Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance)
Page 21
She had come to relish when they talked after as much as their actual swiving. In their bed alone together, her husband divulged more and more of himself. He kept much hoarded within him, but his actions spoke volumes. She had never heard of an Earl sharing wealth the way he had this eve. Pride caused her chest to ache.
“My thanks,” Xára murmured and snuggled closer to Dráddør. “Methinks tonight has changed the way all view Lathairn. Your generosity did not go unnoticed. ’Twas like a washing away of the old, a happy cleansing.”
“Say it.” Dráddør twirled one of his wife’s silky locks around his finger. “You wish Jennie had been here to see it.”
“I do.” She buried her nose in his chest. “’Tis not a bad thing, is it? To want Jennie to see her people happy once more?”
“Our people, Xára, for now ’tis up to you and me to shape Lathairn’s future.” He nuzzled her neck and she could not resist toying with his earbob.
Our people—she liked the sound of those words. A surge of joy made her smile. “Did you see how the smithy and his wife beamed when you announced Ívarr is to be trained as a warrior? Evie shed a tear. She pestered Egron until he agreed to show her the runes. Methinks you are her hero once more.”
“I foresee a stormy ride with Evie. One day I will be hero, the next a thorn in her side. She is as bright and spirited as Hjørdis, but more impulsive.” He traced the lines on her palm and her skin tingled beneath the slight contact.
“I am grateful for their fast friendship, but I fear we may have to accept that they will not want to be parted. Methinks I must prepare myself to see them both wander from us to Brökk and Skatha’s and thence to Konáll and Nyssa’s. I have only just gained a sister and ’twill be difficult to let her go.”
Dráddør kissed her forehead. “By then, if Odin grants us his favor, you will be busy tending to our babe.”
Xára suppressed a smile for she had missed her monthly courses, but ’twas still too soon to tell, according to Nyssa and Skatha. She bit her tongue and changed the subject. “Mayhap. I would ask your thoughts on another matter. ’Tis Evie’s inherited powers and her determination to learn all of spells and magik. I thought to invite auld Bessie who is learned in such things to live in the keep and teach her. I fear if we do not do so, Evie will sneak away and seek out others who may have evil intentions.”
“’Tis because Evie nigh approached Magnhildur for the potion to save Jennie you worry o’er this. Aye. I agree. Invite auld Bessie. ’Tis best we are aware of all that happens. What of you and your powers, sváss? What memories of mine have you seen?” His voice had a strange note.
“Naught. I can see naught from you, your brothers or their wives.” She inhaled the wonderful man-scent of him, the leather and spice, that both comforted and aroused. “In truth I was shocked when I saw Magnhildur’s, for I expected my terror of her to block all.”
“You have seen much in a short time. You had been in a convent all your life. Coming back to Lathairn must have been a shock. Your courage in the face of the evil you met here astounds me, wife.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles.
Xára rose onto her forearms to meet his gaze. “I know not what would have happened to us if you had not come when you did, Dráddør. I say a small prayer of thanks each day.”
He kissed the tip of one finger. “Only a small one?”
She grinned. “Mayhap a large one, then.”
He sat up and reached for her. In mere moments, she was sitting sideways on his lap, her head tucked under his chin, and the furs wrapped around both of them. “When did you know Magnhildur had poisoned both Arnfinn and Jennie?”
“’Twas the memory I caught when I had to kiss her hand in the great hall.” Xára bowed her head. “Those rings she wears—they are hollow in the middle. One twist and poison can be slipped into a drink. All along I had thought Jennie had poisoned Arnfinn to stop him marrying me to Néill. I still do not see what Néill and Magnhildur thought to gain.”
“’Tis an easy one. With all dead, Néill marries you, keeps you alive for two years, produces a child, and he inherits Lathairn. Greed. Naught like it.” He hugged her tight to him. “But we changed fate. Lathairn is ours and we will make it not only a wealthy fortress, but a home.”
