Ivar flinched when Inga’s nails trailed a little too sharply along his abdomen. She slid her hands beneath Ivar’s tunic while he was unaware. She tweaked his nipple painfully and bit his lip when he jerked way. The look she cast him was her own dare. She challenged him to see if he would complain, but when he did little to react, she cocked an eyebrow before whipping her chemise over her head. Ivar looked at Inga and found nothing about her stirred him.
“Come now, husband,” Inga chuckled at her own double entendre, but Ivar found little humor in Inga’s words or actions. If anyone had wondered if she was a virgin, her haste to undress would have eased their curiosity. She pushed the hem of his tunic as high as she could reach before Ivar was forced to pull it over his head and shoulders. Inga grasped it from him and flung it away. She reached for the laces of his leather pants, but Ivar was not ready for more than one reason. His body still refused to respond to her enticement, and he did not want her to see how flaccid he remained or that he had a sheath on. He inched her backwards until her legs hit the bed.
“On,” he growled.
Inga giggled, thinking Ivar was coming around to the notion of bed sport. She climbed onto the bed, presenting her backside to him. She looked over her shoulder and wiggled her hips in invitation. Ivar attempted not to grimace as he looked at a body that was not Lena’s. Guilt once more had a stranglehold. He might try to rationalize and justify coupling with Inga, but he knew it would never be right. And even if Lena understood the situation, it would not eliminate the hurt and sense of betrayal it would cause.
A deep clearing of a throat brought Ivar’s attention back to the woman on his bed. His father’s presence only made the entire scene worse. Ivar had been trying to ignore the onlookers, but his father’s reminder that he needed to bed Inga made ignoring them impossible. He climbed onto the bed and between Inga’s thighs. He rested his weight on one forearm as he rubbed his own hand over his soft cock. Ivar closed his eyes, and as he had countless times over the years when it was impossible to be with Lena, he imagined it was her hand instead of his. His body began to respond, and when he was semi-aroused, he turned his attention back to Inga. He kept a picture of Lena in his mind as he squeezed his eyes shut. He kissed along Inga’s neck toward her breasts as he pushed the opening of his pants over his hardening length. When his mouth reached her nipple, he flicked out his tongue before suckling. Her breast was not wholly unsatisfying, so with an image of Lena still floating before his eyes, he moved to the other breast. Ivar continued to stroke himself, but shifted away when Inga attempted to reach for him. He could not afford for her to discover the sheath that covered his cock. He kissed his way down her belly until he settled between her thighs. She hooked her knees over his shoulders as she lifted her hips in offering. Ivar’s nose crinkled when he caught a particularly strong whiff of the oil that someone had rubbed into Inga’s skin. It was not the blend of lavender and incense that Lena favored, the latter fragrance a new addition since their voyage to the Mediterranean. Instead it was some sickly-sweet scent that he did not recognize and did not like. Bile rose in the back of his throat as he considered what he had been about to do. Such an intimacy made his throat burn. Now that it had distracted him, it was impossible to fool himself into imagining it was Lena he was about to make love to. He shifted back to rest his forearms near Inga’s shoulders.
The soft moans and mewls that Inga made were grating on Ivar’s nerves as they grew louder. The falseness of them made him want to slap her. She was not any more aroused than he was. The noises were for show, and they irritated him. Ivar looked into Inga’s cold eyes and a wave of nausea rose from his gut. Nothing about Inga was right. She did not look right, she did not taste right, she did not smell right, she did not sound right, and she most definitely did not feel right. She was not Lena.
“Come now,” Inga repeated her earlier suggestion as she reached for Ivar, her hand covering his which was once again stroking his cock. She guided his hand and his rod to her entrance and raised her hips. The moment the tip of Ivar’s sword slid against Inga’s sheath, he was certain he would be ill. He leaped from the bed and dashed to the chamber pot where he heaved until his entire evening meal revisited him. He wiped his mouth along the back of his hand before turning to his parents. His revulsion towards Inga and the situation transferred to his father and mother. He shook his head as he stepped past them, righting his pants with each step until he stood beside his shirt. He swept it from the floor before glaring at his father.
“You want this that badly, you fuck her.” Ivar pulled the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall before slamming shut with him on the other side.
Once outside, Ivar did not think about where he was going. There was only one destination. He would fall on his knees before Lena and beg her forgiveness while praying he never had to reveal just how close he had come to coupling with another woman, never had to admit that his hands and mouth had touched another woman. Ivar had not realized he was sweating until an icy blast of air hit his damp skin. He shivered as he pulled his tunic back on then ran to Lena’s home.
