Amelina awoke with a start.
There was a naked man in her bed.
The Viking that had tried to take her last night was still passed out with his face pressed to her furs, sated from the sordid deeds they had performed. But her maidenhood was intact — she gingerly felt herself just to be sure. Yes. And she was still in her dress. He had never even seen her breasts.
She had seen... all of him, though. And taken him into her mouth, after he had pleasured her with his. A wild agitation rose up in her at the recollection. She did not know if she was more upset at what they had done, or at the thought that she might never do it again. For soon the sun would rise, the Danes would take their gold, and this man would leave and nobody would ever touch her like that again.
Amelina looked over at him. In the peacefulness of sleep, he looked younger. His beard added years, but beneath it he could not be that much older than herself. If he was not so savage, she would have found him terribly handsome. Perhaps that was why she had struggled to resist his advances. He had long lashes, a straight nose, and full lips partially hidden beneath his beard. Lips that had roused unspeakable feelings in her last night.
At the very thought of it, her heat began to rise again. In the span of a single night, he'd made her want him more than she'd ever known it was possible to want a man.
As if he sensed her staring, his eyes fluttered open. They were shockingly blue. "Morning, Engliskr."
"Good morning...." She did not even know this northman's name.
He rolled onto his back. "Bjorn."
"Bjorn." She tested the unfamiliar name on her tongue, then smiled as she caught sight of the imprint of her furs on the side of his face.
He smiled back at her, his expression guileless and open.
"Thank you," Amelina said, not knowing as the words left her mouth what was possessing her.
Bjorn's eyebrows lifted in amusement. It was an endearing look on him. "What for, mey? Thought you didn't want me."
"You kept your word."
"You got the best of me, woman." He reached out to toy with the hem of her sleeve. "You can go back and wed your Engliskr now, no worse for the wear."
The surge of misery that rose up at the thought shocked her. She did not want that anymore. Lord Dyfnwal was, unfortunately, much like the Viking had guessed. A man rather resembling a plucked chicken. Once she went to his bed, she would never know anything like what this northman had offered her again.
Summoning the new kind of courage that had led her to be so bold last night, Amelina seized the fragile thread of fate that hung before her, leaned forward, and kissed the handsome man in her bed.
He kissed her back, no questions asked, and his lips were soft and sweet beneath hers, giving her no more and no less than what she wished.
When she broke away, her mind was made up. "Take me with you."
"You want to go with me?"
"Yes."
He did not seem to know how to respond. She did not know if he had only intended to have her for the night, or if there was anything longer lasting he might consider. He had not offered her any marriage but the marriage of the flesh, and she had not known her own heart until she said it, but she was realizing with a rising desperation that she would abandon God and kin, accepting anything if it meant she could stay beside him.
He took her hand in his. "I meant to wed you only for the night and leave you here," he explained.
Her heart sank.
"I'd leave you with Thor's protection," he continued, putting his hand to the hammer-shaped pendant at his chest. "If another Viking shows up, you could simply show it to him and no man would touch you. You and your father's lands will be the safer for it. And I'll be back to visit. Make sure you and any children we might have are well."
Her heart twisted with a riot of emotions. She could not be the only woman he had like this. She'd spend her life waiting for him to return, fighting for his attention. An irrational jealousy she did not even know she was capable of was rearing its head. She wanted him — she wanted all of him. Perhaps she had gone mad. If so, she could do nothing but give herself over to it as inevitably as she had given herself over to his touch last night.
"Take me with you," she insisted. "Let me go with you, and I'll be yours, however you want me. Or I'll marry Lord Dyfnwal and we'll never see each other again." She did not know if it was an empty threat, but she made it anyways. She had nothing else to bargain with.
The Viking's eyes widened as he rose up on one arm. "All or nothing? Is that how you like to play?"
Her heart thudded as she held his icy blue eyes. If she looked away, all was lost.
Suddenly he burst laughing. "Mey! Do you even know how to ride?"
"I do!" Before her father had known he'd have a son, he had let her have some of the indulgences of boys. It had been years, but she'd learned to ride better than most women, even having briefly worn trousers as a child. "Let me speak to my father. I might even bring my own horse."
