Page 24

"I do not want another stepfather. They are mean. They make me scared and my mother cries."

"Not all men would do that." Even as he uttered the words he knew the boy would not be convinced. Why would he be? The weak and powerless took what was handed to them.

"I do not want it. If we have enough money..."

"You have a home here, and plenty of food. There will be no new husband, no stepfather."

"But, you will sell us again. When you get tired of us, or need more money, you will sell us. Then what will happen?"

Gunnar was incredulous. This he had never expected. "I will not sell you. Why would I wish to do that?"

The lad shrugged. "It is what happens, that is all. You are kind, my mother says so, but you are a Viking and..." The boy stopped, his lip quivering as though he knew he had said too much.

Gunnar leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he peered down into the small, scared features.

"I am a Viking, this is true. And I take what I want, because I can.

You are right about that also, and you are right that I am strong.

I will protect what is mine. You are mine, so is your mother and your sister. I will protect all of you."

"Yes, but?—"

Gunnar picked up the amulet. "You were also right about this, about where I got it from.

I make no apology for my way of life, but I do understand your resentment and your confusion.

The best I can find to say to you is that it is wrong to steal from your friends, your family, your master, and those who live about you.

We take care of each other and find safety that way.

Does this make sense? Any sense at all?"

"I... I suppose so. Will you beat me now?"

"I will not. I promised your mother that I would not harm you. I will punish you though, because it is against our laws to steal from one another and you must atone for what you have done."

The boy hung his head, silent.

"Weylin has told me you have spent a lot of time in the stables while you have been here. You enjoy working with horses?"

"Yes, Jarl."

"That is good, but for the coming sennight you will confine yourself to the longhouse and do chores in here. You will help Aigneis. I expect to see you sweeping, preparing vegetables, helping with the washing. You will do just as Aigneis says. Is that clear?"

"A whole week?"

"A week, yes. And that is not all. You will return each of these items to the person you took it from and apologise to them."

The boy grimaced, but managed a small nod. Gunnar scrutinised the amulet he still held in his hand. "I will demonstrate." He held out the piece to the boy. "I took this from your people. I apologise. Please accept it back."

The lad stepped away from him, perplexed.

"It is rightly yours," Gunnar continued. "Please take it."

"Mine? How is it mine?"

"By your own explanation. This is a valuable piece, easily valuable enough to purchase your own freedom and that of your family, should the need arise. If I do ever decide to sell you, you can buy yourself."

"You are giving this to me? To keep?"

"I am giving it back to you. Yes, it is yours, to keep and to use as you will. You now have the wealth you sought, and therefore no further need to steal from those around you. Are we quite clear on this matter?"

"Yes Jarl." Despite his words the boy still did not take the amulet from him so Gunnar leaned forward and slipped it around his neck. The thick leather thong hung almost to his waist.

"Take good care of what is yours, Donald, as I do."

Gunnar sank onto his bed, exhausted. Mairead was in the shared hall, he could hear her voice and that of Aigneis as they banked the fire pit and prepared the longhouse for the night.

Donald was already asleep, his prized possession still dangling around his neck.

Gunnar knew from her bewildered expression that Mairead had no idea why he had awarded the boy such a gift, but Gunnar did not care.

The lad got it, he understood the significance of the amulet and that was sufficient.

They had arrived at an understanding, he and Donald, and Gunnar was pleased.

Should he have made more of an example of the lad? Perhaps, but it was for him to decide and the matter was now closed.

He closed his eyes, pulled the furs up around his body and allowed fatigue to overcome him. In moments he was asleep.

Gunnar awoke to silence. The longhouse was sleeping now, and he was surrounded by the deep, pitch darkness of the night. He turned to his side, expecting to encounter the warm body of his bed-slave, and found nothing. He was alone.

What the fuck? If she has run again...

He got out of bed and fumbled in the dark for the lamp he always kept to hand.

He lit it with a taper from the smouldering fire pit and used the torch to light his way as he shoved the curtain aside and strode into his deserted hall.

He scanned the space, but knew it was empty.

The gentle snoring and snuffling sounds from the far end of the longhouse confirmed that his servants were in their beds, but what of Mairead and her little brood?

He moved silently down the hall to the spot where he knew Donald's bed lay. The lad was there, wrapped in blankets, his fingers grasping the amulet even in sleep. Gunnar heaved a sigh of relief. She was here, then. She would not have left without her son.

He moved on, and quickly found what he sought.

Mairead had made her own bed on the floor a few feet from Donald's.

She slept on her back, Tyra sprawled on top of her.

She had collected a few furs but the arrangement did not appear especially warm or comfortable to Gunnar.

More to the point, it was not what he had instructed for her.

He sank onto his haunches and reached for her shoulder. "Mairead, wake up."

Her eyes popped open, the sea-green of her eyes dark in the lamplight. "Gunnar? What is it?"

"You disobeyed me. I find I am very displeased with you."

"I did not. What are you?—?"

"Why are you here?" He interrupted her, gesturing to the makeshift bed she had fashioned. "I distinctly recall leaving instructions that you were to sleep in my bed."

"I know that, but..."

"But? If you wish to make excuses, thrall, you may do so in the morning.

After I have spanked you for your insubordination.

For now, I will require you to go to the place I selected for you.

You will put our baby into the cradle beside our bed, and we can all get some sleep.

" He stood and offered her his hand to help her to rise.

Mairead accepted his assistance and followed him back up the hall to his sleeping chamber.

