Page 21 of Claimed By the Viking

It would be some hours until the stew was ready, but she was ravenous right now. Breaking off a hunk of manchet bread, she spread it with soft goat’s cheese rolled in seeds and drizzled honey on top, savoring the sour with the sweet. From her pantry shelves, she lifted down a stoppered jug and poured some of the contents into a cup, swigging a good mouthful of the bittersweet liquid.

The mead was made by Grethe, gifted to Signy and her mother in return for their supply of honey for the making of the brew. Signy rarely partook of the drink unless there was a celebration, for she liked to keep a clear head. However, she was a woman now, with her own lover. Wasn’t that worth celebrating? And, in time, there would be a child.

Viggo lay on his side, the furs covering his lower body, his hair tousled in sleep. Her heart gave a small tug. ‘Twas hard to believe he was anything but a man confident in his strengthand influence, for he was not only handsome but broad of chest and well-muscled. Surely, he would wake some morning and find this strange ailment of blindness gone, and these times of wretchedness would be forgotten when he’d believed himself naught but a burden.

Everything would change. There would be no more talk of it being better for him to die. He would see the warmth in her eyes when she looked into his and would know how she cared for him.

Perhaps, by then, he would come to love her. She might petition Bothild for the right to keep Viggo for herself, for him to become a true husband.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Or he’ll wake and see how many beautiful women we have on the island—so many of them more experienced in the ways of lovemaking.

Why would he choose to stay with me when he might have any of them or all? There are those who’d want his seed, but even women too old for childbearing might make a case for taking him to their bed. For why should they be deprived of this pleasure when a man can rouse himself so easily? If he no longer lacks his sight, he may see that task as one to relish rather than thinking himself useless for anything but procreation.

Why would he want to stay with me when he surveys the full imperfection of my body?

This last notion hurt the most.

The ugliness of her skin, from her shoulders down to the cleft of her bottom, could not be denied. If he ever beheld the extent of her scars, he wouldn’t be able to hide his repugnance, and it would be more than she could bear.

Don’t think of it! There is only this time, nothing more…

Making a plate for Viggo and pouring a little more of the mead, she laid it beside the bed for when he might awake and slipped beneath the furs beside him.

Facing his body, she rested her hands upon his torso and hooked one leg between his. Viggo’s phallus was soft now, but she liked the feel of it, nonetheless, curled against her belly, and that of his chest hair, brushing her cheek. Like this, lying in his arms, she felt as if nothing in the world might hurt her.

And loved?

That was going too far, of course.

As for feeling safe, there was nothing she needed real protection from.

Not anymore.

“Signy.” He pulled her to him. They remained thus for some moments, with Viggo gently stroking her lower back.

Signy held still, making herself accept his caress. It took all her control to avoid flinching from him.

“These no longer pain you? They’re healed?” he murmured somewhere above the crown of her head.

Signy bit her lip, unsure of how much she was ready to tell him.

“They’re nothing, really.” Taking his hand, she eased it downward to rest upon the curve of her hip. “I displeased my father, and he lost his temper. That’s all.”

Viggo was silent a moment. When he spoke again, there was an edge of anger to his voice.

“He beat you? With what and for what reason?”

“I did nothing so terrible!” It occurred to her that Viggo might take a poor view of her going against her father’s wishes. She hated the thought of him approving of her punishment, but it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to side with her father in such a matter.

“There is naught that would warrant such an action. No man should harm a woman, no matter how she vexes him. His duty is to protect those in his care.” Viggo’s hand skimmed her arm, coming to rest beneath her chin. Gently, he raised her head from where she’d buried it against his chest. “Do not fear to tell me. If you keep this secret, there will be awkwardness between us. Neither of us would wish that.”

Secrets!

There are more than he knows!

Some things she couldn’t bring herself to share. Not yet. Besides which, though Bothild hadn’t expressly told them to avoid speaking of the past, Signy sensed it was expected. The Great Happening was a painful time, and how could she make him understand? She didn’t truly comprehend it herself.

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