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CHAPTER 1

The thirty-first day since the men’s shipwreck on the island of H?y

“Hush now. I’m right beside you. There’s naught to fear.”

Through the haze between sleeping and wakefulness, a gentle touch caressed J?rgen’s cheek.

He jerked upright.

Dawn light permeated beneath the door and around the edges of the goatskin curtain at the rear window of the hut, illumination enough to discern Astrid beside him on the bed.

“You’re trembling.” Sitting up, she laid her hand upon his chest. “Was it… as before? Your dream?”

J?rgen captured her hand with his own, holding it fast over his heavy-beating heart. “Aye… the same.” He swallowed, making an effort to steady his breathing.

‘Twas always the same—tossed upon the sea, an invidious mist, the splinter of wood, and soul-rending screams. Cries that carried him from the ship, through darkness to visions that could not be memories—for too much was unfamiliar.

Voices of men he’d never met but whose fear he could taste. Faces contorted with pain, his and theirs combined, then an endless void, pressing upon him, blackening his blood.

J?rgen clutched at his head.

Was this madness? Coursing through him by night, breathing upon his neck by day. He was never rid of it—this feeling of something close but out of reach. Whispers in the dark.

He’d woken after the wreck without any discernible injury upon his body, but his mind…

“You can tell me. ‘Tis the best way to dispel sleep terrors. It’s all I want… for you to find peace within yourself,” Astrid soothed.

If she only knew.

Her hand remained upon his chest. Beneath her touch, his skin prickled, his senses heightened by her proximity. The flame she ignited in him could not be assuaged by comforting words, any more than his nightmares could be dispelled.

This woman with hair that glints gold, her gaze as intense as a storm-ravaged sea. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Perfection in the way she moves, in the timbre of her voice, in how she looks at me.

No matter that he was a stranger, that she knew nothing of his past.

A shudder ran through him.

The torments of his dreams were nothing in comparison to the torture of holding himself back from all he desired of Astrid. He wanted her with a fierceness he could hardly control.

Night after night, permitted to cradle her in his arms, to devour her subtle, womanly scent, aware of her slenderness and her curves—yet all forbidden to him.

He wanted not just to embrace while whispering lovers’ words but to push her legs wide and sink into her warmth, to thrust and thrust, losing himself in the sensation that no amount of self-pleasuring could emulate.

He battled to contain that hunger.

A battle he’d won… so far.

He didn’t know how much longer he could restrain the impulse to take her… not when she lay beside him so invitingly, with nothing between their bodies but her flimsy shift. Not when she touched him as she did, with gentle fingertips that he yearned to trail lower, to take his arousal in hand, and….

But she was a virgin maid.

He’d known from the first, long before she’d admitted as much. Untouched in all the ways. Never kissed even—upon those sweet lips or anywhere else.

Knowing so made him want her all the more, despite his promise. From the start, he said he’d never force himself upon her. In return, she assented not to keep him bound.

The secret was theirs. Her chastity and his compliance.

A secret it took all his will to respect.

She’d been entirely candid about the wreck and his fellow men of Skálavík—lost and found. Candid, too, about the purpose for which he’d been given to her and the circumstances that obliged it—the illness that had brought about the women’s plight, left alone upon the strange island.

There were details she skimmed over, but he sensed ‘twas because they were as puzzling to her as they were to him.

Perhaps there was more, something she was afraid to tell him. He could only hope those confidences would come in time, as her willingness would to take him as her lover.

It was why he was there, after all—to put a child inside her.

Her fear would have to be overcome.

As for the restraints upon him, life was becoming easier. He, Rutger, and Eldberg gained greater freedoms by the day, moving among the women unchallenged, for the most part. All the better for them to labor.

He’d not yet spoken with Gunnar nor with that poor sod Viggo, who was now blind, he’d been told. Not with Rangvald either, though that was no loss in his mind. J?rgen had never liked him, but he’d worked alongside Rangvald four years or more within Eldberg’s guard. If a man’s eyes were windows to the soul, Rangvald’s was darker than J?rgen had desire to become familiar with.

“Please, rest.” Astrid’s expression was beseeching. She exerted subtle pressure, pushing him back upon the mattress.

As he gave in, she nestled at his side, giving a sigh of contentment. She lay still, but he could not.

I can no longer act as if I’m made of wood.

Turning to face her, he rested his hand upon her waist. Immediately, she stiffened.

“Don’t be afraid.” J?rgen’s arousal was not fully hard but sufficiently emboldened for her to sense it. For all his promises, it was the time to broach the chasm between them. They could not continue as they were.

“I can’t help it.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I’d never cause you pain.” J?rgen’s hand shifted to the small of her back, imperceptibly drawing himself closer.

“Not intentionally, perhaps, but…”

“It doesn’t need to hurt.” The thump in J?rgen’s chest hastened.

