Rescuing Kadlin

by Gabrielle Holly

  “You are in no position to ask favors, woman, but I will hear your request,” Arn said.

  “I ask that you allow me to say goodbye to my father as it is not likely I shall see him in the next life.”

  Arn rubbed his jaw as if considering her proposal. “You may not travel to your father’s lands, but I will stay your execution until he can be brought back here. It is only right that he hear the charges against you and bear witness to the punishment.”

  Ginna shook her head. “But my lord, he is old and frail and would not survive such a journey.”

  Bjorn’s brow furrowed, and he stared off into the distance as if trying to work out a riddle. He squinted as if onto an answer when Arn said, “Whether he survives it or not will be the determination of the gods. I have made my decision. Now, who will volunteer to fetch the traitor’s father?” Bjorn startled at the sound of his father’s voice, and Kadlin wondered what he had been thinking.

  “I will go,” came a voice from the crowd and all turned to see the tall, thin blond shoulder his way to the front of the dais and bow. Kadlin recognized him as the man she’d seen in the labyrinth with Ginna on the evening she and Bjorn had arrived. Arn narrowed his eyes at the man, and Kadlin wondered if the jarl knew the connection between his daughter-in-law and this volunteer. Finally, he nodded.

  “Then you should get your rest. You will ride at dawn, and you’d best travel quickly. The sentence will be carried out at sunrise on the eighth day.” He turned back to Rowyn. “I would use that time wisely. You have precious few hours to make your peace with the gods and beg from them as much mercy as I have shown you and your accomplice.”

  “But father…” Rowyn began.

  “Never call me that again!” Arn thundered. “You lost that right many years ago. I have only one son. You are dead to me already.” Arn jerked his head to the side, and his gaze followed Rowyn and Ginna as they were led from the hall. When they were out of sight, the jarl pulled back his shoulders, and Kadlin wondered how he was able to keep his emotions in check. Everything he had believed true had been overturned in the past hour. She could not imagine the turmoil he must feel at finding one son only to lose another and thought she could see the pain on his face.

  The crowd shuffled nervously, and Arn turned to the musicians. “Play on! The rest of you, drink your fill. We have much to celebrate. Our beloved Leif has returned to us.” Arn wrapped his arm around his firstborn’s waist, and a great cheer filled the space.

  Bjorn searched the crowd, and when his gaze fell upon Kadlin, he smiled and held out his hand. She made her way through the revelers and onto the dais. He hugged her and kissed her bruised face.

  “Father, this is my wife, Kadlin, daughter of Olav the shipbuilder, mother of your grandson, Hjortr.”

  A broad smile deepened Arn’s wrinkles. “A grandson,” he whispered then pulled Kadlin into a warm embrace. When he released her, he cocked his head to one side and studied her. “You look like a warrior fresh from the battle, dear daughter. I cannot wait to hear your triumphant tale. Let us return to the house, tend to your wounds and get you something to eat.”

  Kadlin smiled up at him and nodded. It had been so long since someone had called her daughter that she felt as if her heart would burst from her chest.

  * * * *

  The chamber was even grander than the one Kadlin had been held in. It had been Rowyn and Ginna’s room, and it befitted the heir-apparent. While she washed, three housemaids bustled about, emptying the chests of the former tenants’ clothing and setting the bed with new linens and furs. They worked quietly, casting the occasional glance in Kadlin’s direction. When she smiled and nodded back to them, they nervously averted their eyes and went back to work.

  The plump woman who had brought her meal earlier that night came in with a tray and set it on the table near Kadlin.

  “May I tend to your wounds, my lady?” she asked. Kadlin nodded, and the woman dipped her stubby finger into a bowlful of thick, brown mush. She touched the poultice to Kadlin’s temple. “I am afraid there will be a scar, my lady. This should make it smaller.”

  Once the cut beside her eye had been treated, the woman handed Kadlin a cup and held out an empty basin with her other hand. “It is saltwater with healing herbs, my lady. The girl said that you’ve a cut in your mouth, as well. Rinse with this and spit it out. It will sting for a moment, but you’ll heal faster for it.” Kadlin took the cup and followed the woman’s instructions. She winced at the bite of the medicine and was grateful when the pain began to subside. She spat into the basin and handed the cup back.

