Pursued by a Viking Read online

  Freya opened her legs wide, inviting him to enter her. He pulled his body back up level with hers, his mouth wet from tasting her. He pushed himself against her entrance, and she felt his tip enter between her legs, causing her to moan in pleasure. She moved her hips to match his rhythm, grinding against him, as she clasped her hands on his hips, bringing him further in. Her eyes widened at the feeling of him filling her completely.

  He began to move in and out, the feeling of him entering and pulling back caused her to moan in delight, with the same feeling from the night before coming back. As he continued to thrust, she felt the sensation begin to build from inside her, until finally it took over her body, causing her to cry out in pleasure, as she wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him in closer. She felt him pulsing inside of her as he released his essence, before collapsing with a deep grunt.

  “That was incredible,” Freya said, feeling his hot body against hers.

  “Like nothing I’ve ever experienced,” Skald said.

  “You’ve never been with a woman?” She asked.

  “I have, but not like that,” Skald replied.

  That night, Freya dreamed of the same event. Magnus’ death, and Skald’s piercing gaze. Like the last dream, he touched her, but this time she didn’t wake up so fast. He gripped around her wrist firmly, with a look of defiance in his eyes, his mouth opened to speak, but before anything came out, she awoke in a cold sweat, with Skald gone.

  She made her way down to the hall where they had eaten dinner the night before, only to find it empty except for Campbell, who was nursing an apparent sore head with some greasy fried potato and bacon.

  “Mornin’ lass,” Campbell said, looking up from his plate.

  “Good morning,” Freya said.

  “I spose you’d be looking for ye man, Skald the Heartless, eh?” He said.

  “Yes,” Freya said.

  “He’s gone out to scout the lands with Logan and Lucas,” Campbell said, not lifting his head from his plate.

  Freya thought it was strange that Campbell, who, apparently the oldest of the three men, was not the chieftain, nor was he taken very seriously by his brothers. She immediately felt more vulnerable, knowing that Skald was not close by to deter men like Campbell from saying or doing too much, particularly after this comments last night.

  “Ay lass, look, do not take to heart the things I say after I’ve had one too many pints of ale,” he said, looking up at her briefly from his plate of greasy food.

  “It happens to all of us at some point or another,” Freya said, looking around the room for anyone else that wasn’t Campbell.

  “You might as well take a seat, lass, and get some food into ye belly,” Campbell said, gesturing to a seat at his table.

  Skald

  “This sap will make the strongest glue you can think of,” Logan cut at a tree, watching the sap leak from its wound. “Couple this with some twine and horse hair and whatever your mending will end stronger than before it broke,” he finished.

  “Very good,” Skald said, feeling the sap between his fingers.

  “So, we must speak of what you believe will transpire when your leader arrives on my lands,” Logan said, eyeing Skald.

  “He will not be causing any trouble with you or your men. He will be coming and then leaving,” Skald said.

  “Aye, that may be so, but I ken the Mackenzies will not simply let you leave after you killed one of their highest standing men. He was blood, after all,” Logan said.

  “Then you will benefit from having a weakened enemy on your doorstep,” Skald replied.

  “Aye, that’s what I am gettin’ at. We may be able to join forces and give the Mackenzies a good whipping,” Logan said.

  Skald knew Logan would suggest this, for Logan was a young man, and he did not become chieftain of his clan without ambition and ruthlessness, despite his charm.

  “I cannot speak on behalf of Ivar, but he will be open to discussion with you,” Skald said, avoiding any deal with the man.

  “Of course,” Logan said, as they started back towards the castle.

  When they arrived back in the castle, Skald saw Freya practicing archery with a few of the men. The bow she was using was of poor quality, and was clearly meant for children who had not yet mastered the basics of shooting.

  He stood back and watched her as she lined up her target, before and letting the arrow loose. She was hitting her targets clean, to the apparent pleasure of the men she was shooting with.

  “Aye, she’s a fine shot, this one, just dunnae look at her sideways because I bet she could even shoot your tiny todger off from a hundred yards,” one of the men said to another, causing the rest of the men around them to laugh.

  “Your foot appears to be healing well,” Skald said, walking over to Freya.

  “You’re back, she beamed, looking up at him.

  Before he could answer, a noise came from outside the castle gates. The famous Scottish bagpipes played their song of war, the Mackenzie flag was flying above a massive force of men. They had come in full force, a hundred of them at least, with a prisoner. Isla looked out from the gates, her eyes wide, her gasp loud enough for Skald to turn and look at her, taking his eyes from the spectacle.

  “We’ve got ye Englishman,” said a tall man, muscled and fierce looking.

  “Who is that?” Skald asked to no one in particular.

  “That’s Fraser Mackenzie, their chieftain,” Freya said.

  “Aye, he’s not a very reasonable chieftain either,” said one of the guards.

