Aaron frowned andrubbed his cheeks briskly with both hands. At least two days’ worth of beard stubble scratched his fingers. Unlike these barbaric Norsemen, he usually kept a clean face. He’d slept hard and uncomfortably. His bloody back ached. He gazed around the loft. Blasted hangovers, the last time he overindulged in drink this much, he’d woke up in a brothel with nothing but a new pair of leather boots on. Well, two wenches were draped across his legs. The memory immediately elicited a wicked grin. He eyeballed Frida’s sleek shoulders, then sat up.The heartbroken wench had provided last night’s unforgettable pleasure.
After making love the first time, they’d briefly discussed their grievances against Tyr. Both had been unfairly treated. Alliances were forged on less commonality. As he traced a line down her back, she slid closer. He smiled. Frida’s expert familiarity with a man’s body delighted him. She’d serviced him well, compliments of his cousin’s masterful training.
He peppered her shoulders with light kisses, then climbed to his feet, shivering in the stark morning air.
Frida rolled over. “Don’t leave me.”
“I cannot stay, lass.”
“Why?”
He firmed his jaw. “I’m not in the habit of reporting my coming and going to a woman.” Arron pulled on his linen shirt, draped his tartan over his hips, knotted it at the shoulder, then gazed at her again.
Her eyes were closed.
God, Tyr had exceptional taste in women. “I beg your forgiveness, lass.” He squatted beside her. Gentle treatment would keep her in his bed a while longer.
“Meet me here after the witching hour.” Aaron framed her face with both hands, then planted a firm kiss on her parted lips.
Her round eyes were still heavy with sleep and her kiss-swollen lips curved into an appealing smile. “You’ll never want another after me.”
If he had known about her talents in the bedroom before, he would have stolen her away from his cousin. The future looked brighter already.
The greatest thing borne of his night in the stable was a plan he devised long after his lovely companion had drifted off to sleep. There was nothing to return to in Scotland. If Aaron was going to strengthen his presence in Norway, he knew whatpart of his cousin’s life must be changed before it was too late. Tyr ceaselessly reminded him that he needed to forge his own destiny.Be a man… earn respect… stand upon your own two feet.Words he was ready to live by now. He surveyed his humble surroundings, then laughed bitterly at the irony. Christ was born in a manger. It reviled Aaron. So were filthy beasts of the field. He refused ever to be treated like an animal again. “I’ll make Tyr respect me.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rules of Conduct
The weather steadilyworsened over the next few days, but snow and freezing temperatures didn’t keep Rachelle from visiting the clearing daily. As promised, Tyr’s guards didn’t interfere. On the fifth evening, after kneeling in the snow for too long, she was chilled to the bone. She hastened to her bedchamber, where a roaring fire lured her to the hearth. She retrieved a fur from a chair, wrapped it about her shoulders, then stared into the flames. Every time she gazed at the cross, it transported her back in time. The height of the old tree reminded her of the lofty altar in Holy Trinity Church. Nothing had ever made her feel so inconsequential. She’d visited the church often enough before her father withdrew from public worship. She quivered. Having a place to pray now gave her a sense of peace. God’s spirit filled every corner of the earth, even the vast wilderness in Norway.
Tonight, Uncle Henry and her dearest friend, Mercia, were the only beneficiaries of her thoughts and prayers. If Christ would spare them, she’d doanything. She concealed no secrets in her heart. No deceit. Why shouldn’t her request be granted?Mercy… Please, God, have mercy on my family.
Expecting a late meal, she licked her lips in anticipation when someone tapped on the door. As she turned, it opened without invitation. Seeing Frida carrying the tray made her lose her appetite immediately. Why wasshehere? Who sent her?Angry at this avoidable humiliation, she glared. The household vibrated with gossip. Onetooth shared everything he overheard on his daily visits. Tyr recently banned Frida from his bed; the woman cursed Rachelle whenever someone would listen. Of course, Onetooth spared her the particulars, but she couldn’t understand why thejarlended the affair.
The maid curtsied, then placed the platter on the table.
Rachelle dragged herself from her sour thoughts. “Why are you here?”
Arrogance lit Frida’s eyes. “To serve you, why else?” she asked mildly.
There was a dull pain behind Rachelle’s eyes as she pictured this woman making love to Tyr. Kissing and caressing him in all the same places she’d touched. Benefiting from his affection and ardor the same way she had. Unaccustomed to jealousy, Rachelle tried to deny any attachment to Tyr. What right did she have? She’d rejected him, fled the bathhouse without explanation. Still, her gaze ran hotly over Frida—involuntarily assessing her. She embodied all the feminine qualities associated with Scandinavian beauties… fair-haired and tall. And her sexual prowess surely made her more attractive to men. How could Rachelle ever compete with her? Apparently, virtue wasn’t as valued in Norway as in England. Women freely chose lovers from amongst Tyr’s warriors. There were no repercussions, not from what she’d witnessed. And Tyr didn’t hide his appetite for women. He brazenly admired them. This one had shared his bed more regularly than any other.
Distance was the only solution—she must escape. But how? Famished, she surrendered to the tempting aroma of freshly baked bread. She walked to the table and sampled a piece. Her penchant for self-doubt was wearing her nerves thin. “I’m not truly welcome here,” she commented, turning to Frida. “I’m confined to these rooms. I rarely go outside. A maid visits in themorning and before I go to bed. Other than Onetooth, you’re more familiar than anyone else. So, tell me the truth, why did you come here?”
“To meet you.”
Rachelle leaned forward. She could find no malice in that. Curiosity had driven her to do many careless things throughout her life. Perhaps this woman’s broken heart inspired her to come. Another reason she’d not treat her with disdain. Women had little room to maneuver in a man’s world. Where they found opportunities to satisfy their needs, they must do so.
The icy reality of their mutually unfortunate circumstances became clearer. “Are you disappointed?”
A thin smile creased Frida’s lips. “My disappointment or suffering is of no importance. I’ll only admit that you’re more attractive than I first thought.”
Must it come to that? Men competed for respect and to prove their superior fighting skills and strength. Must women think only of physical beauty where their rivals were concerned?
“Hard-won praise,” Rachelle observed coolly. “What could we possibly have to say?” Should she confess that Tyr’s kisses made her wild and vulnerable? Or that he’d asked for her hand in marriage while in the heat of passion?
“That depends on you, milady.”