“Aye. We will,” she said and tried to blink back her tears. “It has been a great relief to Evie to know that her mother did not poison anyone. Though she does not voice it, Evie believed Arnfinn her father most her life and holds much affection for him still.”
Dráddør caught her chin. “Can Evie truly cast spells?”
She shrugged. “Evie believes she can. And Nyssa did say the poison had left Jennie.”
“And you, wife, what memories of mine have you caught?”
Taken aback by the fact he had growled the question twice, she stared at him, and smiled. “Naught. ’Tis strange, but I see naught of your recollections.”
His mouth pursed. “Is this the truth you speak or are those words said to appease my mind?”
Xára had cause to remember her husband’s question oft after his brothers and their wives left Lathairn the following morning. For though they shared a bed and enjoyed swiving to the fullest, every so oft she caught him studying her the way a hunter tracks game he does not trust. As if he expected her to proclaim a memory of his after each loving.
With each new day, Evie’s spirits lifted a little, and after a moon, she began laughing again. To be cert there were many days when she dragged her feet and hid in her room, but those became fewer and fewer.
Xára enlisted the help of all the women in the refurbishing of the keep. She gave Evie and Hjørdis charge of the nursery, while she and Ulna concentrated on the rest of the castle.
Dráddør had divided the chores amongst his men. Liam led the hunting parties to shore up the castle’s stores before winter set in whilst her husband organized the tradesmen and embarked upon a massive refurbishing of the furniture and the placement of new windows.
Even on the darkest of days, the new multi-colored glass panes directed a dancing light into the great hall and ’twas there the keep’s people gathered for meals three times daily. In the morns Xára taught Evie and Hjordis, and after the noon meal both girls studied the runes with Egron and then magik with auld Bessie.
They prepared for the celebration of Christ’s birth by decorating the hall with holly and evergreen boughs. Cook prepared a sumptuous noon meal and after Monk Herbert gave the blessing, everyone feasted. Xára surveyed the chamber and smiled at the excited hubbub of conversation when Dráddør deposited an enormous sack at the bottom of the dais.
During the cataloguing of Niketas’s cargo, her husband had discovered a dozen chess sets, all made of precious ivory and marble. He had taught her the game over the last while and this was to be their gift to their people. She expected ’twould quickly become an obsession with all during the long days of winter when they were confined to the keep.
Chapter Fourteen
It had been over four moons since Konáll, Nyssa, Brökk, Skatha and Jorunn had departed.
Tighe had remained for a while, but he, too, had left before the ice set in.
Five eves ago, King Kenneth’s messenger had arrived with a scroll ordering Dráddør to claim and secure Godfraid’s lands. He had left on that very day.
Xára had awoken with the knowledge her husband would return before noon. Her acute hearing had not only intensified, but grown selective. She could hear Evie, Hjørdis, and Ulna, from nigh anywhere in the holding. When she opened her eyes at dawn, Xára clearly heard Dráddør’s voice.
She could scarce contain her excitement.
’Twas the third time she had missed her courses. Would her husband be pleased? Unable to resist, she smoothed a hand over her flat belly.
After considering the advice given her by Nyssa and Skatha, she had decided to tell Dráddør today, but let him believe the babe would arrive in time for the Fall harvest. While in fact she would birth their son or d
aughter by mid-summer.
Xára swept a glance around their chamber. Wispy curls of steam rose from the massive wooden tub. The spicy fragrance of the sandalwood oil she had added to the hot water perfumed the room. A cold pitcher of ale and a tray of apples, cheese, and bread lay on the low table next to Dráddør’s favorite chair, and a roaring fire danced in the hearth.
The door burst open.
“Why are you not in the hall?” Dráddør tapped his gloves against his thigh. He wore a scowl she had come to know well. He was cross with her.
“I have had a bath drawn for you.” She indicated the tub. “You have been gone for o’er five eves and I thought to wash the stench of travel from you.”
He dragged a hand through his damp hair and eyed the tub. “I sent no word of my arrival.”
“I knew the moment you crested the hill bordering our lands from Godfraid’s.”
“You would have me believe you heard me for so far afar?” His brows knitted and his lips thinned.
