Page 11 of Seduced by the Viking (Bound and Betrothed #5)

CHAPTER 10

The forty-first day of the men’s sojourn on the island

Pale light bled into the room, intruding on her slumber. Turning her face away, Grethe sought to ignore it, but another, more forceful obstacle came to the fore.

Bang, bang, bang!

Her head was heavy—evidence of the days of mead-drinking she and Rutger had enjoyed—making it feel as if it were her own skull being rapped upon.

The beating upon the door was relentless.

“Grethe!” Someone hollered. “You must come! ”

She tensed at the sound of her name.

I don’t want to wake!

She moaned, rolling over in bed.

Leave me be.

She squeezed her eyes closed, refusing to allow her lids to flutter open, but the clatter continued, leaving her no choice but to respond.

Stumbling from her bed, she staggered toward the door and, pulling it open, was met by Agneta, looking wild-eyed.

“Ulva!” Agneta was breathless.

“What of her?” The last person Grethe wanted to think about in the haze of her hangover was her aunt.

“She’s d-dead.” Agneta’s lips trembled.

Grethe squinted against the bright light of morning. Had she misheard? Ulva was in robust health. She couldn’t be dead.

“She f-fell… from the cliff. When first I heard, I wondered if ‘twas something to do with that peculiar storm that blew in, then out just as quickly. You must have heard the thunder. Something terrible it was… and the gale! I bolted my door and prayed to Freyja until it went away.”

“What?” Grethe gripped the door frame as fragments of Agneta’s story slid into place. She’d been dimly aware of wind whistling about the place and some distant sky rumblings, but Rutger had been doing something particularly distracting to her at the time. “My aunt’s dead?”

Apparently unable to articulate more, Agneta only nodded.

Rubbing her temples, Grethe muttered her farewells and closed the door to find Rutger sitting up in the bed.

They’d spent the last three days devouring each other in a frenzy of mead-driven passion, but the news of Ulva’s death had pierced their bubble of carnal contentment.

“Ulva’s dead?” He frowned. “How?”

“If you heard she’s dead, then you heard how she died.” Grethe had no patience to repeat the news. She’d barely registered it herself.

“She fell from the cliff.” His voice was grim. “But what was she doing up there if the weather was so bad?”

“How should I know?” Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air. The pounding in her head was making it difficult to think, let alone listen to his inane queries.

What she needed was a mug of water, but lifting the pitcher, she found it empty. The mead was also drained.

Grethe muttered a curse.

Going out to fetch more was beyond her capacity at present.

Slumping onto a stool, she leaned over the table, resting her head in her hands. A morsel of cheese remained on a platter there, and its smell made her stomach churn.

Hastily, she pushed it away.

“Maybe she fell, or perhaps Viggo helped her…” Grethe took a long breath. She’d hardly blame him if he had. Her aunt was barely tolerable at the best of times. If the man’s sight had returned, it would make sense.

Doubtless, he’d had his fill of Ulva’s nagging ways.

“Or Signy, even.” Grethe went on. “Ulva only chided and belittled her. She’s better off without such a mother.”

“Signy? You think she’d murder the woman who birthed her?” Rutger shook his head. “Must you always think so poorly of everyone?”

“Poorly?”

Why was he blaming her ?

“I’m only answering your questions, though what business it is of yours, I don’t know.” She knew she was overreacting, but her thirst and tiredness were too much. She couldn’t help feeling defensive.

“‘Tis not right, Grethe.” Rising from the bed, Rutger tugged on his braies . “You trust no one. Not even your own kin.”

“Trust?” She balked, unable to tolerate his hypocrisy. How dare the man who sought to deceive her make such a criticism?

“You speak to me of trust when you seek to betray me!”

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him across the face.

“What do you mean?”

“Do not play innocent with me!” Her anger was making it difficult to catch her breath. “I know of the oars you’ve been carving, know you’re planning to leave with the rest of your wretched friends!” The words tumbled from her as tears pricked her eyes. She was loath to cry for the oaf, but the enormity of his duplicity washed over her again.

She’d thought to enjoy him while he was there, letting herself surrender to physical pleasure, but ‘twas hard to relish the present when she knew there would be no future.

The treachery in his heart had put paid to any chance of that.

“How long have you known?” Rutger made no attempt to deny the charges.

She was glad. There had been enough lies.

“A while.” She wiped her tears with the heel of her hands. “I heard you and your jarl plotting together.”

“And you said nothing.” He closed the distance between them, but she backed away.

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” How dare he try to misconstrue what had happened? Why should she be culpable for not speaking up when he was so insincere? “‘Tis you who pursue untruths. You tell me of your family and play ‘lovers’, knowing full well you plan to return to them, leaving me here alone!”

“No!” His tone was imploring. “‘Tis not true, Grethe. I intend to take you with me when we go. I want you at my side.”