There was a new look in his eyes. She did not know what it meant, but it made her stomach jump and flutter. His rough hand came up to cradle her face.
"Mey. You are a creature raised behind castle walls. I think you will suffer in the saddle, and very likely perish on the road. But I am not one to stop those who want to seek their own fate. Do you really wish to come with me?"
Her heart thudded like she was about to fling herself headlong off a cliff. "Yes."
"You'll have to keep up. If you can't, I may have to send you back alone. And I cannot say what will happen to you then."
"I understand."
He tugged her to him and gave her a hard kiss.
"Come on then." He got out of bed and began to dress. "Talk to your father. It will not be a problem for us. Perhaps Freya's calling you. We'll see if you have what it takes to be shieldmaiden."
Wild elation and terror warred in her chest. Her life was either just about to begin, or just about to end.
As the northman fastened his trousers, he paused. "Forgive me. Your father told me, but I forgot your name."
"Amelina."
He grinned. "Amelina. Beautiful."
Elation it was, then.
---
When the Viking had left her room, Amelina changed into a simple traveling dress. She would have to try to find men's trousers before they left. If one of the servants was not willing to accommodate her unusual request, there was always Robin, the stableboy who might still owe her a favor for the few kisses she had let him steal.
There were no guards outside her door. In fact, the halls were eerily empty. Amelina was wondering where everyone was when there was woman's gasp, and the door to the sewing room opened to reveal her maidservant Enfelda.
Enfelda cast a terrified glance down the empty hall, then dragged her in.
"My lady... oh, my lady." Enfelda's eyes were red from crying. To Amelina's surprise, she dropped to her knees at her feet.
"Whatever is the matter?"
"Forgive me, I could do nothing. The guards.. they threatened to let the Danes have their way with me as well if I interfered. I am so sorry for what we've let you suffer. May the Lord forgive us." Enfelda frantically crossed herself.
"Oh." The terror of last night had faded so far away, Amelina had forgotten what the maids might still be thinking. "It's alright. The northman was good to me. Better than I knew a man could be. And he did not take my honor." She helped her maidservant to her feet.
Enfelda's eyes were so wide the whites were showing. "But last night... your screams..."
She did not know how to explain. If she had not experienced it herself, she would not have believed a woman who said the things she was about to say. But she said them anyways. "Enfelda. Of everything you heard last night, none of it was from pain. It is possible for a man to make a woman scream for pleasure, without even having her as a man ought to have. I am a maiden yet."
"How is that possible?"
Amelina sighed. "It's hard to explain. But I'm leaving with him now. I asked him to take me with him."
Enfelda stared at Amelina like the devil himself had seized her from behind, crossing herself repeatedly, her lips moving in a silent prayer.
It was no use. "Help me find some man's trousers that will fit me. I leave with the Danes, and my life depends on being able to keep up with them."
---
Her father began with an apology, at least. "Forgive me, dear child. Four marks of gold commissions ten fighting men for a year. We needed it, and there was a threat behind the offer. He put his sword on the table and did not let us tell you before he went. We could not fight him."
You could, she thought. He would have backed down if you'd fought him on it. But you did not want to. I was not worth it to you. But this she did not say.
"Father. What is done is done. Let me have a horse, a knife, and a week's worth of food as a bride price, and I will forget what has happened here. He is taking me with him."
Her father's expression darkened. "He said he would leave you here with us, and swore up and down that the Danes were men of their word. Does he think me a fool? This insult cannot be allowed to stand."
Rage, boiling hot, was rising up in her blood. All her father could think of was the insult to his own honor, even after he had sold hers.
"Do not fear, my dear," her father told her absently, paying no heed to the expression on her face. "You do not have to leave with that man. He said he would keep his word."
"I asked him to take me with him," she said, no longer caring if her words were wise.
"What?"
"I asked him to take me with him. I'm going with him."
A muscle twitched in her father's jaw. "What madness is this? You are not leaving with that man! I forbid it."
"Father," she tried to reason. "You sold me to him." Without telling me, she added silently. Without knowing if he would be gentle, or if he would spend all night raping me mercilessly, using me like a whore.
