Viking in Love

by Sandra Hill

  She half turned from where she sat at the side of the bed. He was gazing at her sleepily, an insufferable smile of triumph lifting the edges of his lips. “Back to my bedchamber.”

  “Why?”

  “To sleep?”

  He shook his head. “You sleep here, with me, for the next nine and a half nights.” He put particular emphasis on the half night part, to remind her, she supposed, that she had not yet fulfilled her bargain.

  As if to emphasize that fact, he yanked on her arm, pulling her back and over him. On the way, her hip met the wet spot where he had released his seed, to prevent a pregnancy. When she tried to roll off, he secured her with arms like manacles about her waist.

  He stared up at her for a long time, saying nothing.

  “What?” she finally asked, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

  His head lifted so he could brush his lips against hers, ever so gently. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “The most satisfying bedplay I have ever engaged in.”

  She cast him a skeptical glance.

  “You were wonderful, dearling. A great surprise.”

  “Didst think I would be like a broom in bed?”

  “Something like that.” He chuckled. “Did you enjoy it?”

  She thought about lying, but it was no use. She had behaved like a strumpet. “Yea, I did. And you were a surprise, too.”

  “How so?”

  “I will not tell you. Your ego is too large as it is.”

  “There are other parts of me that are large, too.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  He did not need to tell her that. She felt it growing against her hip.

  “There are so many things I want to do with you,” he said, his voice husky in a masculine way.

  “What sort of things?” she asked before she could bite her tongue.

  “Ah, sweetling, I thought you would never ask.” He proceeded to tell her, in detail.

  “You jest,” she said at one point.

  Which prompted him to elaborate on even more wicked, incredible activities.

  “It would take a month, in fact, many months to do all that.”

  “And we have only nine and a half nights. Guess we need to get to work quick then. What would you like to do first?”

  “I would like you to bathe me,” she said, surprising even herself.

  “And will you bathe me in return?”

  She tapped her lips as if pondering. “Would there be massaging oil involved?”

  “For a certainty.”

  “Well, then, lout, it is a deal.”

  He was always on her mind…and other places…

  Four days later, after having sex in more ways and in more places than she would have ever imagined possible, Breanne’s lips and nipples were raw from Caedmon’s constant attentions. Raw in a nice way. Even air felt like a lover’s caress, so that when he wasn’t around, she was still reminded of him.

  But then, Caedmon had told her just this morn that his manpart was raw, quickly adding, “Not that I am complaining.”

  Thus, she was in her bedchamber, with the upper part of her gunna hanging down to her hips, applying some ointment to her breasts when Amicia came in, without knocking. “Oh, sorry ta disturb ye, but I need some help down in the kitchen with…oh, blessed Mary!” The cook burst out laughing, so hard that she was soon bent over at the waist, and tears welled in her eyes.

  “What is so funny?” Breanne asked, tugging her dress back up and lacing it at the neck.

  “You? You have succumbed to the master’s seduction. I tol’ ya he was a devil with the wimmen. They cannot resist his charms.”

  If only Amicia knew! It hadn’t taken much charming to get her in his bed.

  “What is the problem in the kitchen?”

  “I forget the directions fer the eel brine that yer sister makes.”

  She walked alongside the cook down to the kitchen.

  Before they got there, Amicia put a halting hand on her arm. “Methinks ya could use some of the powders Rashid gave ta me.”

  “I have no head megrims.” Just another kind of ache.

  “Not that kind of powder. These are the kind that prevent the babes from comin’. Remember, Lady Havenshire told us of them some days ago.”

  Hmmmm! “Do they work?”

  Amicia shrugged. “Be damned if I know, but he says they be used by them harem harlots. Love slaves.” Motioning for Breanne to stay there, Amicia rushed off, then came back with a small palm-sized sack lined with parchment. Inside was the powder.

  Well, if it was good enough for harem harlots, she supposed it would be good enough for her. In truth, that was what she was, in some ways. Caedmon’s love slave.

  She could not wait to tell him.

