> Get Your Copy Of Desire HERE <

“You’ve been quiet today,” Liv said.

Iain stopped and looked up from his leatherwork. Liv was watching him as she ate; goat's cheese, venison, and a perfectly crusty bun that Elena was an expert at baking. Elena did most of the cooking. Ian and Rune were still not fully accustomed to the strange foods in this land, but both realized how fortunate they were that it was provided for them.

It was good to see Liv on her feet. It had taken her a month to get out of her sickbed after the night Ayla had tried to kill her. That dreadful night when Ayla had died had taken place almost three months ago now. The thought still sent shivers down Iain’s spine. He still saw Ayla’s murderous eyes in his dreams. He knew that he did right by saving Liv, but at the same time, he completely understood why Ayla had done what she had. He understood it to an uncomfortable level that made him feel sick every time he relived the moment. Iain knew what it was like to be taken from his home, to be wrenched out of the only life he knew and thrown into another against his will. He still very much hated it here, but he wouldn't kill another over it.

He realized that Liv was still watching him. What had she said? That he was quiet today. He shrugged in response. “Ah just didnae sleep well is all.”

“Bad dreams?” she asked.

Iain hesitated. “Ah dreamed that the people here were bein’ attacked. A raid. Ah ken it’s ridiculous,” he added quickly. Liv had a sharp tongue, and she liked to tease. He wouldn’t have her thinking that he was afraid of dreams, like a child with a nightmare. “Ah just dreamed that this place was attacked by raiders. It’s likely just…” he trailed off, his face heating, but it was too late; he could tell by Liv’s eyes that she knew what he had been about to say.

“It’s likely just thinking back to when I took you,” she said flatly.

Iain looked down at his leatherwork and carefully hammered it. He was stamping a raven into the material for Liv's friend Inga--the one with the raven tattoos. He didn't want to meet Liv's eyes. They, of course, could never come to terms on this point. Liv seemed to think that she had the right to take thralls. The right to rip him from everything he knew and loved, to take him from Anna and Callum before he could even bury them decently. He didn’t like to talk about it, and no one except Rune knew about his deceased siblings.

The last time Liv and Iain had discussed the "thrall" situation, neither of them had been back on their feet, and it had come to shouting. Troels, Liv's older brother, had wanted to beat Iain for that--he was a thrall after all, and they thought they owned him--but Liv had told Troels to leave him be. He had saved her life, after all. However, Iain was not saved from a scathing rant about how thralls should act after Troels left the house. It wasn’t a mire that Iain had any desire to step into again.

To Iain’s relief, Liv didn’t bring up his social status again. “This dream--was it like the one you had the night that Ayla tried to kill me?”

“Ah ken it was,” Iain said.

Liv tilted her head, making her blonde hair spill down her shoulder and swirl around her arm. Iain tried not to look. He wanted to run his hands through that hair, and he knew it wasn’t right. She was pagan and he was Christian, and besides that, she saw him as a slave. He would never accept a partner who did not see him as an equal. That would not be love; that would be possessiveness.

Liv sighed. “That means you think so, right?”

Iain looked up from his leatherwork, momentarily confused before remembering what he had said. ‘Ah ken.’ That’s whit Ah said. He was working on speaking more like these Danes; his accent and their different vocabularies had caused quite a bit of confusion. “Aye. That’s whit Ah meant.”

Her face tightened a little and she looked away. Angry? No, hiding a smile. She seemed to think the way he talked was cute when she was in a decent mood.

Iain carefully hammered more of the raven design onto the leather, losing himself in the soft clink of his small hammer against the tiny chisel he used to impress the design. He was grateful that Liv had let his slip pass. Ye have to remember that yer not friends. She sees ye as a slave. It stung, realizing that. During that month when both he and Liv had been recovering, they had spent nearly every moment together. He knew about her love for horses--he loved them too--and how she didn’t like to make boats, but still did it because she loved spending time with her father, Skarde. Or how she enjoyed helping her mother, Sif, with the artistic touches on the boats.

No, ye cannae afford to think of her fondly. Rune is yer only real friend here. Maybe Elena, too. The rest look down on ye. Why did that seem to follow him wherever he went? He had been looked down upon in Scotland as a disgraced monk, and here, he was a slave. Maybe Ah’m just meant to be lesser than others. He paused in his work. In this mood, his anger and impatience might drive him to make mistakes.

“That church where we found you--did you go to it often?”

Startled, Iain looked up at Liv. She had never asked that before. Callum. They killed Callum. Images of his dead brother surfaced in Iain’s mind, and he felt the blood drain from his face. He felt sick.

Liv’s eyes widened. “Are you well?”

Iain laughed bitterly. “Ah hadnae--had not, I mean--attended that kirk in quite some time.”

“What were you doing there?” she asked. “You’re not a monk, and it wasn’t the right day for your religious gathering or there would have been more people there.”

