Chapter Twelve
Ivan was on a go-slow, but Halvor didn’t mind. The sun was warm on his shoulders and the landscape a feast for his eyes after months at sea.
Duna was talking about the reverend, and how she’d like to meet him, to discuss her God with him.
Halvor had only met the man once, and he’d seemed nice enough. Perhaps if his slave was well behaved it could be a treat for her in the future.
“Oh, look, what’s that?” Duna pointed to the right.
Halvor pulled the wagon to a halt.
Standing against a copse of tall elm trees was a female elk with her calf. She was a huge beast with a stunning earthy brown coat that glistened in the sun, and a large curved nose. She was chewing, though her attention was firmly on them.
The calf nudged at her belly, seeking milk.
“That is elk, Duna,” he said. “Have you seen one before?”
“No, and I didn’t think it would be so big.”
“She is big, dangerous too when with her young. I would not like to bump into her on a dark night.”
“She’s very protective?”
“Incredibly, strong too. She could and would take on a pack of wolves and there would be wolf injuries, even deaths. She can supply a lethal kick.”
Ivan raised his head and snorted.
“Hey, hey, go on then,” Halvor said, shaking the reins. “Ivan isn’t fond of elk.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had other horses who don’t mind them.”
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze seeming to stay with the elk, then she spoke again. “Nadir said she made a promise to your mother, what was that?”
He turned to her, surprised by the blunt question.
She glanced away and dipped her chin. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
He studied the track ahead. “My mother and Nadir were great friends. They grew up together, and when my mother became sick, she asked Nadir to be there for me after she was gone.”
“How many summers were you when she died?”
“Twenty, I hardly needed mothering, but Nadir took her promise seriously and has always sent prayers for my safety to the gods.”
“I like her.”
“Yes, I like her too.” He paused. “Elderberries, let’s collect some.” He glanced back to make sure they were a safe distance from the elk.
“I’ll make a tonic with them, should we fall ill in the winter months, and also a jelly for the bread.”
“You are very useful to have around,” he said, jumping to the ground and reaching for her. The drop was too great for her small height.
As she set to work, filling a basket, it pleased him that she’d spoken of the winter months, and that she appeared to have accepted her new life with him.
Though she was clever, in her pretty head he believed there to be a sharper mind than many thrall women. He’d discovered that in their conversations over previous days, and she was particularly skilled with leather. He’d have to be sure she wasn’t luring him into a false sense of security, and begin to trust her too much. She had, after all, been plucked from her home, her father, and everything she knew in the middle of the night and brought to his land to be his possession.
A fate of the same kind was not something he’d accept readily.
* * *
They were back at the longhouse in plenty of time before nightfall.
Duna put the new rooster safely in the coop, and Halvor worked with Raven to bring the sheep into the barn. He noticed a dip in the earth around the corner, as though something had scratched at the soil beneath the wood. Had Raven been digging again? Sometimes he liked to bury the trotter bones Halvor gave him.
When he went into the longhouse, the fire was blazing and Duna stood before it. She held Misty against her chest with one hand, and with the other she was stirring broth.
She was singing; a sweet melodic tune he hadn’t heard before.
He paused, enjoying the sound and the scents of the scene before him. Having Duna in his house this last week or so had changed how he felt about it. It was no longer quiet, he didn’t have to perform every task, and it smelled pretty good when she cooked.
It’s home.
He realized that was what she’d done. She’d turned it from a building into home. He hoped her singing meant she’d had a happy day with him and she was learning to accept her role.
“That’s nice,” he said, reaching for his cask and stepping closer to her.
“Thank you.”
“What’s it about?”
“My island. The place where I was born and where my heart is.”
So maybe not so accepting… yet. “Is it a song enjoyed by many?”
“I guess so. My mother taught it to me.”
He poured a drink, then sat and studied her small frame from behind. He couldn’t help sliding his gaze to her ass even though it was hidden beneath her clothing. “Where was your mother that night I came to your village?”
“She is with God and Jesus Christ.”
He paused. “She’s passed?”
“Yes, when I was seven summers. She was giving birth to my brother.”
“I was unaware you had a brother?”
“I don’t.” She paused. “He died with his mother and became an angel with her.”
“I’m sorry for your sadness, Duna.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“But you still miss her?”
“Of course. She was my mother, so kind, so beautiful.” She sighed. “My father took the loss hard.” She turned. “And now he has lost me.”
