The Barbarian

by Georgia Fox

  ****

  Stryker stormed into the stable and found the two empty stalls. He yelled at the startled grooms, "Why did no one come to me and tell me they'd gone out?"

  "Ifyr said he'd only take her a short way and then persuade her to come back."

  He would have laughed at that, if he was not so terrified of what might happen to her out there. "That woman can't be persuaded to do anything unless she desires it," he growled. "Saddle my damn horse. And make haste!"

  In another ten minutes the search party was assembled with torches. Rolf was left behind to keep the fires burning and a lookout at the gate. Even Morwenna and her girls were eager to help, offering to make soup and keep it warm.

  The bloody woman—his wife—had better have an explanation for running off into a deadly storm. Although he wasn't sure there could be an explanation good enough to make up for the anguish her disappearance put him through.

  ****

  Thankfully the fall of snow grew lighter. It was deep around the horse's legs, but she was still able to move forward, following various landmarks she remembered from her trip with Stryker. The snow had not covered the granite tors and as the snow eased, letting her see further ahead, they were recognizable by the strange shapes they made against the bleak sky. There, at last, was the hut where he said the Witch of Cynndyr once lived.

  "Villette!" she shouted breathlessly, her gaze searching the snow-capped stone ruin. If there was any God, she thought desperately, let him help the maid find her way to that shelter. If Villette was safe she—Amias—would be a better woman from now on. She would not snap or snipe. She would say her prayers without sarcasm. She would be grateful and optimistic. She would try to smile more often, and not just when someone fell over or banged their head.

  Just as she thought this, her eyes found a flicker of green among the blast of white. Not grasses surely. The snow was too thick for a large tuft of grass to show through. "Villette!"

  The blob raised a hand and waved frantically. And then she heard the familiar humming and her heart lifted.

  God had answered her prayers.

  ****

  "My lady," Villette sobbed on her shoulder. "I thought I was dead." Despite her shaky humming, the girl collapsed in a weeping heap, the moment Ami was close enough to catch her.

  "Never mind. I am here now."

  She'd brought a saddle bag with dry kindling and flint to make a fire in one corner of the stone hovel. Soon they were huddled around it, the other woman sharing her fur-lined cape. The horse sheltered nearby under an arch, nuzzling through the snow, looking for grass.

  "I hate this place, my lady."

  Startled she held the girl tighter in her embrace, rubbing her arms to help her warm up faster. "I thought you enjoyed it here, Villette." The girl was always laughing and humming.

  Ami had assumed she was happy.

  "I never do anything right, my lady. I am the worst maid in the world."

  "Nonsense. You are merely cold and scared." She paused. "I was wrong to shout at you today. I am sorry, Villette. It is not your fault you cannot count."

  The maid gave a loud sniff. "No, my lady."

  "I shall teach you at the first opportunity."

  "Thank you, my lady," Villette warbled uncertainly.

  Ami took bread and cheese from a knotted kerchief inside her mantle and the maid ate hungrily as if she'd been stranded for days, not merely an hour or two. "Save some for later, Villette. Who knows how long we'll be stuck." Or how long the firewood will last, she thought. Looking up into the sky, she saw a fine needle of light through the mass of white. She had shaken snow from her hood every few minutes as she rode along, but now only a few flakes still stuck. At last the blizzard was slowing down. Hope. It was a precious thing. Without it, where were they?

  "You should know, Villette," she added softly, "that Ifyr came out to look for you too. He was very, very worried."

  The maid bent her head back to study Ami's face. "Truly?"

  She nodded. "He said you were a sweet girl."

  The color slowly came back to Villette's round cheeks and she put her head down again on Ami's shoulder. "He's alright, I suppose," she murmured with a sniff.

  "Yes." Her mistress sighed. "They can't help themselves. They're men."

