Viking in Love

by Sandra Hill

  They all nodded.

  “To victory!” Hugh shouted with an arm raised, as he had heard some chieftains did before battle.

  The rest of them just gaped at him as if he had lost his mind.

  “When this is all over, I will get the last of those honey cakes from the storeroom, and we will celebrate,” Hugh offered.

  That did the trick, because his brothers and sisters then yelled, “To victory!”

  Little soldiers are allowed to fight dirty…

  It was the middle of the night, and Caedmon slipped on a pair of braies and naught else, going down to the hall to get a cup of ale. Mayhap that would help him fall asleep.

  He was surprised to see Lord Ravenshire sitting alone before a low fire, sipping a cup of ale. After Caedmon found a pitcher and cup, he sat down next to him.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked.

  Eirik shook his head. “Nay. I get head megrims betimes, and a cup of my wife’s mead often soothes the pain. I was just about to go back to our bed.” He studied Caedmon for a moment. “How about you? Something troubling you?”

  He shrugged, then admitted, “Breanne.”

  “And?”

  Is that not enough? “I care for her.” He chose his words carefully.

  “Does she not return the sentiment?”

  He laughed. “I think she does, but not at the moment.” More like, she would carve me into a chair if she could.

  “I see the way you look at each other when you think no one is looking.”

  “Everyone says that.” I must practice not looking at her so much.

  “Ask the lady to marry you.” Eirik’s suggestion was blunt and unexpected. “That is what this is all about, is it not?”

  At first Caedmon resisted answering. It was none of Eirik’s business, after all. But the man was only trying to be helpful.

  “I have been wed twice afore. Disasters.” They were right when they named it wed-LOCK and referred to the BONDS of matrimony.

  “That happens betimes.”

  “I have ten children.”

  “Congratulations.”

  He shot Eirik a glare. “’Tis naught to be congratulated over. Besides, they are not all mine.” And someday I am going to find those three Welsh brothers. But, nay, those three whelps have been with me too long. They are more mine than theirs now.

  Eirik waited for him to say more.

  “I do not want to marry again. I do not want any more children. I want a life of peace and tranquility.”

  “You keep saying I want, I want. This is not all about you.”

  He sighed. “You are right. I am being selfish.”

  “Life is all about balances, in my opinion. Good and bad.

  “We have choices and they are not always the ones we want to make. Mayhap you need to weigh all the good things that would come from marriage to Breanne against the bad things. See what the scales show then. Compromise is not a bad word.”

  “That is good advice.” He laughed then. “But far too late.”

  “’Tis ne’er too late.”

  “My only saving grace tonight is that Rashid is not here to give me a camel proverb.”

  “You think that is bad. You should meet my friend Bolthor, the world’s worst skald. He would be telling sagas about all your embarrassing events to one and all. He once wrote a saga about my brother’s cock.”

  Laughing, Caedmon stood and downed the rest of his ale in one long swallow before heading for the downstairs garderobe to relieve himself. Then he would go back to his bed and, hopefully, sleep.

  He had just relaced his braies and gone out into the corridor when a small animal jumped on his back. The hands of the animal went around his neck and stuffed what seemed to be a pair of hose in his mouth. Other animals were knocking him to the floor and tying his hands behind his back and his ankles together. Turning his head to the side, he was shocked to see that the villains were his children. Hugh, Beth, Mina, Kendrick, and Oslac tried to lift him several times, but kept dropping him because of his weight and their relatively small size. What game is this? I am going to kill the little buggers.

  After whispered consultation among the lackwits, they began dragging him along the hall, then outside, where they lifted him into a wheelbarrow. He would have bruises all over his body. Some small people I know are going to have bruises on their little rumps when I am done.

  By the time they arrived at the cold cellar, where little Angus was standing guard with a wooden sword in his hand, Caedmon was swearing behind his gag. God’s teeth! This is no longer funny, if it ever was. There were going to be blistered arses aplenty in this castle come morning.

  Once they got him down the steps, one rough bump at a time, he saw Alfred and Aidan rise from where they had been nodding off.

  Propping him up against the wall in a seated position on a blanket, Hugh told him, “Father, we are doing this for your own good. You will thank us on the morrow…or the next day.”

  Mayhap I should send you to a monastery, boy, to show how thankful I am. Caedmon hoped his eyes told Hugh how grateful he was going to be.

  They all left then, even Alfred and Aidan. He could hear them up above, outside the door, talking with Angus.

  He had no idea what this was all about until, a short time later, the door opened again, and another body was dragged down the steps. Muffled sounds of protest came from said body, which was wearing a white bed rail. They dumped the body next to him on the blanket.

  Guess who? he jested with himself. He even laughed, or tried to, under his gag.

  All of his children…well, nine of them…Piers presumably being too young to participate…stood looking down at them. Hugh, the spokesman, said, “I know this looks bad, but we are doing this for your own good.”

  “All ye gotta do is tup ’er ’til her eyes roll in her head and she agrees ta be yer bride,” Joanna said.

  I cannot believe she said that. Does she even know what tupping is?