She was barefoot, but wore a long undershirt or sark, made of linen.

He noticed that his little thrall shivered in the cool night air but he did not throw extra wood into the fire pit.

It was warm in his bed and she would soon enough learn not to leave it.

Her bottom would be smarting by the time he was done with her.

Wordlessly she tucked Tyra into her tiny cradle and covered her with the soft blanket provided by Aigneis. The baby never stirred. Mairead scrambled into the still-warm bed and settled among the furs.

Satisfied, Gunnar stretched alongside her. "Come here," he commanded.

She scooted across to him. He turned her so her back was snuggled up hard against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. "You are cold."

"Not now, Jarl. Now I am warm."

"Good. Then sleep. Tomorrow, we talk."

"Talk? Not spank?"

"Spank, then talk," he amended, and laid his palm on the curve of her bottom to better emphasise his intent.

She did not respond, but the gentle sound of her breathing, low and even, told him she slept. He closed his eyes and did likewise.

"Jarl. Jarl, Tyra is crying."

Gunnar awoke to a none-too-gentle prod to his shoulder. He growled his displeasure.

"Please, she is hungry." Mairead nudged him again.

He buried his nose in the pelt beneath his head. "Are you suggesting I should feed her?"

"Of course not. I must go to her."

"Then why are you pestering me with this news?"

"You said I must not leave the bed without permission. You threatened to spank me if I did."

"I did not threaten, I promised."

"Well—"

"Feed the baby. You have my permission to feed your baby whenever you need to. Do it quietly though."

The bed dipped as she scrambled out. He listened to the low crooning as Mairead plucked the infant from her tiny cot and settled back into his bed with the little one, then near silence when the baby started to feed. Further sleep eluded him and he rolled onto this back to regard the homely sight.

"Is it dawn yet?"

"No, Jarl. But soon, I should think."

"Does she often wake in the middle of the night?"

"Always. I am sorry..."

"Is this why you chose to sleep elsewhere?"

"In part. I did not wish to disturb you. Also, I assumed you would want your bed back, once you returned."

"I have my bed back. What I want is you in it."

"Yes. I know this. I am your bed-slave."

Why did the sound of this on her lips irritate him so? It was, after all, the truth.

"You object to your role here?"

"No, not really. Especially if you will do... that thing again."

"That thing?" He knew exactly what she meant but would hear it from her anyway.

"That thing when you touched me and... it felt very pleasant."

"You mean that thing when I required you to spread your legs for me and I stroked your delightful clitty until you screamed in my ear and spent like a harlot?"

"I am not a harlot." She glared at him, indignation writ across her face. "I could not help what happened yesterday. You?—"

He cut off her protest. "Not usually, I grant you that, but I will expect you to play the harlot in my bed, for me. Will you do so, Mairead?"

She hesitated, then, "I expect I shall. If that is how it feels."

"It will be just like that, perhaps better. There is much I have to show you, my slave, and much you will love to learn."

She glanced down at him over the baby's downy head. "Will we return to the pool? I enjoyed our visit there."

"Maybe, if you wish. There is another hot spring however, much closer to Gunnarsholm. We might not find the privacy we desire there, though, since it is a favourite spot for most of my people."

"Oh." She appeared disappointed. He was pleased to see it.

"I could, I suppose, instruct them to leave us to ourselves, though as often as not bathing in the springs is a very public affair for us. Very social. My karls might enjoy watching me fuck you."

She turned her startled gaze on him now. "You would not do that. Please, Gunnar..."

He grinned at her. "No, I would not do that so you may calm yourself. I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to do."

"Except spank me."

"Except spank you, though I am not convinced you truly do not want that."

It was still too dark for him to see the flush stealing up from her throat, but he was sure she was blushing.

"You should not speak of these things, not in front of Tyra."

"I do not think our baby will object to my words, not for a little while, at least."

He heard the slight hitch in her breath, then silence.

"Mairead? Have I upset you?"

"No, Jarl. But, that is the second time you referred to her thus."

"Referred to who?"

"You called Tyra 'our baby'. You said it last night, also."

He had, it was true. The words had rolled naturally from his tongue. "I helped bring her into the world, I believe that gives me the right..."

"And you own her, as you own all of us."

"I did not mean it in that way. I think of Tyra as..."

"As what, Jarl?"

"Never mind." Gunnar rolled onto his back and closed his eyes again. He longed for sleep, but the moment had passed. After a few minutes he gave up the effort and rose from the bed.

"Where are you going?"

Gunnar re-ignited the lamp he had used in his earlier search for his missing thrall.

Mairead's features now flickered in the guttering light as she regarded him anxiously.

The baby still suckled contentedly at her breast. His baby, he reminded himself, though he could not quite name the reason he felt that.

It was sufficient that he did, and he would not be questioned on it.

"I have work to attend to. You finish feeding Tyra, then get some more sleep. You will remain here until I return. It will be light soon, but do not rise with the rest of the household. And do not dress since I would prefer not to be put to the trouble of stripping you again to spank you."

Her mouth formed a surprised pout, but he did not care to remain and further discuss his instructions. He had made his wishes plain and she had better do as she was told.

The sooner his bed-slave declared herself fully recovered from the birth and ready to perform all of her new duties, the better. His cock ached, he had to fuck her before much longer or he feared his balls might turn blue and shrivel.

He should have left her to make her lonely and cold bed on a pallet down his hall since it was torture to share his sleeping chamber with her and not plunge his cock into her.

What had he been thinking?