Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 03]

by The Tarnished Lady

  She gasped. “’Tis more like you having the controlling thumb, methinks.”

  He smiled. “Open your legs for me, sweetling.”

  When he knelt between her legs, looking at the honeyed folds of her womanhood, Eadyth blushed and turned her head aside. “You make me ache.”

  “I do?”

  She nodded, then gasped as his fingers found the swelling bud in her center.

  “And does it hurt, this ache?”

  Shaking her head in silent negation, she tried to close her legs. “’Tis too much,” she cried when he refused to stop the fluttering of his fingertips against the blossoming nub.

  “Nay, ’tis not nearly enough,” he said rawly, not sure how much more of the “ache” he could stand himself. “Sweet Lord, you are like warm honey flowing over my fingertips.”

  When he inserted a long finger into the slick tightness of her sheath, he could feel the tremors of her building arousal. Desire roared in his ears as her hips arched upward, seeking the fulfillment he knew she craved but did not understand.

  He took his hardened staff in his hand and placed himself at her entry. With his other hand under her buttocks, he lifted her for his penetration.

  The head of his staff had no sooner entered her gates than Eadyth shuddered with her own driving need. Small spasms clasped him hungrily and almost unmanned him before he even began.

  “Come with me, dearling,” he coaxed. “Let us make the journey together.”

  She gazed up at him with passion-glazed eyes, not fully understanding until he covered her mouth hungrily and embedded himself in her tight sheath with one long stroke.

  “Oh…oh…o-o-h.” Her hot, silky inner folds welcomed him with rhythmic convulsions that grew stronger and stronger as she reached her first peak of satisfaction, tossing her head from side to side. She whimpered helplessly in her need.

  When the shudders finally faded into little ripples, she opened her eyes and seemed to notice him for the first time. She smiled shyly up at him, then tilted her head questioningly. “Why do you look as if you are in pain?”

  “Because I am,” he grunted out, still hard as a pike and embedded in her to the hilt, but not for long if she kept squirming.

  He knew the moment realization of his problem hit Eadyth. “This is about that peaking business, is it not?”

  He nodded. “Do not move…yet.”

  The contrary witch made a low purring sound and arched her breasts upward, like the cat she was.

  With a groan, he pulled himself out of her almost completely, and her mouth dropped open in amazement. When he plunged back in, she exhaled on a loud whoosh of disbelief. With each deliciously tortured stoke of his manhood into her heat, he slowly awakened the dormant sexuality in his siren of a wife.

  “Tell me,” he gasped out.

  “I want…”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want…oh, Eirik, you make me feel…”

  His strokes turned harder and shorter, and the extent of his prim wife’s responsiveness stunned him. Thrashing her head from side to side, she whispered brokenly of her need. A floodtide of the most overwhelming pleasure he had ever experienced washed over him then, and he pummeled his wife with a hardness which would not be sated.

  “Please,” she begged.

  “Soon,” he promised.

  “Will you come with me?”

  “For a certainty. Ah, Eadyth, you are burning me with your woman heat.”

  “You set the flame, my love.”

  My love? Eirik exploded then with a roar of primal male satisfaction, his neck arching back as his manhood spilled its life seed into Eadyth’s convulsing body.

  At first, Eadyth could not move, so stunned was she by the new and marvelous waves of pleasures that continued to ripple over her.

  “Eadyth…oh, Eadyth…you were wonderful,” Eirik rasped out against her neck. “You take all I have to give and make me want to give you more. Everything.”

  “I was…I was satisfactory then?” she asked tentatively, remembering Steven’s harsh appraisal of her lovemaking.

  Eirik raised his head slightly. “How can you ask? You are everything a man could want, and more.”

  “Truly?” she asked, inordinately pleased.

  “Truly.” He lowered his head and laid his lips against her neck. Soon she felt the warm breath of his sleep against her skin. She was not offended. She felt oddly lethargic herself after all that “peaking” and allowed herself to doze for a moment.

