Page 18 of Tempting the Saxon (Noble Norsemen #5)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I ngrid woke up with a strange taste in her mouth, no doubt due to the fact that she had spent a long time crying last night. Judging from the noises reaching her ears, it was already quite late. This didn’t surprise her either. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep.

Feeling parched, she helped herself to a cup of ale. And then she heard the commotion. People running, doors being slammed, children crying. Now, these noises were definitely not normal. What was going on?

As soon as she walked out of the hut someone took her by the arm. Arne, one of her brother’s friends. He was holding a hammer. Before she could ask him why he was walking around with such a tool in hand, he spoke.

“What are you still doing here? Go hide in the room at the back of the forge with the other women and children while we deal with the Saxons.”

“The Saxons?” What was he talking about?

“We’re under attack. Now go , or Bj?rn will kill me for allowing you to get hurt, even if I survive the attack.”

Her legs moved even before she took the conscious decision to run. Weaving her way through the village in upheaval, she took refuge in the room where Magnus kept his old tools. It was already full with mothers cradling infants and children doing their best to be brave. Agnes looked at her, eyes huge with anguish but didn’t say anything. No one spoke. What was there to say anyway? They only had to wait it out and hope the door would not be breached. It was currently guarded by a group of men doing their best to repel the assailants. The Saxons’ determination to enter the room where they had taken refuge didn’t bode well. They had to hope the Norsemen would hold out long enough for the attackers to give up.

Having no child to comfort and cuddle, Ingrid settled herself by the window to keep an eye on things and report on what was happening.

It was chaos.

The village, usually a peaceful haven, was filled with men fighting with real or makeshift weapons. Thankfully, no woman or child was anywhere in sight. It seemed they had managed to round up everyone in time while she slept, oblivious to it all. The Saxons also seemed to be slightly outnumbered. With luck, they would soon realize it and leave before they were all killed. The Norsemen, who were defending their village and their families, fought with skill and determination, making them formidable opponents.

And then she saw it.

One of the attackers was behaving oddly. Instead of confronting the villagers like the others, he was looking around as if in search of something—or someone—only stopping to defend himself against stray blows when necessary. Not only did he act odd, but he also looked odd. The top half of his face was covered by a soft leather mask that only allowed her to see his eyes, as if he didn’t want to be recognized. He was also bare-chested and his chest bore the traces of recent injuries. The hairs at the back of Ingrid’s neck started to prickle. His gait was too familiar, and he was a lot taller than the other attackers.

Understanding tore through her when she saw that his hair was too blond to belong to a Saxon.

Ivar.

That was why he had covered his face. He didn’t want the villagers to recognize him and fall on him all at once when they understood he had betrayed them. Wolf had said he’d been sent away after the fight with Caedmon. Now he wanted revenge for what had been done to him, he wanted to find the man responsible for the beating he’d received and his subsequent banishment from the village. In his bitterness he had gone to a group of disgruntled Saxons, probably the same ones who had stolen the horses and abducted the women and asked for their help in making the Norsemen pay for disavowing him. Once a sizable force had been assembled, he had given them all the information he could to make the attack a success. That explained why they seemed to know where the women and children were hidden.

But Ivar was not interested in rampage.

He was after one man only, the one who had attacked him on her behalf.

Caedmon.

How the Devil had the Saxons guessed where the women and children would be hiding? Upon descending on the village they had headed straight for the smithy’s workshop, as if they’d known that was where they would find them, even if it wasn’t the most obvious choice. The main hall would have made more sense, but the attackers kept trying to reach the room at the back of the forge as if they knew what the room was being used at the moment. The barrage of men defending the door was barely enough to keep them at bay.

Should he go help them? Before he could make the decision, a Saxon ran at him, dagger drawn.

There was no time to think, he had to fight for his life, against his own people.

