Springtime in Orkney Island, Kingdom of Norway, 1225 #2
Annoyed by the effect of his scent, her skin heated and tingled wherever he touched her.
Inhaling with alarmed fast breaths, his musk sizzled down her body and settled in her core, between her legs.
The sensations nearly made her resist further attempts to escape.
He made her want to intensify the wondrous sensations she experienced for the first time.
Ilona shook her head to clear her thoughts.
She would nae allow his control over her.
Warriors awaited Rathnon on the beach, clothed in rugged pants and tunics.
Men held spears and shields, while others held giant axes.
After Rathnon dismounted, he lifted her from his mount, then threw the woman over his shoulder, while the men led his horse to a ramp and into a ship.
The warriors greeted Rathnon as they spied a woman fighting in all her fury against him, slung over his shoulder, while he swaggered aboard the ship beaming with a victorious smile.
As soon as Rathnon boarded the ship, he barked orders, and at his command, the ships pulled away from the shore, the men aboard rowing powerfully. The warriors with strong, well-developed muscles and broad shoulders heaved the ships into the waves and out to sea.
The men made haste to leave the shore before they could be detected.
They hoisted more sails to catch the wind, wishing to be silent and avoid bloodshed as much as possible by leaving unseen.
Aboard one of the sailing vessels, the men’s horses stood amid straw.
Young goats, chickens, and lambs were on another sailing vessel in straw-filled pens at the aft of the ship.
Over the pens, oilcloth protected the animals from the waves they encountered on their journey home.
From where her captor held her in place, Ilona could hear their pitiful muffled bleating and mournful cries.
In the sleek sailing vessel where Rathnon stood and commanded his men, they teased and taunted him.
“You found a woman of passion who will be wild in bed,” one said suggestively.
“This one is not like those docile women; she’s a feisty one.”
“The woman will never let you close to her without trying to claw your eyes out.”
“You will have fun trying to tame that one in your bed. Mayhap you are not up to the task. I should take her off your hands.”
“She obviously doesn’t enjoy the look of your ugly face. I know she’ll like mine better.”
Rathnon smiled at their banter and teased them back and then growled, effectively shutting them up. “Off with you all and leave me be. She is not the first woman I have brought home.”
He still held his prize tightly. This woman differed from the others he had captured. None of those women had he kept for himself. He brought them back for the welfare of their country, needing women to grow families and produce more warriors.
Based on her behavior thus far, he expected her to attempt to jump overboard to escape.
Surrounded by brutal warriors, he was sure that terror filled her heart, and she swayed.
Rathnon removed her gag, unbound her wrists, and tied her to the side of the bulwark, so she could not escape.
As he stepped closer to her, she recoiled at his touch, lifted her chin, looked away from him haughtily, and took a step backward in obvious disdain.
Rathnon thought she would breathe fire like a dragon at him if she could.
She glared at him; eyes glazed with fury.
She was indeed passionate, and he looked forward to the days ahead when he would tame and unleash even her deepest passions in his bed.
Rathnon spoke soothing words to her she did not understand and smoothed loose hair back from her face.
Fighting to escape, Ilona still held hope to flee. What will happen to me?
Her captor offered her a ladle of water.
Ilona lifted her head proudly, glancing at him with contempt before pointedly looking away from him, refusing to drink.
Who does this man think he is? She hated him already.
Not only because he’d kidnapped her, but also because of how he made her feel. Ilona had never felt this vulnerable.
Not to be deterred, Rathnon beckoned their interpreter, a short and stout man, and told him what he wanted to convey to her.
“I will not harm you. It is best to have a full stomach so you do not get seasick. The waves may be fierce on the high seas. Please drink the water and eat the food I give you. I will protect you.” Rathnon gently lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes.
In Gaelic he said, “Mas do Thoil e’.” (At your will—please).
Ilona scoffed. She refused and glared at him in defiance, which only seemed to enthrall the Viking.
Although she glared at him in contempt, her eyes lingered on his handsome chiseled jaw and sensual lips.
This man’s voice did strange things to her insides.
The low rumble of it reverberated inside her.
The feeling reminded her of the touch of velvet against her skin, and she trembled.
Ilona didn’t understand her traitorous body and how this stranger could ignite a heat deep inside her.
She did nae want him near her or to touch her; already, she felt violated, forced against her will from her home aboard this sailing vessel.
Again and again she refused, turning her head away. The warrior persisted and was nae to be denied. Finally thirsty, she accepted the water, aware she needed to stay healthy to escape. Their hands brushed as he handed her the ladle of water and sparked a sensation in her skin at his touch.
Rage filled her. “Why did ye steal me from my family—from my home? Ye barbarous thief. I have to go back. Free me from these binds. I can swim back. Ye are a villain. And a thief!”
When the interpreter translated her words, Rathnon laughed loudly, astonishing his men. He knew she was angry from her ire and the fire that blazed in her eyes and when he imagined igniting her passion under different circumstances, his body responded.
“Let me go,” she implored, her hands clenched in indignation. “I don’t want to be here. Ye need to let me return to my parents. I’m their only family. They need my help on the farm. Let me go.” Where will they take us? Will they sell us as slaves? What will they do to me?
After shaking his head and telling her, “Nae,” he moved her with the other women.
Tears streamed down her face in frustration and trepidation.
He secured her to the bulwark. Ilona had hoped for a husband and family someday.
She wished to have her husband’s respect, caring, and friendship, hoping love would develop.
Now they will sell me as a slave. In an instant, her dreams were shattered.
Rathnon joined the men in manning the oars as they rowed to put distance between them and the island.
He felt guilty about her situation, but he would not release her.
Although he would rather face a hundred fierce warriors in battle than see her tears, she had sealed her fate the moment he glimpsed her.
Despite her pleading now, he would never let her go. Never.