Enslaved by the Viking. Harper St. George

lost control, never let himself go so that he was at the mercy of his body’s demands.

      Eirik knew then that he should have left her behind. There had been no need to take her from her home. Aye, she’d been a gift, but gifts could be rejected. The girl had clearly wanted to stay, despite the bruises. Perhaps she would have been safer.

      He rolled to his stomach to press the uncomfortable tightness of his erection against the blankets. He forced his mind to go black and his breathing to stay even. The lust would not overtake him. He would fight it.

       Chapter Seven

      The nightmares started near dawn. At first the blackness consumed him and all was quiet. But it wasn’t a peaceful silence. It was heavy and expectant, like the stillness of the sky before the torrential downpour of a storm. The air sat heavy upon his chest and threatened to choke him with its liquid weight. Eirik struggled, but was only pulled down farther for all his effort.

      When the screams began he jerked with surprise. He hadn’t heard them in years, but he recognised them immediately. They tore from his own lips and filled him with shame even as they released some of the pain tearing through him. But this time, he was in control. Instead of allowing the vision to take hold of him, he fought it. Moments later, he opened his eyes to the darkness and breathed in the familiar air of the chamber.

      The trembling of his limbs was nothing new. It happened with every other nightmare he’d ever had, and he knew it would subside eventually. His throat wasn’t raw, so he knew that the screams had been brief—this time. That was good. It was something.

      He should have been grateful. There had been times when the nightmare trudged on for hours and he would awaken to Hilla or, when it was particularly bad, his friend Sweyn, dousing him with cold water. His throat would be inflamed and his voice rough from the screaming.

      He wasn’t grateful. The nightmares were gone, beaten. He’d closed his mind to the events of the day years ago that had caused them. He’d thought that they couldn’t haunt him anymore. But they were back. Eirik breathed in and held the air in his lungs. He exhaled in a slow, steady breath of air that relaxed him and eased the trembling. Why were they back now?

      Pushing up from the bed, he swung his feet over the side and hung his head until the pounding in his skull ceased. He sucked in a deep breath again and was assailed by her scent. The salt of her. Meagre light from the hall seeped around the cracks of his door to illuminate the girl. She was sleeping deeply on the rug, her hair streaming out behind her.

      Eirik closed his eyes. The nightmares were back because of her. Somehow they were her fault. His fists closed and gripped the blanket before releasing it as he forced the tension from his body once more and got up to dress. To try to sleep would be useless.

      * * *

      He wasn’t surprised to find his father already in the hall, though he was disappointed. He’d hoped to sit in silence while the strength returned to his knees. At the moment, it was a struggle to keep his legs from trembling like a newborn foal. But there was no help for it, so he forced himself to join his father where he sat breaking his fast and drinking mead.

      The man never slept. If it was because some demon haunted him and stole his sleep as well, Eirik didn’t know. Sleeping men filled the benches, but the dais was clear, so Eirik took a place there across from the jarl. He waved away the offer of food, but filled a tankard from the pitcher that had been left on the table.

      ‘Sleep well?’ his father asked, and looked him over. Eirik hoped the despicable weakness didn’t show on his face and breathed a sigh of relief when the man looked back down to his meal.

      ‘Well enough. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper bed. I’m not used to it.’ It was the truth. His back ached from the softness.

      ‘Aye, I remember that. You’ll get accustomed to it again.’ The older man laughed before taking a mouthful of porridge. ‘Go to the baths later. The hot water will help with the tightness. Take your pretty new slave. She can pound out the knots.’ Hegard used his spoon to point in the direction of the bedchambers.

      Eirik took a drink of the mead to fortify himself. The last subject he wanted to discuss was his pretty new slave. She was quickly causing more trouble than she was worth. He should have left her to her family.

      Silence descended over them for a while as Hegard finished his meal, but soon he was pushing the bowl away and refilling his mead. ‘Are you planning to visit Kadlin?’

      ‘I’ll leave tomorrow. I’d thought she would be here.’

      ‘Nay, her mother’s expecting again. Should be any day now.’ Hegard took a drink, but his eyes never left his son’s.

      Eirik was aware of his father’s scrutiny and was afraid he knew the way the questions would lead. Kadlin was also a subject he didn’t want to discuss now. Not with his father. So he nodded and hoped the conversation would end there.

      Of course it didn’t.

      ‘It’s time you take her to wife. You’re old enough, and with your take this last trip you can set up a household. Or even bring her here.’

      His father’s interest in his unmarried state wasn’t new. Kadlin had been brought up as a likely candidate even before this last trip, but back then Eirik had hardly had the means to support a wife and family. That had changed, and there would be no putting it off now. Not that he would. Kadlin was everything a man could want and Eirik enjoyed her company.

      ‘Aye, she’ll make a good wife.’

      Hegard smiled and continued as if Eirik hadn’t spoken. ‘Though I doubt she’ll appreciate your slave as competition. Women are funny that way. Wouldn’t you rather have a few weeks with the slave first and then pass her on to someone else before bringing a wife home?’

      How could he explain to his father that he’d never intended the girl to be his bed slave? Hegard would never understand. The man had had his wife and her sister pregnant within a year of marriage and had never slept in an empty bed. Eirik could count on two hands the children the man acknowledged. There was no telling how many others existed.

      But it wasn’t only that that held back Eirik’s explanation. If he hadn’t taken the girl for a bed slave, why had he taken her? It had long been expected that he would marry Kadlin. She was the eldest and most beautiful daughter of Hegard’s most trusted friend. They had spent their childhoods together. Eirik had known that marriage to her was imminent, and she wouldn’t allow a pretty slave to share their household. No woman would.

      Had he been too hasty in assuring the girl that he wouldn’t harm her? He couldn’t protect her if she wasn’t his. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and glanced towards his bedchamber. Perhaps he’d wait until spring to wed, and that would give him the winter to figure out what to do with the girl.

      It was as though Hegard had read his mind. ‘Kadlin’s been waiting long enough. The men go out of their way to stop at their farm and fjord just to catch a glimpse of her. Jarl Leif’s already dissuaded numerous offers of marriage. He’s waiting for you.’

      Kadlin was lovely and kind. It was past time she became a mother. But the thought of babies made an unwelcome image flash behind his eyes of the act that created them. He’d never thought of her in that way. But then her image changed to that of the girl, and bedding her was something he could imagine all too well.

      ‘It was kind of him to wait,’ Eirik acknowledged.

      ‘That bastard doesn’t have a kind bone in his body. He wants you for his son.’ Hegard’s gaze narrowed. ‘You want to be jarl after I’m gone, don’t you?’

      ‘Aye, it’s what I’ve always wanted.’ Eirik had imagined himself in his father’s place since he was small enough to conceive of such a thing. But he clenched his teeth because he knew what was coming.

      ‘Then