  ****

  The line of torches led a flickering path up to the moor, a writhing snake of orange dots that came and went with each slanted gust of blown snow. Stryker Bloodaxe, riding at more speed than was safe under those conditions, soon felt his anger dissipate, to be replaced by pure fear—an emotion he'd seldom known in his adult life. If he lost Amias, what would he do? They had spent two days together and for much of that time they'd fought. Yet, oddly enough, he could not imagine spending another day without her in it. Was it possible to form a connection that swiftly? With a woman who'd claimed not to want one? When he thought all he wanted was her money?

  Pushing through that blowing snow, searching for sight of her, his heart tearing apart at the thought of perhaps never finding her alive, he didn't care about one single coin of her bridal purse. If she was poor, if her uncle reneged on their agreement, he would still want her. It was a stunning revelation and for several moments it brought him no joy because it made him weak, stupid even. Had he not learned his lesson with love before?

  But the feelings he'd cherished for Elsinora, his friend from childhood, were different than those he had now for Amias the Unsmiling. It went deeper than lust. He wanted to know everything she thought about and that was most unusual for Stryker. He wanted to study her, inside and out.

  He could not forget what she'd confessed today, in the yard—that she wanted to please him. The idea warmed his soul now, lit the glow of passion in his heart. He could not recall a woman ever saying that to him. Ever.

  They were in sight of the stone hovel, the old shepherd's hut. Ifyr, who had met them by the stream in the valley, rode up to him. "My lord, she said she would wait within."

  He nodded. Ifyr was plainly worried he would be punished for his part in this, but Stryker could not be angry with the boy who had only tried to stop the woman from putting herself in danger. Ifyr couldn't know what he was dealing with, just as his wife couldn't know what she faced when she rode into the snow. Unless a person had lived there all their life they could not know how quickly the weather changed for worse, how soon they could be stranded, lost. His warning to her, naturally, had been disregarded because she was too proud to admit there was something she couldn't do alone. From now on he'd just have to make certain there was nothing she wanted to do alone.

  ****

  Ami heard his shout and blinked back tears.

  "We are rescued," Villette exclaimed, pushing her arms aside and leaping to her feet with a new burst of strength. "I hope Ifyr has come."

  Bemused, Ami watched her maid fuss about her dirty gown and then she took the horse's bridle and walked out. A few sorrow flakes still drifted out of the sky, but the mass had fallen already, leaving the vast expanse of moor covered in a dimpled fleece, thick in some spots, thin in others.

  Stryker dismounted and strode toward her, his face stern and pale.

  "Forgive me," she said as he drew near enough. Better get it over with before he shouted at her. "I know it was foolhardy, but I couldn't leave Villette out here alone."

  He said nothing, merely looked at her, his large hand tight around the bridle of his mount.

  "I did not think she would come out so far." She swallowed. "I was not afraid of the snow and I knew my way here after yesterday."

  Still naught. His eyes were pinned to her lips.

  "The girl is my responsibility," she muttered.

  Finally his feet shifted in the snow. "You're lucky," he said quietly.

  "Yes." She nodded gravely.

  "You're lucky I think I'm in love with you, woman. Or I'd tan your hide."

  She looked up, astonished, thinking she might have misheard.

  "No more running off without me,
" he added. "I don't want to lose you."

  "Oh." She faltered, the breath caught in her throat. "You won't."

  Still he waited, staring down at her. There was just a little softening of his jaw, but he wasn't going to make it easy for her.

  Ami the Unbreakable gathered her infamous courage and lifted one hand to his face. Her fingers stroked his stubble. "Thank you for finding me. Thank you for rescuing me."

  She smiled shyly.

  "I think I...”

  He leaned toward her, turning his head to give her his ear, as if she spoke too softly.

  Ami rose on tiptoe and whispered, "I think I'm falling in love with you too. Don't tell anyone, barbarian."

