by Sandra Hill
Ah, now he understood. They were responsible for this remarkable transformation in Tyra.
“Sit down,” he demanded, forcing her into the seat next to him. “You are creating a scene.”
” ‘Twill be nothing compared to the scene I create once I put my hands on four sisters and a certain lady.”
“You should be thanking them,” he said, placing a goblet of mead in her hands. She needed a good swig, not that he would tell her that.
“And why is that?” she asked icily.
“You are beautiful. They played some trick on you so that you would realize just how beautiful you are.”
“That is pure hog swill. I am not beautiful, and fine feminine garments will not make it so. But that is neither here nor there. I am too big for such feminine finery. People are probably laughing at me behind their hands. How can I lead my men in battle dressed like this?” She waved her hand with disgust down the front of her body. Then she downed the contents of her goblet in one long swallow, belched loudly, and waved to a housecarl for a refill.
Adam barely stifled a grin. “As long as you keep belching and scratching, medoubts you will ever have to worry about appearing too feminine to your soldiers. And, besides, can you not don different apparel for different jobs … as Breanne does?”
“So, you notice the way Breanne dresses?” The question was asked idly, but he could tell it mattered to her … especially when she downed another goblet of mead and motioned for yet another.
Was that hurt in her eyes? He hoped so. He liked the idea of Tyra being jealous of him.
“I notice all women. I like women, but—”
“If you like women, why have you remained chaste for two years?”
Did everyone have to discuss his sex life? Did everyone have to pick and probe at his emotions? He might as well tell her, or she would never let up. With a deep sigh, he revealed, “Because I was in mourning … for my sister, Adela, who died two years past. I loved her more than anyone else on this earth, but I could not save her. I did not remain chaste apurpose. There was no vow or aught like that. I just was not interested.” He shrugged, unable to add more to those bare facts.
Tyra seemed to understand. She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed in commiseration. It was not her pity he wanted, but he was comforted by her silent understanding of his grief.
Enough gloom! “But what I started to say before you interrupted me, wench, is that I like women, and I notice the pretty ones, like your sisters, but you are so much more. When you are in a room, you are like a bright, vibrant flower, and they fade in comparison.”
“Hmph! Me, a flower? I do not believe that for one moment. But it is nice of you to say so,” she conceded with a sniff. No doubt it was the three goblets of mead she’d imbibed that prompted the concession.
“Come!” he said, standing suddenly and drawing her to her feet. “I want to show you something.”
She pulled back. “They are about to serve the meal.”
“We will be right back,” he assured her. “And I promise you will be pleased, sweetling.”
The man could make a stone purr…
They were out in the stables.
The stables, for the love of Loki! The man praised her for her feminine fripperies, then took her out to a stable, of all things.
Adam was holding a wall torch in one hand and pulling her along with his left hand, through the alley created by the stalls of horses on either side. Although it was cold outside, it was warm in here with all the body heat created by the animals.
“Look there,” he said, putting the torch in a wall bracket and opening the gate to the last stall, which was empty. Well, not quite empty. There was a mother cat and its litter of kittens … several weeks old, Tyra would guess.
She knelt down on the straw and petted one of them. It arched its back and rubbed against her stroking fingers. “Pretty kitty, pretty kitty,” she cooed.
“I told you you would like my surprise,” Adam said, also kneeling in the straw and picking up another kitten. This one was not so docile and fought against being taken in hand.
The mother cat hissed at them, then settled in to staring at them with her all-seeing eyes, apparently reassured that they meant no harm to her babies.
“I do like your surprise, but I don’t understand why you would want to show them to me.”
“This little dearling … that is why I brought you here.” He held out his arm so she could get a better view of the scrappy kitten that fit right into the palm of his hand but was flailing its little paws, trying to scratch. Aside from its nature, it was different from the rest. Its fur was silver gray with white feet and nose, while the other cats were midnight black. And this cat’s fur stood up on end as it meowed its displeasure.
“Just like you,” he explained.
“I beg your pardon.”
“All the kittens are adorable, in their own way, but this one is a fighter, and always will be. It stands out from the litter. Because it looks different, others will probably treat it differently, which in turn will cause it to become more feisty and independent.”
Tyra laughed. “That is the most outlandish thing I have ever heard. I hope you do not consider it a compliment.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said, placing the kitten back with its mother and pulling her to her feet. “I think we should name her Warrior, for her namesake.”
“Hmph! How do you even know it is a girl?”
“Ty-ra! For shame! I am a doctor. I know these things,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
She laughed. “So, you are likening me and my sisters to cats?”
He nodded, but she could tell his mind was somewhere else … probably in the vicinity of her exposed bosom.
She should have pulled her hand from his, but she didn’t. She should have shoved when he leaned back against the wall and took her with him, but she didn’t. She should have run for her life when she saw his eyes turn smoky blue with arousal, but she didn’t.
“Come to my bed furs tonight,” he urged, at the same time wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging so that she lost her balance and leaned against him.
“Nay,” she said.
“You smell good,” he whispered against the curve of her shoulder.
