Sirens - The Gripping Beast Part 7

"If I get frostbite, I'll sue you!" she shouted in defiance.

Then she eyed the thick fur and hoped that wherever she ended up, she had plenty of them around.

Chapter Six.

Since she had the opportunity, Lorelei decided she might as well indulge in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sprawl on a luxurious fur wearing only her skin. It was an unbelievably sensual experience. The thick, silky fur stroked and caressed her and she cuddled in the welcoming folds.

"Now that you're comfortable, it's time to start using that brain of yours," she announced. "You haven't exactly been acting like you're playing with a full deck."

Great. And now she was talking to herself.

Well, whatever worked. She'd go with it. She didn't have anyone else around to bounce ideas off of. An unusual experience, for her. How often was she ever really alone? Forget the crowded conditions on the road. At home, it was the same. She even shared a house with the rest of the band. They'd started out that way to save money in the early days, but the advantages quickly became evident to all of the Sirens.

Living together, they could always find each other to run through an idea or work out a variation for a part. It saved time they would have spent traveling to rehearsals and moving equipment from home to practice sessions. With a studio in the house, working at home came naturally. They had a lot more money now, but it just meant a bigger house and better equipment. What had started as financial necessity was now a matter of preference and convenience.

None of the band members were married. Sara had been the exception, and her replacement was single. Lorelei realized that she hadn't been without a close support group for years. No wonder she was so off kilter now. Not having the people she was used to depending on, getting lost in time. Anybody would be thinking a little slowly if they found themselves in her shoes.

Still, the brain set people apart from the animals. Brains went a lot further than brute strength. Since she was clearly outcla.s.sed in the brute strength category, she had only her brain to fall back on.

That being the case, she had better start using it.

Now, what did she know about Erik? First of all, he'd taken a very strong interest in her or he wouldn't have bothered to make a scene in the marketplace over a mere slave. And he'd apparently lost interest when she gave him reason to believe she was deranged. But now he'd changed his mind. Why?

Something had changed his mind. Something like Harold spending time with her? Lorelei considered that, turning it over mentally. No. Not enough. He'd dragged her in here and torn off her clothes out of...jealousy.

Now that she was putting two and two together, she realized he'd thought she'd performed an age-old service in exchange for the gown.

Not very flattering to realize the opinion he held of her, but then he didn't know her. She wouldn't prost.i.tute herself. She'd go naked and starve first. In fact, she'd gotten awfully skinny a few times early on in her career. If she hadn't been desperate enough on the streets of Seattle, she wouldn't be now.

Given the attraction between them and adding the touchy subject of her slave status, she could understand his possessiveness. But he could have just explained.

No, Lorelei reasoned further, he couldn't have. First of all, it would never have occurred to him that she didn't understand the culture. He didn't believe her time-travel story anymore than Harold did. So why would he explain? Further, why should he explain anything to a slave? She didn't know the Viking att.i.tude towards slavery, but in most societies, slaves weren't treated with a lot of courtesy.

"Erik, you're a very fortunate Viking," she decided out loud. "If I hadn't spent so much time listening to oral traditions and studying myths and legends from other cultures, I wouldn't be nearly as sympathetic to you as I am. And you would need to sleep with your eyes open."

So, she could see his point of view, somewhat. But did it tell her what her options were? He was one attractive man, and the word s.e.xy could have been invented just for him, but that didn't mean she was about to go along with his ordained plan for the evening.

Lorelei was honest enough with herself to admit he interested her. Intrigued her. Excited her, even. But "no" still meant "no" and he couldn't cross that line without doing damage to whatever this fragile thing between them was. She wouldn't calmly lay back and let him, either.

What, then? Seduce him before the time he'd appointed in his ultimatum, so at least it was on her terms? Not a very good solution. If only she had more time to explore her feelings and her reaction to him, to be sure that she wanted things to go further.

Disconsolate, she turned over on her stomach and wove her fingers into the thick fur.

Time...she had too much of it, in one sense. Not nearly enough, in another. Where was her famous instinct for knowing exactly whatever she needed to know when she needed it? "About a thousand years away, that's where," she grumbled.

