Viking Fire

by Andrea R. Cooper

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Winter fell upon the east coast of Ireland. Four months Kaireen waited for Bram to mend so they would both be able to dance at their wedding, and more. When Kaireen admitted her love, she did not think it would increase, yet her love blossomed more each day. It was as if once the small seed took root, it grew like a forest of ancient yew trees.

  After the battle, Elva set his broken bones with oak planks and ropes. Kaireen helped hold the boards in place.

  Her handmaid had him bite on leather straps. She yanked his leg back, pulling the bones straight, she said.

  Sweat beaded across Bram’s brow and his glare bore into Elva, but she minded not. Guards held his arms. Afterwards, when they took the leather from his mouth, his teeth clenched.

  “I would like to show you the blood eagle sometime.”

  Elva tsked. “Do you want to hobble for the rest of life, or suffer a little pain now?”

  “A little pain?” He cringed. “I hate to see what you deem more.”

  Kaireen lay on her bed remembering. Bram’s wounds and bones had taken months to heal. In Elva’s care, he healed quicker than she expected. Last week Elva took the splints off, and Bram walked with the aid of his oak staff.

  Snow covered the land. Winter trees were stripped bare. Kaireen snuggled deeper under the covers. Closed her eyes, and thought of Bram’s kiss goodnight and his sweet promises of their wedding night.

  Bram. She bolted upright.

  Today was the day-her wedding day! She jumped out of bed, gasping when her feet met the cold stone floor. She hobbled sideways as she put on her slippers.

  Fire burned in the hearth, bringing forth the aroma of cinnamon. She crept to the fire, gazing at the flames.

  “For your wedding day,” Elva said. “The cinnamon is for prosperity, protection and passion. I thought it would go well with your earlier wedding gift of the bath. Come now. Your groom has waited too long for you.”

  She nodded, following Elva to the bathing chambers. Her handmaid carried a basket filled with ribbons, combs, hazel twigs, and soap. In her other hand, a new linen shift and her wedding dress. The crimson gown with the square neckline would make her skin appear smooth as cream.

  • • •

  She sank into the steamy water. Months ago she hated thinking that she would wed. Now, she had waited so long it could not happen fast enough. Her heart felt as if a dozen horses were running wild and faster with each passing moment.

  After bathing and cleaning her teeth, she allowed Elva to dry, and then dress her.

  The damask gown fit her curves and she loved the folds that swept to the floor.

  Elva wove red ribbons lined with pearls into her hair.

  Then Kaireen dabbed her neck and wrists with rose oil. She donned her pile-weave cloak.

  Elva beamed with pride.

  “No flowers blooming for you, for it be a harsh winter. But herbs will do fine as well.” She handed Kaireen a basket of cinnamon sticks and cloves.

  Kaireen thanked her, and followed her handmaid through the corridors.

  In the hallway, she smelled the roasting boar mingled with onions, sage, and rosemary. She licked her lips. In her rush she had skipped her breakfast to get ready. But food would have to wait until after the ceremony.

  In the courtyard, the guests gathered. Each brought a hand cake. Now each cake was piled on a blanket on the ground, creating an awkward tower.

  Snow and ice hung from the trees and the cloaked guests shivered. Friar Connell nodded as they approached.

  Bram was dressed in sapphire tunic stitched with gold threads.

  Her breath caught in her throat. He held a hand out for her and she took it. No longer was she scared of loving this man, this Viking. Originally she had thought it was because of his heritage that she was so adamant to not marry him, but only now could she admit it was also that she feared his love would consume her. Now she could not accept a future without him.

  She noticed he wore a silver necklace, the emblem shaped as Thor’s hammer and cross. Her mother’s eyes blinked back tears.

  Kaireen shifted her feet and then looked to the Friar who nodded his approval for them to speak their vows.