  “I need to go and get him, he’s my responsibility,” Freya said, as she attempted to run out the gates.

  Skald caught her by her collar, and pulled her back holding her tight against his chest.

  “You won’t get him back by running out there now, valkyrie,” Skald whispered into her ear, as she struggled against his iron grip.

  “Let me go Skald,” Freya said, elbowing him in his ribs.

  Skald passed Freya to one of the guards, and looked to Logan and Lucas, who nodded towards the Mackenzies. The three of them walked towards the men, accompanied by a group of 30 warriors.

  “There’s only one way this ends, and that’s with ye head rolling, ye ken,” Fraser Mackenzie said to Skald, as they stopped in from of them.

  “What about Ragnar?” Skald asked Jack.

  “He got away. I had to stop to distract them, or they would have caught us both,” Jack said.

  “You’ve done well, Englishman,” Skald said, nodding to Jack.

  “All he has done is help us negotiate for your death,” Fraser laughed.

  “You know my reputation,” Skald said.

  “Aye, Skald the Heartless,” Fraser said.

  “And so what makes you think I’d care for this man’s life?” Skald asked.

  “By the looks of your woman, I’d wager the cold bitch runs to take his place the first chance she gets,” Fraser said, eyeing Skald.

  Skald turned to look at Freya, the perfect, yet damaged young woman stood by the gates, her hands wringing the edges of her skirts, staring at him with her eyebrows arched upwards. Skald gave her a sly wink, and turned back to the Mackenzies.

  “Logan, do you still think we should wait several days before negotiating?” Skald said, looking to the chieftain.

  Logan looked to Skald, a slight frown shadowing his face as he rubbed his chin.

  “Aye, viking, Logan nodded slowly to Skald, before turning to face the Mackenzie laird, “Meet back with us on the day after tomorrow, Mackenzie” Logan spat out the last word, like a piece of rotten apple.

  “I’ll kill this filthy Englishman by then,” Fraser Mackenzie said, with a forced smile, in an attempt to hide his failed attempt at drawing Skald into a vulnerable position.

  “Then you will have nothing to bargain with,” Skald said, shrugging his shoulders half heartedly, as he turned and walked slowly back to the Sutherland castle, with the Sutherland highlanders.

  Freya<
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  She watched Skald shrug his shoulders, before he turned with the Sutherland chieftain, and began to walk back towards her.

  Fraser Mackenzie was shouting at them incoherently, causing spit to fly out of his mouth as he yelled, with a large vein that protruded so far from his neck that Freya could see clearly from beyond the castle gates.

  “What are they doing, are they going to hurt him?” Freya grabbed Skald’s arm, as the highlander guard released his hold on her.

  “No. They will negotiate,” Skald said, with a grin on his face, as he kissed her forehead.

  After they had eaten dinner that night, Skald and Freya went to their chambers early, for Freya was not in a mood to listen to talk of battle and betrayal.

  “Tell me, what about Jack’s capture could possibly make you smile?” Freya said, clenching her hand around Skald’s thick forearm, as he bolted their door with his free hand.

  “Not only will Ivar come with our army, but now Isla will come with her own men, for she will feel the need to rescue her Englishman,” Skald said, holding her hands gently, with his free hand.

  “That’s if they haven’t killed him by then,” Freya sighed, feeling an overwhelming sense of responsibility for Jack’s wellbeing.

  “I won’t let it come to that,” Skald said.

  “One of us won’t,” Freya said, narrowing her eyes at him.

  “You are not responsible for the Englishman,” Skald growled, holding Freya by her shoulders, lowering his face to hers.

  “Don’t you try and intimidate me,” Freya clipped, her red face defiant, as she held his stare.

  “If you try to do anything stupid, you will ruin the plans, and we will all end up dead. So let me deal with the Mackenzie,” Skald said.

  “He’s my responsibility too. I will ride out there myself in exchange for Jack if you haven’t made a deal by tomorrow night,” Freya felt her face flushing with anger at Skald’s denial of her help.

  “We are re-negotiating the day after tomorrow,” Skald said, narrowing his eyes.

  “I’m negotiating tomorrow,” Freya said, and I will find my own place to sleep tonight.”

  “If you do that, you will weaken me,” Skald said, looking at Freya, feeling his anger dissipate.

  “You’re not my responsibility; Jack is,” Freya said, turning away from him.

  Freya immediately felt bad for he words to Skald, for she was responsible for him. She was responsible for his heart. And she was damaging it; that, she knew for sure. But Jack’s life was on the line, and she couldn’t let Skald’s feelings take priority over a man’s life who had risked his own to save them.

  “You’re impossible, woman,” Skald growled, walking towards the window.

  “And you’re losing your cool. That’s not like you,” Freya said.

