The Temperate Warrior Page 3

  Still, curiosity tapped its grating rhythm upon her brain.

  Aside from wondering if Gunnar Havlocksen had met his fate, she also pondered why Gustaf had not left her behind. He had gone to save his family, promising to come back for her when all was well. Yet, now that he’d arrived, she couldn’t help but think conceivably it wasn’t for love, but for duty.

  Given the years he’d spent and the lengths to which he’d gone to avenge his father, there was no denying how devoted he could be to a cause. If Gustaf said it would be done, he’d keep his word or die trying. Perhaps, his word to return for her was simply to uphold a promise.

  “Why have you lost words for speaking? Are you not happy to see me?”

  Æsa shook her head adamantly and busied herself by reaching into the rafters for the herbs she’d hung for drying. “I am very happy to see you, my lord,” she said, fiddling with the knot tied around the stems. “You mistake my silence for displeasure.”

  He blew gently on the tiny sparks grasping at the bundles of kindling. His eyes remained fixed on hers. “I cannot read your thoughts no more than you can mine. Speak to me so that I may know what troubles you.”

  “There are no words to describe how my heart is feeling. But know that I am relieved by your return.”

  He stood from the slow burning fire, the smoke trailing upward beside him. “You are surprised that I have come back for you?”

  She tried to let her spinning emotions settle before answering. There was a seriousness in his eyes, a hint of doubt and confusion projecting from them, that warned her to speak carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was anger Gustaf with her insecurities. Nervously, she bit her lip. “Forgive me for feeling such things, but I am unworthy of your return.” She swallowed, despite the harsh dryness in her throat. “If you had not come back for me, I would have understood. A man like you deserves a more noble woman than I. You are the eldest son of a chieftain, the pride of your family.”

  “And you are the daughter of a brave warrior, a perfect match in my eyes.”

  “You didn’t know my father,” Æsa said, bowing her head in shame.

  “Nay, I was thwarted of that privilege. But in knowing you, do I see him. I imagine he was a loving father and a courageous fighter who, for the sake of his family, would not give up the fight against his enemies. He died trying to save you and your mother. There is no greater love than that.”

  “What you say about my father is true, but I have shamed him. As I know I have shamed you.”

  “Look at me, Æsa,” he demanded. “Look into my eyes and tell me if you see shame.”

  She could barely do so. “A cunning man knows how to hide it. But I would be a fool to think you are not ashamed that I was once a whore.”

  She saw Gustaf cringe upon hearing that word and his brow furrowed deeply across forehead. “A slave to that life, you are no longer. In my presence, you will not utter that dreadful word ever again. Do you understand?”

  Æsa pinched off one of the seeds from the dried bundle of herbs in her hands and nodded her head.

  Gustaf came to her in two quick strides, snatching them from her grasp and tossing them on the boxbed. He clasped her wrists together and brought her knuckles to his lips. He planted a kiss upon each and stared longingly in her eyes. “You have brought many things into my life, all of which have made me a happier man than I could ever imagine. But never shame.”

  She turned her head in doubt and he reached for her chin, turning it upward to face him.

  “Never shame,” he reiterated sternly. “Tell me you believe in what I say, for I cannot continue to love you if you think my every word is a lie.”

  For a split second, Æsa’s heart tripped on the string of endearments that fell from her temperate warrior’s mouth. Continue to love you, echoed in her head.

  “Say you believe me,” he commanded, pulling her hard into the cage of his arms.

  She peered into his eyes and saw a blazing honesty within them. “You love me?”

  The strength of his embrace weakened around her, the hard lines around his eyes softened. “I came back for you, did I not?”

  Disappointment undulated through her. “Even a bird returns to its native land when winter passes. ‘Tis not for love—”

  “‘Tis the reason I returned.”

  Æsa couldn’t take the up and down of her emotions. She felt nauseous and weak. She’d not meant to put her all her hopes in one basket, thinking he felt more than a duty toward her, but his straightforwardness about continuing to love her had her pushing to hear the truth from his very lips.

  She moved to escape him, but he tightened his grip around her back.

  “Let go of me,” she whispered sternly.

  He refused, shaking his head. “I am not letting go of—”

  “Please,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and shoving. “You need not do this.”

  He grabbed both her wrists and backed her against the nearest wall. Something ignited inside her and she fought to be pinned. Her struggle proved to be futile for he was stronger and more skillful at close combat.

  “I am not letting go of the woman I love,” he finished with a growl, fighting against the last attempts she made to wriggle free. “You will hear me first, then I will release you. Not a moment before.”

  ****

  Gustaf gave her time to surrender, her forceful sigh declaring her defeat. The flaming temper of his redheaded beauty delighted him beyond words. It was the first thing he liked about her when he and his men had burst into Ragnar’s home. He remembered the sharp sound of her hand slapping Ragnar’s face when he dismissed her. She was a woman who could hold her own and was not afraid to make a stand, even if it resulted in physical pain.

  He smiled when she turned her head to the side, refusing to be affected by his gaze. The meek version of Æsa dissolved and he was thankful. “You are such a stubborn woman. If you knew how much it charmed me, you would not be so obstinate.”