  Moments later, Eadyth awakened, still feeling wonderfully replete, still on her back with her husband’s weight pressing her to the ground, his half-limp man part embedded in her.

  She should have been repulsed now that the lovemaking had ended and her senses were returning to normal. She was not.

  She should have felt crushed by the boorish weight of a man she did not want in her life. She did not. Instead, she felt oddly cherished in the cradle of his arms which held her fast.

  She should have been appalled at her wanton responsiveness to the lusty lout who had bedded her. She was not.

  So this is what it is like to be loved, Eadyth thought. For the first time in her life, she knew the power women wielded when they yielded. She smiled, arching her hips up sensuously.

  ’Twas time to awaken the lusty lout, and his wonderful lusty male part.

  Chapter Fourteen

  My wife.

  Eirik flicked the reins of his horse and looked down with wonder at the woman sitting across his lap, her head resting against his chest. She had been fast asleep for the past half hour, almost as soon as the horse started moving.

  Eadyth cuddled closer—God’s Bones, the waspish woman was actually cuddling—and made a soft, purring sound of satisfaction. Well, she should be satisfied, after draining him nigh dry that second time. No doubt he had grass stains on his arse and claw marks on his back.

  He was having trouble reconciling the prim and proper lady he had wed with the siren who had just proven more than a match for him in the love sport. Her innocent enthusiasm would be a joy to watch as it unfolded in this marriage he had resisted, but now looked at in a different light.

  Leaning his head back, he tried to see her better. Her hair fell like skeins of spun silver about her head in wild disarray. Her lips, her finely defined lips, were swollen and bruised from his many kisses. And a pink, sexual flush hazed her creamy cheeks. The overmodest Eadyth would shudder with mortification if she could see herself, he thought with a chuckle, but he liked knowing his wife looked well-satisfied and carried the marks of his loving.

  My wife. Eirik smiled to himself—unable to believe his good fortune. ’Twas like falling in a dung heap and realizing it was really gold. He doubted Eadyth would appreciate the comparison. Mayhap he would tell her anyway, he decided with a contrary chuckle.

  Then he turned more serious. The Eadyth he had glimpsed today was the kind of wife he had longed for years ago—one who would provide a home and family for him, at the same time she was a sensuous and willing bed partner. Eirik tried to restrain his optimism. After all, this was how he had felt before he married Elizabeth. And she had proven a sore disappointment. ’Twas not good to raise one’s hopes too high. Yea, he must tread carefully.

  Eadyth awakened slowly to the rhythm of the horse beneath her legs and of Eirik’s thudding heartbeat against her ear. She did not open her eyes at first, wanting to relish this sweet moment out of time.

  ’Twas not good to raise one’s hopes too high. She knew that better than most women. But, oh, Sweet Mary, she had never dreamed the mating between a man and woman could be so glorious. A husband and a wife, she corrected herself immediately, with a contented smile.

  My husband.

  Eadyth wanted to sing aloud with joy at all the new, wonderful feelings rippling through her. And, at the same time, she wanted to hold them close, in private, to examine and cherish them, lest they prove fragile and unreal.

  She wriggled her bare toes against the
horse’s side and knew she would have to get her emotions and her appearance under control before they returned to Ravenshire. The servants would never respect her if she failed to uphold a certain level of conduct appropriate for the chatelaine of a keep, even one in such poor condition as Ravenshire. But it was pleasant to be free of those restraints for now.

  Failing to stifle a yawn of contentment, Eadyth drew Eirik’s attention. “’Tis about time you awakened. My men await us just ahead.”

  Eadyth straightened immediately and tried to whisk the wrinkles out of her gunna and pull her hair back into a coil as best she could atop the horse. “How do I look? I mean, do I look like—”

  “You look fine,” Eirik said warmly, brushing some pieces of grass off her shoulder. A small, self-satisfied smile tipped the edges of his firm lips. Lips which looked erotically bruised from her many kisses.

  Eadyth put her fingertips to her own lips, realizing that she probably looked the same, or worse. She felt a hot blush rise in her cheeks.