  “Joanna! You were not to tell them that,” Hugh chastised her.

  You can say that again!

  Joanna ducked her head. “Well, ’tis true,” she mumbled.

  Breanne’s eyes widened, then darted to the side to glare at him.

  Hey, it was not my idea.

  “You have plenty of food and blankets and stuff,” Beth pointed to various baskets.

  “We will check on you once every day to see…well, to see how you are progressing.”

  Hugh looked at his little band of lackwits and raised a hand in the air, yelling, “To victory!”

  “To victory!” the rest of the scamps echoed.

  Then they ran up and out the door, but Hugh ran back and said, “Oops. I forgot.” He quickly loosened the ropes on Breanne’s hands, enough so she would be able to undo them the rest of the way. Then he ran up and outside again. This time, the door slammed down, and he heard the lock being engaged.

  A short time later, he and Breanne were both free. Well, free but captives of his own children.

  “Yell for help,” Breanne suggested.

  “No one will hear us. We are down too low and far away from the keep. The only way shouting would help is if people come searching for us out this way.”

  “Did you put them up to this?”

  I was hoping it was you. “Are you barmy? Why would I do that?”

  “Sex.”

  “You are barmy. If I wanted sex, it would not be in a root cellar on the hard floor with a shrew.” Though I would not turn it away.

  “Sorry. I should not have said that. What are we going to do?”

  “Hell if I know.” He feasted his eyes on her, from her wild red hair to her bare toes. Then he smiled. “Wanna tup?”

  Breanne surprised the spit of him by saying, “Sure. Why not?”

  Caedmon was fairly certain this was a dream.

  He was a hard nut to crack…

  “I must say life is never dull around you, Caedmon.”

  Breanne was walking aro
und the small underground room, which had once housed root vegetables and salted meats.

  “That is what Geoff and Wulf say about me all the time, but I do not seek these kinds of things. Must be I attract them, though.” He stood and shrugged out of his braies, then beckoned her with his forefinger. “Come here, Breanne.”

  The intent was clear in his deep blue devil eyes and in his staff, which stood at attention down below.

  She could play coy and wait for persuasion, but she had lain awake after leaving Caedmon’s bedchamber, berating herself for leaving. Yea, he had told her that marriage would never be in the offing, but she could have one more night of loving. More memories to store for what would surely be a lonely future.

  This was her second chance.

  She raised her night rail up and over her head, dropping it to the floor. Then she walked toward him in as sultry a fashion as she could manage.

  He laughed. “Temptress,” he said against her ear. Then he kissed her and at the same time lifted her up off the floor and walked to the blanket, where he lay her down, himself at her side, never once breaking the kiss. “I want you. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone or anything.”

  You do not know what “want” is, lackwit. I have it in much greater abundance, thank you very much. “I am here.”

  “Yea, you are.” He smiled down at her, then surveyed her body, slowly, running a fingertip along her collarbone, down between her breasts, over her belly and navel, stopping at her nether hair. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  She would have disagreed, knowing her attributes, or lack of them, but mayhap he saw her through the daze of arousal. No matter.

  His calloused hands traced the same path again, but this time he used his palms to worship the skin of her arms, inside and out, under her breasts, her belly, the backs of her knees, with throaty endearments at each place, telling what he saw and liked. Just that had her moaning her ardor as all her senses leaped to life. He is ruining me for other men. No one else could possibly make me feel this way.

  Eyes brimming with passion, he framed her face between his trembling hands and kissed her, softly, entreatingly, like a true lover. His love.

  Oh, if only that were true.

  He made a rough sound when she pressed the tip of her tongue into his mouth, then proceeded with an in-and-out rhythm that matched what was to come below.

  The first time she peaked was when he played with her breasts. Teasing fingers. Nipping teeth. Lapping tongue. And rough, insistent sucking.

  I will never look at my breasts in the future, or touch them, without remembering this.

  “Look at me,” he insisted. “I want you to see how much you please me.”

  He moved lower then, parting her female folds, spreading the wetness there, searching and then finding a nub of such intense pleasure that she cried out.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Just the opposite. She shook her head.

  He knelt between her legs, then spread her thighs wider, and moved himself lower. When she realized what he was about to do, she protested. “No!” He could not possibly be going to…

  “Let me.”

  “Oh…oh, I never thought. Do people do this?” If they do not, they should. Holy Thor!

  “We do, dearling. We do.” With those words, he showed her what a man could do, making love to a woman’s parts. So intense was the pleasure, she could not object. And she peaked again with whimpers of cascading spasms, starting inside, then spreading out and over her entire body.

  When he moved to arrange himself at her woman’s portal, she asked, “Do women do that to men, as well?”

  He seemed surprised by her question at first, and then he said, “They do.”

  Caedmon’s manpart was long and thick, poised for entry. She knew because she was raised on her elbows watching him. Glancing up, he noticed her scrutiny and smiled…a smile that not only tugged at his lips, but danced in his eyes. Then he thrust inside her, and she had to close her eyes against all the sensations assaulting her. She melted around his stretching fullness. The fine hairs stood out all over her body. Her nipples ached.

