19
SHE WENT ABOUT her work, every once in a while plucking off another straw from her hair or from her clothing.
When Entti began mixing dough for the flatbreada??so many loaves needed that it was mixed in a deep wooden trougha??Mirana saw that she too was still dressed as she had been the night before.
She went to her and said only, her voice low, a??We will leave when it is possible. You were right last night, there is nothing for either of us here now.a??
Entti only nodded. Mirana knew she understood, for shea??d seen Rorik speaking to her. She knew that she now belonged to Hafter, that no choice remained to her.
a??Perhaps tonight when all of the men are drinking again. The storm has blown itself out.a??
a??Aye,a?? Entti said. She looked at her straightly now. a??You must take care, Mirana. I am afraid one of them might try to kill you before tonight.a??
a??I will get my knife from Rorika??s trunk when his parents leave his sleeping chamber. I will steal one for you, Entti. Also, if you can, set food and water aside for us to take with us. It will be a long journey.a??
Entti nodded, wondering where they would go. Certainly not back to Clontarf, for Mirana knew what awaited her there. She didna??t ask. Mirana would decide where they would go, and this time they would succeed.
But an hour later, Rorik came to Mirana and said, a??Here is a gown that belongs to Asta. It is now yours. Asta says she and Erna will make new gowns for both you and Entti. Come now to the bathing hut. It is very hot in here and your face is red.a??
She didna??t want to go with him. She was afraid that when she was naked and vulnerable, when they were alone, he would kill her.
Her heart pounded as she walked beside him.
But shea??d managed to retrieve her knife after his parents had left the sleeping chamber.
It was something; she prayed she would be strong enough to use it.
His father and mother had ignored her completely when theya??d emerged from Rorika??s sleeping chamber, and shea??d set a slave to serving them. There had been no sign as yet of Sira. Rorika??s brother had left the longhouse not to return as yet.
a??You have already bathed,a?? she said, stepping outside into the bright morning sunlight.
a??Aye,a?? he said, not looking at her.
a??There is no need for you to accompany me.a??
a??There is.a??
He would kill her. His family had convinced him that she was as evil as Einar, as untrustworthy, as foul. She didna??t want to die, not by his hand, not now. Nor did she want to leave Hawkfell Island.
But there was no choice for her. She wondered if he would choke her or stick a knife into her heart. She knew, too, that she would protect herself, and that brought her more pain than she wished to consider.
When they were in the outer room of the bathing hut, he told two of his fathera??s men who were there, naked and still wet from their bath, to get out.
Once alone, he said, a??I will help you.a?? She stood quietly while he unfastened the brooches that held her tunic to her shoulders.
She stood quietly when he unfastened her belt and held out his hand for her knife.
He said nothing about the knife though he must know that shea??d gotten it from his trunk.
She looked at his hand, then at her knife.
In that moment, she knew she couldna??t strike him with that knife.
She simply couldna??t do it. She handed him the knife. If he killed her, then so be it.
She stood quietly when he lifted her gown over her head.
Only when she was naked, did she move. She cried out, seeing him look at her, no emotion in his clear blue eyes, no hint of how he meant to kill her.
She ran into the inner chamber and pressed herself against the far wall.
Steam rose and she couldna??t see him clearly.
a??Mirana!a??
She dropped to her knees, pressing herself even more firmly against the wall, her hair cascading down to cover her face.
a??Come here and I will bathe you.a??
Bathe her? She frowned. So he wanted her to be clean whilst he killed her? Or was it a ruse?
She rose, pushing back her hair, knowing that if he were lulled, she could slip by him and into the outer chamber. Her knife was there, lying on the bench with her clothing. She would grab both and run. Surely there was someplace to hide on the island.
But he wasna??t lulled. He took her arm as if he werena??t aware of her fear, and stood her in front of him. He dumped a bucket of hot water over her, then began to wash her. She was so stiff, so afraid, that she didna??t at first realize that he was also now naked.
When she did, she nearly doubled over with fear. He would rape her, then kill her.
a??Nay,a?? she said, but he was washing her face and she got soapy water in her mouth.
a??Nay what?a??
a??Dona??t rape me first.a??