  No doubt he would have some ideas related to harems. She had a few ideas herself.

  Whaaat?

  What is happening to me?

  Was I always wicked beneath the surface? Or is it only this man who turns me wanton?

  Aaarrgh!

  With those horrific ideas riddling her brain, Breanne decided to go build a bench…or a cow byre…or just pull her hair out, one strand at a time.

  On the way, she was stalled in the great hall, where Caedmon was holding shire court. While he was hearing the complaint of a man who said his neighbor had stolen a cow, Caedmon glanced up and saw her. She could not break the eye contact for a long moment while they both thought of all that had gone on between them, and what was yet to come. That was what went through her frazzled mind. The air fair sizzled. Then he smiled, and Breanne’s bones almost melted. Truly, that was the unacceptable effect the lout was having on her.

  Despite the small amount of sleep she had been getting, she seemed to be bright-eyed and energetic during the daytime as she attempted to take over the duties that Vana and Ingrith had organized so well. As for the outside and Drifa’s flowers and herbs, they would have to live or die without her help. She had no talent with growing things. But, no matter what she was doing, Caedmon appeared to be always on her mind.

  With an exhale of disgust, she sank down to a bench at the back of the hall, and watched and listened as Caedmon wielded his own brand of justice. And she was impressed. He listened carefully, he weighed all sides, he displayed a rare sense of humor, and was firm when he finally made a decision. And the cases ran the gamut from petty theft to murder to failure to pay taxes.

  As she sat, all his children, one by one—except for Hugh, who sat at Caedmon’s right—plopped down beside and across from her. They were like burrs in the wind, and she the shaggy sheep in their path. They followed her everywhere, except to Caedmon’s bedchamber, and then only because he locked them out.

  She wasn’t surprised by Piers coming to her with outstretched hands, climbing up onto her lap, but she was surprised by Angus sitting on the bench next to her, up close. The surly little boy, who looked so different from the rest, was the butt of numerous pranks, many of them just harmless youthling teases, but he did not see them that way. And, rather than break out in tears, he stiffened his little back and hurled insults back at them.

  Right off, they besieged her with their complaints and entreaties.

  “Kendrick pinched my arse.”

  “I did not! I was flicking off some pig snot.”

  “Can I ride a horse? If Beth can have a pony, why do I get naught?”

  “I am bigger than you, bratling. Ride a goat, if you must.”

  “Go bugger yerself.”

  “What is a bugger?”

  “Why are your lips so red?”

  “Father kisses her, that is why.”

  “Oh, you! Kisses do not make lips red.”

  “He looks at her like he could eat her up, like that tasty boar sauce.”

  “Oslac, you are daft. How could he eat her up?”

  “I could tell you—”

  Beth slapped a hand over Oslac’s mouth. “Desist with that kind of talk.” Beth smiled slyly at Breanne t
hen and said, “We must needs be polite to Lady Breanne if we want her to stay.”

  “You want me to stay? How nice! But I cannot stay indefinitely. Just until my sisters return.”

  Mina began to cry at that news, and Angus sniffled.

  “We took a vote,” Alfred said, as if that meant she had no choice.

  “You are gonna be our mother,” Aidan finished for his twin.

  “You are better than the last trollop who shared our father’s bed,” Joanna remarked.

  “Thank you for the compliment,” Breanne said, then sighed inwardly. Even the children knew she was behind locked door with the lout every night, engaged in bedplay.

  But Joanna was not done with her observations. “Phew! ’Twas a close call, that one. Lady Anise had already buried four husbands and was looking toward Larkspur for a new acquisition.”

  “She smelled funny,” Angus said.

  “Perfume,” Beth replied. “She used splashes of perfume, rather than bathing.”

  “Well, we got rid of her, did we not? Methinks it was the frog in her washbowl,” Kendrick observed, a mischievous gleam in his big brown eyes.

  “Or the worms in her porridge,” Joanna added, a matching gleam in her brown eyes.

  “I farted every time she walked by.” Oslac grinned, as if that were some great feat.

