by SandraHill
"You smell good," he whispered against the curve of her shoulder.
The feel of his lips against her bare skin was so delicious that it took her a moment to respond. "Roses."
"Uhmmm," he said, whatever that meant.
"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked, surprised at the breathlessness of her voice.
"Undoubtedly," he said. "Will you yield to me?"
She thought a moment. "I would rather be the one in charge of this kissing. Will you yield to me?"
He didn't even think for a moment. "Yea."
"You do not mind yielding to a woman?"
She could tell that he was fighting a grin. "Tyra, I would love to yield to you. Not any woman. You."
So many emotions swirled through Tyra then.
Fear… she knew she was treading in dangerous waters.
Excitement… she'd never initiated a kiss with a man before, and, ever the competitor, she did love a challenge. Will I be good? Oh, I hope so.
Arousal… she didn't understand the sensations that assailed her in Adam's presence, but she wanted to. Her womanliness seemed attuned to his manliness so that all her senses were heightened when he was in the vicinity.
Smells were more fragrant, like the particular scent of his skin, or his breath, which was surprisingly pleasant.
Food tasted better… his kisses certainly tasted delicious.
Her hearing was so acute these days that the mere whisper of "Tyra" from his lips seemed to carry some sensual meaning.
And her vision—the mere sight of him coming into a room caused her heart to race. And she missed him when he was gone. The way he stared at her now—with feral intent… like a cat… a big cat—was exhilarating rather than threatening.
Lastly, there was touch. How could it be that the feather-light brush of his lips or the press of his fingers on her arm caused her breasts to swell and her woman-place to ache?
For days Tyra had fought all these emotions… signs of womanly weakness, to be sure. But now she seemed to relish her femininity and was about to step willingly into the lair of the wolf.
She leaned forward so her breasts pressed against his chest, then placed her hands behind his neck. He was only a few inches taller than she; they fitted well together. Very well.
He stared at her, saying nothing. Doing nothing. He was allowing her to lead in this game. But she saw by the tautness of his jaw and the flare of his nose that he was not unmoved, and that bolstered her nerve. Well, she had to admit, the three meads she had imbibed had probably bolstered her nerve as well.
At first she just placed her lips against his, shifting and settling till she got the position right. Then she pressed, and moved, and pressed.
"Tyra," he said against her mouth.
"What?" she asked dreamily, wanting to resume her explorations.
"You're supposed to close your eyes."
"I am? Then how will I know what is happening?"
He laughed, and she felt the delicious ripple of his mirth against her mouth. Another new sensation. She liked it.
"Feel the kiss. Do not see it. Feel it."
"Oh, I see." She was outlining the contours of his lips with the tip of her tongue while she spoke. She thought he made a gurgling sound… of pleasure, she was hoping. But then another thought came to her unbidden. "How did you know my eyes were not closed? Were yours open? That does not seem fair."
He laughed again, causing more of those wonderful ripples against her mouth, especially when he nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. "I was just checking."
And so she closed her eyes, and he closed his (she checked), and the kiss was so much better, just as he had said.
His prior kisses were still imbedded in her mind, and she called on those memories. She moved her mouth against his. She licked his lips. She bit him lightly. She plunged her tongue inside his mouth and almost swooned at the intensity of her pleasure. He must be nigh swooning too if his groans were any indication. At some point, she could not say when, Adam joined in the kissing. Not taking charge exactly. But giving and taking. Fair play. She liked that. In fact, she was beginning to like too much about the man.
So dazed was she by this incredible exercise of kissing that she scarce noticed when he loosened the ribbon lacing of her gown, which wrapped around her body from abdomen to hips. When she felt the air on her bare breasts, it was already too late.
How could any woman resist the hungry look of a handsome man gazing at her body?
"Don't move," he ordered as he tugged the neckline and sleeves of her gown downward to her waist and wrists respectively. In truth, she could not have moved even if she had wanted to; she was trapped by the confines of her gown.
