Page 2 of A Viking's Captive

“This one is not like those docile women; she’s a feisty one.”

“The woman will never let you close to her without trying to claw your eyes out.”

“You will have fun trying to tame that one in your bed. Mayhap you are not up to the task. I should take her off your hands.”

“She obviously doesn’t enjoy the look of your ugly face. I know she’ll like mine better.”

Rathnon smiled at their banter and teased them back and then growled, effectively shutting them up. “Off with you all and leave me be. She is not the first woman I have brought home.”

He still held his prize tightly. This woman differed from the others he had captured. None of those women had he kept forhimself. He brought them back for the welfare of their country, needing women to grow families and produce more warriors.

Based on her behavior thus far, he expected her to attempt to jump overboard to escape. Surrounded by brutal warriors, he was sure that terror filled her heart, and she swayed. Rathnon removed her gag, unbound her wrists, and tied her to the side of the bulwark, so she could not escape. As he stepped closer to her, she recoiled at his touch, lifted her chin, looked away from him haughtily, and took a step backward in obvious disdain.

Rathnon thought she would breathe fire like a dragon at him if she could. She glared at him; eyes glazed with fury. She was indeed passionate, and he looked forward to the days ahead when he would tame and unleash even her deepest passions in his bed. Rathnon spoke soothing words to her she did not understand and smoothed loose hair back from her face.

Fighting to escape, Ilona still held hope to flee.What will happen to me?

Her captor offered her a ladle of water. Ilona lifted her head proudly, glancing at him with contempt before pointedly looking away from him, refusing to drink.Who does this man think he is?She hated him already. Not only because he’d kidnapped her, but also because of how he made her feel. Ilona had never felt this vulnerable.

Not to be deterred, Rathnon beckoned their interpreter, a short and stout man, and told him what he wanted to convey to her. “I will not harm you. It is best to have a full stomach so you do not get seasick. The waves may be fierce on the high seas. Please drink the water and eat the food I give you. I will protect you.” Rathnon gently lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. In Gaelic he said, “Mas do Thoil e’.” (At your will—please).

Ilona scoffed. She refused and glared at him in defiance, which only seemed to enthrall the Viking. Although she glared at him in contempt, her eyes lingered on his handsome chiseled jaw and sensual lips. This man’s voice did strange things to her insides. The low rumble of it reverberated inside her. The feeling reminded her of the touch of velvet against her skin, and she trembled. Ilona didn’t understand her traitorous body and how this stranger could ignite a heat deep inside her. She did nae want him near her or to touch her; already, she felt violated, forced against her will from her home aboard this sailing vessel.

Again and again she refused, turning her head away. The warrior persisted and was nae to be denied. Finally thirsty, she accepted the water, aware she needed to stay healthy to escape. Their hands brushed as he handed her the ladle of water and sparked a sensation in her skin at his touch.

Rage filled her. “Why did ye steal me from my family—from my home? Ye barbarous thief. I have to go back. Free me from these binds. I can swim back. Ye are a villain. And a thief!”

When the interpreter translated her words, Rathnon laughed loudly, astonishing his men. He knew she was angry from her ire and the fire that blazed in her eyes and when he imagined igniting her passion under different circumstances, his body responded.

“Let me go,” she implored, her hands clenched in indignation. “I don’t want to be here. Ye need to let me return to my parents. I’m their only family. They need my help on the farm. Let me go.”Where will they take us? Will they sell us as slaves? What will they do to me?

After shaking his head and telling her, “Nae,” he moved her with the other women. Tears streamed down her face infrustration and trepidation. He secured her to the bulwark. Ilona had hoped for a husband and family someday. She wished to have her husband’s respect, caring, and friendship, hoping love would develop.Now they will sell me as a slave.In an instant, her dreams were shattered.

Rathnon joined the men in manning the oars as they rowed to put distance between them and the island. He felt guilty about her situation, but he would not release her. Although he would rather face a hundred fierce warriors in battle than see her tears, she had sealed her fate the moment he glimpsed her. Despite her pleading now, he would never let her go. Never.

Chapter 2

The Journey

How long will this journey last? Why did they pick me? Our remote farm is tucked inland and away from the coast, where they landed their boats, so why me? Is this their first time visiting here?Ilona shivered, not from the temperature as it was a warm day now that the sun had come out, but from fear. The women, tied tightly with rough ropes, sat together on the ship, enabling the men to keep their eyes on them. Not only to prevent their escape but also to protect them from being thrown overboard by enormous waves. In the past with her father, Ilona studied the sailing vessels, and his maps, so she kent the men were from the Kingdom of Norway.

She wished she had a warm cloak and a change of clothes. She still wore her herbal sack across her chest, the dried herbs inside tucked into oilskin to keep them dry and protected. Ilona wore a hidden dirk tied securely to her leg that she hadn’t been able to access during her kidnapping. She wouldn’t be able to escape while at sea, but once they touched land, she would seek every opportunity.

As the day progressed, the sun shone with a lighthearted mockery of their plight. A buttery yellow in the sky, the shimmering sunlight reflected on the surface of the waves. The men stroked the heavy oars in a fast tempo and rhythm together. Ilona wondered whether they would remain overnight on the ship or if they would make camp on land before nightfall.

Tears threatened to spill as she bid farewell to her home, left behind in the distance.

With the sun high overhead, a man passed ladles of water to the ladies, while the men drank from their personal waterskins. The translator distributed oatcakes to the ladies with dried smoked meat for lunch. One woman asked him where to find the garderobes on the ship.

The man laughed a hearty laugh at her expense and interpreter translated his words. “There is no privy on the ship. This is the harsh reality of survival at sea. There are no niceties. It is over the side—you must hold your arse over the side of the ship to relieve yourself.”

Horrified, the woman said indignantly, “But it is nae private. Everyone can see.”

“I will give you a blanket the ladies can hold for privacy. This will prevent any man from seeing you relieve yourself over the side. But the men will not be using blankets. If that offends you, then you’d best turn away.” He left and returned with blankets. The ladies used them and took turns relieving themselves. For many, it was their first time on a ship at sea. It certainly was the first time they had been kidnapped and held captive. Ilona had always felt safe from the threat of crimes like this.

She asked the translator politely, “Where are ye taking us? Where are we going? What do ye have planned for us when we get there?”

“Most likely, ye will be wedded soon. Tonight, if we make good time, we will camp onshore. It will take several days of sailing to reach our destination. It depends on the weather and the wind. That is all I can tell ye now.”