  Enough was enough! Breanne was able to escape because Hugh had just come up behind her and said, “Father wants you to come up to the dais and give him counsel on a difficult case.”

  “Me?”

  “Yea. You may have an opinion that would help.”

  She glanced up, and Caedmon was indeed looking her way, and beckoning with his fingertips.

  “I will take the children outdoors,” Hugh offered.

  When she sat down on the right of Caedmon behind the table, she told him, “I hate when you do that fingers-beckoning thing. It makes me feel like a pet dog.”

  “I know,” he said and tugged her chair closer to his. Then, as if she had not even spoken, he whispered in her ear, “Greetings, my lady love.” For everyone else’s benefit, he said loudly, “Lady Breanne, we need a woman’s view on this particular matter.”

  Since when? Suspicious of the rogue’s intent, she studied the three people before them. Two women—big-bosomed, of course—bracketed one of Caedmon’s hersirs, whose face was flushed with a combination of anger and embarrassment.

  “Repeat the complaint for us, Gerard,” Caedmon said.

  Even as Gerard stood up to speak, Breanne was shocked to feel Caedmon’s hand in her lap, though he appeared to be listening intently to Gerard. Or pretending to listen.

  “Our bargain was only for nighttime,” she hissed at him.

  “You fell asleep on me last night afore dawn. You owe me an hour.”

  “Lady Breanne…” Gerard was saying.

  She gave the steward her attention, or as much as she could whilst Caedmon’s wicked fingers were gathering the hem of her robe up her leg in a leisurely exploration, causing her to lose focus and setting her aflame.

  When she glared at him, he bestowed one of his lazy heated smiles on her, knowing full well its effect. “Loathsome lout!” she muttered.

  “Winsome wench!” he countered, staring straight ahead with the innocence of a wolf at the chicken-coop fence.

  Gerard was still introducing the complaint. “Thomas of Hexham has been in Lord Caedmon’s service for nigh on ten years…” Thomas, a bull-like soldier with a crooked nose that had undoubtedly been broken more than once, raised his chin high.

  Breanne grabbed at Caedmon’s meandering hand, under the table, but he merely flipped it over, his covering hers. In effect, he was moving her own hand to raise the hem, which was now thigh-high. To her dismay, as her blood thickened and pulsed in her lips, her breasts, and betwixt her legs, Breanne realized that she was becoming enslaved by her passions, under Caedmon’s tutelage. “Stop it. Stop it right now.”

  “What?” Gerard asked.

  Not having intended to speak aloud, she waved a hand for him to continue.

  Caedmon smothered a laugh, then took a long draw on his cup of ale, presumably to clear his throat.

  “Thomas of Hexham has been wed to Maude for five years…”

  His teary-eyed wife was more than thirty and a bit on the plump side, but comely.

  Meanwhile Caedmon’s hand had released hers and was now entering forbidden territory. He nigh did a victory dance when he realized she wore no undergarments, then said in an undertone, still staring ahead, “Witch! You will pay.”

  I am already paying, rogue.

  “…but Eadgifu claims Thomas to be the father of her unborn bairn.” Eadgifu was a big-breasted, brazen hussy that Breanne had seen about the keep, flirting with one and all, as long as they had a male part. And the lackwit men had no problem swiving a very pregnant woman.

  Caedmon’s fingertips brushed across her nether hair, and it took all her strength to keep from moaning and opening her legs to him. Truly, the man could make her knees sweat with a mere touch.

  “Now, the question afore this court,” Gerard continued, “is whether Thomas will claim this new child? And if so, will he provide for the child and its mother, and will there be a penalty for adultery?”

  “I contend this is a question for the church, not a shire court,” Caedmon said. Then, proving he could do more than one thing at a time, he managed to insert a foot behind her two, which were pressed close together, and yanked. In that second of surprise, her legs spread slightly, and he got a hand betwixt her legs. “Is that not so, m’lady?”

  “Huh?” She had no idea what Caedmon was referring to as his fingers were already delving into her cleft.

  “Should I hear this case, or pass it on to the church?”