  His eyes were closed now as he seemed to be fighting for control, but she would have none of that. She reached around and cupped his buttocks, pressing for more. Do not think you have all the control, my lord of sin.

  Opening his eyes, he laughed and began long, lazy strokes that nigh drove her into a demented state of endless moaning. It was too much, and not enough. Her hips were rocking wildly. There was a roaring in her ears. As he pounded into her, she realized that somehow her legs had locked around his hips. Straining, straining, straining toward the most incredible, shattering explosion of the senses, which left them both weak and depleted.

  This is surely heaven and Valhalla all rolled into one.

  As they lay side by side facing each other, his limp member still inside her, he lazily slipped his tongue in and out of her mouth, a reminder of what they had just done. She put her hands to his face, holding him back a bit. “I love you,” she said. That was all. She had no idea how he would react, but it had to be said.

  He just stared at her, his fingers gently pushing wet strands of hair off her face. “I am glad.”

  That was all, but it was enough…for now.

  He did not know it yet, but she was not leaving on the morrow. He might be a hard nut to crack, but she was going to crack him eventually. After all, she had nine helpers for that endeavor.

  Lest he worry about her getting too serious, she lifted one leg up over his thigh and said, “Wanna see how good I am at my exercises?”

  Turns out she was very good, if male groans and pleas for mercy were any indication.

  The way to a man’s heart is NOT through his stomach, ladies…

  Caedmon stared down at a sleeping Breanne. Finally, he had worn her out. Hah! He was the one worn out. In the best possible way.

  She had milked him with her new inner muscle exercises until he thought he had died and gone to Valhalla. Thank heavens for the female body and all its nuances. They had tried the Butterfly position after that, the one he had mentioned to her before. Who knew I could do THAT? Then she had put her mouth to him and caused his heart to stop before thundering into rhythm again. Un-be-lievable! She would be the death of him yet…a good death, he had to admit.

  What was he going to do with her?

  I have a few ideas.

  One thing was certain, he was not going to let her go.

  He lay down then, spooning himself into her back, and pulled a blanket over the top of them. It would soon be daylight and God only knew what would happen then.

  For now, he was where he wanted to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The games children…uh, adults play…

  “Where is she?” King Thorvald bellowed. He was outside in the bailey, ready to mount his horse and take off for Jorvik, where he had eight longships waiting to take them back to the Norselands. All of the troops below were ready to ride. His daughters, as well. Except for Breanne.

  “I have looked everywhere,” Tyra said, putting a hand over her barely raised belly. She had told him earlier this morning that she was breeding another grandchild for him. She and her family would be traveling with them to Jorvik, then off to her own home at Hawkshire with her husband, Adam, Rashid, and little Adela. “Breanne is nowhere to be found.”

  “When did you see her last?” Rafn asked.

  “She went to bed when we did,” Vana told him, “but she was not there when we awakened this morn.”

  King Thorvald’s blood went hot. “Where is Caedman?” he shouted to anyone who would answer.

  “Uh, he has not been seen today, either,” Gerard, the steward, answered, from a distance.

  Does he think I am about to lop his head off? Nay, it is that knave Caedmon for whom I am reserving that honor.

  “Mayhap Caedmon went to Heatherby to join his friend Wulf, who went there last night,” Tyra offe
red.

  “He has not left Larkspur,” the stable master said from the back of the crowd that was gathering. “His horse is still in its stall, and the sentries would have noted his departure.”

  “Rafn, give orders for the hird to dismount,” Thorvald ordered. “We will not be leaving today. Adam, can you help organize a search party?”

  “Where shall we look?” Drifa wanted to know.

  “Somewhere with a bed would be my guess,” Thorvald said. And then he chuckled to himself. ’Twould seem that another of my daughters is going to leave the nest. “Where is Ingrith?”

  “Here I am, Father.”

  “Best you start arrangements for a wedding feast.”

  “But I want to be married at Stoneheim,” Vana protested.

  “’Tis not for you.”

  It took five hours of useless searching before someone noticed that Caedmon’s children were acting strange. After another hour of intense questioning, a crowd of about twenty was heading out the back door of the keep. The children, wisely, went into deep hiding.

  Thorvald had not had so much fun since Adam had drilled a hole in his head, and he had pretended to be unconscious so he could plot the marriage of one of his daughters. Suffice it to say, he was smarter than his daughters gave him credit for. Never underestimate a Viking, he always said.

  Welcome to the light, son…

  Caedmon and Breanne were eating their first meal of the day, manchet bread, hard cheese, and apples, when they heard the sound of many voices approaching.

  “Uh-oh! We are about to be rescued.” He smiled at Breanne and helped her to her feet.

  She smiled back at him.

  There was no longer an ache in his chest. Instead, he was filled with a fierce joy. He was not sure what that meant, but it had to be good.

  “I will take care of this,” he said, leaning down to give her a soft kiss. “Do not be afeared.”

  “I am not afraid. What will be will be. How do I look?” She was smoothing her wrinkled bed rail, which she had not worn until this morn.