  Do not let me forget my words, she prayed. “Bram, I pledge my life and love to only you. I promise to always love and cherish only you. Birth you strong sons, and stronger daughters.” Women in the crowd chuckled. “Honor and respect do I also give you and demand the same from you to me. I will go where you go with the grace of God.”

  Bram cleared his throat, his skin faded pale. “I promise you to love and cherish only you always. Raise our children with you. And not to lift my hand toward you in anger, but to protect you with my life.” Then he drew her in close, brushing his lips across hers. He whispered against her mouth of wanting to fulfill all his passionate promises to her.

  “By the power of God, I hereby bless this union.” Friar Connell sprinkled holy water from an implement made of gold.

  With the crowds’ cheers, Bram and Kaireen rushed to the stack of cakes. They circled their arms around the stack, grasping their fingers, careful not to touch the cakes.

  Stretching forward, she leaned on her tiptoes. They kissed over the cakes for prosperity. The throng shouted when one of the cakes wavered, but did not fall. Everyone rushed forward, congratulating the couple. Then they followed the bride and groom into the great hall. She was glad to be inside by the warmth of the hearths.

  At the high table, Kaireen’s father and mother sat to her right, Bram on her left.

  Four servants brought silver trays with roasted boar covered in onions. Trays followed of cooked goose coated with pepper, bail, and rosemary. Gilded and slivered calves heads with roasted peacock came next with its feathers hung over the tray.

  Then platters of cheeses, tarts and custards arrived. Each guest’s goblet was filled with honey mead or the mulled wine the Lochlanns called spicey.

  Sallat from boiled carrots, lettuce, nuts, vinegar, and oil stuffed in a wooden trencher was offered as well.

  Bram’s men joined in with the Liannon’s laughter at the lower tables.

  Kaireen ate until she thought she would burst her gown. Then the servants cleared the hall. She swirled to the round dance as long as the musicians played.

  Hours flew by. Rebecca danced with one of the Lochlanns and Kaireen hoped she would find love.

  Bram’s brother, the giant, held Shay with his eyes and arms. He strained not to cringe at her as thrice she stepped on his foot.

  Perhaps love would come to Shay again.

  Already, she glowed with Bram’s brother. What wonder that so much life, love and death could come through the Lochlanns. Kaireen had learned to trust her handmaid’s words. How confoundedly stubborn she had been. Kaireen hoped her children might not inherit too much of her stubborn heart while Bram hoped they did fire and all.

  Beside her, Bram nuzzled her ear, causing her to forget the dancing couple. He whispered her to follow him and she did.

  They maneuvered through the crowd. In the corridor, he clutched her hand. He drew her with him as they ran through the hallway.

  Outside her room, he winked. “Not so loud.” He pushed open the door. “I think you did not want your wedding gown torn off by the crowd.”

  She blushed to her toes. Custom said the clothing of the bride was lucky. She remembered the horror of her eldest sister’s wedding.

  The guests had followed the bride and groom to their bedchambers. But they tossed and locked her groom out. Then everyone pressed around tearing away pieces of her gown. By the end, she had been left shivering and naked.

  Kaireen felt a lump in her throat. The bedroom door clicked closed. No one save her maidservants had seen her without clothes.

  Already, Bram stood before her, his clothes in a pile on the stone floor. His muscles were chiseled and despite his scars, she found no flaw.

  Golden hair flowed to his shoulders. His full lips formed a smile as he gazed
at her.

  From his boldness, she glanced lower and saw a rod between his legs. She jerked her head away, her face burning.

  “Well, wife?”

  Her mouth went dry. “No.” Last night her mother and Elva explained the marriage bed, but she imagined his implement a dagger, not this broad sword. He would surely kill her.

  She hiked up her skirts and bounded to the door. But he chuckled, hauling her back by the waist.

  “I promise I will not do anything unless you ask.” He carried her across the room.

  She squirmed in his arms. His manhood pressed against the back of her thigh. He dumped her in the bed and then held her with his arm as he dove in after her.

