are still hungry, we can get more.’

  At that, he relented. Breanne led him towards one of the outdoor hearth fires and sat upon a log nearby. He joined her and offered her the first choice of the fish. She broke off a piece of trout, but instead of holding it out, she brought it to his mouth. Her fingertips grazed his lips, and Alarr caught her hand. ‘What are you doing, Breanne?’ His gaze narrowed upon her clumsy attempt to gain his notice.

  ‘Offering you food.’ She feigned innocence, but he would have none of it. She realised then, that she had been too obvious. Instantly, she dropped the fish back on the plate. ‘If you don’t want it, fine.’ She picked up the bread and tore it in half, eating her portion without looking at him.

  Only then did he take his own bread. She felt her cheeks burning, for he was already mistrustful of her. She should have known that he would suspect any kindness she showed to him.

  He offered her the plate again, but this time she took her fish and left him half of it. He ate part of it, but then asked, ‘Do you want any more?’

  ‘I’ve had my fill.’ She remained seated beside him, while he finished the remainder.

  An awkward silence descended between them, and he said at last, ‘If we bring in the harvest sooner, Styr will grant us the escorts. It may not take long.’

  She nodded but said nothing. Eventually, Alarr rose from the log and brought the wooden plate to one of the older women, who took it from him. He brought back a cup of ale and handed it to Breanne.

  She took a sip and then gave the cup to him. Alarr drained the ale and stood watching her for a moment. She felt the intensity of his gaze warming her skin, and at last, she lifted her chin to stare back. She was caught up in his handsome face, and then his mouth tilted in a slight smile. Breanne felt unnerved by the attention and finally asked, ‘What is it you want?’

  He studied her and shrugged. ‘I need nothing.’

  And yet, he continued to stare. His demeanour utterly disarmed her, though she tried to remind herself that it was only an unwanted flare of interest, one that would go away soon. She knew better than to let her wayward thoughts become something more. If his interest was real, then it was only a physical attraction. Alarr would bring her home to her foster father and then leave her behind. She would never see him again.

  She was interrupted by Caragh who said, ‘Breanne, we have need of your help, if you can join us.’

  ‘Go with her,’ Alarr commanded. Without waiting for her answer, he went back to join his brother and the other men.

  Caragh took her by the hand and led her towards an outdoor table laden with apples. ‘Some of the apples have ripened, and we are drying them for the winter.’ On another table, there was a heavy length of wool set out with apple slices to be dried in the sun. She offered Breanne a small knife and bade her join the others at the table.

  She began slicing the fruit, grateful for the distraction. Her failed attempts at attracting Alarr’s interest embarrassed her, and she inwardly chided herself. She’d never been very good at flirting with a man. Why should today have been any different?

  An old woman nudged her and spoke in the Norse language, laughing as she nodded towards Alarr. Breanne had no idea what she’d said, but she flushed at the teasing.

  ‘She offered to make you a love charm,’ Caragh said. ‘That is, if you’re wanting one.’

  ‘No,’ she blurted out. ‘That’s the last thing I need.’ She was Alarr’s captive, and she did not want to be too close to him. His focused attention already made her ill at ease.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Caragh said. ‘There are advantages to love.’ A soft smile stole over her face, and she lowered her hands to her abdomen. Breanne answered her smile.

  ‘When will your baby come?’ she asked.

  ‘In the spring.’ The young woman’s expression brightened at the thought. Caragh glanced towards the men where she spied her husband. A soft smile came over her face. Then she rose from the pile of apples and left Breanne among the other women.

  The old woman nudged her again as she glanced over at Alarr. Then she cackled and passed her another apple. Breanne saw the other women suppressing their laughter, but she stiffened and turned her attention to cutting the fruit. In time, they stopped their teasing.

  * * *

  After a few hours, it was growing dark. Her neck and shoulders ached, but all the apples had been peeled, sliced, and laid out to dry. She stood from the table, rubbing her sore neck. The women went back to the longhouse where they had dined the previous night, and Breanne joined them. She did not see Alarr or Rurik, and she took a bit of meat and cheese for a light meal. It was already dark outside, and she was weary from the work.