  “What is your name?”

  “I am Erna, the head keeper of the house.”

  Kadlin reached out and touched the woman’s fleshy forearm. “Well, Erna, your rinse has made my mouth feel much better. Thank you for your kindness. Please call me Kadlin.”

  The woman startled as if she’d been slapped. “I—that is—you are very welcome, Lady Kadlin.” Erna turned to the women who were straightening the room and widened her eyes. They smiled and shrugged in response. Kadlin wondered if they’d ever heard a kind word from their former mistress.

  Erna pulled back her shoulders and looked about the room. “Quickly now, girls, Lady Kadlin and Lord Leif will want a fresh place to lay down their heads once they’ve had their supper.”

  Beatrice combed the snarls from Kadlin’s damp hair, careful to avoid the puffy bruises that covered the left side of her face. She worked neat braids into the long tresses then held out a handful of beads, waiting patiently while Kadlin strung them onto her fresh plaits.

  “May I help you dress, my lady?” she asked with a deferential bow.

  Kadlin caught up the girl’s thin wrist. “Beatrice, you must call me Kadlin.” She looked at their reflection in the mirror and saw the uncertainty in the girl’s face. “What is it?”

  Beatrice met her gaze in the glass. “You are the lady of the estate now. Will you keep me on? I am a hard worker and… I have nowhere else to go.”

  Kadlin turned the idea over in her mind—the lady of the estate. She supposed the girl was correct. They couldn’t go back to the farm now. Bjorn—Leif—would succeed his father. He had responsibilities here, and she would follow him. Kadlin smiled up at Beatrice. She would be dead if not for this little one’s bravery.

  “You are not my slave. If you choose to stay on with us, it will be as a free woman and we will pay you a fair wage for fair work. Are we understood?”

  The girl nodded, and tears spilled down her thin face.

  * * * *

  The house servants had done their best to piece together an outfit for Kadlin. Even if Ginna’s fine gowns had fit her, she could not have brought herself to wear one. In the end, they had settled on a simple tunic and apron dress borrowed from one of the staff. They had adorned it with jewelry that had belonged to Arn’s late wife and decorated Kadlin’s hair with a wreath of wildflowers. She looked at her reflection and couldn’t help but laugh. The left side of her face was bruised, and her eye swollen shut. The poultice over the cut at her temple had dried and looked like a puffy, brown caterpillar. She thought her injuries nicely matched the purple lavender in her hair and wondered if this estate had ever seen a lady of her likes.

  On their way to the dining hall, Kadlin took in the artwork that hung on the walls. Many of the pieces were from foreign lands and were created in materials ranging from wool to bronze, but most of them featured majestic birds. No doubt they’d been chosen for the lord of the manor, Arn—the eagle.

  The savory aroma of roasted meat wafted down the corridor, and Kadlin’s stomach groaned. The hour was closer to breakfast than to dinner, and she was grateful for the late-night efforts of whichever cook had worked to prepare their meal. A long sideboard was mounded with food, but Kadlin’s mouth was so raw she thought she might settle for the broth and soft vegetables of the stew.

  Arn sat at the head of the table, and Bjorn was at the place to his right. The two men were huddl
ed in conversation, and it was Bjorn who saw her first. A smile crossed over his handsome face as he rose to embrace her.

  “Come, sit next to me, wife.”

  Arn grabbed her wrist. “No, son, I shall enjoy my daughter-in-law’s company beside me.” Bjorn’s brow wrinkled, and he looked as if he were about to protest, but Kadlin intervened.

  “Perhaps your father wishes to look upon the half of my face that appears like a lady rather than the one that is more like a warrior.” Arn let out a hearty laugh, and the sound of it warmed Kadlin. She smiled up at him and took her place across from her husband.

