by Ann Boelter
“Where are you hurt?” she asked.
He smiled a rueful smile. “Apparently everywhere. I felt fine before, but as the battle fever subsides, there is no part of me that does not strongly complain.”
“I have never known you to be so after a battle.”
“Nor have I been, but I have never before faced such an opponent.”
Nena nodded. “Are you too sore to...?”
Before she could finish, he cut her off. “Not so long as I draw breath,” he said with a determined grin. “Come.” He took her hand and led her the last few steps to the furs. As he knelt and began to pull her with him, he caught his breath and froze.
“Jarl?”
“I’m alright. Truly. Just give me a moment.” He flopped clumsily into the furs, moaned with pain, and then rolled over to face her, breathing hard. He smiled and shook his head. “This is embarrassing, and not at all how I planned our first night together as man and wife to be,” he admitted.
Nena had to laugh at the situation. How helpless he was. How hard he was trying to fight it. How strange it was to see him in that condition. Even more humorous was the pressure they both clearly felt about their first time together after so long being special.
“Laughing really doesn’t help,” he grunted, then he chuckled, too.
“Well, fortunately for you, you have a wife to take care of you now.” Nena knelt beside him. “You must lie still and let me make you more comfortable,” she said as she rearranged the furs behind his back. “Better?” she asked when she was through.
“Yes,” he said and nodded.
“No, something still doesn’t look right,” Nena murmured and looked him over with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “It’s your tunic. It looks very uncomfortable to me.” She leaned over him, her breasts pressing through the soft material of her dress tantalizingly close to his face, and untied the laces at the front of his tunic. One at a time she pulled each of his arms out of the sleeves and then pulled it over his head. She threw it to one side and ran her fingers through the hair on his chest. “That looks a little better. But still...”
She glanced lower and allowed her fingers to trace the hair along the center of his rippled stomach down to the top of his trousers. Jarl exhaled when her fingers stopped at the laces there. “These trousers look very binding to me.” Scooting her body lower, but still sitting beside him on the furs, she unlaced the ties of his trousers with excruciating slowness. Before she had finished, the front of his trousers were, in fact, very binding.
She glanced up at him and smiled. His eyes were the green she had imagined so many times since her escape, but the intensity within them now was even more than she remembered. She caught her breath. He said nothing, only watched her. “I’m sorry, but the trousers have to go, too,” she said with a smile. She turned back to her task, peeling both sides of his trousers open and down. His erection sprang up at the sudden release. She did not touch it. Instead, she stood and moved to his feet, lifting each leg and pulling the trousers off of him one leg at a time.
Still standing at the base of the furs, she allowed her eyes to feast on her handiwork, taking in every detail of his lean naked masculine form. “You still don’t look comfortable,” she murmured.
“Imagine that,” he said, his voice tight.
“I know what you need,” she murmured.
“Not that hard to guess from your vantage point, I’m sure.”
Nena reached up behind her neck under her hair and untied her dress. She held onto the ties with both hands and only slowly let it slide down her body.
“Nena,” Jarl groaned. The depth of his need and desire for her in his tone were more stimulating than she could have imagined. He had yet to touch her, but her body was on fire for him. She let the dress fall to the floor, tired of her game—having become as much the victim of it as he was. Stepping toward him, she knelt and straddled him above his waist. She leaned forward and kissed him, her hair fanning softly around them. Jarl grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her tighter, returning her kiss. Holding her there, he pulled his lips away and ducked his head, securing one of her nipples with his mouth, then the other.
Nena moaned with pleasure. She pushed his shoulders back into the furs and pulled away from him, sliding her body down until she felt his shaft between her thighs. She squeezed and pressed her pelvis lower taking him inside her, not stopping until the full length of him was buried deep within.
Jarl grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands from his shoulders. Taking control, he sat up and suckled her breasts again as he thrust within her. It was too much—Nena felt her climax coming already and clutched at him, her fingers twisting in the hair on the back of his head as she gave into it. As she let out a long gasping moan, Jarl gave two hard final thrusts inside her. His fingers dug into her shoulder blades pulling her down onto him even tighter, his face buried in her neck. They sat suspended that way for a moment until Jarl fell backward into the furs with a groan, pulling her with him.
“You are going to be the death of me. I swear it,” he said with a smile.
Nena smiled and snuggled in against the chest she had so missed.
“I have brought ink for you. For us both,” Nena said as she entered their tent the next day.
“For what?” Jarl asked.
“You were so worried before about having your name on my arm for the world to see, and now it will be so—though what symbol to use for you has given the council cause to consult the gods.”
“And what have they decided?” he asked. “Hopefully it will be something bold,” Jarl said, though he was fully expecting something degrading. Nena frowned which only deepened his concern.
“I don’t like it, but it’s already been decided. It is the curved head and neck of a serpent. They say it represents your ships, but I do not understand a ship formed in such a manner. And I don’t care for serpents,” she added. “My mother died from the bite of a serpent. I do not remember it, but they say it took several days to kill her, and her death was very painful.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It was long ago.” She changed the subject. “I can draw it for you if you’d like?”