The assailants had seen he was not a Norseman and seemed intent on making him pay for what they saw as a betrayal on his part. Would he always find himself fighting on the other side? It appeared so. Well, he could not help it if his countrymen insisted on behaving with such violence, could he? He would always be on the side of the victims, whoever they were. The Norsemen had done nothing to provoke this attack, and he would never condone the raping of women or the hurting of children.

Fueled by rage, he sent the man to the ground with a well-placed kick. For good measure, he then knocked him unconscious with the butt of his knife. As much as he despised what they were doing, he was loath to kill another human being.

It was then that he heard a voice from behind him.

“That one’s for me! We agreed.”

He swiveled around, blade at the ready to face who had spoken. A man whose face was covered with a leather mask was walking toward him. He’d spoken in his language but with a strong Norse accent. Caedmon did not need to see the bruises on his ribs to understand who he might be.

“Ivar,” he said with icy certainty. Tall and blond, it had to be him. “Why don’t you remove your pitiful disguise and come fight me like a man?”

“It will be my pleasure. I’m on my own, just like yesterday, but I have an axe this time. I won’t need another two men to dispose of you.”

Yes, he was indeed armed with a fearsome axe, when Caedmon only had a knife. This could well end in disaster. He tightened his grip on his dagger, determined not to falter. He could not, not today, not when he still had to explain himself to Ingrid. He would not die before he had told her that the woman he was in love with was not Frigyth anymore but her. There was no telling what she would make of this declaration but he had to say it at least.

There would be no peace for him otherwise.

“Ready to meet your maker, whoever he is? Be sure to tell him who sent you to him.” Ivar smiled a sinister smile. And then he lifted his axe.

Caedmon instantly understood he was not going to make it. With an axe, Ivar’s reach was ten times that of him with a dagger. But that was not even the problem. Instead of engaging in close combat, the coward intended to throw the weapon at his chest. It would be impossible to avoid being hit. They were just too close. He took in a deep breath.

“No!”

From the corner of his eye he caught a blurry shape moving. A woman. More precisely, a blonde woman armed with a fence post. Ingrid. His insides dissolved in horror. What was she doing outside the room, in the midst of all the fighting? She could be killed!

Before he had time to do anything, she charged at Ivar. Alarmed by her cry, the Norseman had turned to face her. The tip of the fence post caught him square on the chest and the strength of the blow sent him reeling backward. The axe went flying out of his hand, landing on the ground behind him. After that, everything happened with slow inexorability. Caedmon could only watch as the man tripped over the weapon and then fell, arms flailing. The back of his head hit the edge of the well with a sickening thud and he crumpled to the ground, where he lay, utterly still.

Caedmon and Ingrid stared at each other, then at Ivar, thinking he would stand up and demand retribution. He did not.

Around them the village had gone quiet. The fighting was over. For a moment, nothing existed but the two of them, breathing hard next to the Norseman’s lifeless body.

And then Ingrid dropped the post and fell into Caedmon’s arms.

“He’d dead. But I-I never mean to?—”

“I know.” He kept her face cradled against his chest so she didn’t have to see the blood seeping onto the dust. Framed by the leather mask, Ivar’s eyes had already gone glassy. He was indeed dead.

“I saw him with the axe, and you with the d-dagger, and I just?—”

He placed a kiss over her hair. “I know, sweetheart, and I thank you. You saved my life.” That was not in doubt. Without her, he would be the one lying on the ground right now, with an axe buried in his chest.

Ingrid started sobbing. “Oh, Caedmon, where were you last night? I thought you’d gone and left me.”

“I would never do that, not without an explanation. But I knew you did not want to see me, so I went to Sigurd and Frigyth.” At the name of the woman she thought he still loved, she stilled against his chest. His heart leapt in hope. She would not be jealous if she didn’t care about him at least a little. All he needed now was to make her understand what he had understood the day before. “Listen, I?—”

“Are you both all right here?” Armed with a bloody sword, Wolf was coming to them, every inch the formidable Norse warrior who had terrorized his country for generations. Caedmon nodded.