  He kissed her neck. Then he nibbled at her ear lobe until she offered her lips.

  His lips touched hers and she opened her mouth. She eased her tongue out, ran the tip along his lip. He groaned and opened for her, their tongues blending together.

  Heat coursed her between her legs. He stroked her hair, her arms.

  She mumbled she was hot and so he removed her wedding gown. Embarrassed, she folded her arms across her chest. Only her leine covered her.

  Bram kissed her again, making her forget her worries. His hand stroked her breast, teasing the nipple through the fabric. Pleasure flooded through her. His other hand lowered to her stomach and then at the junction of her legs. She gasped as moisture pooled there.

  His fingers caressed her where no one else ever touched her and she clenched the bed sheets in her fists. He continued this torture despite her whimpering until her legs grew numb. “Take off your leine if you want more,” he whispered.

  She jerked the leine, tearing the fabric. He leaned back, his fingers ceased their movement.

  Had she done something wrong? She shivered with his body away from hers. She opened one eye watching him.

  He stared at her, his breathing heavy. He saw her stare and smiled. “I wanted to see you.”

  She tugged on the sheets.

  “No. The sun will set within the hour. Let me see you in the light afore candles are lit. For we will not sleep tonight.”

  He kissed her lips then traced a path down her neck. Wanting more, but not sure what, she raked her hands across his back. He kissed each breast in turn until the pink nipples perked.

  His kisses lingered between her legs and she thought she would burst. Then he kissed her stomach, her breast, her neck, then her lips again.

  This was madness. Her body pulsed with her want of him. What did he wait for?

  “Now, please now.”

  He used his hand and moved his member to the junction of her thighs. Her breath forced as he sheathed himself into her flesh. She cried out against his mouth.

  “Shh. It hurts this first time, that’s all. But I promise I will bring us both pleasure.”

  She wanted to punch him. Push his invasion away. If this is what the marriage bed entailed, she wanted nothing more to do with it. She opened her mouth to tell him so, when she saw his face.

  Sweat beaded across his forehead the same as when Elva set his leg as she called it. His brow furrowed in concentration and his azure eyes darkened as he gazed at her with love, pain, and wonder. Somehow, this union caused him pain too?

  “I love you.” The words flowed from her mouth.

  “Kaireen,” he kissed the tip of her nose, “I love you too. As I also promised in our vows.”

  Truly he loved her. Aye, she recognized the emotions in his eyes. He shifted, and pleasure mingled with pain raced through her. Where they merged, she throbbed.

  Slowly, he eased from inside her, then back inside. She bit her lip, worried about the pain. But then her body rose to meet him. She kissed him, holding his golden hair in her fists.

  Despite her protest, he kept the pace slow. The man wanted to drive her mad. Her muscles seized then released with her climax.

  They lay together, each panting from their lovemaking.

  “I love you, my stubborn bride, my sweet wife.” He took her in his arms.

  She kissed his chin. “And I love you.” She paused. “Bram?” The room was dark and she could not see his face. “May we do it again?”

  “Aye.” His laughter boomed through the room. “Many times tonight and the next day, and the next. And I have Elva’s promise our bathing on the morrow will be ready here with herbs to remove your tenderness.”

  She crept from bed and then used her flint stone to light the candles. A dozen candles splayed across the shelves along her walls. She smiled, imagining their children to come.

  They would have at least three. Two girls, and a son. Aye, a son whom she would name Lochlann for his father’s heritage. His ancestors would be McLochlann, son of Lochlann for generations. A sign that the word that she once thought appalling had now become her love and father of her children.

  Embers burned in the hearth but she noticed kindling stuffed among the iron frame piled into ash. Logs were staked beside the hearth. She threw three logs onto the fire.

  She shivered and crawled back into his waiting arms.

  “Will we talk before slumber?” she asked. How long did he need to recover from their duty? She had overheard tales from the other servants…a man took hours to recover.

