by Lexi Lane
“But you killed Baldric anyway.”
“Yes, I did. He was going to kill you. Would you rather that I had let him stick his dagger in you?”
“You are a savage; you could have stopped him with just a word. You’d kill your one of your own man over a woman?”
“No. Not over a woman. But I would…and did… kill a man who disobeyed me.” He shifted on the horse, pulling her more firmly against his body. “I’m the chief of my village. My word is law. And right now, men…or women…who disagree are not to be tolerated.”
They rode in silence for a long time. The pounding in Isolda’s head had subsided to a dull ache. Fragments of the night before were surfacing in her mind: of Gerold, his face in the firelight as he was overcome with ecstasy, of the sensations he’d created in her body, the warmth filling her, sending her spiraling out of control. She’d never experienced anything like what he’d done to her. The thought passed through her mind that this must be what it might be like with a man, mated to him, to be his companion…his wife. She wondered what his wife had been like.
She shifted on the horse; remembering it was like reliving it all over. The images were lighting a new fire inside, making her conscious of how her body had been used. The rocking of the horse beneath her, her body rubbing against the rough blanket, the sensitive spot between her legs that was coming alive: it was all making her hot again.
Isolda shook her head. This was wrong; this barbarian savage had taken advantage of her, had defiled her. He was intent on revenge, not on anything else.
“Who is Ravenna?” Isolda’s curiosity got the better of her.
She felt Gerold’s arm tense, his hand “Why do you ask about that name?”
“You called me Ravenna, last night, as you were falling asleep.” Isolda’s voice was low. “Was she your wife?”
Gerold drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. “Yes, she was. Her name was Ravenna. She was named for the river that runs nearby our village.” She heard what sounded like a small laugh. “She was teased a great deal when we were young, being named for water. But as she grew older, she learned to love the name.”
“And you loved her?”
“Yes, I did.” Gerold shifted uneasily on the horse, jostling Isolda. “She was my life, my strength. Like the river; she was constant, always there, slaking my thirst, sustaining me.” His voice was distant. Isolda longed to turn and see his face. But to do so would break this magic moment. She remained silent.
“Her eyes were the color of the river; gray on cloudy days, brilliant blue in the sun. I’d never seen a woman who could change the color of her eyes. I knew her mood before she even spoke. Her eyes betrayed her emotions every time.
“I’d known her since we were young. We grew up together, running through the forest, swimming in the river. She was my best friend. And then one day, she was something more; she was a woman, the woman I desired. And a beautiful woman; she stirred every emotion I could ever feel. We were married as soon as we were ready.” Gerold’s voice had grown wistful.
“It took her longer than me to be ready. I worried for a time she was unsure of me, or that she didn’t love me. But it wasn’t that. She needed to find the right time in her own heart.”
Gerold sighed. “And she did. We were married just a year when she was taken from me.” His voice grew cold. “And she was carrying my child when she died.”
Isolda felt tears stinging her eyelids. As much as she hated this man for taking her and her sister, and for defiling her, she couldn’t help being touched by his story. She sniffed, a single tear running down her cheek.
“For your loss, Gerold, I am sorry.” She took a breath before continuing. “But do you really believe taking me and my sister is going to wipe away the hurt you feel? That we can replace what you have lost?”
“No. I don’t.” His voice was sharp. “I don’t care anymore. That part of me is dead; I only want revenge. I’m not looking to replace Ravenna; that can never happen. I only want to hurt those who hurt me, in the same way I was hurt; by taking away their loved ones.” He tightened his hold on Isolda, squeezing her hard.
“Enough talk. You ask too many questions. Can you not learn to be silent?” Gerold spurred his horse. Isolda went quiet then, sunk in her own thoughts, thinking over the strange words from this barbarian.
She was dozing on the horse when she smelled smoke. It was late in the day and she could see the outlines of small buildings through the trees. They rode into a small village, a cluster of wooden homes surrounding a small center area.