  Oh, Lord.

  Eirik grinned triumphantly.

  “My shame pleases you, does it?”

  “Nay, but you do.” He gave her a quick kiss and seemed about to say more, but the horse had stopped and Wilfrid was approaching on foot.

  Eirik dismounted. “Stay here,” he ordered tersely, already walking over to Wilfrid, who began talking animatedly to him in low whispers which she could not overhear.

  When Wilfrid finished, worry etched Eirik’s features. And alarm swept over Eadyth in foreboding. Eirik turned to her once again. “Stay here, Eadyth. I will return shortly.” He started to walk away.

  “Nay, I will come with you.”

  He spun on his heels and snapped impatiently, “I said to stay here, and I mean what I say.” He was soon gone from sight.

  Just like that, he dismissed her, ordering her about like one of his chattel. Eadyth fumed. Because he had breached her and drawn a sigh or two from her lips, he now thought her besotted and lackbrained with lust for him. Like all his other wanton women.

  “Not bloody likely,” she muttered, dismounting awkwardly from the huge beast which stood contentedly grazing on a lush patch of grass. She made her way over to a small group of cotters’ wives with two small children and an infant, huddling near one of the huts. Like her, they were all barefoot.

  “I am Lady Eadyth of Ravenshire. What is amiss?” she asked an older woman with graying hair beneath a neat cap. The woman began to weep, something she had been doing for some time already if her red-rimmed eyes were any indication.

  “The demons killed all our cattle. Oh, surely, Satan sent his very own. ’Twas inhuman the way they tortured the animals so.”

  Eadyth shuddered with apprehension. The despicable affair smacked of Steven’s hand. “Did you see it happen?”

  “Yea, we did, and a more horrible sight I have ne’er seen in all me days.”

  “They plucked the animals’ innards out whilst they were still alive,” a young boy spoke up, “and they threw the bloody parts to their vicious dogs. Like wolves they were, the men and the dogs. And they held ol’ Bess down and let one rabid beast feast on her afore she even died.” The boy’s big brown eyes glistened with tears.

  “Hush, Howag,” the older woman said, not unkindly.

  “How will we survive the winter?” a young woman wailed. “The master sez we cannot even eat the flesh, fer it be tainted by the dogs.”

  “Your master will take care of you. He will replace the cattle and repair your damaged property,” Eadyth assured them, lifting the crying infant from the woman’s arms. It smelled of soiled swaddling cloths and sour milk, but she did not mind. She had not held a babe in her arms since John was young, and it felt uncommonly good. “The best thing we can do is start to clear up the mess here whilst the men take care of the dead animals.”

  “But will the master agree to what ye say?” the old woman asked. “He has ne’er taken such interest in us afore.”

  “I say that it will be done,” Eadyth said in a clipped voice, “and my word is enough.”

  The woman looked skeptical at Eadyth’s assuming so much command but said nothing more.

  Eadyth surveyed the clearing, clucking with disgust at the broken plows and overturned wagons that the vandals had destroyed wantonly in their retreat. Already she could smell the acrid odor of burning flesh as Eirik and his men set afire the slaughtered animals. Such a waste!

  She gave the babe back to its mother, telling her to care for the infant’s needs first. Then she ordered the women and children to help her set the small cluster of homes to rights. She sent Howag to Ravenshire, warning him to take the open road for safety, and told him to instruct Bertha to send a cow and a wagonload of feed and food supplies.

  When the men returned an hour later, all the debris had been swept into two piles—one containing reparable items, and one which would need the men’s work. A huge cauldron of rabbit bones and vegetables stewed in a savory broth, and flat, unleavened manchet bread baked in the hot coals of the open fire.

  Eirik washed his bloody hands at a bucket near the well, then splashed water in huge handfuls onto his face, combing his hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, his eyes widened with surprise as he took note of Eadyth’s presence across the clearing. His surprise soon turned to displeasure, however, when the old woman approached him, speaking hurriedly. Eirik glanced Eadyth’s way intermittently as the woman talked to him.