Before Ivar entered, he sensed something was wrong. There were several dents in the wood where it looks as if someone had used the hilt of a sword to bang against it. Ivar knocked but did not wait for anyone to answer. He stepped inside and found Tormud and Jan standing with Einar. All three were staring at something on the floor. As Ivar approached, he recognized the stain was blood.
“Lena? Where is she? What happened?” Ivar ran to Lena’s chamber door and pushed it open, but there was no one there. He noticed that her sword belt and her bow and quiver not in their usual place. He spun around and glared at Tormud. “She left.”
It was a statement, an accusation rather than a question. Tormud nodded as Jan motioned for Ivar to follow him. The young man who was much like a younger brother to Ivar, especially after he lost his own, paused before opening the kitchen door.
“We aren’t sure what happened. We only arrived home a few minutes ago, then Einar showed up,” Jan whispered before letting Ivar pass through the door.
Ivar took in the five dead bodies, two with arrows through them. One glance told him that Lena had shot the two men, since the fletching was her distinct pattern or feathers.
“Where is she?” Ivar croaked before clearing his voice.
“We don’t know,” Jan pushed the door closed, leaving Tormud and Einar inside. “Einar said that Brenna came running to tell Eindride that he had to leave. That everything was happening now. When Eindride gave Brenna a quick kiss and bolted out of the gathering hall, Einar followed him to the stables. Apparently, Rangvald and Lorna caught three men before they reached here. Two of the men followed Lena and broke through the door.”
Jan turned and ran his hand over the splintered wood. Ivar watched Jan set his shoulders and his chest broadened as his chin came up.
“These men tried to attack my sister. They should thank Odin that it was Rangvald and Lorna who happened upon them. I would have chopped off their bollocks and made them eat it before allowing anyone to kill them.” Jan spat on the bodies before releasing a string of oaths Ivar had not realized Jan knew. “Eindride followed Rangvald, Lorna, and Lena’s trail to the south. Einar came to tell us.”
Ivar shook his head as he backed away from Jan. He turned just in time to cast up his accounts on the grass rather than Jan’s feet. When he stormed out of his chamber, he had been sure there was nothing left in his belly, but fear and anger fused together and forced the last of his dinner from him. Ivar pulled the door open and stepped back into the longhouse.
“Ivar, what are you doing here?” Tormud asked.
“I couldn’t do it. I won’t. I came to see Lena.”
“On your wedding night,” Einar sounded perplexed, but there was an edge to his tone that caught Ivar’s attention. He nodded as he watched the boy who was turning into a man. Ivar realized that neither Jan nor Einar were boys anymore. He sensed Jan was chomping on the bit to go with him when he chased after Lena. He wondered if Einar would ask to join them.
“It was not a real wedding. Everyone knows that. Since this isn’t a real marriage, there was no need for a wedding night.” Ivar watched Einar’s reaction and was certain he saw a spark of hatred before it vanished.
“I know where my brother was going to meet the others,” Einar offered.
“They are on their way to Kaupang. I already know.” Ivar looked over at Jan. “Gather what you need and meet me at the stables.”
“Are you bringing her back?” Tormud asked.
“No. Not until I’m convinced there’s no threat. I will ensure she’s safe, but I won’t bring her back yet.” No one needed to say aloud who or what the threat was.
Einar watched Ivar pace as Jan gathered the few items he would travel with. He clenched his jaw and his fists, wanting to plow the latter into Ivar’s jaw. Einar was aware that Inga planned the attack; after all, he was the one who paid the guardsmen. However, Ivar was supposed to bedding Inga, so Einar could be the one who chased after them. Einar was supposed to reach Lena and the others before Ivar could. Einar was going to convince them that Ivar wanted Lena to return. He was going to show Lena that he was her protector when men attacked them on the road. He would show his fealty to Ivar when he chose Lena over the others, so no one blamed him if Rangvald, Lorna, and even his own brother Eindride died. Now the plan seemed to fizzle as his temper flared. He sucked in deep breaths through his nostrils, trying to control the anger threatening to overwhelm him.
“I can show you the route Eindride took,” Einar offered again. He wanted to drive his knife into Ivar’s back when the man did not even bother to face Einar but tossed his response over his shoulder.
“I know which way. You’re needed here.”
