Nena Ann Boelter (english books to improve english .TXT) đź“–
- Author: Ann Boelter
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“Nena is too resourceful to turn loose, and we are still within her lands. I do not have the luxury of having sailed her many miles away to mine. And I’m making progress,” Jarl added.
“How long do you think that will take?”
“I don’t know, Gunnar. Believe it or not, I’ve had a few other things on my mind. I’m still responsible for an entire raiding expedition,” Jarl responded gruffly to the perceived criticism.
“Unbelievable.” Tryggr, who had remained silent during the interchange, could no longer hold back. “Now Gunnar thinks you should woo her. What the hell is happening here? This is a woman we’re talking about, and a slave to boot. The fact that we’ve spent any time even discussing it at all is ridiculous. Who cares what she thinks, or likes? What’s happened to you, Jarl? Just have her and be done with it. Even Gunnar said you could satisfy yourself now and make it up to her later, if you are still so inclined. Though my coin says, once you have her, you will cease this nonsense and forget all about her.”
“I did not say that, and I did not say woo,” Gunnar corrected. “I merely asked what Jarl thought was going to change her mind.”
“I treat her well,” Jarl offered.
“Do you still bring Altene to your furs?” Gunnar asked.
Jarl nodded.
“Thank the gods for that, at least, or I would be worried,” Tryggr muttered.
“Though not as often as before,” Jarl admitted. “Since capturing Nena, I find the encounters with Altene less…satisfying.” He shook his head ruefully at the admission, seeming surprised by the realization itself and to be sharing the fact, even with his closest.
“And say the situation was reversed,” Gunnar asked. “Say she was trying to entice you to her bed. Would you find her more or less appealing if she were fucking another man in front of you every night—say Tryggr here.” He nodded toward the burly second with a grin.
Jarl’s eyes flashed with anger at the thought of Nena with anyone else.
Tryggr bristled. “Don’t be mixing me up in this bullshit. I have no interest whatsoever in that woman, and Jarl knows it.”
Gunnar laughed out loud at Jarl’s expression and obvious response. “It was only conjecture, Jarl, not a question meant to be answered, though I think you already have.” Gunnar shook his head and drained his mug.
“COME.” JARL REMOVED her cuffs and made his way to the tent opening.
“Where are you taking me?” Nena asked, remaining by the pole.
He stopped and turned back to face her. “Would it matter? I would think any place would be an improvement from here.” He waved his hand around the tent. “But you can stay if you want.” He left the question hanging in the air.
She nodded and followed him. Outside, two horses stood saddled and ready. One she recognized immediately as his magnificent bay and the other was a shorter stockier sorrel. “That one is for you.” He indicated the sorrel.
Nena hesitated again. Was this a trick? Would he laugh at her at any moment and return her to the pole? She found it hard to believe he would go to this trouble to torment her—for whatever he was, Jarl was not cruel. He nodded toward the horse again and raised an eyebrow. Nena approached the animal slowly, allowing it to sniff her hand before she stroked its face, then its neck and shoulder. She climbed aboard the unfamiliar leather saddle without further delay. Jarl mounted his stallion and took the reins to her horse, leading it behind him.
So—she was to have no control over where she went. But Nena couldn’t complain. Even with the hard uncomfortable Northman saddle, she could feel the power of the animal beneath her. That power made her feel more alive than she had since her capture. Free of her bonds, free of the tent, her spirits soared. She chafed at the slow pace as they made their way through the camp, drawing more than a few curious stares. When they passed the last sentry on the hill overlooking the camp, Jarl stopped and handed her the reins, his expression a mixture of speculation and uncertainty.
“Lead off. I’ll follow. Wherever you want to go, whatever speed you choose, just keep heading in this general direction,” he instructed and pointed to the southwest.
Was it true? Was he really trusting her to go wherever she wanted? Before he could change his mind, Nena kicked her horse up into a gallop, the animal’s short legs churning beneath her. She drank deep of the wind in her face, losing herself in the sound of pounding hooves in the soft grassy soil. The horse was working very hard, but Nena was surprised to note they were not covering much ground. She glanced back at Jarl. The tight rein on his stallion confirmed her suspicion. She leaned low on the sorrel’s neck and urged him faster.
The fat little horse responded gamely, spurting forward, his short legs now a blur. But the burst of speed was brief, and Nena soon felt him flagging beneath her. When his breathing began to labor, she sat up and drew in rein. As he slowed to a walk, she patted his neck, rewarding him for his effort. He had tried for her, but was physically not capable. Nena thought of Nightwing and how she would have tossed her head with impatience at having been slowed so soon. But this little horse plodded along dutifully, more than happy with their new pace.
Nena turned to Jarl who had ridden up beside her. “This horse
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