The feel of his lips against her bare skin was so delicious that it took her a moment to respond. “Roses.”
“Uhmmm,” he said, whatever that meant.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked, surprised at the breathlessness of her voice.
“Undoubtedly,” he said. “Will you yield to me?”
She thought a moment. “I would rather be the one in charge of this kissing. Will you yield to me?”
He didn’t even think for a moment. “Yea.”
“You do not mind yielding to a woman?”
She could tell that he was fighting a grin. “Tyra, I would love to yield to you. Not any woman. You.”
So many emotions swirled through Tyra then.
Fear … she knew she was treading in dangerous waters.
Excitement … she’d never initiated a kiss with a man before, and, ever the competitor, she did love a challenge. Will I be good? Oh, I hope so.
Arousal … she didn’t understand the sensations that assailed her in Adam’s presence, but she wanted to. Her womanliness seemed attuned to his manliness so that all her senses were heightened when he was in the vicinity.
Smells were more fragrant, like the particular scent of his skin, or his breath, which was surprisingly pleasant.
Food tasted better … his kisses certainly tasted delicious.
Her hearing was so acute these days that the mere whisper of “Tyra” from his lips seemed to carry some sensual meaning.
And her vision—the mere sight of him coming into a room caused her heart to race. And she missed him when he was gone. The way he stared at her now—with feral intent … like a cat … a big cat—was exhilarating rather than threatening.
&
nbsp; Lastly, there was touch. How could it be that the feather-light brush of his lips or the press of his fingers on her arm caused her breasts to swell and her woman-place to ache?
For days Tyra had fought all these emotions … signs of womanly weakness, to be sure. But now she seemed to relish her femininity and was about to step willingly into the lair of the wolf.
She leaned forward so her breasts pressed against his chest, then placed her hands behind his neck. He was only a few inches taller than she; they fitted well together. Very well.
He stared at her, saying nothing. Doing nothing. He was allowing her to lead in this game. But she saw by the tautness of his jaw and the flare of his nose that he was not unmoved, and that bolstered her nerve. Well, she had to admit, the three meads she had imbibed had probably bolstered her nerve as well.
At first she just placed her lips against his, shifting and settling till she got the position right. Then she pressed, and moved, and pressed.
“Tyra,” he said against her mouth.
“What?” she asked dreamily, wanting to resume her explorations.
“You’re supposed to close your eyes.”
“I am? Then how will I know what is happening?”
He laughed, and she felt the delicious ripple of his mirth against her mouth. Another new sensation. She liked it.
“Feel the kiss. Do not see it. Feel it.”
“Oh, I see.” She was outlining the contours of his lips with the tip of her tongue while she spoke. She thought he made a gurgling sound … of pleasure, she was hoping. But then another thought came to her unbidden. “How did you know my eyes were not closed? Were yours open? That does not seem fair.”
He laughed again, causing more of those wonderful ripples against her mouth, especially when he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “I was just checking.”
And so she closed her eyes, and he closed his (she checked), and the kiss was so much better, just as he had said.
His prior kisses were still imbedded in her mind, and she called on those memories. She moved her mouth against his. She licked his lips. She bit him lightly. She plunged her tongue inside his mouth and almost swooned at the intensity of her pleasure. He must be nigh swooning too if his groans were any indication. At some point, she could not say when, Adam joined in the kissing. Not taking charge exactly. But giving and taking. Fair play. She liked that. In fact, she was beginning to like too much about the man.
So dazed was she by this incredible exercise of kissing that she scarce noticed when he loosened the ribbon lacing of her gown, which wrapped around her body from abdomen to hips. When she felt the air on her bare breasts, it was already too late.
How could any woman resist the hungry look of a handsome man gazing at her body?
“Don’t move,” he ordered as he tugged the neckline and sleeves of her gown downward to her waist and wrists respectively. In truth, she could not have moved even if she had wanted to; she was trapped by the confines of her gown.
He touched her breasts then. Lightly. With his fingertips he traced the rounded globes, then the rose-colored areolas, then the hardened tips. “So beautiful. So beautiful,” he whispered.
The pleasure was more than she could bear. Arching her neck, she instinctively pressed her breasts forward for more of his attentions. He gave them, and more than she had ever bargained for. Cupping her right breast from underneath, he lifted it, then leaned down and took the turgid nipple in his mouth and sucked deeply.
With a whimper, she sank down to the straw. He went with her, never taking his mouth from her breast. Over and over and over, he suckled at her breast with a rhythm that was delicious agony, alternating his sucking action with an occasional nip of his teeth or flick of his tongue.
Then he lifted his face and gave equal punishing attention to her left breast.
Tyra felt as if she were floating, floating, floating toward Valhalla … or some unknown heaven of sorts.
But in the midst of her arousal, she realized that what had started out as a kissing game on her part had turned into something altogether different. She was the one gaining all the pleasure, whereas Adam reaped no rewards.
Taking a deep breath to still her roiling arousal, she grabbed his head by handfuls of hair on each side and lifted him off her body so that she could see his face.
