Read Her Lord and Master for Free Online

Viking boats in the hidden bay until it was too late.
    Elizabeth could see a group of armed Nordic warriors, presumably guards who had remained behind to defend the ships, had already made camp in the hidden valley. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the air up to Elizabeth’s nose, making her stomach growl. How long it had been since she had eaten real, red meat. The succulent smell was delicious.
    “Elk,” Ragnor said.
    “Værdifuld,” replied Elizabeth in the Dane’s language.
    He beamed at her, and smacked her rump familiarly. She swatted his hand away, but inside she privately enjoyed his playfulness, wondering innocently what would happen once they were alone again. Did she secretly wish he would caress her breasts once more and mayhap even press upon her from behind with his manhood, just like he had done on the horse? Certainly not! But her cheeks burned, and she hoped Ragnor did not guess her scandalous thoughts. She held his firm hand tightly to steady herself.
    Throughout their treacherous descent, Ragnor’s free hand never left her for an instant, hovering protectively near the small of her back, or clasping her elbow to right her quickly if she stumbled.
    “Ragnor! Ragnor!” 
    A cacophony of hoots and whoops filled the air when the Viking men saw their leader return.
    At the bottom of the cliff, Elizabeth heard a whistle behind her. She turned, and saw the rest of the horde of raiders, scores of them, filing down the path behind her, laden with spoils. More cheers went up as the guards laid eyes on the prolific trove of plunder their cohorts had secured to be shared among all.
    Elizabeth almost felt happy for them.
    “I am...sorry,” Ragnor said quietly to Elizabeth.
    She didn’t know what he was talking about.
    But then he tugged on the cord that still hung around her neck, winding it tightly around his fist. He raised the hand victoriously and the men roared raucously. A boisterous din of jeers and catcalls assaulted her ears. Elizabeth did not need to ken a single word to know what they meant. They were applauding their lord’s conquest, and celebrating his upcoming debauchery. Rooting him on so he would defile the helpless virgin taken captive.
    Elizabeth bristled. Mayhap he needed to put on a possessive display for his men, perhaps it was even for her own protection, but it rankled her to the core. She boiled with fury. She had done nothing this day but whatever he asked her to. There was absolutely no need to collar her like a hound, except to humiliate, degrade and embarrass her. He had changed back to the Viking brute in only seconds.
    Ragnor strode through the camp, pumping hands vigorously with his men, receiving their walloping congratulatory thumps on his back, and returning them in full measure. One gigantic man lifted the Viking lord clear off his feet with an enthusiastic bear hug, almost tugging Elizabeth by the neck right along with him.
    Finally, they made their way through the throng and reached a large, rectangular tent. It stood in the middle of the cove, just outside a ring of fallen logs that made a natural circle around a bonfire.
    Six tall men stood guard, motionlessly, at the opening. Their faces showed no emotion at all. Like the others, they wore great axes upon their backs, swords and daggers at their hips, spears in their hands, and knives sticking out from their boots. Two of the men even had bull horns affixed to their helmets. They must have been the infamous “berserkers,” men who went berserk with bloodlust in war.
    Ragnor ushered her rapidly inside, with a curt nod to his elite guards. He released the rope, tossing the loose end on the ground.
    “Untie me,” Elizabeth said, the noblewoman returning.
    Ragnor didn’t understand, or didn’t care to. She made a sawing motion with her hand against the rope.
    “Nej,” he said gruffly.
    Elizabeth stared at him. In the few brief minutes since they had arrived, everything between them had changed. Gone was