  The men feasted on mutton and roasted vegetables, heavy brown bread and sweet honey cakes, while Kadlin picked at the softest things. Their cups were kept full, and warmth spread through Kadlin’s body as the mead worked its magic. Her aches began to fade and wanton thoughts flitted through her mind. When they’d finished their meal, bowls of water were set before them, and while Kadlin washed the grease from her fingers, she glanced across the table. Bjorn winked at her, and the corner of his mouth jerked up in the familiar grin that left no doubt as to his intent. A tingle gathered between Kadlin’s thighs, and she felt a lusty blush creep across her chest and face.

  Kadlin could think of nothing but being alone with her handsome Viking, but the two men had much to discuss. She sat patiently and listened while they went over the details of their future at the estate. Her husband’s title as heir would have to be restored in a public forum, but Arn assured him that it was just a formality. It was agreed that the ceremony would include an official change of name. Her husband would now be known as Bjorn who was Leif. Kadlin was relieved that she would not have to call him by another name. After the installation ceremonies, Bjorn would share many duties with his father. The first would be to preside over the execution of the traitors.

  When their business had been concluded and the table cleared, Arn sat back and said, “What shall we do tomorrow, dear ones? Perhaps a tour of the estate?”

  Kadlin reached out and touched her father-in-law’s arm. “I should like to see my son.”

  Arn covered her hand with his own. “That, daughter, is a wish I can understand.”

  * * * *

  It was decided that Ginna and Rowyn’s execution would be delayed for another week to allow Bjorn and Kadlin time to return to the farm, attend to the transfer of ownership then bring Hjortr back to meet his grandfather. They would ride in the morning, and their journey back would be much more comfortable than the one there had been. They would be able to travel in the open, along good, wide roads and would be accompanied by six of Arn’s men, who would protect them and help carry back whatever they wished.

  Once back at the farm, Bjorn would divide his majority share among the other three couples, and in exchange, they would repay him with a small profit over each of the next ten years. The thought of leaving the home she’d grown to love and starting a new life in a strange place worried Kadlin but excited her, as well. She was most concerned about her husband giving up what he had worked so hard to build.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, Bjorn?” she asked as they walked back to their chamber.

  He squeezed her hand. “It is my duty, Kadlin. But, yes, it is also what I want.”

  “I will miss them—the others,” Kadlin mused.

  Bjorn stopped and turned to her. “We are not saying goodbye to our friends. They will be welcome here always. They will be our guests at feasts. The land is rich, and they will be able to hire helpers to look after the farm when they come to visit.” He smiled down at her, and she nodded her agreement.

  He hugged her close then bent to whisper in her ear. “And now, little imp, you and I have a matter to attend to. I thought I was clear that you were to be a good prisoner and not cross that viper until I returned. And I can see by the state of your face that you, once again, disobeyed me. While you were bathing, the girl Beatrice told me that our careful plan had to be altered when you goaded Ginna into attacking you. You know you will have to be punished.”

  A flush of anticipation spread over Kadlin’s body and settled in her sex with a hot, wet rush. “I understand,” she gasped. Without another word, Bjorn bent until his shoulder was pressed against her belly then stood, slinging her over his back. He stomped to their chamber and slammed the door behind him then set her on her feet facing the bed. Leaning back against the huge, carved bedpost, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked her over for a long moment, as if considering a suitable punishment.

  “What am I to do with you, my sharp-tongued imp?” he mused. Kadlin’s breath quavered as she struggled to hold his gaze, and she almost cried out when he grinned back at her. “What’s this—no impudent comments?” he teased. “We shall have to see if my hand on your sweet backside will loosen your tongue.” The prospect thrilled her, and this time, she could not hold back her expectant moan.

  “Bare yourself to me, wife,” he commanded, and her hands shook when she did as she was told. She stood naked before him, and it was as if she could feel the heat of his gaze on her body. Her breasts ached as the nipples puckered into hard beads, and her juices flowed onto her thighs. She dared not move and longed for him to release her. Finally, he disrobed, positioned himself at the very edge of the bed, spread his knees apart, then held out his hand.

  “Come and take your punishment, my love,” he said, and Kadlin heard that he too was breathless.

  She could not take her eyes from the thick erection rising from his lap and felt as though her knees would buckle as she crossed to him. He bent her over his lap then laid his forearm across her shoulders.

