Still, as he watched the whirl of the dancers, he could not control his fantasies. He kept visualizing the motion of that lithe young creature in bed. He shook his head to clear it of thoughts that might lead him into trouble. They had been a long time at sea. Human nature could sometimes become quite animal. Some of the sailors manage a romantic interlude with some of the colonists’ wives, unless Nils missed his estimate of men and women.
What was he thinking? A little disgusted with himself, and more than a little frustrated, he rose to leave the party. He was a bit unsteady on his feet, tired and pleasantly drunk, and went to seek his blankets. Nils had always been something of a loner, and periodically found it pleasant to be alone to think. He took his blankets and his wolfskin cloak, and sought a secluded spot near the log palisade.
Nils was almost asleep, dimly aware of the distant sounds of revelry, when he heard someone approaching. Some other sailor was searching for a place to spread his robes, and he resented the intrusion on his privacy. He turned his back, and drew his cloak up around his ears.
Almost immediately, however, he felt the warming touch of a soft body, as someone lay down next to him. Startled, he turned to face the newcomer. The starlight was dim, but he could see, as well as feel, that it was a woman. Then realization dawned. Not only a woman, but the incredibly beautiful blue-eyed woman he had seen at the shore and again at the dancing. Smoothly, she lifted the edge of his blanket and slid in beside him. Almost simultaneously, she bestowed a kiss squarely on his lips.
Perhaps it was the surprise, the wine, or the long weeks at sea, but this was a kiss like no other. It was warm, moist, urgent yet yielding, lingering on his lips, with just a tantalizing hint of an exploring tongue before she pulled away.
“Nils Thorsson,” she said.
It was not a question, merely a statement of fact. Her voice was deep and seductively husky.
“Yes,” he blurted, his breath coming in excited gasps. “What?”
“Would you do something for me?” she whispered in his ear.
He wanted to shout “Anything!” but managed to control himself.
“What is it?”
She snuggled against him, rubbing her knee against his thighs, encircling his chest with her arm. She breathed tantalizing into his ear.
“Will you take me with you?”
She kissed him again, before he could answer. A longer, deeper kiss, filled with promise of things to come. His hands were caressing her body, pulling her closer to him, but she gently pushed him away.
“Will you?”
He paused, confused. The girl was giving him mixed messages, enticing him while she held him off. This helped to bring him back to reality.
“You have no husband?” he asked pointedly.
The girl shrugged.
“He is nothing. As interesting as a sack of flour.”
She snuggled closer to him again.
“He does not know how to treat a woman.”
Resentment flared at Nils. He could not imagine a man who would fail to treat this woman like a goddess. He cradled her in his arms and rocked her gently.
“I would leave him for you!” she whispered.
Tears were wet on her cheeks.
“But,” Nils protested, “I am just starting on this exploration.”
“Then take me with you!”
“No, no, it would not be possible.”
“You do not like me,” she pouted, pretending to turn away from him. “If you really loved me, you would take me away.”
“But I hardly know you!’
She cuddled closer and kissed him again, making his heart race and his breath come in short, excited gasps once more. This girl could turn hot and cold as quickly as… She was nibbling on his earlobe now, driving him crazy with desire.
“You could know me better,” she whispered. “Better than my clod of a husband. Please help me.”
Nils was beside himself with a mixture of sympathy and desire. He genuinely wanted to help this desperate young woman, who appeared to be trapped in an unfortunate marriage. Why did she not simply leave her husband, he wondered. It was quite permissible under Norse custom.
Except, he reminded himself, there would be nowhere for her to go, unless she left the colony. And, of course, there was no way to do that, except on one of the infrequent ships that stopped at Straumfjord. And what could she offer in exchange for help? She had nothing. Nothing, that is, except herself. Her body. The exquisite, desirable body that now snuggled against him under the wolfskin cloak.
Nils was of sympathetic nature anyway, and the plight of this woman tugged at his heartstrings. Of all the men here at Straumfjord tonight, she had chosen him to ask for assistance. It was a tremendously uplifting, flattering thing to be the one she felt she could approach. He felt that he must help her. Besides, the promised rewards were so desirable. He gathered her to him and kissed her, trying hard to control his breathing.
“I cannot take you with me now,” he whispered, “but when I come back—”
She pushed him away.
“You will never come back!” she sobbed, tears starting again.
“Yes, yes, I will. When we finish the exploration, we will stop here on the way home’
“Really? You will come for me?”
She was happy in an instant.
“Yes,” Nils promised.
He was trying to ignore the faint warnings in the back of his mind, to go slow, be careful. He kissed her again, long and passionately, and she responded with equal fervor. Gently, he stroked her body, reaching down for the hem of her skirt. He had just succeeded in touching the smooth skin of a shapely leg when she suddenly pushed his hand away and sat up.
“No!” she said huskily. “Not now. The risk is too great. Later, it will be better.”
She kissed him, warmly but briefly, and sprang to her feet, smoothing her skirt as she turned.
“Later,” she promised.
She blew him a kiss and was gone.
Nils lay in the dim starlight, staring after her gracefully retreating figure. He was completely frustrated, still breathing heavily, and with the dull ache of unfulfilled desire in his groin. An even worse ache was that of doubt. Had she been only toying with him? Was it a game with her, to see how far she could go with her torment and then give nothing? He was angry, disappointed.
As his anger cooled, he began to rationalize. He wanted badly to justify the girl’s behavior. She was desperate, he assumed, or she would never have approached a stranger with this sort of proposition. And, since she had only one thing to offer, it must be held in reserve until she was certain of the bargain. Seen in this light, her behavior was at least understandable, if not totally acceptable to him. His sympathy for her plight began to return. He hoped he could prove worthy of her trust.
The ache of frustrated desire still remained, and he thought for some time of her promise. “Later.” How much later, and under what circumstances, he wondered. There were many unanswered questions here. He thought again of the warmth of her kiss, the feel of her body against his, and the seductive thrill of her breath in his ear.
Restless, he rose and went back to the area near the fires, where the thinning crowd still laughed and sang, and wine still flowed. He did not see the girl, and the revelry was not the same. Even the wine had lost its savor. Disappointed, he turned away.
Back in his blankets, he was almost asleep when an odd thought struck him. He did not even know her name, the name of the blue-eyed goddess who had offered to share his bed.
THE CHANGING WIND
A Bantam Book / March 1990
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 1990 by Don Coldsmith.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-57303-2
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