A hard knot solidified in Iain’s chest. She's not yer friend. She speaks of murdering defenceless monks with no shame in her eyes at all. Again, the memory of those late nights spent talking, unable to rise from a sickbed, surfaced. There had been that night where she had spoken of Odin. Iain hadn’t understood at first, but Odin was her god. One of many, apparently. How could she worship more than one god? How did she decide which one to pray to if there were more than one? And did that lead to rivalry between gods, or between people who favoured different gods? He didn't understand her at all.

She had asked a question, and he had to answer. He had had many sharp lessons in obedience here. “I cannae see that it matters why Ah was there,” Iain said. It might get him in trouble for not answering directly, but he wasn’t about to pour his heart out to her. Oh, sure he had told her a few things about home when he had been tired and too talkative. He had told her about Flynn and how much he loved to watch that falcon fly free. He had even told her a little about Anna’s little pranks, though he still couldn’t bring himself to discuss her illness, or when he had lost her. Here, only Rune knew about Anna dying, and about Iain going to see a soothsayer, and about Callum being murdered by these heathens. Iain didn’t want anyone else to find out.

Liv was watching him, her green eyes considering. Iain met her eyes defiantly, and she grinned.

“You’re still spirited. I like that,” she said.

He looked down. “Why did ye take me? Ye could have killed me, and ye took me instead.”

"Because you fought bravely," she said. "You have a warrior's spirit, and it would be a waste to kill you in a hopeless battle. Though I guess that is part of what intrigues me, too. You could see that you were outnumbered and that the others weren't fighting back, and you still fought. That took courage that the others did not have.”

Fury rose in Iain. Callum had been no coward; he had seen the attackers coming and had chosen not to fight. He had been a peaceful man. Far more peaceful than Iain had ever been able to manage, and Iain was nearly a pacifist compared to these Danes. “They had the courage to watch ye come into their peaceful place of worship and still decide to spill no blood,” Iain spat. He was shaking with anger, he realized, and Liv was looking at him with wide, startled eyes.

“You’re saying...saying that it was courage that made them stay their weapons?" she asked slowly. Iain had the feeling that this was a new idea to her, and hard for her to wrap her head around it.

“Of course that’s whit Ah’m sayin’. Peace and their souls meant more to them than their own lives. They may have even given ye some of the things ye took if ye hadnae just started killin’ right off. Ye shed blood needlessly. Wasted precious human life.”

Liv was just staring at him, her mouth open slightly. This was a new concept to her. Her mouth worked, but it was several long moments before words came out. “Battle is the meaning of life. We’re always to be fighting for something. It only makes sense; you have to struggle to learn to walk or to learn any new thing. Life is struggle and battle. You have to be a great warrior to make it to Valhalla."

“Valhalla,” Iain growled. “A utopia where everyone tries to kill each other for eternity. Ah’ve seen ye fight, an’ Ah ken that yer a strong warrior, but is that whit ye want to do forever? Are ye more at peace while in battle, or while yer here at home with yer family who loves ye? Ye would honestly rather have an eternity of battle than, say, making boats with yer parents or playing board games with Troels?”

A flash of anger flared in Liv’s eyes — likely at his tone more than the words. She was usually open to discussing different types of beliefs — but when she spoke, her voice was icy calm. "Somehow, I don't think we're going to agree on this, and you're all fired up. We will discuss it another time."

Not if Ah can help it, Iain thought.

The door opened and Troels came in. Iain looked back down at his leatherwork. He never knew what to expect from Liv’s brother. Sometimes he seemed friendly with Iain, and sometimes he saw him as a thrall. Troels didn’t seem to have any issue with both things at once, but Iain would never differentiate. He could not be both a slave and a friend to someone.

Troels came over to inspect Iain’s work. “It looks good. We should get you working on more leathercraft,” Troels said.

Iain just nodded. He didn’t feel like speaking, and he was worried that Troels would hear the lingering anger in his voice. That would not be pleasant for Iain.

“I need to talk to my sister,” Troels said. “Leave us.”

Iain didn’t hesitate to obey. He wanted to be alone. Leaving his leatherwork on the table, he went to the kitchen. Rune and Elena were both there, and quickly stepped apart from one another when they heard the kitchen door open. Iain felt his face heat with embarrassment. He had caught them in the middle of a passionate kiss.

“Iain!” Elena said breathlessly. Her hair was in a bun, but several long strands had come out, and she busied herself at fixing them. “We, uh, didn’t expect you.”

Rune just grinned and shrugged.

Iain cleared his throat. “Is there anythin’ Ah can help ye with here?”

Elena and Rune exchanged a quick glance.

“Elena’s busy cooking,” Rune said. “Why don’t you and I go care for the livestock?”

Iain followed Rune outside, grateful that his friend had understood that he just needed to talk.

“What’s bothering you?” Rune asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

Iain let out a long breath. “That woman seems to think that enslavin' me was some kind of favour. Ah'd rather she had just killed me."