  His fingertips brushed her lips, and then he followed with a kiss. “I want to see you by candlelight now.” His fingers stroked her neck, and then his lips traced their path. “And in the dark, and come the dawn at our keep, and come—”

  “Enough talking.” Her fingers pressed against his mouth.

  He smiled against her fingers and did her bidding.

  About the Author

  Andrea R. Cooper was born in Houston, Texas, and dreamed of being a writer since getting her first praise in grade school on her story about a piece of chalk. She has an Associate of The Arts Degree and has worked as a freelance writer. She lives outside of Houston with her best friend who is her husband, their three children, and lots of books.

  More from This Author

  (From The Garnet Dagger by Andrea R. Cooper)

  I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape.

  At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything. By observing for eons, I understood and spoke their language. The world of mankind fascinated me. Their hobbled homes burrowed into the ground. Rocks crunched on top one another with thatched roofs woven from straw. Never had I seen a home or inn that was higher than three levels, as if they were afraid of the sky.

  I delayed my return to my people as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest. Since I was already late, I hiked uphill to a shortcut rather than take the long path back home. I didn’t need to alert any of my kind near the barrier at this hour. Liana would wonder why I was late. Tonight was the two month anniversary of our hand twining ceremony. One more month as was custom, and then we’d be wed.

  A gasp rustled through the trees. The roots shot a warning through to me with stifled caution. Adjusting my pack, I continued on instead of changing back into my Elvin clothes. After I passed the border which kept humans from entering our land, then I’d change.

  In the distance, I heard a groan. Curious, I spun in the direction of the sound. The autumn wind breezed through my worn human clothes, chilling me. But someone needed help. I turned in the direction of the sounds.

  Whatever made the noise should be a few yards ahead. I hiked slower than my normal speed, so as not to startle whatever human called out. My leather boots crunched upon dried, diseased leaves and bark. Horrified, I glanced up.

  Branches twisted around each other to suffocating. Lif
eless limbs cracked in the wind. Flesh of the trees sloughed off in layers, exposing its bones. Gashes hollowed out chunks of warmth. Fragments of leaves clung to finger tips, marking sepulchers of the dying trees.

  Trees mourned with wails like splitting wood, and I brought my hands over my ears. I must flee before I became infected, they told me.

  Flee before the stain of this defilement creeps into you, they warned. Trees spoke to my kind, always had. Yet these trees were in such agony of death that I could not breathe. Felt as though my lungs had folded in on themselves, like a moth unable to break loose from its cocoon.

  Nothing I could do for them, and if I lingered too long, whatever disease gnawed upon them may choke me. Where would I go if I carried something so foul as to devour trees from the inside out? I’d never return to Tamlon if I brought this infection with me.

  I drew away, but a movement at the base of a decaying tree to my right caught me. My night vision picked up the sight of a human. His sallow face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Poking out from rags lay his arms and legs, which resembled skin stretched over sticks.

  So cadaverous was his face, I’d have thought him dead if he hadn’t moved.

  “Please,” he said and his voice sounded like cicada’s vibrations, “help me.”

  “What ails you in this troubled place?” I wondered if my voice, foreign to my ears in speaking the human’s language, revealed my nature.

  “I am lost.” His dark eyes crinkled around the corners. “Without strength to rise. If you would but assist me up, I’ll be on my way.”

  I’d never touched a human on purpose before. Was it that that gave me pause, or dread that stilled my heart? My feet itched to flee. As soon as I helped him, then I’d leave. I gritted my teeth and reached a hand down.

  His gnarled fingers snapped on my arm, making me wince. Jerking me forward, his face contorted. Surprised by his strength, I fell beside him. Blackness curled around me.

  Teeth, fangs, broke through the skin on my neck. Then I knew him for what he was, a vampyre. I struggled in protest. My words trapped in my mind. This shouldn’t happen. I was not human. But I felt my essence slip from me with each sucking sound he made.