  ****

  He swept her into his arms and held her. Lord, she was ice cold. Looking beyond, into the hovel, he saw the remnants of the fire she'd made. At least the woman had foresight enough to bring supplies on her mad journey. Lifting her up onto his horse, he instructed her to sit and wait, then he stomped out her fire and helped the maid up onto his wife's mount. Villette sat awkwardly, unaccustomed to riding, but she daren't complain. As he tersely reminded her, she was the reason they were all out in that weather. After that she sat mutely, gripping the pommel of her saddle and bouncing like a sack of apples as he led the mare behind his own horse. Amias sat before him, sheltered in the curve of his chest and shoulders. For once she let him see her vulnerability. Stryker suspected this would be a rare treat, so he treated it respectfully.

  She too was unusually quiet. But what more was there to say?

  Chapter Seven

  They sat together by the fire in their chamber, surrounded by furs.

  "I fear today's excursion has not helped your cold, my lady Amias," he said.

  "I told you, I have no cold. I am never sick." She sneezed.

  He laughed, the rhythm of it trembling through her as he held her tight in his embrace. "I am eager to hear what you learned today."

  She turned until her cheek touched his lips. "I learned not to go out onto the moor in a snow storm."

  "I meant what you learned from Morwenna the whore," he whispered, the tip of his tongue caressing her cheek.

  Ami gladly obliged. She should have been tired after her adventure, but if anything she was more awake than ever, her body yearning for life and experience. The sadness and doubt that had hung over her like a dark cloud was gone. She saw hope now in everything around her. Especially in him, the man brave enough to confess he might be in love with her.

  She'd just have to make him certain.

  Licking his chin, she enjoyed the tickle of stubble. He tipped back, resting on his hands, giving her access to the strong column of his throat and then down, over the warm, lightly furred chest to his taut stomach. There, already risen, was his cock, arching high out of the nest of pubic curls, his sac hanging at the wide root, holding his seed for her harvesting.

  Remembering Morwenna's lesson, she gently licked his crest and then went directly down to his balls, nuzzling them, kissing and playing with her tongue. Above her he moaned and then he moved, parting his legs, leaning further back, on his elbows now. With her hands she stroked his manhood, cupped his balls. She let her hair fall over his torso and then her mouth closed around the head of his staff. He tasted salty and yet sweet. She sucked lightly at first, swirling her tongue around the broad, crimson cap and then she took more into her throat, proceeding with great care not to touch him with her teeth, or choke on his glorious length. When she felt his cock move and pulse in her mouth, Ami's own arousal fluttered through her quim and settled into a steady torment. She sucked harder then and moved her mouth up and down while his soft groans became deeper, more like growls. Her tongue traced the thick veins of his rod, stroked the warm ridges in his roused flesh and then nursed on the swollen head, drinking up the bead of shining fluid that trembled there.

  "Damn. I'll spend," he warned, his hands resting on her head, following the up and down motion as it resumed. His long fingers tangled in her hair and he made an effort to pull her up.

  Ami paused and lifted her head, let his hard phallus slip from her lips with a loud pop. Her husband was looking down at her through his eyelashes, his mouth slightly open, soft quick little breaths escaping as he shuddered.

  "I want to milk you, my lord. I want to make you spill in my mouth."

  "No," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Not ladylike."

  Ami chuckled and let her tongue slide over his crest again, gathering a sticky thread of his essence. "You cannot expect your wife always to be a lady," she whispered, pressing her lips to his glans again. "Just as you are not always a barbarian, my lord husband."

  A thin sheen of sweat gleamed on his chest as his breathing deepened.

  "Now give me what I want."

  He sank down again, giving in, his body making an effort to relax.

  "Good boy," she chuckled. "That was not so hard was it? Although..." she eyed his magnificent cock and felt her insides melting with desire, "...this definitely is."