Rorik rubbed his soapy hands over her breasts, then downward to her belly and lower to her soft womana??s flesh. His fingers were light and teasing and when he eased his middle finger, thick with soap, upward and high inside her, she jerked back from him, crying out.
a??I will rape you if you force me to,a?? he said, his finger tingling from the feel of her, the heat of her body. He wanted her now. a??Come here.a??
He felt violent; unreasoned rage flowed through him; he could feel the savage heat of his blood.
He also felt more uncertainty than hea??d ever felt in his life.
He felt as though he were dying, not of wounds valiantly gained, but from deep inside him where there was naught but emptiness and pain and regret and guilt.
He hadna??t been there to save Inga or his babes.
He hadna??t succeeded in killing Einar. Nay, hea??d wedded Einara??s sister, a foul creature whoa??d worked her wiles on him.
He had watched her withdraw from him, watched her blank her expression, watched her pull completely apart from him.
Shea??d remained hidden the previous night, leaving him to deal with the uproar shea??d caused.
It was then he smelled her fear. She deserved the fear.
a??Come here,a?? he said again, and his body was pulsing with lust, his heart was pounding in his chest, and he was near to panting with need. He was on the edge of violence. He wanted her now, and he would have her.
She didna??t move, just stood there, trying to cover herself, shaking her head.
He grabbed her hand and dragged her to the bench against the wall.
She was still covered with soap and very slippery.
She jerked away from him, but he caught her and slammed her against the wall beside the bench.
He pulled her hard against him, forcing her legs to straddle his thighs.
He thrust two fingers up into her and felt her flinch with pain.
But she didna??t make a sound. He was swelled hard, painfully full, and he didna??t wait.
The violence in him erupted. He lifted her, then violently forced her down onto him, impaling her, pushing into her, his hands digging into her hips, until he was touching her womb, and it was easy, this powerful entry of his, and he didna??t hurt her, for she was slick with soap.
Then he clasped her to his chest. He worked her, but it wasna??t long, just a few strokes of his sex deep inside her, for his lust was part of his violence and he couldna??t contain either.
He yelled his release, feeling his own pain and fury, the grinding helplessness of it, all pouring out of him.
He lifted her off him. He dropped his hands from her hips as if he couldna??t bear to touch her more.
He staggered away from her, sat on the bench and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes.
His breath was harsh, deep and raw. He felt the drain in his body, the easing in his mind.
But still his heart pounded so fiercely he wondered if he would die.
No woman had brought him to such violence before.
He hated himself for it, and her, hated her for who she was and what shea??d brought him to.
There was no fairness in what he had done, but he didna??t care.
He was, in these few moments, beyond guilt and thought, emptied of violence and savagery.
Mirana, free of him, stumbled, nearly falling, as she turned to run.
She stopped suddenly. She felt his seed on her legs, could still feel the pounding of him so deep inside her.
She grabbed more soap and scrubbed him out of her body, scrubbed herself until her flesh was raw.
Then she took buckets of hot water and rinsed herself thoroughly.
She looked up then to see him staring at her.
There was no smile on his mouth, no expression in his eyes, languid now, even dazed.
Then he slowly straightened. He would kill her now.
He raised his arm, thick with muscle, deadly with strength.
She cried out and raced out of the inner chamber.
Rorik didna??t move for a very long time.
The afternoon was warm, the sun bright overhead, the storm but a memory now.
Mirana sat outside the longhouse, in the shade of the overhead beams. She looked to see Tora, Rorika??s mother, walking toward her.
She was a tall woman, hair so blond it shone nearly white beneath the bright afternoon sun.
She was deep-bosomed, her face once lovely, but now there were bitter lines scarring the flesh about her eyes and mouth. She looked hard and unforgiving.
Toraa??s shoulders were squared, her step firm, her lips thin in their meager line.
Mirana drew herself up, knowing that she was to be attacked, but knowing too there was nothing she could do about it.
She set down the gown she was stitching.
It was a pale blue wool and she thought the material beautiful, a present from Old Alna, whoa??d been hoarding it for herself for more years than she could count.