  “Begging your leave, m’lord,” Eadgifu said, “I be due in a few sennights. I cannot wait fer some church ta get around ta my situation.” She hefted her big stomach up for emphasis, which called attention to her big udders. In truth, the coarse woman could be the prow on a longship with all her protruding assets.

  “What is it you want?” Breanne managed to ask, despite the fluttering exercise Caedmon was doing with his lewd fingertips. She blinked several times as blood drained from her head and rushed to other, more intimate parts.

  “I want him ta take care of me and me babe.” Eadgifu shot a smug look at Thomas and his wife.

  “He has four children of his own ta care for,” Maude protested. “I believe my Thomas is innocent, but if he has been strayin’, I will cut off his cock and give it ta yon harlot, wrapped in a riband.”

  Breanne put a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. I do like this woman.

  Thomas crossed his legs and cast his wife a sheepish glance. “I have ne’er lain with this woman,” he contended.

  “Liar!” Eadgifu shouted.

  Breanne was fast losing control with the rogue drawing circles around her nubbin of pleasure. She must leave soon or humiliate herself by peaking in front of one and all. Raising a hand, she said in a rush, “Thomas and Maude, you are to remain silent whilst I ask Eadgifu a question.”

  “I do love a woman who gives orders,” Caedmon remarked low enough that only she could hear.

  “Shut your teeth.”

  “Methinks I may just swoon.”

  Eadgifu preened, figuring she was about to win her case.

  “Eadgifu,” Breanne said, “Thomas has a birthmark few people are aware of. Where is it located on his body?”

  At first, Eadgifu’s eyes darted right and left, trapped like a doe in a bramble bush, but then she noticed Breanne staring at Thomas’s belly.

  “On his gut,” Eadgifu announced.

  Thomas grinned and before he could be told to halt, he unlaced and dropped his braies to show a stomach devoid of any birthmark. Of course, he also showed them a manpart, as well.

  “Oh, good Lord!” Breanne put her hands to her eyes until he raised his braies back up.

  Maude began to w
eep with relief and told her husband, “I believed ya the whole time, dearling.”

  Thomas was not convinced. “I am aggrieved, wife. Ye must prove ta me how sorry ye are.”

  Breanne could pretty well guess what that involved.

  “Thomas, you have proven your case, with Lady Breanne’s help,” Caedmon ruled, then gave Breanne a winning smile. “Go in peace, Thomas. And, you, Eadgifu, do not let me see you in this court again. If you know not who the father is, have the good sense to pick a man you have actually tupped with.”

  “I thought I had,” Eadgifu shot back. “But then all men are the same in the dark, are they not?”

  A lot of sniggering and hoots of laughter rippled through those gathered in the hall as an audience. But Breanne would not have known that. She was too busy peaking all over Caedmon’s busy fingers.

  She arched her neck and closed her eyes to prevent herself from shouting out her bliss. When she opened her eyes, the lout was watching her. “You look flushed, m’lady,” he said. “Wouldst care for a cool drink?” He removed his wandering hand and reached for a cup of ale.

  “Nay, I do not want a drink. You think you are so clever. Well, how do you like this?” It was her hand now in his lap, embracing his already hard phallus. She began to rub up and down.

  Caedmon made a gurgling sound, deep in his throat, and shuddered.

  “You look flushed, m’lord,” she said coyly. “Mayhap you need a cup of ale…” In a whisper, she added, “poured over a certain body part.”

  With a laugh, she released him, stood, and began to walk away, figuring she had had the last word.

  But behind her, she heard Caedmon tell those left in the great hall, including those in line to be heard. “Let us break for an hour or so. I have an important matter to settle elsewhere.”

  Glancing back over her shoulder, Breanne saw Caedmon coming after her, and she knew, without a doubt, the way he wanted to settle said matter. She ran till she reached the small-accounts room and attempted to slam the door, but his booted foot was already inside.

  “Well, well, well,” Caedmon said, leaning back against the closed door. “What shall we do now?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A wall banger, for sure…