He touched her breasts then. Lightly. With his fingertips he traced the rounded globes, then the rose-colored areolas, then the hardened tips. "So beautiful. So beautiful," he whispered.
The pleasure was more than she could bear. Arching her neck, she instinctively pressed her breasts forward for more of his attentions. He gave them, and more than she had ever bargained for. Cupping her right breast from underneath, he lifted it, then leaned down and took the turgid nipple in his mouth and sucked deeply.
With a whimper, she sank down to the straw. He went with her, never taking his mouth from her breast. Over and over and over, he suckled at her breast with a rhythm that was delicious agony, alternating his sucking action with an occasional nip of his teeth or flick of his tongue.
Then he lifted his face and gave equal punishing attention to her left breast.
Tyra felt as if she were floating, floating, floating toward Valhalla… or some unknown heaven of sorts.
But in the midst of her arousal, she realized that what had started out as a kissing game on her part had turned into something altogether different. She was the one gaining all the pleasure, whereas Adam reaped no rewards.
Taking a deep breath to still her roiling arousal, she grabbed his head by handfuls of hair on each side and lifted him off her body so that she could see his face.
His eyes were glazed with passion, his mouth wet and panting. "What?" he inquired huskily. "Do you not like what I am doing to you?"
Her instinct was to deny her feelings, but she was basically honest, and she admitted, "I love what you do to me, but… but… well, it is all one-sided."
His eyes went wide with surprise, then filled with understanding. "Ah, sweetling, did you not know? A woman's passion is a man's greatest pleasure."
"Really?"
He nodded and began to sit up. "I'm glad you stopped me, though. I lost control."
She sat up, too, and began to adjust her gown. Disappointment rang through her like a funeral bell. He did not want her after all. "Losing control is a bad thing?"
He turned his gaze on her and smiled softly. "Nay, losing control is a good thing… in the right situation. But I do not intend to take you for the first time on the floor of a stable."
Take? Tyra did not like the sound of that. "What makes you think that you would take me? Mayhap I would take you."
He tossed his hands in the air. "That works equally well for me."
They both stood then and helped each other stand and whisk the wrinkles out of their garments and pick off pieces of straw.
"Do you want to bring your pet back to the castle with you?" Adam asked.
"What pet?"
"The kitten."
"Adam," she said with a long sigh, "why do I have to keep reminding you? I am a soldier. I must exhibit warlike ways. Having a kitten trailing about after me would not be warlike."
He just smiled at her, not believing a word she said.
"Besides, Vana does not allow animals indoors."
He still smiled.
As they were walking back toward the great hall, Tyra ventured a thought that had been nagging at her. " 'Tis odd, this attraction betwixt us, do you not think? I mean, I do not even like you, really."
He laughed and chucked her under the chin playfully. No man had ever done that to her b
efore… made playful gestures. But then, no man had ever sucked her breasts till her blood caught afire either.
"Yea, 'tis odd," he agreed. "And betimes, I do not like you all that much either."
She should have been affronted, but she was not.
"Methinks tonight happened because I had too much to drink," she suggested. "That on top of the stress of my father's illness."
"Mayhap," he said, but not with much conviction. "On the other hand, methinks tonight happened because I saw you in that wanton gown. Or because I have been chaste overlong." This also was said without much conviction.
They were sound excuses: stress, a wanton gown, an ale-head, excessive chastity… perfectly logical explanations for illogical behavior.
Neither she nor Adam believed any one of them.
"You shoulda tupped 'er when you had a chance." Alrek made that outrageous suggestion as the two of them were walking toward the king's bedchamber, having just finished their morning meal.
"Alrek!" Adam said in his most chastising tone.
"What a thing to say! Especially for a boy your age!"
"I keep tellin' you, I am not a boy. I am a man… almos'."
"What a thing for an almost-man to say, then!"