“Yes.”
Nena picked up a stick, and drew the figure from memory, in the soft exposed dirt near the fire ring, the only place on the floor that wasn’t covered with carpet.
Jarl smiled and nodded. “It is a good symbol,” he said, satisfied.
Nena looked to him to explain.
“It’s not a serpent, well, maybe a serpent of sorts; it is the head and neck of a dragon.”
“A dragon.” Nena repeated the word, the “r” rolling off her tongue with the guttural undertones he found so appealing. “I do not know this word. Describe the animal.”
“The dragon is the most powerful beast that has ever lived. It has a serpent’s head, but legs like a lizard, and a body so large it can carry multiple men on its back. It’s covered with thick heavy scales that can rarely be pierced by arrow or sword, and it has a long tail and great wings that enable it to fly like a bird.”
“A giant flying serpent?” Nena was incredulous.
“Yes,” Jarl nodded. “And it has huge teeth and claws, easily capable of ripping a man to shreds.” He paused. “But its most powerful weapon, by far, is the ability to throw a stream of fire from its mouth—enough to burn a man alive.”
Nena sat back annoyed that he had fooled her for as long as he had.
“It is true,” he said, responding to her skepticism. “You can ask Gunnar or Tryggr, or any of the men when we next see them.”
Nena shook her head, refusing to be more gullible. “And you have seen such a beast?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.
“No,” Jarl admitted. “The last dragon was killed in the time of my great grandfather. They were so dangerous and so deadly, men launched long campaigns to hunt them down in their caves in the mountains where they slept and kill them. Even then, many men were lost.” H
e could see he had her interest again. “To this day many of our ships carry the image of the dragon on their bow. We believe it imparts some of the dragon’s power. It is a good symbol to represent me.”
“If it so powerful, why would all of your ships not have it?”
“The dragon is reserved for drakkar—lead warships,” Jarl explained, then went back to something she had said earlier. “You said you had ink for both of us. Why would I need it?”
“You are Teclan now. You will bear the mark of the tribe, and since you have been chosen, you will also bear my mark.”
“I will have a star?” he asked with a grin.
“And a lightning bolt,” she said, smiling at his boyish enthusiasm.
“Who will do it? I have no qualms with you doing mine, but I would not be responsible for putting anything less than perfect on your skin.”
“Jalla is skilled with the needle. She can do both of us, so they will be the same.”
“We could stay here, if you want,” he offered, his eyes suddenly serious. “I would stay here for you.”
“No.” Nena shook her head. “My people have accepted you for me, but you could never truly be one of us. Unlike Exanthia, you will never look Dor, and while that doesn’t really matter, our history of being enemies will be difficult for many to overcome. Besides, I can’t see you raiding with the other Teclan warriors while taking orders from my brother.” She paused. “And it would be very difficult for him to look upon you every day, and to have the other people of the tribe look upon you, knowing you had bested him, when he is to be chief. Your plan is for the best,” she said.
“But if we stayed,” Jarl pondered out loud. “What would our life be like? What would my responsibilities be? Hunting to provide food for you and Jalla, and Exanthia until she chooses? An occasional raid that I would not have to organize or be responsible for? And you would tend to all my daily needs, cooking, and weaving these nice carpets and waiting at home for me, while I was away? You told me once that was all a Teclan woman longs for after she chooses. You probably have already lost all desire to even ride a horse again, now that your choice is behind you.” He smiled a mischievous smile.
“You are a wicked man, Jarl. I know that you only pretend to be enamored with the idea of an easy life here to tease me, when you know you would not like it. While you would not have the responsibilities of a raid, neither would you have any decision. You would be allowed to do only what my brother commanded you. That would not suit you,” she said, smug and confident she had turned the tables on him.
Jarl heaved a great sigh, “It would be an adjustment at first, but one that might be worth the sacrifice to see you as a contented and dutiful demure wife.”
Nena pursed her lips, even though she knew he was not serious. “You would not like that.”
“I might,” he disagreed. He laid back and locked his fingers behind his head. “Let’s try it and see. Wife, fetch me a cup of water.” He was grinning now. He was surprised when Nena stood to do as he asked. Although he was instantly wary when she returned with the full cup of icy mountain water and did not hand it to him. Instead, she stood over him, the cup suspended over his naked chest. Now it was she who smiled.
“Yes, my lord. Was this what you had in mind?” she asked sweetly. “Oh, apologies,” she said before he could answer, and tipped the cup so that a few drops fell on him.
Jarl lunged and grabbed her ankles, pulling her off balance and down onto the furs with him. She shrieked as the water flew in the air, soaking them both. “What a naughty wife I have. One who would probably need to be punished frequently for her disobedience if we stayed here. So, I suppose it is for the best that we leave, but only if you first admit that you are the one who would have more difficulty adjusting if we stayed.”