  He saw her eyes jerk in his direction, flaring to heated embers as she glowered, and back again at some distant spot in the room. He’d seen that look before, but it had been with Ragnar. Today, the daggers were for him. Again, she fought his grasp.

  As he confined her to the wall, he noticed a fine sheen of perspiration on her skin. He could smell the effervescence of the oils coming from the pulse points of her neck while feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest against his. Her panting made matters worse. She was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen and, consequently, he found himself in the most precarious position. The only thing wrong with this scenario was the hindrance of clothing between them.

  He ignored the blasted sensation of his hammering pulse below his belt and commenced to making Æsa understand how much he cared for her.

  “Do you remember the first time we were together, alone?”

  Æsa closed her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Then you should also remember how much I gave you. I offered all of myself to you without expecting a single thing in return.”

  “I know.”

  “Realize, my dear Æsa, ‘twas not out of duty. And this day is no different. I came back for you for one reason. For love.”

  A tear trailed down her cheek from behind her closed lids. The fire in her spirit fizzled out.

  “Look at me,” he whispered sweetly.

  When she opened her eyes and turned her head, he saw the very reason for why he adored this temperamental woman who’d bewitched him months ago. Though life had thieved every ounce of her self-worth, it had not stolen her heart.

  He loosened his grip around her wrists, fearing he might have already bruised her beautiful alabaster skin, and brushed his nose against her cheek, wiping the tear away.

  “I am without burden now. I have fulfilled my duty as a loyal son and I have found my family. I am at peace knowing my days of vengeance are behind me. I can start my life anew.”

  He held her gaze for some time, allowing his words
to sink in before continuing. “You are the only woman I want. There is no other who can alight my lips with a smile, fill my heart with joy, and gratify my soul with pride. Marry me, Æsa, and let me spend the rest of my days doing the same for you.” He released her hands and brought his up to her face, caressing her trembling lip with his thumb. “Marry me.”

  Chapter Five

  Æsa quivered beneath Gustaf’s caress. His fingertips roamed the delicate skin of her face, erasing the trace of each new tear that fell. He’d answered every question she dared to ask the moment they’d walked through the door. With each second that ticked by, every skeptical thought she’d had about his honorable intentions diminished.

  He neared his face to hers and took her lips in a gentle kiss. The passion she felt in that simple action caused her heart to soar. She’d never doubt him again.

  Gustaf tentatively pulled away, searching her eyes for an answer. She couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “Aye, my lord. I will marry you.”

  His lips flashed a huge smile, his cobalt eyes dancing with delight. He clasped her face in his palms and kissed her again. His burly arms snaked around her waist and lifted her body off the floor. She felt weightless in his embrace, laughing with him as he spun her around.

  This was the happiest day of her life, second only to the moment Gustaf burst through Ragnar’s door and liberated her from the degrading life she’d been forced to live all those years. He was her savior in so many ways and now, he’d soon be her husband. Nothing mattered to her save for day they’d be united in love. Waiting until that joyous day would be the hardest of all.

  She closed her eyes and buried her nose in the safe haven of Gustaf’s neck, savoring the smell of his masculine scent. It was still hard for her to accept that this was not a dream, for she never thought she’d know true love by one noble man. She pinched her forearm just to be certain and felt the sting as sure as she felt the muscled arms around her body.

  Upon squeezing her arms around his neck one last time, she noticed the embroidered cloth she’d tucked into her sleeve. She remembered how she’d given it to Gustaf before he left and the look of pride in his eyes as he examined the colorful stitches that embellished the edges.

  She pulled it free and brought it close to her heart. Slowly, Gustaf set her on her feet, regarding the cloth in her hand. She looked up and saw the pride, once again, twinkling in his eyes.

  Taking hold of his wrist, she lay the cloth in his palm and closed his fingers around it. “’Tis not much, but I have naught else to give you. Let this be a token of my love.”

  He brought his other hand over hers and bowed in humble gratitude. “Of all the gifts bestowed unto me, this is one I treasure most. ’Twas made by your hands and given to me from your heart. I will cherish it always. And soon, I will stand before my family and proclaim my love for you before a multitude of witnesses. After that, I want to fill our home with many sons.”

  “And daughters?” she included gleefully.

  “Aye, and daughters. I can only hope they resemble your beauty and speak with fire on their tongues.”

  “And if they do not?”

  “I shall love them anyway,” he proclaimed. “For they will come from your womb.” He reverently touched her stomach. “Our children.”

  His eyes turned dark and his touch less innocent. His hand softly caressed her belly and dipped below her navel. She shivered as his fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh between her legs. Her desire for him escalated, but his devious grin told her that an idea struck him.

  “Come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I need a bath and you will help me.”

  “What about your men? What if they return while—”

  “Make no mistake. My men are skilled hunters and warriors. No living creature is safe where sword, spear, or bow are concerned.” He took her hand, pulling her toward the door. “But when the task of fishing is in their hands, I have to admit the slippery gilled beasts are the more cunning. My men will not return for quite some time.”