" 'Tis naught more'n everyone else was sayin' in the hall las' night when you and the Lady Tyra returned from the stables, red-faced and all in disarray. Whoo-ee! Looked like you were rollin' in the hay… leastways, thass what more'n one soldier said. But yer uncle Tykir, he said, 'Nay, the boy might have got some straw in his braies, but I can tell that he has not had his hay raked yet.' Thass when the Lady Alinor bopped him on the head with a ham bone. And Bolthor sez you definitely lost yer knack. What is a knack anyway? Do you want I should help you find it?"
Adam was getting an immense headache… one of those that made his head feel as if it were splitting. "Do you not have somewhere to go this morning, Alrek? Surely you have something better to do than tag along with me to a sick chamber."
"Nay, I do not. My day is free," Alrek said cheerily. "But, actually, there is a reason why I am goin' to the king's chamber. I wuz hopin' he would wake up and… and…"
It wasn't like Alrek to hesitate to speak his mind. His hesitation pricked Adam's curiosity. "What is it, Alrek?"
" 'Tis time fer me to get me yearly coin from the king. Besji and Kristin and Tunni all needs new clothes. And I would really like to buy me a sword."
A sword? What next?
"And mayhap a spear if I have enough left over."
The boy is going to kill himself. "Well, the king has not awakened yet, and even if he did, I am not sure this is a good time to bring up the subject. He will have more important issues to deal with. Can you not approach the king's steward, or the Lady Tyra?"
Alrek shook his head. "My arrangement wuz a personal one… with the king."
Adam reached into the pouch at his belt and handed Alrek a coin. "Here. Take this."
Alrek jumped away from him. "Nay, I will not be ta-kin' charity from no one. I kin wait." With that, he turned on his heel and ran away.
Well, is that not just wonderful? Now I've offended a ten-year-old boy… rather a ten-year-old almost-man. He smiled at his own mental correction.
"What are you smiling about?" Tykir asked when he entered the king's bedchamber. "Seems to me you have naught to be happy about today… not after last night. Ha, ha, ha!"
"You know, Tykir, you have a big mouth. I heard what you said in the hall last night."
"Me? Me?" Tykir was laughing raucously. He danced away when Adam went to punch him in the arm.
"Shhhh!" Father Efrid said. "Have some decorum before the ailing king."
Adam and Tykir ducked their heads, while Rashid, Rafn, and Bolthor grinned at their discomfort.
"Has he awakened again?" Adam asked Rashid.
"He is in and out of consciousness, but never for very long. Leastways, not whilst I've been here," his assistant said, already laying out Adam's tools and medicants on a clean, linen-draped table.
Everyone stepped back so he could examine the patient. Someone must have been in to bathe the king, because he smelled of Drifa's pine-scented soap, and he wore clean apparel, though it was only a loose, unbelted tunic. Even his mostly gray beard had been trimmed.
"His skin color is improving," Adam remarked, more to himself than the others in the chamber. "And Ingrith told me that she managed to get a whole bowl of beef marrow broth down his throat today. If only he would regain consciousness for longer periods of time."
"He spoke to me a tiny bit yesterday," Rafn informed him. "He wanted to know what happened. Mostly, I did the talking, but he seemed to be aware of his surroundings. Is it really so unusual for a man to 'sleep' so much after such an operation?"
Rafn's long-winded speech seemed odd, though Adam couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why. Perchance it was because he'd kept his eyes averted the entire time. Adam had a sneaky suspicion about the king's continued unconsciousness, but the notion was too outlandish for even this rascally king.
Adam changed the linen dressing on the head wound, checked the King's eyes and mouth and ears, and listened to his heartbeat. All seemed normal… or as normal as a man with a hole in his head could be.
He stepped away from the bed and said, "I will stay with him for several hours. Mayhap he will awaken whilst I am here. I would like to see myself how he reacts."
"Uh, master, didst know that folks started lining up afore dawn for your medical services?" Rashid informed him.
"As I said, I will remain here several hours. This afternoon I will see some people," he said firmly. "Please, Rashid, not too many yet." There was a hidden message in his last statement… a plea for his assistant to understand that he needed to move slowly back into his medical practice… that he still suffered misgivings.
