Chapter Three #2
“Your personal opinion of me is of no consequence, Jarl Erik,” he spoke through clenched teeth, slowly forcing his rage aside. He refused to grovel and beg forgiveness for his sins. He’d done that four years ago at the standing stones. Yet his conversion remained a secret.
For the king, he reminded himself. Not because he feared reprisal from the arrogant jarl. Olaf’s words rang in his head, I have great need of an experienced captain. Someone with a keen sense of justice and a slow hand for violence.
“Oh?” The elder faced him. “And what if these men you plan on recruiting knew the true nature of the devil intended to train and lead them?”
“At risk of losing their heads for treason, I’m sure they’ll understand. I require able-bodied men. I demand one of your soldiers and your youngest son.”
“Gunter?” Erik looked surprised.
“No, Kara.”
A strange look crossed Erik’s features. “Where did you meet Kara?”
“We haven’t met. I watched him fight in the forest. He shows great promise.”
“Does he, now?”
“Aye.”
“You’ll join my guests tonight,” Erik laughed vigorously. “You’ve made me happy.” Cursed man. What had changed his mind? Perhaps the threat of execution for treason? Whatever it was, he didn’t trust him.
After a short rest in the bedchamber he’d been assigned, Aaron dressed, then found his way downstairs.
The great hall was crowded. He took his seat at the high table as instructed.
Geilir sat at his father’s right, Gunter to his left.
The youngest son hadn’t made an appearance yet.
Aaron suspected he was on his way out of the country.
Before the main course was served, skalds recited poetry, musicians played, and young women danced to the haunting music of the lutes.
Aaron drank generous amounts of mead and dipped fresh bread in delicious dark broth.
After having time to think about his confrontation with Erik, Aaron wondered if he’d acted impetuously.
Respect and trust is earned. If a stranger showed up wanting custody of his youngest son, Aaron would only offer two options—leave or die.
At this point, the jarl hadn’t accepted or refused his demands.
As his gaze swept the room, he noticed a group of finely dressed courtiers enter the hall.
Three girls wearing cream-colored linen curtsied in front of Erik, who raised his cup in response.
Then a beautiful maiden garbed in embroidered blue silk, wearing a circlet of white roses on her head, stopped and embraced the jarl.
Applause ended the music as the women headed to their seats at the far end of the high table. Once they’d settled, Erik stood.
“In honor of King Olaf and his representatives, I bid you all to eat your fill.”
His words were spoken a bit too sanctimoniously for Aaron’s taste.
He scratched his head, then aimed his attention at the goddess staring at him, the maiden in blue.
When he offered her a smile, she averted her eyes.
He grinned, appreciating the cat and mouse game women and men often played.
What he’d do with a sweet, unspoiled morsel like her.
A jolt of lust shot through him when she looked his way again and delicately placed a grape in her mouth.
Her lovely lips puckered as she sucked on the fruit before swallowing it.
Her pearly skin reminded him of the blossoms on her head.
And her wide blue eyes blazed as he continued to openly admire her.
She ate fruit so seductively, he wondered what else she could do with that little mouth.
He’d gladly teach her. Everything about her was perfect—from her golden curls to the slight blush on her high cheekbones.
Tall and lithe, she commanded his attention.
How long were her legs? He fantasized about the slim ivory towers concealed by her skirts.
The last thing he’d ever expected to find here was a woman who caught his eye.
He’d love to press a few kisses on her forehead and pert little nose, working his way down to the apex of her legs—the same imaginary pathway his gaze cut down her body.
In return, her stare wandered down his frame. He’d never witnessed such behavior from a maiden before. He nearly choked on his mead.
Aaron was seated between Gunter and Varinn, with three older women nearby. Conversation flowed around him. Damn his misfortune. He must rely on Jarl Erik’s son to find out who that girl was. If she belonged to another man, it would put an immediate end to his longing. Or would it?
As he turned to question Gunter, a thrall placed a large trencher filled with roasted boar and vegetables before him.
His stomach grumbled. Whatever bad impression he held of Erik, he must admit, the jarl fed his guests well.
While he ate, Aaron observed every move the girl made.
She ate without inhibition, helping herself to three servings of meat and bread without batting an eyelash.
What a rarity to find a beautiful girl with an appetite that could rival any man’s.
Unable to resist his growing curiosity, Aaron finally turned to Gunter. “Who is the young woman at the end of the table?”
Gunter pointed nonchalantly with his knife. “My sister.”
Sister? Erik hadn’t mentioned a daughter. Why would he? Pressure built in his groin. Goddamnit, now he’d never get close enough to meet her. “Where is your younger brother?”
Gunter swallowed his food, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “I’m the youngest.”