“That’s fine, Reece,” she said quietly. “Will you answer my questions now?”
He strode across the room and handed the shirt to her. “A few. But we should hurry. Wouldn’t want my underlings thinking I have a soft spot for a wench.”
“And why do I have to be a wench?” she asked, fisted hand on either hip, mostly because she couldn’t straighten her arms, but she knew she looked angry in this pose. “Why can’t I be a fair maiden?” She tossed her head, sending her curls dancing about her head.
He chuckled. “I think you’re a tad too saucy to be a maiden.”
“So now I’m a saucy wench?”
She glanced up at him to find him staring at the mounds of her breasts.
“Should I have a plastic surgeon move my eyes to my chest?” she asked.
He laughed and looked up into her eyes. “That would be rather convenient.”
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to figure out that she was all talk. She drew the enormous shirt over her head, and struggled to remove the too small dress underneath.
“You’ve made quite a mess of things,” he said. “I could turn my back if you are feeling shy.”
“Why wouldn’t I be feeling shy? I’ve known you for scarcely an hour and you’ve… you’ve...” Memories of his touch, his kiss instantly warmed her cheeks. “Just turn around!”
“Getting you to fall for me again will be fun,” he said. “It was none too easy the first time. Good thing I like a challenge.” He laughed at some memory he shared with future-her. Now, there was a weird thought.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said sarcastically. “Did you manhandle me within the first thirty minutes of meeting me the first time?” She pulled off the large shirt and struggled out of the little dress.
“No. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Smart guy.”
“It took me several months to find that blazing hot, sensual woman beneath the conservative outer shell. And boy was she worth the wait.” He whistled long and loud.
Hot, sensual woman? He obviously was making stuff up. Poking fun at her. What a jerk! “I guess you’re not so smart after all.”
He laughed harder. “Ah, Lara, you can’t begin to realize how much I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too. Who are you again?”
“I’m Eirick, king of the Vikings.”
She finally got the dress off and hurriedly tossed on the men’s shirt. It fell to mid-thigh and was better than being nude, but not much.
“Vikings don’t have kings. They have chieftains,” she told him and brushed past him as she approached the clothes on the hooks. Now that her wits were settling into place, she was much happier to fend for herself than to rely on him for assistance.
“Maybe I’m the first.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her bare legs. “Caught again,” she said.
His eyes moved to her face. “I’m trying to contain myself.” Their eyes locked. “I’m not doing a very good job. It’s been eight months since I last saw you.”
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s been never.”
“I know.” He sighed heavily. “We’d better hurry and get back to the men.”
“Are there any shoes around here?” she asked, finding a worn pair of trousers. She slipped into them and was immediately engulfed by the pants. Reece could have fit in these pants with her. Belly to belly. Thigh to thigh. Mound to… She blew out a breath to clear her thoughts. You’d think the impending doom and gloom would cool her desire, but no. Damn the man for unsettling her so. Lara looked around for a belt, while Reece hunted for some potential footwear. She found a length of rope and cinched it around her waist, before rolling up the trousers several times at the ankles. The shoes he found were a bit small, but she could handle the pinched toes if she didn’t have to walk barefoot through snow.
“Let’s go,” Reece said.
“Wait, you haven’t answered any of my questions yet.”
He sighed impatiently. “One,” he bargained, “and then we go.”
She nodded. “Are we stuck here permanently?”
He shook his head, “As soon as Carl catches up with us, we can leap again.”
“And how long will that be?” she asked, listening for sounds of humming coming from his amulet. It remained silent.
“Usually around three days, give or take. And that was two questions,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“How do I look?”
He gave her the once over. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’m picturing you naked.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you sure future-me agreed to marry you?”
“I think you only wanted me for my body.” He struck a ridiculous super model pose with one hand behind his head and his hip jutted forward in her direction, and then winked at her.
She laughed. “Well, it couldn’t have been for your lame sense of humor.” Though she seemed to be laughing quite a lot. Considering their situation, she was surprised she wasn’t huddled in fetal position, quaking in fear, and sobbing with remorse.