  She decided to return to the sleeping space, and when she arrived, she saw Alarr seated on the pallet. Her first instinct was to back away, but then, that would accomplish nothing.

  ‘Come here,’ he ordered. ‘I have need of your help.’

  She obeyed, not understanding what he wanted. When she drew closer, she saw that he was holding a small wooden box that contained an herbal salve. She couldn’t quite make out all the scents, but one of them was strong, like mint.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  He handed her the box. ‘I want you to rub this into my scars.’ Alarr lifted the edge of his hose and showed her an angry red scar just below his knees. It appeared that someone had tried to cut off his legs, and she was shocked at the evidence of such a violent injury.

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I was badly wounded in battle,’ he answered. ‘The healer thought I might never walk again.’

  ‘You proved her wrong,’ Breanne said. She didn’t pry, realising that this was what had caused his limp. He disguised it well, and now that she had seen the scars, it made her sympathise with him.

  He added, ‘The pain plagues me when I stand for too long. This medicine helps.’

  She opened the box and the scent of mint grew stronger. ‘You are very fortunate to have survived.’ Then she knelt down beside the pallet. ‘Turn over.’

  He obeyed, and she dipped her hands in the salve. She put a generous amount on his right calf, rubbing it into his skin. The red scar left an indentation in his flesh, and she moved her hands over his legs. His calves and thighs were large, revealing the muscled strength of a warrior. She had never touched a man like this before, and she moved her palms over him in a circular motion. He flinched at her touch, but she gentled it, feeling the knotted muscles beneath her fingertips. ‘Are you in pain?’

  ‘Yes,’ he gritted out.

  She used her fingers to massage his calf muscle, being more careful when she reached the deep scars. Slowly, she rubbed the salve into his skin, pressing gently against the muscles. It was strangely intimate, caring for him in this way. And yet, she recognised the pain he was in. With every touch of her hands, she saw his knuckles clench against the fur coverlet.

  For the next few minutes, she tried to soothe the aches, sliding her hands over his skin. Though she supposed she should feel uncomfortable touching him in such a way, the truth was, she found satisfaction in working out the knots. She could tell when she had eased his pain from the way he relaxed beneath her hands. And when he no longer flinched at her touch, she drew back.

  ‘Is that better?’

  He rolled over, and the flare of heat in his eyes caught her by surprise. Without warning, Alarr pulled her atop him. Her legs straddled him, and she could feel the hard length of his arousal. ‘No,’ he murmured softly. ‘It’s not better.’

  Breanne gasped when he sat up, drawing her to him. Her heart thundered, for she had never been so close to a man before. Her softness embraced his rigid body, and she went utterly still.

  Alarr hesitated a moment, his gaze burning into hers with a silent question. When she did not struggle, he cupped the back of her head and dragged her into a fierce kiss. She could hardly catch her breath as he devoured her with his hot mouth and tongue. Shock and desire poured through her, and she clung to his shoulders, hardly knowing what was happening. Never in her life had she been kissed like this. He plundered her mouth, claiming her in a way that provoked a strong desire. Between her legs, she felt her own arousal deepening, and her breasts tightened. God help her, she could not push him away. And she didn’t want to.

  Instead, she found herself kissing him back, giving in to her own needs. A rough growl came from his throat, and Alarr rolled her on to her back, still lying atop her. He continued to kiss her until her mouth was swollen, her lips bruised. But she hardly cared at all. She was lost in this forbidden moment, unable to think clearly.

  The voice of reason tried to intrude, but she silenced it, revelling in the dark feelings. Her body delighted in his touch, and thoughts of surrender spun through her mind. She could give in to his seduction, allowing him to claim her. Everyone would believe that was what had already happened, since he had bought her as his slave. No one would believe that she was still a virgin.

  Yet, she hardly knew this man. How could she succumb to these feelings when she knew not his true purpose? She could not trust him, nor could she surrender her innocence.

  With reluctance, she broke the kiss and turned her face to the side. Alarr did not release her, but instead, he rolled to his side, pulling her back against his chest. She was cradled against him, and he kept both arms around her.

  ‘Sleep,’ he commanded.