“Yes. Thank you. Ivar is dead.” He indicated the crumpled body by the well. “I think he was the one who organized the attack on the village.”

The Icelander’s nostrils flared. “Yes…I thought something was odd. The Saxons seemed to know the lay out of the village and where to strike first. It was as if they’d had an informant. Well, I doubt they will try their luck any time soon, or ever again. Half of them are dead, and the other half fled like coneys.”

“I killed him,” Ingrid said, her voice trembling as much as her body. She had left the protection of his arms to come stand in front of Wolf. “But, it was an accident. I swear I-I only wanted?—”

Caedmon wrapped an arm around her shoulder in support. He would not have her feeling guilty for killing a man who had allowed his friends to rape her, who had turned against his own people and almost cost the Norsemen community dozens of lives. Besides, she had not actually delivered the blow that had killed Ivar.

“She saved my life,” he told Wolf. “He was coming at me with an axe and I only had a knife. She struck him. There was no other choice. If she hadn’t intervened I would be dead.”

Wolf nodded as if he had already understood as much. He told Ingrid something in Norse. She mumbled something in response and it seemed to Caedmon that some of the tension left her shoulders. His own body relaxed.

“Take her home now,” the Icelander instructed before walking away.

As soon as they were alone Caedmon swept Ingrid into his arms and brought her back to the hut. She did not protest or utter a word, instead allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. Hope surged through him again. If she wasn’t angry anymore, perhaps he could make her see that she didn’t need to worry about Frigyth. Because he was now sure that he was not in love with her anymore. Last night, he had found himself laughing and being genuinely happy for her and Sigurd. Even the sight of her swelling stomach had failed to stir any jealousy. All he had been able to think was that he hoped Ingrid would manage to overcome her fear of pregnancy and one day have a family of her own.

With him.

Careful not to jostle her too much, he deposited her onto the pallet. When he would have straightened back up, she took hold of the front of his tunic. Her eyes were huge in the sunshine, bluer than ever.

“I know everything. Wolf told me yesterday.”

What was she talking about? “Yesterday?” What had the Icelander told her?

Ingrid bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t wait to tell Caedmon she’d been a fool and ask his forgiveness for her behavior. She should have listened to him when he’d started to explain himself last night. In fact, she should have guessed who the fight had been with and why. He’d been so insistent when discussing what Ivar had done the other day, she should have known he would not let the deed go unpunished. How did she feel about it? Angry? Touched? She didn’t know. One thing was certain, she would now listen to everything he had to say.

“After our argument yesterday, I saw Wolf by the river.” Her voice started to crack but she carried on. “He explained you had not been fighting Sigurd over Frigyth, as I thought, but Ivar over what he had done to me. You fought him for me, to avenge what he did all those years ago.”

“Yes. Sigurd and Wolf helped, in case you were wondering why they sport bruises too.”

“Three men,” she whispered, understanding what he had tried to do. He nodded and placed a kiss on her temple. She closed her eyes, relishing his touch.

“Three men. It was the only way. Forgive me, I know you didn’t ask anything of me, and might even resent my intervention, but I just could not let it go. I only wish I could find those two brothers and give them what they deserve as well.” He paused. “I didn’t tell Bj?rn and asked Wolf and Sigurd not to mention it to anyone, either. I thought you would prefer it that way.”

Emotion flooded Ingrid. He’d thought of everything. It was perfect. “It’s all in the past. You should try to forget it, as I did.”

Touched as she was by his support, she didn’t want him to risk his life for her ever again. She just wanted him safe, even if it wasn’t with her.

Caedmon leaned in toward her, stopping just before their mouths touched. Tentatively, she placed a finger over the cut on his lip. Was it too painful for a kiss, or had he stopped for another reason? Could she initiate the kiss and see? Should she? Would her heart bear it if he refused?