Gerold dismounted and pulled Isolda from the horse. Her legs gave way and she sank to the stones. He pulled her to her feet, pushing her ahead of him to a small building, opening the door and dragging her inside. Gisela was already there, huddled in the corner by a small fire. Isolda ran to her, crouching down.
“Gisela, are you hurt? Are you alright?”
Gisela’s dress was torn, her bare legs scratched and dirty.
“I’m fine. Dirty and tired. Where are we, Isolda? Why are we here?”
“Enough talk.” Gerold was standing over them. “You can explain the whole story later.” He looked down at Isolda.
“You will not run. There is an entire village of men out there who would greatly enjoy your company. But you are not for sharing, either of you. You both will be mine.
He turned as he reached the door. “There is bread and cheese and wine…just wine…on the bench. Eat. You will need your strength.”
“Wait!” Isolda stood. Gerold frowned at her.
“What is it, girl? I have things to attend to.” Isolda walked to where he stood.
She lowered her voice, keeping her back to Gisela. “If you can find the kindness, please, give her the fortified wine. She will be less frightened. I cannot stop you but I can ask that you make it less painful for her.”
Gerold looked at her a moment and then walked to a set of shelves in the corner. He removed a small flask, handing it to Isolda.
“This will be enough. No more and no less. She will be just as you were last night; awake and aware, and if you remember, enjoying everything.” He turned and left the hut.
The girls ate in silence. Gisela quickly succumbed to the effects of the wine; her eyes were glazed and far away. Isolda combed through her sister’s hair as best she could with her fingers, plaiting the blonde strands into one long braid. They were sitting on the floor by the fire when Gerold came back into the hut. He stood over Gisela for a moment, then pulled her up from the floor.
The girl gazed up at Gerold, her eyes wide. She glanced back briefly at Isolda, but the effects of the drugged wine were apparent; her eyes were locked on Gerold’s, her lithe body already moving toward his.
The only bed in the room was in an outshot at the other end of the hut. Isolda realized with a start she was going to be in the same room, not more than a stone’s throw from the pair. She looked in panic for a place to go, but the hut was small. She sighed deeply and sat back down by the fire. She longed to run, to pull Gisela away from the barbarian, but she knew there was no place to run to, especially not in the dark. There was no moon and she could hear wolfsong outside. As horrible as it was inside the hut, it was far better than a night spent wandering in a dark forest.
Isolda watched as Gerold held Gisela’s face in his hands, bending down to kiss her. Gisela kissed him back, winding her arms around Gerold’s neck. Images came back to Isolda: she knew exactly what Gisela was feeling; the unexpected softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his body. The bulge of his hard cock.
Gerold reached for the hem of Gisela’s dress, pulling it up and over her head, leaving the girl standing naked in the firelight. Gerold ran his hands slowly over her breasts. Gisela arched against his hands, sighing softly as Gerold gently pulled her nipples, pinching and tugging at them, watching as they grew hard at his touch.
Gisela was fumbling at the ties on Gerold’s pants, tugging the garment down over his narrow hips as h
e stripped his shirt over his head.
Isolda’s gasp was echoed by her sister as Gerold’s cock sprang free, curving up the solid planes of his stomach. Isolda realized she’d not seen Gerold’s cock; she’d only felt him, rubbing it against her body before thrusting into her. She knew Gisela had never been with a man; this was all new to her. The wine was clouding her judgment, Isolda knew, and she wondered how much of this Gisela would remember in the morning.
Gisela was eagerly reaching for Gerold’s cock, running her hands over the hard shaft, stroking and pulling, rubbing the head of it against her skin. Isolda saw her slide one hand down to cup his balls. Gerold moaned softly, encouraging Gisela to massage them. Isolda watched as his hips slowly pushed forward, thrusting himself into Gisela’s eager hands.
As much as Isolda knew she shouldn’t watch, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of her sister, her slender, young body lit by the flickering light of the fire, with this man, his raw sexual power evident as he stood naked. Isolda let her eyes wander over his broad shoulders, smooth skin taut over hard muscles, down his flat stomach, to the thatch of reddish blonde hair where his muscular thighs met. And rising from that golden field was his cock, long and thick, curving away from his body.