  “Stretch out your arms, imp,” he whispered, and she dutifully slid her hands into the furs and grabbed hold. Her sex was damp and throbbing in anticipation, and she wanted to grind her thighs together but knew she must keep still.

  Bjorn stroked her backside, and his touch flamed her desire. “Do you know why you’re being punished, little one?” he asked. Kadlin nodded, and her cheek brushed against the silky ermine pelts. “Ah, ah,” Bjorn chastised, “you must say it aloud, so I know that you understand.”

  Kadlin swallowed hard. “I am being punished because I disobeyed you,” she said. Bjorn squeezed her cheek then resumed his soft petting.

  “Is that all?”

  “No, that is not all. I am being punished because I disobeyed you, and in doing so, I put myself in danger.”

  Bjorn said nothing for a moment then whispered, “Yes, my love, that is why you are being punished.” Without warning, he brought down his palm with a loud slap, and the sting heated Kadlin’s buttocks. It made her catch her breath, and yet she longed for more. Her husband complied by delivering three more blows then rubbed the warming flesh. She could feel his stiff rod against her hip, and her juices flowed for need of it.

  The Viking’s breath had quickened, and he asked, “Do you sometimes disobey me because you long to be punished?” When Kadlin did not answer his hand came down again, first on one cheek then the other. The sensation spread over her backside and teased the limits of her sex. Unable to quiet her need, she squirmed, grinding her thighs together. He flattened his palm against her tailbone to hold her still.

  “Answer me, wife. Do you sometimes disobey me because you want to feel the sting of my hand on your sweet, round backside?” Kadlin nodded and was rewarded with another spank. “Aloud, my darling,” he growled.

  Kadlin smiled against the cool furs. “Yes, husband, I sometimes disobey you because I long to feel the sting of your hand on my flesh. It makes me wet with desire.”

  “Is that so?” he asked then delivered another stinging slap. The love juices now flowed freely from Kadlin, and she was certain he must feel them trickling against his leg. This time when he landed his blows they were at the center of her cleft and inched ever nearer the place that ached for his touch. She arched her back and offered her nether lips to him. He rewarded her with a hard tap on the wet spot. Kadlin writhed against him, and he repea
ted the motion twice more before surprising her by plunging his fingers into her wet canal.

  “Gods, yes!” she cried out, and he probed her hard and fast until she was at the brink. She had nearly reached completion when he yanked her to her feet and stood her up before him.

  “Not so fast, imp. You have bruised my rod with all of your bucking and squirming. Will you not kiss it and make it better?” Kadlin tried to keep her face expressionless, but the wicked grin forced up the corners of her lips.

  “Gladly, husband,” she said then dropped to her knees.

  Draping her arms over his thighs, Kadlin leaned in and softly kissed the rock hard shaft. Bjorn sighed and stroked her face. She poked out her tongue and traced the bulging veins on its underside, making her way to the thick head. It had turned purple with his excitement and reminded her so of a ripe plum that she could not wait to taste it. She licked the deep ridge that separated it from the shaft then wiggled her tongue into the slit at the center, tasting the salty bead that had escaped the tip.

  Her husband wound his fingers into her hair, and she could tell he wanted to shove himself deep into her throat. Having such power over this giant thrilled her, and the thought of making him even thicker and harder before he plunged into her goaded Kadlin on. She teased the plump head for another moment before stretching her mouth around it and sucking greedily. Grasping the rod with both of her hands, she stroked its length while slurping at the battering end. He swelled, and her juices flowed for want of him.

  Bjorn lifted her to her feet and planted his palms on the furs behind him. “Will you ride me, wife?” he asked. Kadlin answered with a smile then kneeled on the bed, straddling his lap. Resting her hands on his broad shoulders, she lowered herself onto him, slowly taking in each inch and reveling in the way he filled her so completely.

  When he was buried to the hilt, she ground her pelvis against his, massaging her tingling sex between them. She rose up on her knees until he was almost withdrawn from her then sunk again. Her tempo increased, and she was spurred on by the Viking’s impassioned moans. Desire built inside of her like a gathering storm, and she wrapped her arms around Bjorn’s neck, pressing her cheek to his. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and dragged it through his teeth. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through her, and she felt suddenly weak.