“So thanks to Wolf you know most of it but you don’t know everything,” he murmured before she could make a decision. “You don’t know the most important thing. You don’t know that I’m in love with you.”

“You—Pardon me?”

Had he said he was in love with her ? She stared at him in incomprehension. “But you cannot be. You’re in love with Frigyth.” That was the whole problem. The fact that he had wanted to avenge her, wonderful as it was, did not change that.

He sighed and gave her cheek a stroke. “I was in love with her once, yes, but not in the way I am with you. It was a childish infatuation, nothing more, I see that now, one I clung on to, for lack of a better alternative but I’m certainly not in love with her anymore, not in that way at least. I love you , Ingrid. I could not help but fall in love with you, with your kindness, your beauty, your eccentric side as you call it. You’re like no one I’ve ever met, that’s why I keep coming back to you, that’s why I could not help kiss you in town. And after we slept together and I saw how wonderful it was to make love to you, I just had to...”

Instead of finishing his sentence, he took her hands in his. He seemed wary of what her reaction would be.

“You just had to go to Ivar,” she said simply. “I understand.” Tears stung her eyes. Perhaps he was not lying when he claimed to be in love with her, perhaps that was why he had felt the need to avenge her. Oh, could she be so lucky as to be loved by the man she loved?

“I could not bear the idea of what that bastard did to you, or that he had gotten away with it. I had to do something.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t regret it, but I should have gone about it a different way, because my actions put everyone here in danger. Without me, he would not have brought destruction to the village.”

“It was not your fault, and no one was killed,” Ingrid said in a breath, realizing only then that he wouldn’t have understood Wolf’s words of reassurance earlier. She could understand why he would feel guilty, but she also knew that he had not forced Ivar to betray his people and place dozens of people in danger. “And the Saxons might have come anyway. You know trouble has been brewing for a while. They stole the horses a month ago, then they abducted the women. It was only a question of time before they mounted a full attack on the village. Ivar merely gave them the excuse to do it now. None of it is your fault. You certainly did not force them to arm themselves with axes and swords to come and kill innocent children.”

Slowly the tension in his body relaxed. He believed her. Ill-intentioned people always found a reason to wreak havoc.

“I love you,” he said, before taking her mouth in a fierce kiss. Oh. Obviously the cut was not painful then…Good.

Reassured, she allowed her desire free rein.

“I love you too by the way,” she whispered once she got her breath back. “I think you might have noticed it.”

“I did.” He gave a slanted smile. “You were the first person to see me as more than ‘a good man,’ you know. You allowed me to be myself, freed me from that prison and made me see that I could live my life without Frigyth in it. You saved me, in more ways than one. I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for me.”

She gave a shaky laugh. My. The man had a way with words. In his mouth they became pure poetry, just like metal became precious jewels.

“No need to thank me. You freed me from a different kind of prison. You were the first one to find me remotely exotic and take me as I really am, instead of what you expected to see. But even if you had not, I would have fallen in love with you. You are one fascinating man, Saxon.”

He stared at her as if he could not make sense of the declaration. But she knew it was no wonder she should have fallen for such a handsome, intelligent, caring man.

No one renounced years of conviction in such a short time, unless they have fallen in love, she had once thought. Well, she’d been right about that. It had taken her less than a month posing as Cademon’s lover to forget her resolve never to be with a man.

“Everything between us has been a mess.” His eyes were glowing in the sunshine, a silvery gray she had never seen before. “I met you because I had come to the village to see a woman I thought I loved, I kissed you for the wrong reasons, I bedded you in the most animalistic way, then allowed you think you meant nothing to me. No more. I love you, and I want to do this right. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, to kiss you for the right reasons, to make love to you the way you deserve, to?—”

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me that you intend to behave like a ‘good man’ from now on? I can’t stand those, and I rather enjoyed having a wicked man in my bed if you must know.”

The silver in his eyes melted to gold. “You will get him, I swear, every time you need him.”