Isolda realized she was breathing hard, a not-so-subtle warmth starting low in her belly. She knew she should not watch as this barbarian took her sister’s maidenhead, but she was entranced by every move he made.
Gerold was kissing Gisela; Isolda could see their tongues thrusting back and forth, Gisela eagerly accepting Gerold’s tongue into her mouth. Gerold’s hands were roaming over her sister’s body, from her breasts down over her ass, pulling her against his body, rubbing his cock against her stomach.
Suddenly Gisela dropped to her knees, Gerold’s cock in her hands, holding it to her mouth, rubbing it against her face. Isolda watched in amazement as Gisela began licking and kissing Gerold’s cock, running her tongue up and down the hard shaft, pulling the head into her mouth, sucking loudly. Isolda saw Gerold run his hands through Gisela’s hair, winding his fingers though the strands, the braid slowly coming undone.
Gisela stayed on her knees for a long time, licking and sucking Gerold’s cock, as he watched his cock slid in and out of Gisela’s mouth. Isolda could see the shaft was wet and glistening, coated with her sister’s spit. Isolda wondered what that would be like, to take a man’s cock in her mouth, to lick and suck at it. By the look on Gerold’s face, it was something incredibly pleasurable.
Then, in one quick motion, Gerold pulled himself out of Gisela’s mouth, hauling her to her feet. He scooped her up, laying her on the bed. Gisela immediately held her arms out and Gerold climbed on the bed, his body over hers, settling between her already spread legs. Isolda could see his hips flex as he positioned himself to thrust into her.
And then she heard Gisela cry out; Isolda knew Gerold had entered her. Gisela was still a moment and then her hips began slowly rising and falling, urging Gerold to move.
He responded to her movements, thrusting himself into Gisela. Isolda watched their bodies moving almost as one, in a kind of sensual dance, a dance that Isolda was suddenly aware she was not a part of.
Gisela was crying out, raking her hands across Gerold’s back, suddenly jerking and twisting beneath him, her face flushed. Gerold’s thrusts sped up and then he tipped his head back, grunting loudly, his face suffused with the same look she had seen last night.
And in that instant, watching her sister in bed with Gerold, jealously bloomed in Isolda’s heart. She no longer cared that her sister had been defiled as she had. She only wanted to be the one in the bed, not the one watching. She wanted to be the one who made that look come across Gerold’s face.
Gerold had rolled off of Gisela, lying on his back, breathing hard. Overcome by wine, or passion, Gisela was lying curled on her side, eyes closed. Isolda walked slowly toward the bed, pulling her dress over her head, tossing it to the floor.
She looked down at Gerold, the firelight playing off his handsome face; long straight nose and high cheekbones, making his hair seem almost as red as hers. She looked across at Gisela; the girl was snoring softly, oblivious to the world.
She touched him lightly on the shoulder. His eyes opened and he looked up at her, reaching out to run his hand up her hip. He moved over on the bed, giving her room. She lay down beside him, curling her body against his. Gerold turned on his side, resting his head on his hand, looking down at her.
“Looking for something, girl?” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Did you enjoy watching? I admit, I’ve never had an audience before.”
Isolda took a deep breath. “If what you say about my father is true, then I think I understand why you’ve done what you have. I cannot agree with what you’ve done, but I think I understand what made you do it.”
Gerold laughed. “Have you been into the wine with your sister? You’ve changed your entire view of this adventure in the span of one evening?” He looked down at her, tilting her chin up.
“I think I see something else here.” He studied her face for a moment. “You’re not happy that I bedded your sister, are you? A bit jealous?” He laughed softly. “No worries there. I’m not getting attached to either of you. I’ve taken my bit of revenge; you two will be traded the next time we travel. You’ll be lucky if you end up in the same village.”