Rashid nodded.
No one left right away, though. He and Rashid were gathering up his supplies, setting aside those items to be destroyed and those to be boiled for another use.
"Are you planning to wed Tyra?" Rafn inquired without any warning.
"Huh?" Now, that is a really intelligent answer. "You overstep your bounds, Rafn."
"I know you are attracted to her… do not try to deny it. And, if I overstep my bounds, 'tis with good reason. I want to marry Vana. Five years I have been waiting for her. And the only thing standing in our way is Tyra."
" 'Tis not my responsibility to pave the way for you two lovebirds."
"It may not be your responsibility, but if you intend to marry our lady, then I would appreciate knowing. Holy Thor, man, you would be saving Tyra's sisters and many Stoneheim warriors much heartbreak if you could take her away with you."
"That doesn't say much for Tyra, does it? She has been a fine chieftain to you all, in her father's stead, and how do you all show your thanks? By making her feel less than a woman… and less than a leader. Has anyone asked Tyra what she wants?"
There was a stunned silence in the room.
Finally Tykir noted, "You are defending the wench? Uh-oh. Sounds serious to me."
"I think I will write a saga about men who do not know what they want," Bolthor said.
"I think I will throw you in the moat," Adam replied.
"I think I would like to see you try," Bolthor countered.
"There is a famous proverb that goes like this: 'Sad is the man who searches the world over for brass and finds gold in his own tent.' "
"What the hell does that mean?" Adam snarled. Then, "Never mind." He turned on Rafn. "In answer to your question, I have no intention of marrying Tyra… or any other woman. I can understand perfectly how Tyra must feel, with everyone nagging at her all the time. I never wanted to return to medicine and here I am in the midst of a sickroom with ailing people lined up to who-knows-where. Picking, picking, picking at my bones. Now you want to start on me and marriage. Well, I have had more than enough. All of you, out of here and leave me in peace!"
Four men's jaws gap
ed open with shock at his outburst. But at least they got the message and left in stunned silence.
Once they were gone, Adam turned back to the bed. He could swear there was a smile on the old man's lips.
Chapter Ten
"You need to flirt," Vana told her.
"For the love of a troll! You came out to the exercise field to tell me that?"
"If you want the man, you have to take some drastic actions. Flirting, that would be my solution."
"What makes you think I want the man?" Tyra was wiping sweat off her brow with her forearm. Two hours of spear throwing and she still couldn't stop thinking about the rogue who had lured her to the stables. And that stupid kitten kept following her around. She'd had to lock it in the stable finally when it kept wandering onto the exercise fields, where it would have surely been speared.
Not that she cared about the mangy little cat. Even if it was named after her.
"Please, Tyra, give me some credit. You came back from the stables last night with your hair looking like a haystack, and Adam was no better. I do not mean to embarrass you, sister, but I swear there were whisker burns on your chest. And both of you were panting."
Oh… my… Valhalla!
Rafn was about to stroll by, a battle-ax in one hand and Alrek in the other. He carried the squirming boy by the scruff of his neck. Tyra didn't even want to know what Alrek had been doing now. Nor did she want to know where Thork, that wild son of Tykir and Alinor, was at the moment. What Alrek did not need was mischievous ideas planted in his head, and Thork was mischief himself. Mischief and Mayhem… that's what those two were. Bolthor ought to write a saga about them.
"Good day to you, Vana," Rafn drawled.
"Good day to you, Rafn," Vana drawled back at him.
Rafn winked at Vana.
Vana fluttered her blond eyelashes at Rafn.
Tyra was thinking seriously about tossing up the contents of her stomach.
Once Rafn was gone, Tyra told Vana, "If you think for one moment that I am going to start batting my eyelashes at a man like a mush-brained maid, then you are surely demented. Flirting! Hah! That is not in my nature."
"Tyra, Tyra, Tyra," Vana sighed. "Flirting is in every woman's nature. But it does not just have to be fluttering your eyelashes, though that always works for me. Try this sometime."