Chapter Nineteen
Freya
When we arrived at the Hebrides, we learned King Hákon had decided to overwinter in the Orkney Isles, so we set sail soon after, in hopes he would not need Soren and his men until next spring. If that were the case, we would head home for the winter if he allowed it.
By the time we arrived a few days later, everyone was ready for a few days ashore, and we soon learned we were a more welcoming sight than we had anticipated. In fact, not only did our men who survived the Battle of Largs greet us on the docks to much fanfare, but King Hákon himself.
“As I live and breathe, is that really you, Soren Dahl?” he boomed, grinning from ear to ear. Although not as large as Soren, he was a sizable man with light brown hair and dark, olive-green eyes.
“’Tis, my liege.” Soren introduced me. “Thanks to my lovely wife and good fortune, I survived the battle.”
“I would say you did far more than that.” He clasped Soren on the shoulder and grinned at him.
“You have returned from the grave a hero.” His attention turned my way.
“Thanks to your lovely wife. ’Tis a pleasure meeting you, Freya Helvig, now Dahl, for I have heard a tale or two about you in my time.
” He glanced from Soren back to me. “And now here is yet another heroic tale you two can share around the campfire for years to come.”
“And what is this tale?” Soren wondered.
“That you and a handful of brave souls held an entire Scottish army at bay,” King Hákon praised, “allowing most of us to leave unscathed.” He eyed Soren with pride.
“And though we didn’t make headway this time, ’tis considered a victory given so few lives were lost, and we will return in the spring.
” He kept smiling at Soren and shaking his head in amazement.
“’Tis something else that not one but two Norwegian heroes went up against a Scottish army and lived to tell about it.
’Tis truly a testament to our countrymen. ”
Soren looked confused as everyone roared in approval at the King’s words.
“And who is this other hero, my liege?” Soren wondered, as curious as I.
“Well, Leif, of course,” King Hákon exclaimed. His eyebrows swept up, and he kept grinning. “I take it you thought him dead?”
“I did.” Soren met his grin. “The last I saw, he went down in battle.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how he could have survived that.”
“As ’twas for you, his courage was rewarded with good fortune,” the king said.
“He was injured, but one of his men managed to get him out of there. The last I saw of him before sending him and his men home for the winter, he was recovering well.” He gave Soren a pointed look.
“You should send word to him when you can, Soren, as your loss truly saddened him. He carries guilt that he was unable to remain by your side until the end.”
“Indeed, I will,” Soren said, his voice hoarse with emotion, speaking to how grateful he was that his friend had survived.
“Why don’t we go inside, warm ourselves by a fire, and toast to well-fought battles?” the king suggested. “And to friends lost, may they forever dine by Odin’s side.”
In full agreement, we joined our fellow tribesmen and King Hákon to enjoy good food and drink.
To be expected, we toasted the handful of Norwegians who had fought alongside me and Leif to keep our countrymen safe many times over.
Though I knew it frustrated Soren because he hadn’t wanted to be on Scottish shores to begin with, he kept it from his face.
When I did not toast with ale but boiled water as ordered by the gods, and the king wondered why, Soren revealed that we had a child on the way.
“’Tis good news, indeed!” The king toasted to us again, noting Soren’s sometimes-tentative movements as he took care to mind his healing wound. “’Tis a miracle you survived, Soren. Now you two must tell us your tale for ’tis no small feat surviving a gut wound on Scottish shores.”
“’Tis not,” I agreed, having discussed with Soren how we wanted to go about this, opting to be somewhat truthful in hopes the king might soften his stance on invading Scotland again.
“But the gods were with him and delivered him into my sister’s hands.
The same gods that urged me to seek him out on the western shores of Scotland. ”
“Your sister?” he exclaimed. “Pray tell, how is it you have a sister there?”
“My father wished it so that we might forge a marital tie and mayhap find peace betwixt the few Norse left living there and their fellow Scots,” I said. “A tie that could help going forward during these ever-changing times.”
Soren told him the rest of our tale, omitting a few things.
He refrained from sharing which clan had taken him in to protect the Mackays, lest rumors get back to King Alexander, and how Soren had only wounded rather than killed the Scots he’d fought.