She reviewed her options once more from the top. Do nothing? Bad plan. Use tai chi to fight him off and hope it didn't infuriate him so much that it made things worse? Fight without fighting, by being a limp, cold fish and hoping it turned him off? Well, that was a good possibility. If he felt any kind of emotional tug towards her at all, he wouldn't want it that way.

Or maybe he could go that far, trying to prove to himself that he was still in control. She really didn't know how far he could be pushed. He was honorable, by his own code. But she didn't know it well enough to know where he'd draw the line. He meant her no harm, she was certain of that. But that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her out of ignorance or lack of understanding.

If only he still found her repulsive.

Now there was a good possibility. Could she act nutty enough to put him off? At least long enough to buy more time? Maybe. Maybe not. But she didn't have any better ideas.

"I am a crazy woman," Lorelei muttered. "I am out of my mind and dangerous." Then, more confidently, "Run away, Viking! Lunatic alert!"

No, no, no. That was really overdoing it. Lorelei giggled at herself, unable to keep from going over the edge into a Monty Python-type act.

Unfortunately, she mused, she didn't have much of a knack for craziness. Did she? What would be a crazy thing to do, right now, from Erik's standpoint?

Lorelei frowned, creasing her brow in thought. Then she smiled, snapping her fingers. "Got it!" she exclaimed cheerfully. The crazy thing to do, from his perspective, would probably be to ignore everything he'd just said and act as if the whole thing had never happened. He wouldn't know how to take that, would he?

Of course, if she was wrong, she could find herself in some trouble. But then, she already was in trouble. He'd already stated his intention to do his worst.

So what did she really have to lose by being her usual bold self and barging on out there in search of a little entertainment as well as some fresh air? Although she'd have to wear her stage dress again. It would be going too far, she was certain, to defy him while wearing the dress Harold had given her.

She eyed the forbidden garment sadly. What a waste, the most beautiful dress she'd ever had her hands on and she couldn't wear it. And who knew when she'd get another addition to her wardrobe?

Someday she'd find a way to make that barbarian pay. Through the nose, preferably. If only she had him in the twenty-first century, and had his credit card in her possession for an hour...fantasies of vengeful shopping sprees danced in her head.

By the time she'd donned her stretchy stage outfit, minus shoes and pantyhose, and combed through her hair, she wasn't in the mood to talk to Erik again. She looked like the victim of a hit-and-run, and it was all his fault. Disgruntled, she headed back out into the sunlight and towards the other end of the boat.

It actually had a dragon's head, she noticed. A smile broke over her face at the sight. A real dragon's head, with the carved neck curving invitingly over the prow. The sides of the boat had a flat surface wide enough...giving in to impulse, she jumped as lightly as a cat onto the edge and balanced there, letting the wind tangle through her hair and tasting the salt spray.

His heart in his throat, Erik froze at the sight of her, poised against sea and sky. She'd jumped to the dragon's neck, instead of over the side as he'd feared. Now she rode there, balanced precariously and threatened by every wave. He feared to move or call out. If he startled her, she could fall.

Unbelievably, her position seemingly lacked sufficient challenge, for she extended one leg and rode the dragon with one foot. She seemed to float above the water in a strange, slow dance, her liquid movements mimicking the waves. Rising, falling, rolling motions. Unable to look away, afraid to breathe, he watched her.

When the unusual sight drew the others, one by one, he waved at them for silence.

"What is she doing now?" Bjarni muttered in a hushed voice.

"Getting ready to jump," Oleg answered.

Harold smiled. Erik wanted to hit him for the hint of smug, secret knowledge in his face.

Tai chi on a dragon's back. Lorelei wanted to laugh in delight at the opportunity. The boat was unbelievably well made and the dragon's neck was strong enough to support a lot more than her slight weight. It was fun, with just enough of a thread of danger to keep things interesting. She felt like the Karate Kid. Keeping her balance and following correct form with the added element of motion under her feet to contend with gave the exercise heightened awareness.