  Once again she closed her mouth over his erection and sucked, working up and down, caressing with her tongue, tugging with her lips. She was too aroused to stop even when he cried out that he was about to explode. This time she had the power, the control. Turning her body she placed her knees astride his face and lowered her pussy. At first she kept her sex a few inches above him, swaying her hips, taunting him while she continued her sucking, but Stryker could not stand that for long. He wrapped an arm around her hips and pulled her down onto his face. She felt his mouth open wide, taking her whole pussy in at once. His growl vibrated through the walls of her cunt and then his tongue lapped inside her, tickling her hidden pearl until she wanted to scream. He kept his arm around her, not letting her up, so she likewise held him around the thighs, while he bucked like a feral pony that had never before known a saddle.

  In one last attempt to stop her swallowing his seed, he grabbed her hair and pulled, but it was too late for Stryker to hold back. Feet pressed flat to the floor, he lifted his groin, pumping into her throat. Spending hard.

  Ami feasted greedily, enjoying every drop she forced out of him while the waves of her own climax thundered through her and creamed into his mouth.

  ****

  He used a slick ointment to ready his cock and she waited on her hands and knees before him, submitting to this act she would have thought debasing only days earlier. Now it was her turn to submit and let him take charge. He ran a finger down the crack of her arse and then held her cheeks wide apart. She felt her face heat up, knowing he studied her so intimately, and buried her face in her arms on the fleece.

  "Will it hurt?" she gasped out.

  "Shhh." He rubbed a fingertip, covered in more ointment, over her tight anus. "Don't hold your breath. Relax your body. Don't tighten your muscles."

  Ami tried to obey. He spread her knees a little wider and positioned himself behind her. His hairy thighs stroked the back of her legs. He had told her to relax, but his muscles were taut. Then she felt something pushing at her anus. Again he urged her to breath steadily. "This is just my finger," he told her, "stretching you some for our games to come."

  She wasn't sure she would like this, but he seemed to think she would. "I suppose I must trust you."

  "Yes." He leaned over and kissed her spine, then swept her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck. "I love you. I will only proceed until you tell me to stop." His lips gently moved over the scars on her back and it was even more soothing than the apothecary's potion.

  She nodded, her eyes closed.

  Slowly his finger entered that tiny hole. She pressed back instinctively and his heavy balls smacked into her vulva. She knew he was erect already, his marble-hard phallus tapping her bottom when he arched over her and pushed his finger deeper into her back passage.

  The sensation was very odd, but she bore it while he moved his finger inside her, turning it slowly. With his other hand he stroked her pussy and then two fingers slid between
her labia. Now she was plugged in both holes. Ami opened her eyes.

  Oh, the flames began now, puttering to life from a low smolder. He had thrown kindling on it. The finger in her anus moved in and out at a much slower pace while his other hand fucked her pussy with more confidence. Her cream flowed and she knew he must feel it coating his fingers. At that point he deemed her ready. He withdrew from her bottom and her quinny, but it was a brief emptiness she suffered. Now he aimed his cock into the crevice, using both hands to hold her cheeks, his fingers sticky, pressing into her flesh, keeping her still.

  As instructed, Ami breathed deeply, slowly. Her husband's penis pushed through the tight rim of muscle and it burned uncomfortably for just a moment. Then he was beyond, his rod half inside her body.

  He swore through gritted teeth and then eased further, until she made a sound of part anxiety, part sheer need.

  Carefully grinding out a slow movement, Stryker began to fuck her arse.

  The burning lessened and was replaced by a hot heaviness in her sex. She was dripping wet. Every moan he spat out above her, she knew how much he was enjoying this ride and it increased her own arousal until she was light-headed, dizzy. He probably could have done anything to her by then.

  "Fuck me," she cried out, head flung back, body arched, submitting to his ravishment like a bitch in heat.

  With one hand he reached for her pussy and found the sopping wetness he'd teased out of her. "My Lady Lusty," he panted, squeezing and patting her labia with quick taps that sent her over the edge into the blissful abyss.

  While she was still floating, he came with a jerk, thudding into her with a bestial roar that must have echoed around his manor.