Page 2 of Claimed By the Viking

Ulva scratched her chin. “In the meantime, I’ve half a mind to invite some of the older women to take a turn while he’s compliant. We might ask a favor or two in recompense for giving him a good bathe in between. It could be advantageous…”

“How can you think such a thing?” Signy recoiled. “I shan’t allow it!”

“Hark at you!” Ulva pursed her lips. “Were you washed upon far shores and taken captive, would any man treat you differently? Let him be grateful he’s been clothed and fed and given a bed to rest upon. I’ll warrant he’ll make no objection when the time comes for you to ride his pole. A full belly and a welcoming sheath are all men care about.”

Signy bit back her argument. Perhaps, in this, her mother had the right of it, and the man would happily bed as many women as were willing. Nevertheless, Signy would allow no liberties to be taken while he was unable to speak for himself.

Ulva was already making for the door. “I’ll set to feeding the chickens. Meanwhile, you know what to do, Signy. ‘Tis time to put aside coyness and lose your maidenhead. It shall pain you a little, but at least you’ll have the charge of how it’s done. ‘Twould not be the case if you were thrown upon your back and rough-invaded, as usually happens.” Ulva gave an indignant sniff. “The other positions are no better. My knees were rubbed raw when first I wed from being forced upon them whenever your father took the urge.”

Signy cast her eyes toward the heavens. There was no cure for her mother’s plain speaking, but Signy was glad for the most part since at least she knew what was involved in the mating act. She doubted fellow bride Astrid was as well-informed unless she’d already succumbed, as Ulva warned, and had learnt the hard way what it meant for a man to take a woman.

Signy followed her mother to the threshold. ‘Twas easiest to feign compliance, even if she’d no intention of acting upon the advice foist upon her. “Would Agneta like a visit from you? ‘Twould allow me more time…”

“That’s my girl.” Ulva turned back, giving Signy’s cheek a little pinch. “You’re in the midst of your fertile time. One goodswiveon his cock may do the job!”

However, her approving smile fell. Ulva grabbed Signy’s arm, her eyes widening. Whirling about, Signy saw that the stranger was no longer reclined but was staggering to his feet. With hands outstretched, he stumbled across the room.

“Where am I?” He licked his lips. “I’ve a thirst on me and a hunger, too.” Grabbing at the edge of the table, he felt his wayaround, sending bowls and cups tumbling. Curses rained as his shin met with a stool.

“Stand still before you hurt yourself!” Signy raced to him.

“Who’s there?” The stranger snapped in her direction and grasped her hands most forcefully. “Some wench brought to entertain us? Light a lamp and fetch me water. Then, we might go outside. A slash first to relieve my bladder before we take a thump against the wall, eh?”

“What? Nay!” Signy tried to draw back, but he held her fast.

“See! ‘Tis as I said!” Ulva cried out in alarm. “He thinks only of getting between your legs.”

“Two, is it?” The stranger turned his head. “One is enough for me, but be swift and fetch the lantern. ‘Tis darker than the pit in here.”

Signy managed to yank her hands away, and the movement unbalanced the man. He fell forward to the floor, swearing worse than before as his elbow caught the stool.

“He’s mad!” Ulva shrieked. “A few more steps and he’d have been headfirst into the cauldron. Get the rope. Quick about it!”

Signy lunged to the side, but the man’s arm shot out, grabbing her by the ankle. With a cry, she tumbled, sprawling beside him.

“What’s this?” Though his voice was hoarse, he managed to shout. “Hoy there, men! Awake and protect yourselves. These are no sporting wenches but robber women, come to make mischief.”

Desperate to get away, Signy kicked out and caught him somewhere about the chin.

“Odin’s fat bollocks!” As the man let loose her foot, Signy scrabbled away. Landing back upon his rear, he nursed his lip, from which ran a trickle of blood.

Ulva, meantime, had the rope and, in a flash, threw a loop about the man’s neck, then another, twisting them tight.

He gave a gargled cry, thrashing within the noose, his face reddening as his eyes bulged.

“Enough,Móðir. Let him breathe.” Signy was terrified that, left unchecked, Ulva would wring the life from the man before they’d had the chance even to speak.

“Look, I have the poker.” Signy took it up from where it lay beside the fire. “Any violence and I’ll hit him with it.”

Ulva’s lips crushed to a thin line, but she relented enough that the man was able to take a heaving gulp of air.

“‘Tis alright.” Signy positioned herself before him, speaking in as calm a voice as she could muster. “But you must listen. You were in a boat. There was a storm, and you washed up here. Do you not remember?”

“A boat?” The man stared back at her with a furrowed brow, but ‘twas as if he was in his own world. His eyes looked in her direction but did not truly connect with hers. “I do not recall…”

What had he said about thinking it was dark? Signy frowned. With the door wide open, the room was filled with light. Surely, he must see ‘twas day? Yet his rantings about the lamp seemed sincere. Reaching out, she waved her hand before his face. To her consternation, he did not flinch or even blink.

“You do not see me nor the brightness of the sun?”

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