  “Since when did you want to start playing hero again? You said I could do the fighting for you,” Skald fumed, as he paced up and down the room. “If you want to trade yourself for Jack, then so be it. But first, let me negotiate on the day after tomorrow. You must give me that,” Skald said, looking at Freya, his jaw clenching and unclenching, as he stood facing her from the middle of the room.

  “Fine, you have two days,” Freya said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Good. Would you like to have se-” Skald began, “No Skald.” Freya cut him off, before he could finish the question.

  “Your spirit is returning, valkyrie,” Skald said to her, as he crawled onto the bed, rubbing his nose against her neck.

  Freya had not considered that she’d been acting so differently the past few days, but he was right, she realised. She had been so caught up in her failures that she was running away from the girl who she had become, which allowed her to survive her whole life. But she couldn’t go back to being that girl. Too many good men had died under her.

  No, she was going to be a hermit. Hide away from the world, and let the bad men be bad men, the good men be good and Freya would just be Freya. Not Freya, the valkyrie. Not Freya the Goddess of death. And not Freya, bow kona, because the magnificent bow her father had made for her no longer existed. Freya knew that part of her identity broke at the same time as that bow.

  Skald

  Skald woke before sunrise, and rode out to the trees that Logan had shown him the day before. He dug his hip knife deep into the tree, taking huge gouges. He watched the sap ooze from its wounds, like a man dying on the battlefield. After that, he went to the blacksmith, beating daylight back to the castle, lest the Mackenzie scouts find him alone for easy picking, in the fields.

  After spending an hour with the blacksmith, Skald went back to find Freya still asleep in bed.

  “You won’t go to Jack today, will you?” Skald asked her, as he sat besides her in bed.

  Freya looked at him with her eyes half open, before shaking her head. “I will wait for you to negotiate,” she said.

  “Good,” Skald said, rubbing her cheek with his hand, as he walked to the window that overlooked the fields, were men were beginning to work on their fields for the day.

  “How long will it take for your friends to arrive?” Freya put her arms behind Skald, resting them on his stomach.

  “Another several days, at least. I will need to speak with Logan and Lucas, today,” Skald turned around, gently pulling Freya’s head against his chest. Her cheeks were warm from resting the bed, causing his chest to heat from her touch.

  “I want to come,” Freya said.

  “I do not think that they trust you, just yet,” Skald said.

  “What reason would they possibly have to not trust me?” Freya asked.

  “You were with the Mackenzies before we came here. They can’t be sure that our story is true, Skald said.

  “Fine, you go have your talk. I don’t want to be a part of war talk anyway,” though Freya’s suddenly stiff posture betrayed her true feelings on the matter.

  “You’re not as ready to leave the warrior lifestyle as you’d care to admit, are you?” Skald asked.

  “I want to live a quiet life,” Freya said, though her shoulders were slumped as she walked back to the bed.

  “You’re a valkyrie,” Skald said, grinning.

  “I’m just Freya, I’ve told you that, and that’s how you’re treating me, so stop calling me valkyrie” Freya huffed.

  “Very well, shield maiden,” Skald said, fighting a grin that was wrestling its way onto his face.

  “Don’t call me that either,” Freya frowned at him.

  “As you wish, bow kona,” he said.

  “Skald.” Freya said, her voice wavering.

  “Let’s go get some breakfast, girl,” Skald said.

  “Ok, Skald the heartless,” Freya said, smiling a fake smile at him, as she walked past him, towards the door.

  Skald rolled his eyes as walked behind her, poking her in the ribs as they walked down the stairs, causing her to giggle all the way down.

  “You two lovebirds should still be up in ye room,” Campbell said, eyeing Freya as he spoke.

  “Food is more important than fucking,” Freya said, not returning his gaze.

  “Women cannae speak like that,” Campbell said, his voice low.

  “We all do, you probably just don’t hear them talk about it around you,” Freya said.

  Skald put his arm on her shoulder, fighting back a grin, as he led her to a table away from Campbell.

  “Just Freya, and not a valkyrie, you say?” He whispered into her ear, as they sat down.

  “That’s right, viking,” she said, smirking at him.

  “If I were a betting man I’d put money on you killing a man before the week is ended,” he said, looking toward Campbell as he spoke.

  “Without my bow? Unlikely,” Freya said, rolling her eyes.

  “Tell me more about it,” Skald said, looking at Freya.

  “Well, where do I start. Although my father was a farmer, he was also incredibly good with woodworking. He made and mended all his own tools, and he
even built our house before I was born. He used the wood from the centre of a giant oak tree, a strip of light wood from the centre of the tree ran down the middle of the bow, which I would use to help with my aim. The bow was a little too big for me when I was younger, but I guess my father did that because he knew I would grow into it. I think half the reason I was so good at shooting was because the bow was like an extension of my own arm,” A yearning look was in Freya’s eyes, as she spoke of her bow like a lost friend.