“Ha!” she snorted, sneering at his pathetic, feigned show of affection. “You’ll say anything to wriggle free of my accusations, but we both know they’re well-founded.”

“Grethe, please.” He raked his hands through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I could never leave you!”

“Do not lie!” Her fury sparked fresh at his denial. “Let us now be honest, Rutger.”

“I speak only the truth.” He reached for her hand as though the gesture might remedy the hurt he’d caused. “I care for you, and I want you by my side. I wish only to see you happier.”

“If my happiness is what you seek, then you should leave.” She hissed the words at him, shaking free of his grasp.

“You don’t mean it.” He shook his head.

“I know exactly what I mean!” she fumed. “Take your clothes and go. I don’t wish to see you again.”

“Grethe.” He sighed, as if the way she was behaving was unreasonable, like some child needing his guidance.

Far from it!

She was the wronged one, though her righteousness offered little solace.

“Go!” she screeched, racing to collect the rest of his clothing and flinging it at him. “I pray that Freyja sends you far from these shores.”

He hesitated for an instant, glowering back at her.

Time protracted as they stared at one another, a hundred things remaining unsaid. Then, shuffling toward the door, he walked away.

She held back the real torrent of her sorrow until he’d slipped from view.

Staring into the darkness, a numbness fell over Grethe. The day had passed in tears and anguish—her own and that of Signy, who she’d dutifully comforted. Whatever had happened on the clifftop, Signy had her support.

Despite the horror of her mother’s death, there was a fortitude to Signy that Grethe respected. With Ulva gone, she would grow in self-assurance. Grow and thrive, Grethe suspected, having Viggo at her side .

Now that his sight was returning, his gaze never left Signy. ‘Twas obvious the two were in love. If he’d had a hand in her aunt’s demise, she trusted that he’d performed the act for Signy’s sake rather than any petty vengeance of his own.

A pang of jealousy struck her.

Grethe had always pitied Signy—ill-treated by her father, harangued by her mother, shrunken so far that it was easy to forget she even existed.

Yet she has a man devoted to her, who looks upon her as if she were both sun and moon, while I have nothing.

Grethe turned again upon her mattress, attempting to still her thoughts and invite slumber, but it remained elusive. There was no peace for a mind as tormented as hers.

How can I have been so foolish?

I knew his intentions, yet still, I took him to my bed and allowed myself to believe there could be more.

Her woes seemed heavier in the wake of their spent desire.

She’d hardly managed to eat since their argument, so tangled was she in despair.

She should go to Bothild and confide all.

Let some other have him, so that the island might be provided with a child.

But she lacked the strength. ‘Twas beyond her to speak the words out loud.

Bothild will see through my pain and know why I’m giving him up. She’ll pity me, just as I used to pity Signy. They’ll all pity me or gloat, knowing I’ve failed.

As to seeing him paraded around with another woman…

If Vangreth takes him, I shall die!

She shuddered, pulling the bed furs higher. She couldn’t survive another shameful reproach like that. She couldn’t?—

A noise from outside tugged her from her well of misery.

Was someone there?

Her heart hammered.

It had surely been the creaking of the door in the mead room.

It has to be Rutger!

He’s been lying awake as I have, turning all in his mind, regretting his actions, thinking of how he might put things right.

What other reason could there be for him to rise in the middle of the night?

She’d screamed at him to leave, telling him she wanted no more to do with him, but he was coming to her, nonetheless.

Because he loves me!

Imprudent hope filled her heart. Rising, she pulled a shawl over her shoulders and was halfway across the room before a rush of panic struck her.

What was she thinking?

The fiend didn’t love her.

If he did, he’d never have lied for so long. Nor would he have let her push him away. He’d have fought back, refusing to be dismissed.

Instead, he’d departed with barely a backward glance.

Just like Sven.

He didn’t love her any more than Sven had done.

When Rutger opened her door, seeking to worm his way back into her affections, she would stand strong. Never again would she let herself be deceived.

She held her breath.

No matter what he says, don’t weaken. You can’t trust him. In your heart, you know it.

With her arms wrapped about herself, she waited.

He’s going to come creeping in any moment now.

But no one did.

Straining to hear, she thought there was further movement outside, but it was hard to be sure over the sound of her galloping heart.

What is he doing, making me hold on like this?

Even now, he’s utterly selfish.

As time drew on, she began to doubt herself, but she had heard some thing.

A horrible thought struck her. What if Rutger was slinking out to visit someone, but it wasn’t Grethe he was intent upon seeing?

What was it Ulva had said… about Elin lusting after him?

Not just Elin, she’d wager. Rutger was strong and handsome. For weeks now, he’d been performing tasks around the settlement. Every woman would have been making eyes at him, and knowing Rutger, he’d have enjoyed every moment.