He crossed the room and opened the front door, holding it open for her. “Let’s go, saucy wench. I have Vikings to lead. Villages to pillage.”
“Saucy wenches to tame,” she added as she passed him.
“Now, why would I want a tame one?” he asked and swatted her on the rear.
She glared at him, but he just grinned. The man was enjoying himself far too much. And despite all her protests, she’d like to enjoy him a little more.
Chapter 3
There were seven women, in addition to Lara, tied back to back in pairs, sitting on the bottom of the long boat. Reece had taken it upon himself to tie her up, telling her to pretend she was tightly bound. Her ropes were loose enough for her to pull free, but their ruse had to be believable. She allowed the curtain of her ever bothersome curly hair to shield her face so she could watch the Vikings, in particular the fake Viking standing at the prow of the boat who claimed to know her in the future. The oars sloshed in the water rhythmically as they navigated the coast of some frigid land. Lara suspected it to be Norway, but she couldn’t be sure.
The woman tied to Lara’s back was crying softly. Another woman leaned against the distraught woman to try to bring her comfort. She murmured words of encouragement beneath the bawdy singing and rhythmic rowing of the Viking warriors. Lara didn’t doubt the captives had lost husbands that day and likely would never see their children again. She began to formulate a plan of escape for all of them. Lara knew they would have to wait until they reached shore—no one would survive the frigid waters—but surely, with Reece’s help, they could free these women and allow them to return to what was left of their families.
The sun had set over an hour ago, and a dense fog hugged the shoreline. The dragon figurehead projected from the prow of the boat and sliced through the night like a monster of nightmares. Lara sniffed her frozen nose and wished she had the use of her hands to warm the tips of her ears. She was shivering, her teeth chattering together like a windup novelty toy. The baggie clothes she wore allowed for a somewhat insulated layer of air above her skin, and the woman to her right shared
some body heat, but Lara could not remember ever being so cold. The hard deck beneath her provided no comfort, and her back ached from being in such an uncomfortable position for over a dozen hours.
The warrior standing beside Reece at the prow, suddenly shouted, “Lift your oars!”
The oars lifted out of the water in semi-unison and the boat slowed. Several ropes were tossed overboard.
“Pull her in!”
Splashing could be heard in the water near the head of the boat and the vessel began to move forward slowly, until it scraped across land and came to a complete stop.
“Put the slaves to work,” one of the lead Vikings called to the crew.
The captives were untied from each other and hauled to their feet. A few of the women cried out in protest but were quickly silenced with a backhand across the face. Though her legs were cramping as if she’d run a marathon, Lara climbed to her feet without assistance, and obediently took the heavy sack someone handed her and passed it to the next person in the chain as they unloaded the boat assembly-line fashion.
Once the stolen goods were safely on shore, the human cargo was unceremoniously tossed overboard. The largest of the warriors caught the frightened women and rather than setting them down, handed them off to other men who carried them towards the fiery lights in the distance.
Lara tensed when it was her turn to be hefted overboard. The big warrior on the ground caught her easily and started to hand her off to some Viking she did not recognize. Before she could protest, a familiar voice sounded in the dim light given off by torches.
“That one is mine. Take her to my quarters and don’t mess her up. Leave that to me.”
Lara knew it was part of Reece’s ruse, but she couldn’t stop the thread of fear winding itself around her heart, giving her an unsettled, panicky feeling in her stomach. The warrior started forward, carrying Lara away from the security Reece offered to the unknown of the settlement in the distance. She felt some of the terror the other women must be feeling. At least, she would be leaving this brutal world soon. The other slaves had the rest of their lives to spend here. She had to help them escape somehow. The warrior carrying her copped a feel, but she was too terrified to protest and pretended he was accidentally squeezing her breast like a ripe melon. You didn’t mess with a burly, bearded guy carrying an ax. Nope, wasn’t going to happen.