  When the woman left, Eirik regarded her questioningly. Then he walked over to Eadyth lazily, only the flare of his nostrils betraying his anger. He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to his side, whispering against her hair, “You did not obey my order to stay with the horse.”

  “You have been gone more than an hour. Did you expect me to grow hooves and nibble on the grass all that time?”

  “You miss the point. You disobey my orders at will, and that I cannot abide.”

  “I do not take orders well,” she conceded, not wanting to argue with Eirik, especially after their recent lovemaking.

  “That is an understatement,” he growled. “Didst you make promises on my behalf to the cotters’ wives?” Apparently, that was what the woman had been discussing with Eirik.

  “Yea, I did,” she admitted, suddenly realizing how inappropriate that would seem to Eirik, “but I assure you, I pledged naught that you would object to, my lord.”

  “Oh? So now you read my mind, as well?”

  Eadyth tried to shrug off Eirik’s arm which held her fast to his side. “Do not be so testy. I did what had to be done. You are just too stubborn to recognize that a woman can think for herself.”

  Eirik’s eyes scanned the clearing, seeming to notice the good work she had done in his absence. “Even though you disobeyed my orders, I thank you for helping with the women.”

  Eadyth felt an uncommon satisfaction in knowing she had pleased him in this small way, despite the grudging manner in which he thanked her.

  “Was it Steven who enacted this bloody crime?”

  He nodded.

  “He gets more bold in his exploits, coming so close to Ravenshire. ’Tis a challenge to us, do you not think?”

  “Yea. Methinks this festering battle betwixt Gravely and me will come to a head soon.”

  “’Tis not just your battle, Eirik. Remember, he wants my child. He wants me to drop my appeal afore the Witan.”

  “Yea, but I am responsible for your protection now. Best you remember that, my wife.” Eirik pulled her closer, his large palm caressing her shoulder intimately as he spoke. And Eadyth realized suddenly that everyone was watching them in amazement, no doubt because she was not the shrewish old crone they had thought her to be, but also because their stiff-backed lady was allowing herself to be held so possessively by the master.

  Did Eirik do it deliberately, to show his mastery over her? Eadyth narrowed her eyes suspiciously, casting a sidelong glance at him. He smiled down at her arrogantly. The cad!

  S
hould she clout him on the head, as was her wont with an unruly servant? Oh, she would like to clout him, for sure, for taking such liberties in public, but not here, she decided. He was just as likely to clout her back. Or kiss her.

  Oh, Lord.

  Later. Later, she would get back at him.

  Eirik’s men and the villagers were beginning to serve themselves from the cauldron, no longer paying attention to them.

  “Release me, you brute,” she hissed, squirming out of his hold.

  He laughed mirthlessly. “You will come home with me now, wife,” Eirik said silkily and held out a hand to her. “I prefer to sup in my own hall.”

  “Are you ordering me…again?” she asked testily, trying hard to ignore the tempting hand he offered to her.

  “And if I am?”

  His lips twitched with a condescending smile, and Eadyth was equally torn between wanting to wipe it away with a slap, or a kiss.

  Oh, Lord.

  “Then my answer is ‘nay,’” she declared, lifting her chin in defiance.

  “A wife should obey her husband,” he noted in a cool voice, no longer amused. His hand was still extended to her.

  “Says who?”

  “The Holy Church, for one.”

  “Which is made up of men,” Eadyth scoffed.

  “Why do you fight that which is natural for a woman?”

  “Woman surrendering to man is not my idea of natural.”

  “All I did was ask you to come home with me,” he said, shaking his head wearily from side to side.

  “Nay, you did not. You ordered me.”

  “Will it always be a contest of wills betwixt us?”

  “’Tis up to you.”

  Eirik studied her intently for a moment, rubbing his upper lip thoughtfully. “Will you come home with me?” he asked finally in concession.

  “Of course,” she answered brightly and entwined her fingers with his.

  She thought she heard him mutter under his breath, “Blessed Lord, spare me from a contrary woman.”