Was there no end to the humiliation?

I won’t put up with it. Not anymore.

Striding the last paces to the door, she yanked it open and stepped boldly out, ready to give Rutger a piece of her mind. However, there was no sign of him .

Grethe berated herself. She’d left it too long. The lout could be anywhere.

Quickly, she opened the door to the mead room.

There was no doubt he was gone.

Nonetheless, I shall find him! Even if it means pressing my ear to the door of every home.

Angrily, she returned outside.

A waning moon hung overhead, enveloped by passing clouds, yet bright enough to illuminate the bay and the low houses nestled above the beach.

It lit the figure of a man hurrying across the sands.

Rutger!

She started after him unthinkingly. If the lout was on his way to a secret rendezvous, she’d catch him in the act. She scampered down the dunes, staying far enough behind that he wouldn’t notice her,

The clouds parted suddenly, and Grethe saw him more clearly. Pausing, he hefted something in his arms. He was carrying a pot of some sort.

Nay! Two pots! Of the very sort in which the honey is stored!

Thief! Her jaw stiffened at the violation.

Not only had he bedded her with no intention of honoring her love, but now he was stealing from her.

Though what he’s doing with so much honey, I can’t imagine. Not unless…

A wave of fury engulfed her.

Meeting another woman and using the honey upon her! ‘Twas a step too far.

She’d take both those pots and crack them over his head.

With her indignation burning, she hurried on, following the path he’d taken.

However, as she skirted the lower edge of the dunes, there was a shift in the wind, and a haze drifted across the sands. ‘Twas blowing in from the sea, obscuring her view of Rutger.

Unease furled in her belly.

The tide was coming in, foamed water rushing in far-reaching waves across the flat of the beach, yet the sound was oddly subdued, as though the incoming mist swallowed it whole.

An impulse to halt seized her, to return to the sanctuary of her abode. The air was thickening somehow, making it difficult to breathe, while the encroaching fog was contorting familiar landmarks into strange and eerie foes.

Pausing, she steadied herself.

Briefly, the hazy figure of Rutger appeared, approaching the shipwreck, then disappeared from view, merging with the blurring mist.

Grethe shivered. The dampness of the fog seemed to seep within her bones, regardless of her shawl.

She pushed down her apprehension.

You are no child to be frightened of the night. ‘Tis only your weariness and heartbreak that cloud your thoughts.

He’d stolen from her and was surely meeting someone behind her back.

I must pursue him.

She was about to follow once more when a deep and distant rumbling halted her again.

Thunder?

She squinted skyward. There had been no sign of an approaching storm, but the weather could change abruptly on the island. With the bewildering sea mist cloaking all, ‘twas hard to tell if darker clouds lurked above.

Were these omens warning her against proceeding, wanting to protect her against what she’d find?

Once again, she looked back, considering retreating, but the urge to uncover Rutger’s ruse drove her on.

He’d never again fool her!

Nor would there be more dark surprises to unseat her.

Keeping low and with only the swirling fog for company, she crept toward the boat. She half expected Rutger to leap out at her, but as she drew closer, there was no sign of her duplicitous lover.

The hull, still partly on its side, loomed into view. Seaweed had been thrown over to conceal what had been going on, but ‘twas clear repairs were underway. Edging around its bulk, she spied her pots of honey stashed inside.

While there were no masts or sails yet to see, the interior of the boat had been patched up. Several oars were piled within, like the one Rutger had made.

Her breath caught as she realized what that meant.

The ship looked almost seaworthy, and there were nearly enough oars to row it out! Clearly, Rutger and the others meant to leave imminently.

Only Rutger has the skill to carve these oars.

He must have been working on them for weeks!

The reality stabbed at her heart.

He’d been keeping this from her the whole time. If she hadn’t overheard him with Eldberg, she’d have remained none the wiser—the same na?ve woman who’d fallen for Sven.

Not only had he kept from her his intention to depart, but he’d been lying about… almost everything! The progress of his workmanship, these repairs, his provisioning of the boat from her own store. Who knew what else he’d taken?

And all the while, Rutger claimed to care for me.

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes.

Perhaps, tonight, there had been no plan to meet with another woman, but his betrayal in other ways cut her to the quick.

All those times he held me meant nothing because he was planning this all the while! ‘Twas merely empty fucking.

Clenching her fists, she turned away.

Surely, she should tell Bothild of the men’s intent? She’d know what to do.

Grethe cringed. Her shame wouldn’t let her do it. It was bad enough that Rutger had spurned her. She couldn’t confess the depth of his treachery to Bothild and the others.

I’ll leave them to it.

She wrapped her shawl closer as she backed away from the hull.

If this is what he wants, then why should I stop him?

I told him to go, so he’s going.

She’d be better off once Rutger was only a distant memory.