His eyes were glazed with passion, his mouth wet and panting. “What?” he inquired huskily. “Do you not like what I am doing to you?”
Her instinct was to deny her feelings, but she was basically honest, and she admitted, “I love what you do to me, but … but … well, it is all one-sided.”
His eyes went wide with surprise, then filled with understanding. “Ah, sweetling, did you not know? A woman’s passion is a man’s greatest pleasure.”
“Really?”
He nodded and began to sit up. “I’m glad you stopped me, though. I lost control.”
She sat up, too, and began to adjust her gown. Disappointment rang through her like a funeral bell. He did not want her after all. “Losing control is a bad thing?”
He turned his gaze on her and smiled softly. “Nay, losing control is a good thing … in the right situation. But I do not intend to take you for the first time on the floor of a stable.”
Take? Tyra did not like the sound of that. “What makes you think that you would take me? Mayhap I would take you.”
He tossed his hands in the air. “That works equally well for me.”
They both stood then and helped each other whisk the wrinkles out of their garments and pick off pieces of straw.
“Do you want to bring your pet back to the castle with you?” Adam asked.
“What pet?”
“The kitten.”
“Adam,” she said with a long sigh, “why do I have to keep reminding you? I am a soldier. I must exhibit warlike ways. Having a kitten trailing about after me would not be warlike.”
He just smiled at her, not believing a word she said.
“Besides, Vana does not allow animals indoors.”
He still smiled.
As they were walking back toward the great hall, Tyra ventured a thought that had been nagging at her. “‘Tis odd, this attraction betwixt us, do you not think? I mean, I do not even like you, really.”
He laughed and chucked her under the chin playfully. No man had ever done that to her before … made playful gestures. But then, no man had ever sucked her breasts till her blood caught afire either.
“Yea, ‘tis odd,” he agreed. “And betimes, I do not like you all that much either.”
She should have been affronted, but she was not.
“Methinks tonight happened because I had too much to drink,” she suggested. “That on top of the stress of my father’s illness.”
“Mayhap,” he said, but not with much conviction. “On the other hand, methinks tonight happened because I saw you in that wanton gown. Or because I have been chaste overlong.” This also was said without much conviction.
They were sound excuses: stress, a wanton gown, an ale-head, excessive chastity … perfectly logical explanations for illogical behavior.
Neither she nor Adam believed any one of them.
Something smelled fishy in Denmark … uh, Norway …
“You shoulda tupped ‘er when you had a chance.”
Alrek made that outrageous suggestion as the two of them were walking toward the king’s bedchamber, having just finished their morning meal.
“Alrek!” Adam said in his most chastising tone. “What a thing to say! Especially for a boy your age!”
“I keep tellin’ you, I am not a boy. I am a man … almos’.”
“What a thing for an almost-man to say, then!”
“ ‘Tis naught more’n everyone else was sayin’ in the hall las’ night when you and the Lady Tyra returned from the stables, red-faced and all in disarray. Whoo-ee! Looked like you were rollin’ in the hay … leastways, thass what more’n one soldier said. But yer uncle Tykir, he sai
d, ‘Nay, the boy might have got some straw in his braies, but I can tell that he has not had his hay raked yet.’ Thass when the Lady Alinor bopped him on the head with a ham bone. And Bolthor sez you definitely lost yer knack. What is a knack anyway? Do you want I should help you find it?”
Adam was getting an immense headache … one of those that made his head feel as if it were splitting. “Do you not have somewhere to go this morning, Alrek? Surely you have something better to do than tag along with me to a sick chamber.”
“Nay, I do not. My day is free,” Alrek said cheerily. “But, actually, there is a reason why I am goin’ to the king’s chamber. I wuz hopin’ he would wake up and … and …”
It wasn’t like Alrek to hesitate to speak his mind. His hesitation pricked Adam’s curiosity. “What is it, Alrek?”
“ ‘Tis time fer me to get me yearly coin from the king. Besji and Kristin and Tunni all needs new clothes. And I would really like to buy me a sword.”
A sword? What next?
“And mayhap a spear if I have enough left over.”
The boy is going to kill himself. “Well, the king has not awakened yet, and even if he did, I am not sure this is a good time to bring up the subject. He will have more important issues to deal with. Can you not approach the king’s steward, or the Lady Tyra?”
Alrek shook his head. “My arrangement wuz a personal one … with the king.”
Adam reached into the pouch at his belt and handed Alrek a coin. “Here. Take this.”
Alrek jumped away from him. “Nay, I will not be ta-kin’ charity from no one. I kin wait.” With that, he turned on his heel and ran away.
Well, is that not just wonderful? Now I’ve offended a ten-year-old boy … rather a ten-year-old almost-man. He smiled at his own mental correction.
“What are you smiling about?” Tykir asked when he entered the king’s bedchamber. “Seems to me you have naught to be happy about today … not after last night. Ha, ha, ha!”
“You know, Tykir, you have a big mouth. I heard what you said in the hall last night.”
“Me? Me?” Tykir was laughing raucously. He danced away when Adam went to punch him in the arm.