“Aye.” What was it that vexed him so about her immortal powers? She could hear things no one else was even aware of, and see the memory of those she touched. ’Twas no harm in either ability.
She firmed her resolve, stepped out of the shadows, and walked to him swinging her hips in the manner Skatha had taught her. The diaphanous gown she wore revealed more than concealed and she had rubbed her nipples and nether parts with the aphrodisiac oil Nyssa had given her.
He slammed the door shut and his hungry gaze raked her from head to toe. “Seek you to seduce me into spilling my memories for you? I will not have this, wife. I have forbidden you to see my memories. You must do as your lord and master commands.”
Dolt, lout. Did he think she could pick and choose what memories she saw? Ooh, she wanted to pinch him. Instead, Xára smiled sweetly. “As always, husband, I am at your command. Let me help you with your cloak.”
She unpinned the brass brooch holding the woolen garment in place. “Did you learn aught of interest of Godfraid?”
Her question distracted him as she knew it would. He relaxed his guard, absently sniffed her neck, and kissed her temple while shrugging off the wet garment.
“Aye. We did. ’Twould seem Magnhildur had met Godfraid in the spring while both visited Godfraid’s brother, then King of Mann, Maccus mac Arailt.” Dráddør took off his belt and began removing his weapons.
“And Néill—was he there then, too?” Xára knew the answer to her query having glimpsed that memory from Néill, a memory she hoped to forget in time.
He stiffened and crossed his arms. “Aye, but you know. ’Tis writ plain on your face, wife. Tell me.”
Xára sighed. “I cannot help the memories I see, husband. Néill and Magnhildur became lovers at a court, mayhap ’twas the King of Mann’s court, I know not for cert. But she also had another lover there, the man you described as Niketas.”
They had discussed this after discovering not only Godfraid’s body but Haakon’s not in the tunnels as Néill had told Dráddør, but on the cliffs near Gná’s tunnel.
“Aye.” Dráddør scratched the stubble on his chin. “I am more convinced that Konáll had the right of it when he suggested Magnhildur was captured by a slaver. How she came to be under Niketas’s control I fear we may ne’er know.”
By rote, Dráddør arranged his hammer, sword, axe, and daggers on the iron chest. She knew he was deep in thought and hardly aware of his actions.
“’Tis a poorly run kingdom, Godfraid’s. Most who live on the lands are either aged or sickly. ’Tis said he recruited his army from Connacht with promises of gold and a rich life living at Kenneth’s court.” Dráddør tugged off his tunic.
Xára took the garment from him and spread the fine material next to his weapons. As always, the sight of his chiseled chest had her nipples tingling and her puss creaming. Heat stole across her face.
During the five nights, he had been gone, she had tried to pleasure herself, but had failed miserably. Even worse, guilt and shame had attacked her at odd times during her daily chores. How Nyssa and Skatha did such a thing in front of their husbands she would ne’er understand.
They had not swived since the night they had quarreled again about her immortal ability to see another’s memory five eves ago.
Xára longed to have his cock inside her and to feel that sweetest of invasions. But even more she yearned for the delicious intimacy after they both found their pleasure, the way he toyed with her hair and caressed her breast, the ease she felt with him then, and to simply talk to him of her day and hear about his.
All at once, she could not abide the deception inherent in what she had planned for the evening. Placing her palms flat on his chest, she tipped her head back, and met his gaze. “I fear I love you, Dráddør.”
He blinked and a wide grin stole across his face. “As a wife should. I approve of this, mit sváss.”
She ground her teeth and prayed for patience, could find no reply to his arrogant declaration, and instead untied his breech rope.
“Nay.” He smacked her hands away. “You sought to entice me with this siren’s garb and you have. I am at ready, wife. It has been a long, long, five days and nights and I have thought of naught but your titties and puss.”
Xára grinned. For with each sentence he spoke, Dráddør tore off a piece of clothing or a boot or hose, no longer the disciplined warrior who aligned his garb and weapons in a neat, methodical manner.