Finished, she leaped lightly back to the rim. It was about the width of a balance beam and easy to grip with her bare feet. She saw Erik watching her and waved, her annoyance forgotten for the moment. "Hi, Erik!" The water picked up her voice and amplified the sound. She had the whole crew for an audience, it looked like. Good. Maybe he wouldn't want to carry out her intended punishment with all the men watching.

She ran along the side towards him with easy grace and couldn't resist doing a front walk-over for the sheer fun of it. Moving into a handspring, she dropped lightly to the deck in front of him and landed, grinning, in his arms.

He was frowning, she noticed.

"Hey, don't worry," she a.s.sured him, "I used to do gymnastics. I was pretty good, too. I was perfectly safe."

"You were not safe. You could have fallen," he informed her in rough tones.

Lorelei sighed. "Listen, life isn't safe."

"That is no reason to court death."

"I wasn't." Indignant, she frowned up at him.

"Then you are too mad to know the difference."

The insanity plea was losing its appeal. "I am not, Erik. I knew what I was doing. I have very good balance and I use catwalks in my concerts all the time." Then she decided a distraction was in order. "Listen, did you know this whole s.h.i.+p is a work of art? Have you seen the carving on the prow? The dragon has individual scales. It's amazing, Erik. I've never seen anything like it. And those loops along the sides, everything is decorated. You Vikings don't do anything halfway, do you?"

She had him confused, if not distracted. Good. Lorelei beamed at him innocently and babbled on.

"Well, I did see something on a National Geographic special once. There was this s.h.i.+pbuilder. He learned how from his father, and his father learned from his grandfather, all the way back for centuries. They didn't use blueprints or anything, they just carved by eye with hand tools. He made boats like this one, only smaller and not so artistic in the trim." She paused, then frowned. "Actually, it was really sad. He didn't have a son to learn from him and he was the last Viking s.h.i.+pbuilder. The last representative of a dying art."

Caught up in the story, she failed to notice the looks that pa.s.sed among the men. "Anyway, Erik, you don't know how lucky you are to have a s.h.i.+p like this. It really is unbelievable. Is it very old? Do you know who made it?"

"Lorelei." The warning came from Harold and she turned in surprise. "It is forbidden for outsiders to know of our s.h.i.+pbuilding secrets."

She blinked in surprise. "Oh. I shouldn't ask any questions?"

"No." The bearded man was trying not to laugh, she realized. "Tell them it was a story. They think your people captured a s.h.i.+pbuilder. They think you are a spy."

"A spy?" Lorelei stared at him in amazement, then back at Erik's forbidding visage.

"She knows nothing," Harold volunteered on her behalf. "She simply tells stories. Remember, she spoke of making a song for me?"

"That was before she took a dislike to your beard," Erik reminded him.

"She admires my beard. How could she not?" Harold gave Erik a deeply offended look.

"Easily," Lorelei informed him with a smirk. "On the plus side, though, the hair almost m.u.f.fles the sound of your voice."

Harold shouted with laughter at her irreverent remark.

Everyone else, she couldn't help noticing, was frowning at her.

Maybe the beards meant something to the men. Like a cowboy and his boots. Lorelei gave Erik a weak smile. "Uh, your beard is very nice," she offered, hoping to make up for any unintentional insult.

He didn't look appeased. She tried again. "Ah, it's very impressive, really. Very full and uh, colorful. Streaky." She peered closely at it. "You know, I didn't realize there were so many shades of blond before. White-gold and reddish..." Her voice trailed off as she found herself staring at Erik's beard and remembering how it had felt when he'd kissed her. She'd never kissed a bearded man before. The sensation had been unique.

Unthinkingly, she let her hand follow her eyes and trace the curve of his lips, brus.h.i.+ng the soft, wiry hair of his mustache and beard at the same time. Soft, she found herself thinking. So very soft and inviting. With a jolt, she realized she was very nearly drooling on the man publicly.