Nena clamped her lips together.
“Admit it,” he repeated, moving his hands along her ribs, as if he were going to tickle her.
“It is true,” she gasped. “It is not only you who wouldn’t fit in here. Though these are the only people I have ever known, I feel I no longer belong. I would be bored with that life. You have shown me too much of the world for me to be that woman now, though perhaps I was never that woman before,” she confessed.
“I don’t want that woman. I never wanted that woman.” He pulled her close and looked into her eyes. “Then it is settled? We both agree? We will meet my men at the port?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I will tell my father.”
“Later,” he said. “With all that squealing and carrying on, everyone is probably imagining what we are doing. I would not have them think such things, absent cause,” he murmured as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Jarl watched in disbelief as Nena divided large handfuls of gold and jewels among the horses’ packs to better distribute the weight. “In case we are set upon by bandits on the way and have to run,” she explained as she saw him watching. “They must be evenly weighted or they will slow us down.”
“To this day I thought you exaggerated about having a huge collection of wealth,” he said.
“Why would I have done that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Perhaps to convince me to ransom you.”
“But if the jewels were not really here, arranging a ransom no one could pay would have done me no good.”
“I suppose not,” he agreed. “Still. I never guessed there would be so much. And this is all your share? You haven’t accidentally taken someone else’s?”
“Of course not,” she said, indignant. “And this is only a portion of my share, but you said we needed to travel fast, so I didn’t want to weigh down the horses. We can come back later for the rest. And I thought with what you had also accumulated in your raids, it would be enough. Do you think we’ll need more?”
Jarl looked at her, his mouth agape. “This will be plenty, but there is more?”
“Would you like me to show you?” Nena asked.
He nodded.
She smiled and took his hand. “Then come, Husband. Let me show you how large your wife’s fortune is.”
After an hour of meandering through the cave system, Jarl had seen more treasure than he thought existed. Every time he thought they had come to the end, another tunnel branched off, lined with alcoves filled with jewels, silver and gold. The gems and precious metals glimmered and sparkled in the light cast by the flame of their flickering pitch torch.
“Who guards it all?” he asked. He had yet to see another soul.
“We do,” Nena replied.
“I mean, from each other,” he clarified.
“There is no need. Some may have more than others, but as you can see there is plenty to go around.”
“When we are back among my people, you should never speak of this to anyone but me,” he cautioned.
“It is safe here.”
“Yes, but it would be better not to provide temptation.”
“When I saw you had brought your whole army, I thought you had come for it,” she murmured, frowning.
“I didn’t bring the army,” he said and pulled her into an embrace. He could see the memory still pained her. “I sent the army with Gunnar to the port, while I tracked you. They were to head for home if I did not return and leave behind only four ships. You were the only treasure I was after.”
“I realized that when you came in alone. That was very foolish. It all worked out, but you could have just as easily been killed.”
“I had no choice. And only with great risk comes great reward. You are my greatest reward.”
They had made their way back to the entrance and Nena’s personal alcove of treasure, still over half full. She grabbed another small bag full of gems and smiled. “For an emergency,” she said.
Jarl reached down and picked up a net of fine gold chains and gold filigree. He held it up for her to see. “You need to take this with us, too. When we get settled, I want to see you wearing only this, lying on a pile of
furs surrounded by jewels.” He closed his eyes and smiled, imagining the sight of the delicate gold against her dark skin, her body surrounded by rubies and sapphires winking in candlelight.
“As you wish, Husband.” Nena took the gold netting from his hands and added it to the pouch, before dousing the flaming pitch torch in a bucket of water by the entrance.
They returned to the horses, and Jarl watched as Nena decided which pack horse to add the extra weight to, then rearranged the load again for it to be the most comfortable for the animal. He looked around, surprised to not find any other Teclan. Were they angry? Was this some sort of shunning to punish her for leaving? Everyone had seemed to accept the announcement. He had seen no sign of resentment or animosity in the past few days as they had made their preparations to leave. He looked to Nena, but she seemed not to have noticed.
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“They will not come to see us off,” Nena said. “We do not say good-bye. It is not our way.”
“Why not?”
“We do not want our last memories to be sad ones.”
“Are there none you would share special last words with?” Jarl probed.
Nena stopped adjusting the horses’ packs and bit her lower lip. “Yes,” she murmured.
“Then do it.”
She hesitated.
“You are more than Teclan now, Nena. You are your own woman, free to do as she wants. If it will ease your spirit to share last words, then do it. I will wait for you here.”
Nena found Exanthia by the creek and sat beside her. “Did you know this was my special place?” she said as she stroked the girl’s hair. “When you reach the point in your training where you must learn to endure, you will need a special place to go to in your mind when things are hard. This was my place and it is a good one. Perhaps it will be yours as well.”
Exanthia nodded.
“You can still come with us, if you have changed your mind,” Nena coaxed.
Exanthia shook her head. “Why can’t you stay here?”she whispered.
“Jarl could never be happy here.”