He took a deep drink. He was sorry for her father, for he would hate to lose Duna, but he wouldn’t apologize. The old man’s loss had been Halvor’s gain. It was the way of Vikings, to take slaves from other lands.
Though if he could send a message that he was treating his daughter well, that he’d lay down his life to protect her, then he would. Maybe next time he went to the port he’d pay a coin for a message to be delivered to her island.
“The food is ready.” Duna placed Misty down beside a bowl of buttermilk. “I used some of the horseradish we collected this morning.”
“Ah, good.” He set his drink aside and inhaled deep as she set a huge earthenware bowl of steaming broth before him. “You cook well when you’re not burning food.”
“It’s easy to cook well when there are plenty of ingredients.”
He nodded at the empty chair. “Sit. Eat. I wish you to put meat on your bones. You need your strength for working around here, especially when winter comes.”
“Yes, Master.” She filled herself a bowl and sat opposite him. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is. And you will do as I wish, Duna. You know that?”
“I know that if I don’t my behind will be turned red.”
“Is it still red?”
“I haven’t looked. But I shouldn’t think so not after this long.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “I may look, after this food.”
“That will not be necessary.” She frowned. “I have not been disobedient, so why should I have my rear exposed?”
“Because you are mine, thrall, and if I wish to look at your behind and judge if it still holds the color of berries, I will.”
She squirmed a little, then slurped her broth.
He knew he’d irked her. Having taken her punishment well, including the heat of ginger, she didn’t want to discuss it or be reminded of it.
But the truth was he’d quickly become fond of her buttocks, and the way she pinked up, squealed and gasped as he spanked her. Trouble was she’d been on such good behavior helping around the longhouse he’d had no reason to enjoy her ass.
Odin, help me find strength.
His cock was stiffening.
If he hadn’t made a decision as a young man to only ever be with willing women, he’d finish his food and take her sweet little cunny as his own. He’d sink deep on the first plunge, relish the way her body opened for his. He’d pound hard and find his pleasure, each gasp and cry she made would spur him on. And he’d be sure she found release too; he wasn’t a selfish lover.
He watched her eating, the firelight licking over her delicate features and creating shadows on her cheeks. Had she ever found release, even at her own hand? He suspected she was inexperienced with men, judging by her reaction to seeing him naked in the bathtub, but that may mean she had only been with men of her own small size. The locals on her island had certainly not been a big breed of males.
She’d also appeared shocked when he’d laved his tongue over her nipples and touched the sweet spot at the front of her cunny. But that could have merely been shock that he, her Viking master, was beginning to claim her body. Not that she’d never been pleasured or caressed by a male.
Continuing to eat, and enjoying the heat of the horseradish coating his tongue, he wondered about the noises she’d make as she hit the climax of coupling. Would she sound the same as during a spanking, all breathy and pleading, or would she pant and gasp for more? He’d been with both sorts of women, long ago, but that kind of thing stayed in the memory.
He found himself hoping she’d gasp, and cling to him with all of her limbs. Be enthused, want his cock deep and deeper still and give herself up to his kisses.
Thinking about kissing her drew his attention to her sweet mouth. He adored it when she smiled, which she’d done several times, if not at the moment. Would she allow him to kiss her? When she was in a better mood? Or would she slap his face for attempting? He’d thought about it when lifting her down from the wagon, but then Asmund had interrupted his plan.
She finished and stood. “I will clean these in the stream morrow.”
“You will, slave.”
What was he doing? Sitting there thinking about kissing his thrall. That wasn’t how their relationship was. He had to be a strong, stern master. Take her in hand. He reminded himself of her wild side, the defiant nature he’d borne witness to on the island beach and on the longboat. Again he thought of the feral cats at the port. Just when you thought you’d gained one’s trust, it would hiss and scratch and there would be nothing but hate in its eyes.
“I’m going to bed, Master,” she said, reaching for Misty. “The day has been long.”
“Sleep well. There is much for you to do. It is high time to get seeds planted.”
* * *
Duna didn’t reply. All his talk of inspecting her rear had irked her. But what was worse than that was she’d found it strangely arousing.
As she’d eaten her broth, she thought of him bending her over the table, hoisting up her clothing, and drawing down her undergarments. Her naked rump would be there for him to gawp at, and stroke, and judge.
Her internal muscles had clenched and a warmth, almost a dampness, had collected between her legs. That annoyed her too, and she frowned, not wanting to react to Halvor’s possession of her buttocks or her asshole.
What does this mean about me?
Yawning, she stepped past him and settled on the bed she preferred to use, the furthest from his.