Lorelei pulled back, blus.h.i.+ng and stammering in momentary confusion. "Ah. Uh. Um, okay, I think I'd better go. Back, I mean. Alone. By myself." She started to walk backwards as she spoke, her eyes still fixed on Erik's sensual mouth. Which might have been why she tripped over Bjarni. She recovered swiftly, muttered a quick, "sorry," to the alarmed Viking and continued to retreat.

Fortunately, Erik seemed as confused by their encounter as she was, since he let her go and didn't follow her. It was a relief to escape and collapse safely out of sight, she decided. Well, partly disappointing, too. But a relief, still.

s.h.i.+vering, she curled on the fur and wondered just what she'd accomplished. If she'd accomplished anything, it was convincing him that she was crazy, all right...about him.

Erik found it an effort to let her go. If he had made any move at all, if he had so much as touched her, he would have been lost to all control and uncaring of any audience. The way she had looked at him, as if she wanted to twine her hands through his beard and devour his mouth, had his whole body taut and aching in response.

When Harold interrupted his thoughts, it was an effort to decipher the meaning in his words.

"You see? She is harmless. No threat to anyone. She knows nothing."

Erik frowned at this earnest defense. She was his, and no concern of anyone else's. Especially she was no concern of Harold's. He decided to make that clear if he had not done so already. "That is for me to decide," he informed Harold, fixing a glacial stare on his brother.

Harold looked disturbed. "There is no need to be hasty."

"I will decide what is needed."

"Of course. Of course." Harold raised his hands. "I well know what a level head you have. Certainly you will think through every possible course of action before deciding which to take."

Erik's gaze narrowed in suspicion. "You will cease to concern yourself. I will deal with the matter."

Bjarni pointed out helpfully, "Who would send a mad spy?"

Harold shot him a glare. Then he gave Erik an innocent look. "True. n.o.body would send a poor, pitiful mad woman to spy. And who could have known you would buy her? All the world trades in Hedeby."

They were defending her, Erik realized in disbelief. From him. As if he would threaten her. It was almost amusing. "Enough. We have work to do," he pointed out firmly. The men scattered to do it. Except for Harold, who lingered.

"Erik," he began slowly.

"What now?"

The younger man hesitated. "It is nothing," he said finally. Then he, too, made himself scarce and left Erik alone with his thoughts, which returned again and again to a certain disobedient slave.

Lorelei wasn't too sure what a slave who wanted to get in her master's good graces should do. If she waited for him naked, would it put him in a good mood? Or put her in a worse position? After all, he hadn't said anything about her wearing clothes against orders. Maybe she should just leave well enough alone and hope for the best.

Yes, she decided firmly, remembering the way he'd looked at her, that was definitely best. In fact, maybe she should look for something more to put on, too. A suit of armor would be good. Too bad they didn't seem to have one of those lying around.

With nothing to do but wonder what was coming next, she fidgeted and worried. By the time Erik made his appearance, she was so nervous she had to m.u.f.fle an involuntary shriek at the sight of him. She also couldn't help shooting to her feet and moving away from the fur that had proven a little too convenient earlier.

He frowned at her and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Come here."

Lorelei gulped. That was an order. But her legs didn't want to move.

"Come here," he repeated. But in a gentler tone. Cautiously, she approached and halted just out of reach. Erik crooked one hand. She let out a long breath and came closer.

"Are you mad?" she inquired.

"You question the soundness of my mind again," he said with resignation. "Cease, and do as I ask. Come here."

Still, she hesitated. "I meant, are you angry." She took another deep breath and then boldly met his eyes. "You can hardly expect me to come within reach if you're angry. You do remember how much bigger you are, don't you?"

Erik smiled. The effect was devastating. It softened his harsh features and for a moment, Lorelei glimpsed a faint echo of a familiar, trusted friend. No, she corrected herself, that wasn't right. Erik didn't resemble either Harold or Dane. They were more like faded, blurred copies of him. Lacking some vital dimension he had. The family resemblance was unbelievably strong, but far from exact. Dane could be Harold's twin, but Erik was distinctly different. Not merely older. Stronger. More ruthless. That was it, the thing that unnerved her so badly. Ruthless, and very compelling, Lorelei admitted. She stepped closer and hoped it was safe.