Randvior stared at her.
Brian preferred to beat her with the hard heel of his boots over the traditional leather strap. How many times had she run away after a good throttling to examine her posterior in amirror? “Tell meJarlRandvior, what do you intend to do with me?”
He paused in thought. Suddenly, a blooming smile lit his face.
“Take you to bed.”
After spending the night and half the next day in bed with Randvior, Noelle barely found the strength to get dressed and join him on deck. It was good timing on her part, his men pointed out a group of islands just off the western edge of Norway. She cupped a hand over her eyes and squinted to see the faint outline of her new home against the blinding light of the late afternoon sun.
Randvior approached from behind. He slipped an arm about her waist and tugged her close. She smiled. This was the first time he showed her any affection outside the cabin. His benign touch quickly blossomed into something more fervid and he pulled her toward the cabin.
Her muscles ached and her tender parts were raw. As soon as they got inside, she darted around like a wild goose.
“Stop it,” he laughed. “I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re afraid of. We’ll be home by morning as long as this wind holds. I know you’re a bit saddle-sore from our lovemaking,” he teased. “Forgive me. I’m a love-struck fool, so enamored with you I failed to think of giving you a chance to recover.”
Love-struck? Did he just say?
She settled down on the bed. “I hurt in places too shameful to name.”
“Sleep,min lille dukke, tomorrow is a new day.” He bent her head back and planted a kiss on her forehead. Randvior unbuckled his belt and put it on the table, and then lay down next to her with his boots still on.
When she woke hours later, Noelle wanted to thank Randvior for his consideration in the night. The space beside herwas empty, though. She rolled out of bed and shivered. It was cold inside the cabin, despite the small brazier still burning near the bedside. Always a dreamer—she admitted it. The hatred she felt for this man had channeled away from her heart—if only temporarily. She had resolved she would always oppose him. Not only for what he represented, but because of the type of man he was. No wonder men ruled the world. There was no hope for the weaker sex. It should take more than a day in bed to reduce her to a boneless mass. She braided her hair, smoothed the wrinkles from her dress, and went outside.
The ship had just turned into a narrow inlet. A fjord, Randvior had called it when he described his homeland. And thousands of inlets dotted the coastline like fingers on a hand. High, rocky outcrops surrounded them, and to the south, snow-covered peaks stretched upward and outward for miles in every direction. Noelle looked over the railing; sheets of ice floated on the water, but the ship cut effortlessly through them.
“How far to your steading?” she asked as Randvior joined her.
“Maybe ten miles.” He pointed eastward. “This river borders my lands. We’ll follow it home.”
The idea of bathing and drinking fresh water again pleased her. Luxuries she regretted ever taking for granted. Anything was an improvement over the stale-tasting water rations served from wooden barrels on the ship.
What she regretted most, though, were her actions last night. She looked over her shoulder at Randvior—his face still glowing. After he bade her to go to sleep, she’d tossed and turned for nearly an hour. Unable to settle down, she’d demanded to see the Terms of Surrender her brother had signed. He’d offered it for inspection.
She’d opened the scroll and eyed her brother’s grandiloquent scrawl at the bottom of the page. HisBandSwere exaggeratedly rounded for a man’s writing style.
Her name was written out as insignificantly as she felt. Listed as one of many items the jarl was entitled to as payment for his leniency. She read her name out loud—Lady Noelle Marie Sinclair, youngest daughter of Frederick Michael McKenzie Sinclair, the Sixth Earl of Durham. No disputing this contract, she legally belonged to him.
She’d studied the document contentiously, scanned further down the page, and read the amount of silver and gold he acquired and the names of the men and maids he claimed.
“Everything seems to be in order,” she’d said with growing apprehension and dropped the contract on the bed.
“Look.” Randvior’s pleasant voice interrupted her thoughts. He pointed toward a cluster of cottages built along the edge of the water on the last island. People gathered to watch the ships pass by and waved.
She waved back.
“Are you enjoying the scenery?”
Admittedly, his lands were far more beautiful than Durham. More enchanting than anything she’d ever seen. “It’s breath-taking.”
He raised his head and studied the sky as if he could read the future. “The snow is very late, but it will come,min lille dukke. And when it does, we’ll be imprisoned together for months with no escape.”
She believed him. These were the legendary lands of the dragon people that her countrymen deeply feared.And now, I am a prisoner in the very place priests in the Sabbath pulpit liken to the torments of Hades.
Chapter Eight
Homecoming
With the weightof the world on her shoulders, Noelle stayed silent once they anchored and Randvior handed her over the ship railing, straight into the arms of two strangers. The men carried her to land and settled her amongst a crowd of people who waited eagerly to welcome them home. A group of lavishly dressed women stared at her. Of mixed ages, even the youngest scrutinized her from head to toe. She breathed steadily and offered her most courageous smile. Not one returned it.