  Æsa didn’t argue with him as he led her from the longhouse and behind the small barn where the babbling of a clear stream cut through the hill. It was far too shallow to completely submerge oneself if standing, but it was pleasantly waist high in one particular spot.

  She had bathed at this waterhole many times, but never lingered. She rarely felt safe enough on the isle to strip herself bare for longer than necessary, especially without a trustworthy lookout. Besides, the water was too brisk this time of year to loiter. Judging by the look on Gustaf’s face and the determination of his pace, he didn’t seem concerned with either.

  She watched him remove his belt and armor, her heart picking up speed at the thought of seeing her lover’s naked body. Admittedly, she had longed for this moment for weeks, imagining his muscled form standing in the warm glow of the central hearth before he’d slip into the boxbed beside her. But knowing she’d get the pleasure of this sight in the open air had her on edge.

  By the time she checked their remote surroundings with a wary eye, Gustaf had already peeled his boots and clothes from his body. He stood at the water’s edge, naked as the day he was born, dipping a toe beneath the surface.

  Æsa stood motionless, admiring the man who, for the first time in his life, hadn’t a care in the world.

  Under the afternoon sky, his legs were long and powerful from years of carrying a warrior’s body across steep mountains and snow-drifted valleys. Dusted with golden hair, his skin was tan, smooth, and unmarred, save for a few scars across his wide back. In no way did the old battle wounds tarnish his manly appeal. If anything, the marks reminded her of the kind of man he was and how much he had willingly endured to uphold his family’s honor. From the blemishes carved into his skin, to the gentle, compassionate heart beating in his chest, Gustaf was the definition of chivalry.

  Slowly, he walked into the water, his eyes on his feet. The rippling stream rushed passed his ankles and eventually over his knees as he strolled further out. When it rose above his waist, he looked over his shoulder. “‘Tis warm.”

  “And you are a liar,” Æsa scoffed.

  A deep laugh erupted from Gustaf as he spun to face her.

  She smiled in return. The sound of his joy warmed her very soul. “That is the first time I have ever heard you laugh, my lord.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, as if pondering this revelation. “With you by my side, as my wife, I trust ’twill not be the last. You bring much happiness to me.”

  Gustaf’s words caressed her as soothingly as if his own hand stroked her body. She basked in this moment, for in all her years of serfdom, she had never known the blessing of peace, much less a man who wanted to live out his days of peace with her at his side. She had felt the gods’ mockery and endured their curse for so long. She’d begun to give up hope of ever finding joy and love.

  Had the gods finally taken pity on her? Was Gustaf a gift from Odin for all the days she’d spent suffering and praying for reprieve?

  To her, he was more than a gift. He was the promise of a better life. He was her every desire. Her single most reason to live.

  Gustaf splashed the water around him before dunking under, disappearing beneath its surface. As quickly as he sank into its shallow depths, he emerged a drenched man who resembled the likes of a demigod, his long golden hair clinging to his neck and shoulders. The clear mountain water fell off his body as if it worshipped every ounce of male muscle on the way down.

  “Are you not going to join me?” he asked, opening his arms invitingly.

  Knowing how cold the water was, she shook her head. “I shall take more pleasure in watching you.”

  “Suit yourself.” He drew in a large breath and sank like a stone. The constant lateral movement of water made it difficult to see where he had gone. She stepped away from the edge, suspicious that he’d re-emerge and haul her in by surprise. Finally, he came up at the far side of the stream, the curre
nt rushing past him. Without saying a word, he plucked a single flower from the hillside at the water’s edge. The muscles in his back flexed as he brought the purple blossom to his nose, his eyes closing as he drew in a deep breath.

  Æsa watched him examine the delicate bud. He brushed his finger over its colored petal before smelling it again. Looking at her burly Northman, he appeared capable of crushing a man’s skull with his large, powerful hands. Yet, a fragile flower could be safe in his keeping.

  In his arms, Æsa felt the same. Though he may have possessed the strength of three men, his touch upon her skin was whisper soft. For a moment, she felt jealous of the flower gently pinched between his fingers. She longed to be the object of his attention, to let his eyes wander over every inch of her body and feel the heat of his scrutiny while nestled in his embrace.

  The warm light of the afternoon sun bounced off his back, glistening from the droplets of water that greedily clung to his bronzed skin. She swallowed hard, longing to feel his slick taut flesh against hers.

  Unable to merely watch him anymore, she disregarded the notion of the cold water separating them and removed the cloak from her shoulders. Before she could completely disrobe, Gustaf turned his head. His mouth immediately twitched in a half smile, his eyes locked on her every move. He pinned her with a look that nearly stopped her heart, the intensity of his gaze blazing through her soul.

  With the flower still in his hand, he walked through the water, each step as purposeful as the last. The stream rescinded along the length of his lower half and exposed his entire body one small, blessed degree at a time. He didn’t stop until he stood directly in front of her.

  Chapter Six

  Gustaf presented the flower. “For you, my dearest Æsa.” His words came out strained and gravelly. Though he hadn’t planned to sound so nervous, he allowed the huskiness of his voice to caress her as his hand brushed her hair from her face. He tucked the flower behind her ear and stroked her cheek with tender fingers. “You are so beautiful.”