  Sleep? How could she possibly close her eyes now? Her body was alive with hunger, craving something she did not understand. He was still heavily aroused, and she doubted he could sleep either. But perhaps he recognised the danger and was putting an end to it before it went too far.

  Breanne stared at the partition, feeling as if she could hardly bear to be in Alarr’s arms. This was not what she had intended at all, not when she had planned to win his trust. Instead, she felt confused and uncertain, almost afraid to move.

  She was playing a dangerous game, and he had won the first round. Her heart pounded, and it took a while for her breathing to calm down. It embarrassed her to remember how she had behaved. She had mistakenly believed that she could soften Alarr, gaining the answers to her questions. Instead, he had aroused her so deeply, she was embarrassed at her own reaction. She was allowing herself to weaken, to fall prey to his touch.

  Worst of all, she had enjoyed it.

  He doesn’t truly want you, Breanne warned herself. He is using you for ransom. You mean nothing to him, and he will leave you.

  She knew this, beyond all doubt. It was foolish to let down her guard for the sake of physical touch. Until now, she hadn’t realised how truly lonely she was. Feann had been kind to her, but he was not her true father. Nor had his wife ever been a mother to her. She had always felt isolated and awkward at Killcobar, never knowing why. She was not a MacPherson, but rather, an Ó Callahan. Perhaps that was why she’d never felt at home among them.

  She could not let herself fall prey to Alarr’s advances, nor could she risk her own desires. For he would only abandon her, just like everyone else.

  Chapter Three

  Over the next few days, Alarr was torn between keeping his distance and sleeping with Breanne in his arms at night. Something about her presence brought him into a deeper slumber. She made the nights more bearable, and despite the physical frustration, he would not allow her to sleep elsewhere. Sometimes in the morning when he awakened, he watched her sleeping. Her mouth was softened, her fair lashes resting against her cheeks. Though she often braided her hair before she went to sleep, sometimes the reddish-gold strands slipped free, resting against the curve of her face. There was no denying her beauty, and Alarr suspected that any man would be furious at the loss of her.

  If Gilla had been taken before their wedding, he would have raised an army of men to find her. Why, then, had no one done the same for Breanne?

  It made him wonder if there was another danger he had not considered. He had travelled with the intention of avenging his father’s death...but what if Feann was gone from Killcobar? If they attempted an attack, the king’s men would slaughter him where he stood.

  No, it was better to learn where his enemy was before he made a decision.

  This morn, he intended to speak with Styr and begin making his plans. They had harvested nearly all the grain now, and the men had turned their attention towards building more longhouses.

  He found Styr upon a ladder, hammering nails into one of the unfinished dwellings. The air was cooler this morn, and Alarr picked up his own hammer and a pouch of iron nails. In truth, he welcomed the constant activity to take his mind off Br
eanne. Being unable to touch her was its own torment.

  He worked alongside Styr for a time, waiting for the right moment to speak. ‘Has Breanne’s foster father gone in search of her? Or is he still at Killcobar?’

  ‘I’ve not heard,’ Styr answered. He pounded another nail into the wood.

  ‘Did anyone send word that Breanne was taken?’

  The leader shook his head slowly. ‘There was no news until you arrived.’

  Then that meant Feann was trying to keep Breanne’s fate quiet. Perhaps to protect her status, Alarr decided. He met Styr’s gaze and informed the man, ‘I will be taking her back to Killcobar in a few days, if your men can be ready.’

  Styr struck another nail into the wood with a mallet. ‘They can, so long as the grain is stored. But they will not fight, unless I command it of them.’

  ‘It is not my intent to provoke a fight,’ Alarr answered, ‘but neither will I be Feann’s target.’

  ‘Why do you not send Breanne back to him without a ransom?’ Styr asked. ‘We both know you have no need of the silver.’

  Alarr eyed the jarl and hesitated, wondering if he should admit the truth. He decided against it, for Styr would not want to endanger his men. Thus far, he intended to use Breanne as a distraction. After he brought her back, he would pretend to leave with the others. And that night, he would confront Feann alone and gain his vengeance.

  The thought of facing the man brought about the dark memory of his battle injury. His calves had a phantom ache, even now, from Feann’s sword.