Isolda turned her head, pulling away from Gerold’s hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have no jealousy. You used both of us vilely. How could I be jealous?” But as she said the words, she felt the warmth of Gerold’s body, his scent, the very nearness of him sending frissons of excitement through her body.
He leaned over, running his hand down her arm. She felt the shiver his touch created; she didn’t need to look to see the gooseflesh his touched raised on her arm.
“The hut is warm, yet you shiver. I’d bet my best sword that if I ran my hand between your legs, it would come back wet. Will you take that bet?”
Isolda met his eyes, those blue eyes that held her captive. Without a second thought, she pulled him to her, kissing him roughly, her tongue insistently pressed against his lips.
Gerold responded instantly, winding his fingers in her hair, holding her to him as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.
Surprising even herself, Isolda pushed Gerold on his back, straddling his hips with her thighs. She broke their kiss, looking down at him, her hands on his chest.
“This has nothing to do with jealousy, or your bet or anything else.” She was breathing hard, unable to form any kind of coherent thought, much less put them into words. All she knew, all she cared about at that moment, was satisfying the desire that had welled up in her body. And the man who could satisfy her was lying beneath her.
Gerold ran his hands up her legs, settling them on her hips. “You’ve got control now, girl. Do as you will. I’m capable of bedding two of you in one night.”
Isolda looked down; his cock was hard, again standing straight and long, a delicious curve to the shaft. Instinctively she raised her body, moving forward, settling herself onto him.
She felt him enter her body, and he was right. She was in control. She lowered herself slowly; felt him filling her body completely. She rose slightly, testing this new position, the range of her movements.
Gerold ran his hands up her body, cupping her breasts, running his fingers over her nipples. He gently guided her toward him, and she went willingly. Soon he was at her breast, almost frantically sucking at her. She felt his hips rising beneath her, searching for contact and she gave it to him. She settled onto him, grinding her hips against him, finding that spot that gave her so much pleasure.
Isolda rode Gerold until they were both gasping, crying out with pleasure. She sat back, putting her full weight on him, rolling her hips. He was clutching her body, trying to force himself further into her, seeking his release.
But then she held herself above him, teasing him, leading him down the path and th
en stopping, repeating this over and over. Finally he could stand it no longer.
“Damn it, girl. Let me finish! You’re not going to keep this up all night.” He grabbed her hips, forcing himself into her, hard, pushing his hips up. Isolda let him use her then, let him set the pace. Soon he was grunting, thrusting hard, his hips flexed, pumping his cock into her body.
And then he was coming, his cock pulsing and throbbing, filling her with his seed. He cried out loudly, loud enough to rouse Gisela, who stirred briefly, before closing her eyes again. Neither noticed.
Isolda felt herself on the edge, Gerold’s throbbing cock triggering her release. She tipped her head back, hands clutching her own breasts, pulling the nipples as she ground down on him, her body shuddering, muscles contracting around his cock.
Finally exhausted, she fell across his body. They lay in each other’s arms, breathing heavily, until the chill of the room drove them under the blankets. Before they settled though, Gerold pulled a pallet bed from beneath the outshot, lifted Gisela off the bed, and settled her beneath a blanket. He crawled back into bed with Isolda, cradling her body against his, arms and legs wrapping around her.
In the dark, Isolda smiled, resting her head against his shoulder. And then she slept.
In the morning, Gisela was sent to a different hut belonging to one of the men from the raiding party. Isolda never asked and Gerold never offered an explanation for the change.
***
The following weeks passed quickly, nights filled with passion. Isolda and Gerold explored each other, plumbing the depths of their passion, sending each other to heights neither had ever imagined. Isolda was almost happy; she’d come to believe she would stay with Gerold, hoped someday to become his wife. But her dreams were shattered one still winter morning. Gerold had come to her with news.
“You’ll be leaving with the next caravan. You may think you have something here with me, but you do not. If you have, you’ve only fooled yourself. I have no interest in you staying here with me.” Gerold gave her a cold look, turned and left the hut. Isolda stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to move.