The rest he shared, in hopes that perhaps King Hákon might realize how merciful some Scotsmen could be.
Realize that resuming diplomatic talks might not be such a bad idea.
“’Tis quite the tale,” the king granted afterward, saying little more about it as he toasted us one last time and the evening’s celebrations resumed.
“We will provide you and your men tents,” King Hákon assured us later that evening, before requesting a word with us alone.
When I cast Soren a worried glance as we followed the king into a smaller tent, concerned we might have come across as Scottish sympathizers, he could only squeeze my hand in comfort, hoping that was not the case.
“Please sit.” The king gestured that we join him by a small fire. “I have been giving it a lot of thought since you arrived and have come to a decision.”
“About what, my liege?” Soren asked.
“About you and Freya, of course,” King Hákon replied.
“Whilst I assume you found your way here so that you might return to Scottish shores in the spring, I think for now you have done your fair share for Norway.” He looked back and forth between us.
“So, unless you prefer staying for reasons I cannot fathom, I insist you travel home when you’re ready so that you might continue healing, Soren, and welcome your child amongst your tribe. ”
Careful to keep relief from my face, I, along with Soren thanked King Hákon and after spending a few more minutes chatting, we retired for the evening, glad to see a basin of water had been brought into our tent for bathing.
Yet before we got that far, Soren wrapped me up in his strong arms, and his mouth was on mine.
And that’s all it took to forget anything but each other for the moment.
Wasting no time, desperate for each other, our tongues tangled, and we yanked at each other’s clothes in a frenzy, eager to finally feel one another’s flesh again.
After I tugged off his tunic, he whipped off mine.
The moment I was free of my boots and trousers, I walked him back against our fur-covered cot until he had no choice but to sit.
Burning with need, I barely gave him a chance to free himself before straddling him and sinking onto his hot, rigid shaft, both of us groaning in sharp relief and most certainly, intense pleasure.
Mindful of his wound, I ran my hands up his arms and over his broad shoulders, admiring every bit of him. More than that, I cherished the feel of him beneath my fingers, grateful he lived and was deep inside me.
With me.
Loving me as I loved him.
He did the same, caressing and stroking me as if he had been dreaming of doing it since we last lay together. Running his hands up my thighs and over my slightly swollen belly, he fondled my full, overly sensitive breasts, heightening my sensation.
Cupping his cheeks, I closed my mouth over his and kissed him again, grinding and rolling my hips back and forth slowly in a way that built our pleasure swiftly.
Gathering me closer so we were skin to skin, he steered my backside with one hand and wrapped his strong hand in my hair with the other, growling in my ear with pleasure, urging me to go faster.
Take more.
All of him.
So I did, and my building need grew so great that when he released a ragged groan and let go, I went sailing over the edge with him, reveling in the sensations coursing through me. The untouchable way he made me feel.
Never so grateful as to be holding each other again, we remained that way for a time, simply breathing one another in. Feeling our hearts beat as one. Losing ourselves in each other until we finally got around to bathing, before returning to bed and making love all over again.
Eventually, we drifted off in each other’s arms, stirring awake just before dawn. After making love once more, as desperate as we’d been the night before, we bundled into warm furs and stepped outside into the crisp morning. Our breath hit the air in foggy puffs just as the sun crested the horizon.
“’Twill be a good day for sailing if we wish to leave soon.” Soren took in the various shades of purple splashed across the eastern skies. “Though ’twould be better to give our men a few days to relax and enjoy being ashore first.”
“Agreed,” I said, about to say more when my pendant warmed and the smoky trail of a nearby fire caught my attention.
Though people had clearly gathered around it the night before, it was down to embers now.
Yet as I felt compelled to drift that way, it sputtered to life, and I knew one of my sisters reached out.
“Is it Astrid?” Soren wondered, understanding my inner seer was at work. Frowning with concern, he remained by my side. “Does she need us to return and get her because we will?”
“No, ’tis not her,” I murmured, sure of it.
Crouching before the fire, I gazed deeper into flames designed just for me, only to catch glimpses of Tove standing in front of my father’s lodge.
She appeared to be trying to gather her emotions before her sad eyes met mine within the flames of a nearby torch.