Lord of Falcon Ridge (Viking Era 4)

It was Merrik who blurted out, “Have you had your monthly flow since he raped you the last time?”

Mirana and Laren each grabbed one of Merrik’s arms and shook him. “Hush,” Laren said. “You’re embarrassing Chessa. This should be done in private.”

“Oh, I will answer him,” Chessa said, squaring her shoulders, looking directly at Cleve. “I haven’t had my monthly flow.”

Without warning, Cleve threw himself on Ragnor. He lifted him off his feet, pounded his fists into his mouth, then into his belly, and threw him a good six feet across the longhouse. “You damnable bastard, raping a lady, a princess. By all the gods, I don’t care who you are, I’ll kill you.” And he was on him again, leaping to land on him, straddling him, pounding his fist in his face, slamming his head against the packed earthen floor, then jerking him to his feet, easily avoiding any blows Ragnor attempted.

“I cannot allow this,” Kerek said, and ran to the two men.

“Wait,” Rorik yelled, seeing Kerek draw a knife. Four men dragged Cleve off Ragnor, whose lip was bleeding in two places and would have both eyes black within hours. He was sweating and shaking, obviously in pain. Rorik prayed Cleve hadn’t hurt any of his innards. What was he to do?

Rorik was smart enough not to release Cleve, who was panting, staring at Ragnor, who was being tended by Kerek. Ragnor’s other men were staying back.

Merrik said very quietly, “Cleve, stop it. Gain control of yourself. We will solve this problem. You cannot kill the little bastard. You cannot. None of us can, despite the provocation.”

“Aye, I can and I will. Didn’t you hear? He raped her, he forced her, and hurt her. By all the gods, she hasn’t had her monthly flow.”

All the men’s hands tightened on him.

Chessa didn’t want Ragnor’s blood on Cleve’s hands. “I thank you for defending my honor, Cleve. But it isn’t necessary.”

Cleve turned on her. His face was still flushed from rage and exertion. He was still panting. His knuckles were bleeding from the blows he’d landed on Ragnor’s face. He actually shook his fist at her. “Listen to me, Chessa. You will begin your monthly flow and you will begin it now. You will marry William. Do you understand me?”

“Since you’re yelling at me, it’s difficult not to understand you.”

“Don’t you twist my nose, Chessa. You will marry William. You must marry William.”

“But Ragnor said that I can’t since I’m no longer a virgin. Is it true that a man with pride and honor and power wouldn’t want me just because I was raped? Aren’t I still the same, still Chessa? Do I speak differently, act differently just because Ragnor raped me so many times?”

Cleve lurched away, taking the men by surprise. In the next instant he’d reached Ragnor and his hands were about his throat. He was pulled off again, cursing, wild as a berserker. Merrik had never seen Cleve so lost to control. He pulled back his fist and slammed it into his friend’s jaw.

“He must sleep on this,” he said, rubbing his hand. “His rage was too great for him to see reason. When he awakes, we will speak to him.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Kerek said. “I didn’t want to kill him to protect Ragnor.”

“What did you say, Kerek? That you would kill to protect me? It’s wise for you to become respectful to me again. Many of these men are vicious. I just might need you to protect me.”

Kerek closed his eyes for an instant. Chessa said quietly, “You see him as he really is, Kerek. I won’t wed him and you can’t force me to. No one can.”

“I must try, Princess,” Kerek said, sighed, and turned back to Ragnor, who was drinking a wooden mug of mead and looking toward Utta like a slavering goat.

Cleve woke up on a groan. He felt fire in his jaw. He opened his eyes to see Chessa over him, holding his head in her lap, lightly touching a wet cloth to his chin. He felt the warmth of her, her softness. He immediately pulled away from her and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the box bed. “Where are we?”

“In Rorik’s and Mirana’s bedchamber. I bandaged your hands. You scored your knuckles.”

Cleve remembered what he’d done. He closed his eyes and cursed.

“Merrik said he had to strike you. He said he’d never seen you so angry. He said—”

“Be quiet. I must think.”

She folded her hands in her lap and leaned back against the thick wooden planks that separated this bedchamber from the next one. She was content to wait. He’d tried to kill Ragnor. His rage had been magnificent. She began to fidget. “Have you finished thinking, Cleve?”

“Be quiet,” he said again, turning even more away from her. “My jaw hurts.”

“It took four men to pull you off Ragnor and you still fought them. Do you remember now if you come from a race of warriors?”

“Aye, I do, and don’t sound so damned proud of me,” he said, turning now to look at her. “As if I’m your child and you’re pleased I went mad as a berserker. I don’t know what happened to me. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it. Damn you, you made me do it.”