Another kiss sealed that promise. Just when Ingrid started to pant, and hope he would show her just how wicked he was, he drew back.

“I know you said you never wanted to marry and I myself once swore that I would never ask anyone else to marry me. But…Do you think we could forget all those silly promises and get married anyway? The sooner the b?—”

“Yes. Let’s get married. The sooner the better.”

He kissed her again, even deeper. Just like before, she melted. And just like before, he drew back when she was readying herself for more.

“I have something to give you,” he said, ignoring her moan of protest.

“Mm. I was hoping you did.” With a smile she placed a hand over his crotch. What she felt there caused her whole body to jerk in anticipation. He was ready for her.

“Not that,” he groaned, sounding strained. Ruthlessly, she gave a slow stroke, then another, hoping to persuade him to give in. He closed his eyes and for a heady moment she thought she had won. Then he grabbed her wrist and stilled her. “Wait, Ingrid, I really need to do something first.”

First.

That was all she needed to hear. He did intend to make love to her, only he had something he wanted to do first. Assured she would get what she needed in due time, she released him. He sat back up and retrieved something from the pouch he always carried at his belt. Something he placed in her hand.

“This is for you.”

Ingrid gasped. It was a silver chain, the most delicate one she had ever seen. It flowed like water on her palm, and sparkled in the sunlight when she wiggled her fingers. “Did you make this?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. No one she knew would be able to make such an object.

“I did.”

“For me?”

Caedmon hesitated. Should he tell Ingrid the truth? He had set out to make the necklace for Frigyth, admittedly, but as soon as he had started on the chain, he’d sensed he would never give it to her. In the end he had made it for Ingrid. Why else would he have chosen a Norse design? Never had he created anything like it, or even wanted to. It marked a new chapter in his life, on every level.

He hadn’t made a necklace charged with disillusion, pain and lost hopes, as he’d first intended, he had actually created something interwoven with love, gratefulness, and hope for the future. And such a necklace could only be worn by one woman. The woman who had made his life complete and who was waiting for his answer.

He wanted to be honest with her. How else would he convince her he was not in love with Frigyth? He could not start lying to her now.

“I originally meant to give it to Frigyth, to replace the necklace Sigurd had made for her,” he admitted. Ingrid was not an idiot, she would already have guessed as much. “But the chain had other ideas. It chose you, just as I did. Only it realized before I did.” It was always the same. His instinct knew what he wanted before his reason had accepted it. “If you don’t believe me, take a look at it. It is a Norse design. Would I have chosen something like that if I hadn’t intended it for a Norsewoman?”

A pause, during which his heart almost stopped beating. “No. I guess not.”

And then, to his relief, Ingrid beamed at him. Despite the pain he had caused her, she believed him without question, she was ready to trust him. Why was he even surprised? From the start everything had been simple with her, as natural as breathing. She just fit in his life, like the part he had always missed. What had he done to deserve such an amazing woman? He could not wait to stop pretending they were lovers, pretending they were married, and make her his for good.

A smile curled his lips. It seemed that his grandmother would be spared the pain of being told he and his lovely wife had parted ways.

“Will you please put it on me?” Ingrid asked, handing the chain back to him. She had gone a delicious pink color.

“I would like nothing more. And I love that I am the first to give you jewelry,” he answered, fastening it around her neck.

“You are the first to make jewelry for me. It’s even better, don’t you think?”

“Yes.” She inhaled when he placed a kiss on the soft spot by her temple and then licked her earlobe. “And now, I’m going to take everything else off. You’re going to sleep in my arms with nothing else on than my chain around your neck.”

She arched a brow, mischief written all over her beautiful face. “Sleep?”

That one word sent him hard as wood.

“Eventually. But first, you’re going to let me show you just how much I love you. Every part of you. There will be no denying me.”

She let out a tinkling laugh. “No need to threaten me so. I’m sure I can accommodate that wish.”