Rune was quiet for several moments as he looked around carefully. This was a dangerous subject, and it was likely they would be beaten if they were overheard.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but she does think that she has a right to slaves,” Rune said quietly. “I hate it, too. I hate being here and I want to be free. But you need to realize that we get treated much better than most of the others. We’re not worked to exhaustion. We get all the food and supplies we need. They rarely hurt us.”

“That’s enough for ye?” Iain asked.

Rune sighed. "As I said, I hate it, too. However, you have to realize that this is our life now, and we have to make the best of it.” Rune paused. He seemed to be considering whether or not to say something.

“Spit it out,” Iain sighed.

Rune barked a laugh. "Right. You're very direct, you know that?” Another pause while Rune glanced around. “Do you see the way Liv looks at you sometimes?”

“Like she wants me to die?” Iain grunted sourly.

Rune laughed. “No. Quite the opposite.”

Confused, Iain looked at Rune. “Ah donnae ken whit ye mean.”

“You think she still sees you as a thrall.”

“Obviously, or Ah wouldnae be here anymore. Ah’d be back home in Scotland.”

Rune shook his head, his lips curving up in a smile. “You’ve not been paying attention. She saw you as a thrall when she took you, true, but she’s been looking at you less and less like a thrall for months. She sees a man when she sees you. A man she finds handsome. No accounting for her taste,” he added with a grin.

Iain felt his face heat. How could he feel so cold inside and so hot in the face at the same time? “Ah donnae ken yer right on this one.” He found himself thinking of the way Liv’s blonde hair cascaded down her shoulder when she moved her head. Naturally blonde hair. Most of the others here had to bleach their hair; blonde was the ideal. “Even if ye are, Ah’d not have anythin’ to do with a woman who sees me as less than she is.”

Rune shrugged. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just telling you what I see, and what I see is that Liv is falling in love with you. It’s not easy to capture her attention, let alone her heart, but I think you’ve done both.”

“Right,” Iain snorted.

“You realize how differently she treats you after that night you saved her life, don’t you? The night Ayla died?”

Iain shuddered involuntarily. For the first time, he realized that Liv hadn’t called him a thrall since then. She still debated heatedly that she had a right to keep thralls, and even called Rune and Elena thralls, but not him. The strange thing was, she seemed fond of Rune and Elena, even while she was demeaning them.

“I don’t think you realize the impact you’ve had on her,” Rune said. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it, but you’re making her consider things she’s never questioned before. She’s always taken the social classes here for granted, and now she’s suddenly questioning them.” He gave Iain a considering look. “You do realize that class here has nothing to do with sex, right?”

Iain realized he had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at Rune. “Wh--whit?!”

“Social class, here, doesn’t affect sex that much,” Rune said.

Iain ran his hands over his burning face. “Rune, Ah’m Christian. Ah donnae believe in...in doing certain things until after marriage.”

Rune shrugged. “That’s your business. I just thought you should be aware of that. Understand, I’m not telling you to go asking for it. I don’t think that’s a good idea and Liv will need to initiate. I’m just saying that it’s allowed here.”

Iain shook his head. “I’m done talking about this.”

“All right,” Rune said lightly. “I’m just saying, you’re not as hostile to her as you were when you got here, and I know you two had a lot of time to talk after being hurt and all. I know you must be lonely here, and that woman isn’t seeing just a thrall when she looks at you. That’s the look of a woman who wants a man.”

“Rune,” Iain growled.

Chuckling, Rune finally quit talking.

They reached the stables, and Iain did his best to push the conversation out of his head.

The horses whickered when Iain entered the stable. Iain went straight to Wind--his favourite. He was a deep chestnut colour, young and strongly built. Troels had brought him home from the last raid, and that was when Iain had been assigned to care for the horses. He had always loved animals, but he had never been able to afford a horse. Anna’s medicines had been more important. That, and food.

“Ah wonder if yer from near where Ah came from,” Iain said softly to the horse. He petted Wind’s nose. He had wanted to get a horse and take Flynn farther from home to go hunting. He hoped his falcon was still alive. He wondered if Flynn missed him as much as he missed Flynn.

They made sure the horses were fed and watered, then cleaned out the stable thoroughly. Sweaty and grimy, Iain went to wash up before dinner. He put on some clean clothes, wolfed down his food, and then collapsed on the bed. It was early, but he was exhausted. He had to admit to himself that part of the exhaustion came from his own thoughts. He was so tired of having to battle his own mind every day, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had been here for months now. This was his life now. Whit could that soothsayer have been thinkin’ when she told me to go to the monastery to start a new life? Is this whit she saw? Ah shouldhae ken better than to mess with dark magic like that. Look where it got me.

Falling to sleep, he could hear Liv laughing in the other room. He wished it didn’t make his heart beat faster.

> Get Your Copy Of Desire HERE <