Chapter 1 #2
A moment later, the man entered a hut that, judging from what she could smell, had housed more animals than humans but by then she was so overwhelmed, so exhausted, so confused that when he laid her down onto a pile of sheepskins that looked surprisingly clean, she did not protest. Odd as it was, being carried against his warm chest had lulled her into sleep, made her almost subdued.
She could not be in her normal state because in a distant corner of her mind she was sure she should be terrified by the man, not soothed.
The trader must have slipped her a sleeping potion before the sale.
That would explain her sluggishness and the fact that she could not remember how she had arrived in this town and in the hands of a slave trader.
When she had woken up she had found herself tied up to a post, her face hidden by a sack of cloth.
She had heard what was going on but understood little, and seen nothing.
It had not occurred to her that she was being sold as a slave until a long moment later, for how could she have thought such a thing? But been sold she had, sold and bought.
She looked around in surprise. The blond giant had disappeared through the door after placing her on the makeshift bed and she was now alone in the room.
Frozen to the bone, she picked up one of the sheepskins to try and cover herself but quickly saw that her only option was to lie down and pile them all on top of her.
No wonder her captor had not thought it necessary to ensure she could not escape.
Half-naked and freezing, all she wanted to do was burrow under the covers.
A moment later the man was back and Merewen stood back up, not wanting him to get any ideas when he saw her lying down.
“You need to get dressed,” he said in a deep resonant voice that was further enhanced by the accent she still could not quite place. “It is too cold for you to remain in just your shift.”
“Yes. Not to mention humiliating and indecent!” she snapped back, clutching at the torn shift. Holding it close was the only way she could hide her breasts. “What’s this?”
He cocked an eyebrow when she pointed at the dress in his hand. “It’s a turnip,” he answered, looking at her straight in the eye. “As you can see.”
His lips quivered and his whole face was transformed when he smiled.
Merewen refused to acknowledge that without his jaw set in granite, he was even more striking.
The man was now not only handsome but devilishly appealing and an odd thought crossed her mind.
A man who smiled like he did could not be dangerous.
She shook her head. Not dangerous! What was she thinking!
Evidently the trader’s potion still had not cleared from her mind.
The man was her captor, easily twice her size and strong as an ox, it mattered not what he looked like or how he smiled!
As if it was not enough that he had bought her like an animal, he was now mocking her!
“I know what it is!” she snapped. “I mean, where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it. I bought it for you. You cannot remain in such a humiliating, indecent attire.”
He had used her previous words she noticed, yet another way of mocking her.
“My… A slave and now a dress! At this rate, you will be broke before the end of the day,” she jeered, determined to hide her fear behind a facade of confidence. “You really shouldn’t have gone to such expense. From what I understand, slaves are not usually given the choice of how they—”
“I didn’t buy you to be my slave,” Wolf cut in. He could not bear the idea of the girl believing such a thing of him. He did not own slaves, whatever she thought, never would. “I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
“Oh. And I suppose I should just believe you? Your name is Wolf, you bought me at a slave auction, you live like a…” She gestured wildly around her, as if the reasons for her to think him an ill-educated, dangerous savage were too numerous to mention.
He lifted his chin, none too pleased at the accusations.
“I am not a barbarian, whatever you might think. I bought you at the auction to spare you a fate as a real slave, nothing more! I thought you would have understood it by now. And my name is not really Wolf. It’s Ulf.
But when I arrived here people misheard it and started calling me Wolf.
I did not correct them and it stuck. Now all my friends call me Wolf. ”
“Your friends, or your enemies?”
“My friends,” he asserted. “And I repeat, you are not here to be my slave. You will come to no harm.”
She blinked a few times, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of this promise, as if she didn’t dare hope he had bought her to set her free. Which was a good thing for he had not, not exactly.
“Why did you buy me then?” she asked in a whisper.
He shrugged, unsure of how to explain an impulse he did not quite understand.
It was wiser not to mention the appeal she exerted on him as a woman, and he wasn’t sure she would believe him if he said that his curiosity had been piqued when she had spat in the slave trader’s face.
She didn’t seem too well disposed toward him to say the least, and it was hard to blame her.
She was so small and delicate that it would be a miracle if his sheer size didn’t frighten her.
Or…
Was she frightened? Suddenly he was not so certain.
She wasn’t cowering in a corner or refusing to meet his gaze and she had just provoked him.
Frightened women did not behave thus, they simply tried to melt into the background.
He should know. He had never been able to forget the look on Solveig’s face every time he raised his voice or made a brusque gesture.
She seemed to disappear within herself. The idea that this woman was made of sterner stuff pleased him.
He never wanted to see diffidence in a woman’s eyes when she looked at him for as long as he lived.
“Put the dress on,” he said, bringing the discussion to an end by throwing her the garment.
She caught it deftly but after one sniff, threw it back to him. “It reeks of sweat. I am not putting it on.”
And with those words she turned to face the wall, effectively dismissing him.
Wolf arched an eyebrow. Well, that answered his question at least. The girl was definitely not frightened of him.
Either the slave trader’s draught had given her a sense of false security or she was a woman of uncommon spirit.
He smiled to himself. Of course, she was.
It was practically the first thing he had noticed about her, what had urged him to buy her.
A woman like that would be nothing but trouble.
Wouldn’t it be wiser to send her on her way?
Yes. Perhaps. But he did not want to. It was not just a question of honor.
True, he had bought her only so that he could protect her from the crowd of men, but if he were honest with himself, he did not want to send her away.
He wanted to get to know her, and make her see that they did not need to be enemies.
He wanted… well. It was best not to dwell on what else he wanted from her.
“I guess I will go and buy another dress then,” he murmured to himself, marveling that he should do her bidding. He never allowed anyone to dictate his behavior. “Keep yourself warm in the meantime. I’ll get the fire going when I return.”
As soon as the door closed, Merewen ran back to the sheepskins and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Where was she? And how was she going to get out of this nightmare?
It was only when the sound of the door opening jolted her awake that she realized she had fallen asleep instead of coming up with a plan.
Ignoring the cold, she forced herself to stand up and face whoever had walked in.
If it wasn't the man she was expecting then what would she say? How would she say it? The intruder might be another foreigner who didn’t speak her tongue and would make the most of his discovery.
A half-naked, powerless woman lying on sheepskins would undeniably be a temptation for anyone.
Her relief at seeing the blond giant enter annoyed her.
Why did she feel so strongly about this man she didn’t know and could not trust?
He owned her, had paid money for her, as if she were a mere possession.
He had carried her away without even offering a word of reassurance.
Merewen refused to remember that the heat of his body had been welcome, or to acknowledge that he had not swung her over his shoulder like a bag of grain, instead holding her in a way that was comfortable for her.
She refused to think of his smile or his efforts at seeing her decently dressed because the last thing she wanted to feel toward him was gratefulness.
Outrage was a much more appropriate reaction.
Besides, if he saw any signs of softening on her part he might interpret it as an agreement to make her his in every way a man could possess a woman. Although he had told her that he had not bought her to be his slave, she did not believe a word of it. It was better not to lower her guard just yet.
“Here,” he said, throwing her a different dress. “Put this one on.”
By now Merewen was so cold that she would have agreed to wear the dress he had first brought her, despite the smell. Fortunately she didn’t have to, for he handed her a soft woolen gown that would have cost a lot more than he no doubt wanted to pay for a slave.
Hiding her surprise at the quality of the garment, she shrugged it on and had to bite her lip not to sigh in relief. The gown was as warm as it was beautiful.
“I see that the color meets your approval,” he said with a smirk.
She did not reply.