She was cautious, but her will was weakening. She wanted him to pursue her, he was certain.

“You trust me?” He brushed his lips on her forehead.

“I want to, but…

“You’ve only to say the word, and I’ll cease, but I don’t think you’ll want that. Not once I’ve begun.” Bringing his other hand to her breast, J?rgen skimmed over her nipple through the gauzy shift.

Astrid drew breath sharply but didn’t retreat.

That’s it, my beauty. Let me teach you how good this can be.

He moved to kiss her mouth, but she turned her cheek hastily.

She was naturally shy. Undoubtedly wary.

It didn’t deter him.

A woman might refuse a simple kiss while still enslaved by her baser impulses. He knew exactly how to play that game. How to entice and seduce. How to make the coyest of maids shiver with delight.

Moving lower, J?rgen kissed her breasts through the fabric, being careful not to bite or suck too hard.

Not this time. No matter how much you want to.

Take things slowly.

Once she grows accustomed, ‘twill be she begging for rougher couplings.

Her body is made for pleasure.

Feeling her nipples tauten brought a responding excitement to his loins. She made some sound of protest, but her hips angled toward him, so his cock rubbed upon her thigh.

Oh, yes!

His balls drew tighter.

She was going to let him do what was inevitable.

Progressing down her belly, he took his kisses to her mound, then lifted her shift.

“J?rgen, don’t! I can’t!” Wriggling, she strained against his shoulders.

Nonetheless, her legs parted as his mouth claimed her. She offered no resistance as he took his place there betwixt her soft thighs.

“By the gods, you’re beautiful.” Lathing her, he teased, flicking the tiny bud, then extended his tongue, letting it be the first part of him to enter her.

He could not suppress his groan.

‘Twill be so good inside her.

Perhaps the best way is to breach her quickly. Let the pain be overcome in an unexpected rush.

Then, he might hold himself still while her body grew accustomed to the sensation of being filled. He could do that, couldn’t he?

J?rgen wasn’t sure.

Dropping his hand, he encircled his girth, rubbing back and forth as his tongue imitated the deed. He was so close. It would take but one blinding thrust to penetrate, to soak her with his cum.

A dousing of seed changed a woman’s sheath, he’d heard said, making it more receptive. Once she was over the shock, she might willingly submit to more of what he had in mind.

Fucking was something he was good at, after all.

Even when spent, his cock stayed hard. He could make a woman reach her climax three times or more before his sacs were ready to empty again. Only after that second coming did his member need a little more time and attention to recuperate.

Back in Skálavík, his reputation on that score earned him as much company as he ever could desire. Women aplenty had sampled his skills. On some memorable occasions, more than one at a time…

Astrid twisted against the incursion of his tongue and the nuzzling of his nose against her mound. She pushed against his head, though her thighs clenched, engaging him.

She was close herself. He knew the signs.

Her breath came in faster gasps, and her scent was more potent—milk and honey overlaid with the salted tang of the sea. She was moaning, murmuring something to herself.

Women were usually babbling all manner of filth by that point, telling him what they wanted—harder, faster, rougher—not just his mouth but his fingers and his cock, of course. A good tongue-lashing and he had them articulating every wicked thought in their heads.

Had him surrendering to all the wicked thoughts in his head, too.

Not that any of it was truly heinous.

Even a married woman could dabble discreetly on the side. A good fucking up the arse put paid to any worry of an unwanted child.

Ah, yes, there was nothing a woman wouldn’t do with the right motivation.

Throwing back the furs, J?rgen fisted himself harder. He wished the room was lighter. He’d like to look upon Astrid’s pretty slit while he licked, watching her nub swell and darken and seeing the cream drip from her sheath, knowing he was responsible. He wanted to watch her face when he pushed her over the brink.

Just thinking about that was tipping him dangerously close.

He was going to…

Rising above her, his erection parted her fleshy labia. He’d have liked to linger there, teasing her some more, stroking the smooth cockhead over her nub. Fingering her, too, before he lunged, but there was no more time.

No matter how narrow she was, he had to get inside.

Astrid moaned louder, murmuring his name.

Gods, yes!

She wanted him, and it was going to be glorious.

J?rgen was about to make his thrust when there was a crash behind him. The door was flung back on its hinges, leaving him blinking against the flood of light.

“Hard at it, I see.” His jarl’s voice boomed from the threshold.

Astrid shrieked, slamming her legs closed.

“Get your braies on and follow me. There’s work to be done beyond riding your wench.” Eldberg gave a bark of laughter.

By the time J?rgen turned back to Astrid, she’d rolled away, her knees drawn up to her chin. Her shift was yanked over her feet.

Hel’s teeth!

J?rgen’s jaw clenched near as tight as his fists.

There was to be no pleasure, after all.