After slipping beneath the blanket, her kitten cuddled close, she sighed, then closed her eyes. It had been a long day, a pleasant one, mostly. Also it had held revelations. The elk were much bigger than she’d ever have imagined, Nadir was nice, almost friend material, she’d held silk and discovered that a reverend who believed in her God lived within these fair hills.
Soon Misty stopped wriggling and he settled beneath her chin, his soft fur a comfort to her. Duna found herself drifting away.
But it wasn’t a dreamless sleep.
Snow. Thick flakes falling. The moonlight catching in them, creating a glittering display. Home. She was running, barefoot, dressed in a warm woolen dress. But soon the beauty of the snow and the full moon faded. Panic gripped her. She wasn’t home. She was at the longhouse. Something was wrong. She turned this way and that. Raven was barking. The hens creating a racket in the coop. The sheep were bleating.
It was then she saw it.
Wolf.
Its amber eyes were staring at her through the darkness. It had paused in what it was doing, but quickly resumed. It was digging, at the side of the barn, creating a tunnel to get to the sheep.
The sheep.
They needed the sheep to survive. That knowledge was deeply ingrained in Duna’s psyche. Livestock had always been precious to her.
“No,” she yelled, rushing forward. The wolf stopped again and stared at her; it pulled back its lips and growled, a low menacing sound that chilled the blood in her veins.
It was then she realized it wasn’t growling at her, it was growling at Raven who was at her side.
She spun around, looking for Halvor, but the longhouse was quiet; he was oblivious to what was happening. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. There were more wolves creeping from the shadows, coming their way. “Halvor. Help!”
“Duna. Duna. Stop it!”
A deep voice, sounding like it was coming from underwater, penetrated the dream.
She twisted this way and that, sending snow skittering over her feet. The wolves were coming closer, snarling, their attention on Raven. They were going to kill him to get to the sheep.
“Duna, for the love of Odin, wake up.”
“Halvor?” she murmured.
“Aye, I’m here. Wake up, you are scaring Misty.”
The wolves faded, the snow melted away, the sounds of the terrified flock quieted.
She opened her eyes.
Her master was staring down at her, his brow creased and his eyes narrowed. “Good, you have woken.”
She clutched Misty and willed her heart to stop racing. “I… I…”
“Shh, it’s all right. You are safe.” He stroked her hair. “I’m here. Nothing will harm you.”
“But my dream… it was of here.”
“This is your home now, of course you dream of here.”
She stared up at him. “No, you don’t understand, I have dreams that tell of the future.”
He frowned.
Turning away, she wished she’d not spoken. Her father had always mocked her dreams, saying it was simply a vivid imagination.
“Go on,” he whispered, still smoothing her hair from her damp forehead.
She shook her head. If she was dreaming of here, this strange land in the winter months, it meant she would be staying, for the next season at least.
“Try me,” he said. “I might surprise you, slave. I might understand.”
She gulped in air. “I saw you, your boat, before I ever met you.” She turned back to him, feeling sure she’d see disbelief in his eyes.
“Go on.”
“Your face.” She reached forward and touched the ink around his right eye. “It’s the same as my dreams about you.”
He appeared to tense, as though shocked by her gentle touch.
“And the snake’s head, on the longboat. With its tongue, and scales, it’s exactly like my dream.”
He nodded, just a little.
“And this one. The dream I just had. It’s the same, it’s a window to the future.” She paused. “And it’s not good for us, Master.”
“Tell me about it.”
She swallowed. “It’s winter, snow all around. We have secured the animals but the wolves are here, digging around the barn, tunneling their way in. And Raven, he—”
“Tunneling?”
“Yes, as if they’ve been at it for months, planning a way into the sheep for when they’re hungry.”
He stood, forcing her to drop her hand, and pushed his fingers through his hair. “I believe you, wench.”
“You do?” She sat.
“Yes, for only this day I spotted evidence that something had been digging on the yonder side of the barn. I didn’t think much of it, but yes, it could be the wolves that were here the other night. They have a plan and are working stealthily on it.”
“We must do something. Raven, he’s outnumbered in trying to protect the flock. In my dream I fear for him, that he will be attacked… killed.”
“We will do something.” He placed his hands on his hips. “At first light, I will investigate further, and now, thanks to your dream, we can change the course of our future, and that of our livestock.” He smiled. “You are quite the find, Duna.”
“I’ve pleased you?” She knew she had, by the tone of his voice and the soft look in his eyes.
“Yes, very much.”