The Gift -- The Last Kingdom

Chapter 2

Beomfleet, the year before

Erik looked out the small window at the grim, wet evening. The rain was falling in sheets and he could barely see the torches of the great hall. He let out a deep sigh.

"My mother feared I would die at sea, but she never saw this country. A man could drown just walking across a field."

Aethelflaed smiled. The Danes and Northmen complained about the weather often: too wet, too muddy, too dreary. They rarely seemed to realize that it was this rain that made the soil so rich and brought the bountiful harvests they so enjoyed.

Today, she appreciated the rain. Perhaps it would deter Erik from leaving so soon. She felt a strange twist in her chest whenever he left. She wanted him with her more and more, wanted his company, and–worst of all–wanted his touch. But he had not touched her since that kiss by the river under the bright moon. He visited her often, talked with her, brought her food and supplies, but he avoided any physical contact. He kept space between them. At first, she thought he had regretted the kiss and did not want her. But she was beginning to think he worried about pressuring her and did not wish her to feel trapped or pushed. He could not know that she had spent hours working it all through in her head, sifting through the torrent of feelings–her initial fear, her resentment towards her captors, her worry for her family and her countrymen–only to find that the desire for him was still there, strong and unyielding. But if Erik was set on being cautious, Aethelflaed would have to be daring.

"You know," she said, standing up from her cot and moving across the cell, "the Saxons have a particular trick for managing rain such as this."

Erik looked at her curiously. "And what is that? If you do not mind sharing your Saxon secrets with a lowly Northman."

Aethelflaed leaned towards him conspiratorially. "We stay inside."

He grinned then and she felt a surge of triumph. He turned to face her and picked up her playful tone. "I would not want to impose. A fine lady such as yourself should be much too busy."

She smiled and drew close to him. Too close; she heard his breathing shift. "I would appreciate the company." She leaned up and kiss him then, soft and tentative. He did not pull away. Emboldened, she kissed him again, this time bringing her arms up and resting her hands on his shoulders, her shaky, nervous fingers woven into the soft fur of his cloak.

"We would simply have to find a way to pass the time," Aethelflaed whispered, drawing her head back to look him in the eyes.

Erik looked at her seriously, his eyes searching her face. She wondered if he was searching for any doubt. She kept her expression steady and sure. Finally, his expression relaxed.

"I have some ideas," he murmured, and kissed her–a long, deep kiss that would have sent her off kilter if he had not taken hold of her waist. It was a decisive kiss. He had recognized her desire and met it with his own.

Their embraces became more eager. He backed her towards the bed and she sat back, pulling him towards her. He planted kisses along the curve of her throat and the exposed skin at the neck of her dress. His right hand pushed up her skirt, gently stroking up her leg. He heard her gasp at the rough feel of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and then–

They heard a hammering at the door and a loud, insistent voice. Dagfinn, calling for Erik. Erik groaned against Aethelflaed's shoulder, and she–fully aware of how wanton she must appear–grasped his arms, willing him not to go.

More knocks at the door. Erik shouted back in Norse, assuring Dagfinn that he heard him. He turned back to Aethelflaed and kissed her one more time. "I will be back. As soon as I can."

She nodded and eased her grip on his arms, letting him slide away from her.

He exhaled deeply, attempting to shed his pent-up desire and his frustration with his kinsman. And then he left.

Aethelflaed woke to the sound of the door opening. She was immediately tense, bracing for a fight, but she relaxed when she heard Erik's voice.

"It is only me, lady. Nothing to fear."

He walked across the small cell, shedding his boots, cloak, and leather tunic. He eased into the bed beside her, and for a moment Aethelflaed was surprised. This was so intimate, especially after he had avoided touching her for days. But then she caught the scent of him, a reassuring mix of rain and wood smoke, and felt his hard frame soften against her body, and she felt safe.

"Is it late?" she asked, beginning to make out his features in the darkness.

"Yes, too late. Go back to sleep."

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her up against his chest. His clothes were cold and damp and she savoured the contrast with his warm body. Within a few moments she heard his breath shift as he fell asleep.

She must have dozed off. This time she was awakened by a crack of thunder, followed by more rain, pounding louder and harder against the roof of the small building. She heard Erik sigh beside her, and she turned over to face him. He was awake.

"Are there storms like this in Norway?" Aethelflaed asked, snuggling against him.

"Rarely. This time of year, there is only snow. Days and days of steady snowfall. It covers the whole landscape and everything is muted. It is peaceful."

"But dark, yes? I heard the sun hides all winter."

Erik smiled. "Yes, the nights are long. Impossibly long, sometimes. But there are warm fires in crowded halls. Everyone keeps close to each other and we share stories and songs." He shifted to put his arm around her, so she was lying against his chest. "And on certain nights, the sky is bright with lights. Not stars or the moon, but colourful lights–greens and pinks that streak across the sky and hum into the night."

Aethelflaed sighed. "That sounds beautiful."

"It is."

"If you love Norway, why did you come here? To England?"

"To rescue beautiful Saxon women from boorish Saxon men," Erik teased, nuzzling into her neck. Aethelflaed giggled in spite of herself and squirmed against him.

When they had settled, Erik spoke again, his tone more serious. "I did not leave home to come to England. I left for adventure and riches and glory. All the things I was taught gave me worth. Those ambitions have brought me here, far from my home and my snow and my lights. I used to wonder if it was worth it. Now that you are here beside me, I believe it was."

His words were like an offering and Aethelflaed felt honoured to receive them. How strange it was, to be in this small bed in a damp cell in a camp full of enemies, and to feel such contentment. Erik pulled her close to kiss her and she gave herself over to her desire. And for the first time since her wedding day, she felt a surge of hope.