“Come.” He scooped her off her feet. Buried his nose at the side of her neck. “’Tis Valhalla holding you in my arms.”
“Nay, husband.” She pushed at his chest. “I have thought of naught but cleansing your flesh. Of lathering your cock and stones. This eve I do my wifely duty and bathe you.”
The blue in his eyes all but disappeared and his voice was thick and coarse when he said, “Aye. Aye.”
He slid her down his body, paused to grind his pecker against her mound, and then set her to standing. Dráddør stepped into the tub, sat, and dunked his head. Hot water splashed everywhere, including down the front of her chemise.
Xára laughed and knelt beside the wooden barrel. She soaped a linen square into a fine foamy lather, and began working on his neck and chest.
“’Twill ne’er work,” he growled and hauled her into the tub.
“Dráddør,” she squealed and smacked his shoulder. “I am all wet.”
“Are you?” He asked, and nibbled her lobe.
She jumped when his hand cupped her mound.
“’Tis hard to tell with all this water.” He brushed the wet tendrils clinging to her cheeks and temples behind her ears. “Are you wet for me, sváss? Is your puss drenched with your nectar? Is your clitty throbbing with need?”
“Aye, aye, aye.” She looped her arms around his neck and feathered kisses on his brows, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his nose, and the delicious stubble on his jaw. Then she set her mouth to his and nigh melted when his tongue tickled her lips. He tasted of all she had ever yearned for—excitement and comfort and bliss.
She yielded when he took charge and changed the angle of their kisses. He cupped her head, his fingers tangled in her wet hair, and he drank from her deeply, taking all she had to offer. Love. The promise of a future. Bairns. Family.
He lifted her, positioned one leg on either side of his waist, brought his knees up, and pushed her to lie back on his thighs. “’Twas hard to sleep these past nights. I closed my eyes and pictured you thus. These tasty buds all pink and hard for me like they are now.”
“Dráddør,” she moaned when he latched onto one nipple and drew hard using teeth and tongue.
“The sweetest sound, your voice calling my name,” he growled and nosed his way to her other breast. He nipped the peak and then soothed the throbbing point with long licks. He lifted his head, grasped the neck of her chemise, and ripped the thin fabric in two. “I need you naked.”
“Aye,” she agreed and helped him discard the sodden garment.
“Aye,” he concurred. “Five nights I have been without you. Five nights too long.”
“Dráddør, I have missed you so.” Locking her hands behind his head, she urged him from one breast to the other, squirming and rubbing her clitty on his belly. When he inserted a finger into her she cried out, “Aye.”
“Aye, sváss, aye,” he crooned, and pushed another finger inside.
The delicious sensations she remembered began. The walls of her puss quivered and quickened with each thrust. He cupped one breast and toyed with her nipple, suckling the aching bud, drawing his teeth over the tip, and all the while his fingers drove into her, thrust, retreat, over and over. Her excitement spiraled, her desire uncontainable, she wanted him, needed him desperately.
Xára leaned forward and plucked at his male nipples. She ground on his fingers, arched and lunged trying to find the rhythm she craved. Ground her teeth in frustration and rubbed her clitty on the heel of his hand.
He set his forearm to her belly effectively stilling her frenzied movements. One hand spread her folds apart while his fingers thrust into her clenching puss. “To my hand, wife. To my hand. Find your pleasure.”
With those words he bent his head and set his mouth to her nub. She shattered as a storm of furious contractions broke over her. Her puss squeezed and released his fingers.
He stood.
Water sluiced from their skin and plopped onto the stone floor.
She wrapped her legs around his arse and the hardness of his turgid erection abraded her clitty in the most delicious way.
“Lean back,” he growled and loosened his hold.
Only too eager to have him inside her, she obeyed and they both watched as his thick cock pushed into her. The carnality of the vision of their sexes joining did her in. Her inner walls convulsed. Xára keened his name as the climax tore through her, the spasms short, sharp, and exquisite.
“Valhalla,” he said, his voice coarse and rough, and then took her mouth with his.