The Valiant Viking

by Bambi Lynn

  “They will be here on the morrow, before nightfall.”

  “How many?” They turned at the sound of his voice.

  The boy glanced at Kaylla before answering. “Thirty-one.”

  The blood drained from her face. “Is that a lot? It sounds like a lot.”

  The boy nodded, his expression grave. “But there are more of us.”

  “We must tell the others.” Pushing Wulf through the door, she leveled her gaze at him before following her brother. “Stay. Here.”

  Chapter Ten

  The nervous chatter within the hall made it impossible to determine one person’s argument from another. William tried several times to call for attention, but most of the villagers ignored him.

  “We must flee.”

  “We shall all perish.”

  “I say we leave the cattle.”

  “What will we eat?”

  “Where will we go?”

  Kaylla stood along the wall, her modor at her side, a firm grip on Wulf’s shoulder. Since berating him for his recklessness, she had not let him beyond arm’s reach. She had ranted at him for deserting his family when they needed him. Not for defying either of us. Although her modor showed less concern for his welfare, she could see the worry etched in the lines around her eyes, the tight line of her lips, the tremble in her hands.

  Edlyn had wanted to throttle Wulf herself.

  Thus far Kaylla had managed to stay out of the discussion. That time was quickly passing. More and more leaned toward fleeing. She could not let that happen.

  Everyone had assembled quickly having already planned to meet that morning to share what weapons they had found. As she scanned the worried faces, she knew they could never fend off an attack. She could match the men to each of the fingers on one hand. If only I knew the number words. William was crippled. John was blind. The rest were old men. Women and children made up the rest.

  She need not wait for an opening. Everyone had been seeking her advice since before she got her courses. “Leave the sheep, William?” The assemblage grew quiet. “And the only cow within a league that gives milk?”

  “We cannot defeat them.” William tried to be stern.

  It didn’t work. “If the Norsemen seek to attack Eadwald, they would march directly from Luton to Axning. They have no need to come this way. We have nothing of value.”

  “Slaves.” All eyes turned to Rheda. “We have slaves.”

  Wary of Rheda’s haunted expression, she continued in a soothing tone. “If they are on their way to engage Eadwald at Axning, surely they would not travel so far out of the way just for slaves.”

  Rheda looked like she wanted to say more but clamped her mouth shut.

  “My sister has suffered. An assault she might not survive if repeated.”

  “William, if they are willing to settle for slaves, it will be easy enough for them to catch us. We’ll not be able to travel fast. I say we hunker down and wait for them to pass.”

  She looked around. John, who always sided with William, kept silent. She shook her head. John was older than her mother and could barely see to get around, but should a man not be braver than that? Wulf had shown more courage than this coward.

  “And if they do not pass? What then?”

  She bit her lower lip. How should she tell them about her captive Viking? The only trump they really had. She was sure they could use Rolf to banter down the invaders.

  Leastwise, she hoped.

  The hall fell suddenly silent. She turned at the commotion behind her.

  There he stood, as naked as the day of his birth. This man was no coward. He stood before the room full of strangers, enemies, vulnerable without weapon or protection from attack, or even the cold.

  She sucked air into her lungs. What was it about Rolf Bloodhands that made breathing so difficult for her? Was it more than his giant cock that tasted like honey? The hard muscles protruding from his chest, bulging across his shoulders and down his arms?

  Everything about the man excited her. Even now, she felt an ache in her lower belly that drove her to wantonness. But why this man? She didn’t even like him. He was rude, arrogant. Shameless the way he flirted with her modor, then coerced her into pleasuring him.

  Her heart beat faster at the memory. She hated him…the vile, merciless…

  She thought back to suckling him, stamping down a twinge of guilt. ’Tis times like this I need Hugh to absolve my sins. Not that she would be able to tell him what she had done to the snake she had brought into their home…by force. Heat flushed across her throat at the idea of speaking the words aloud. She had sucked on a Viking’s manpart until his seed spilled into her mouth. She wanted to squeal with the excitement of it. She felt empowered and subjugated at the same time.

  And certain she risked the fires of Hell.

  She hugged her arms around her aching belly and cast her eyes downward. Could her neighbors tell by looking at her that she had sinned? Most horrendously? She scanned the small gathering, imagining that every single person she knew stood ready to pass judgment. It made no difference that they could not possibly know what she had done.

  The secret made it even more exciting. With lowered lashes, she let her gaze roam over his splendid physique, praying, even as she lusted after him, no one could sense her guilt.

  Rolf stood before the gathering, shoulders back, fists clenched at his sides, staring down the villagers one by one. He made no move to cover his nudity, but seemed to brandish his scars as accolades. The heaviness she felt between her thighs made her want to drag him back to her hut and tear off her own clothes.

  Instead, she swallowed, took a deep breath, and stepped over to him.

  “I told you to stay,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He nodded with feigned solemnity. “I recognize the danger I have put myself in.” Rolf glanced over her shoulder at the dumb struck villagers. “Might these women ravage me before they all flee?”

  She bristled. The arrogant bastard. “We are all a big joke to you, are we not?” She clamped her mouth shut when she recognized William’s familiar shuffle as he walked up behind her.

  “Who is this?” His voice seemed overloud in the near silence that permeated the hall. The crackle and pop of the fire in the center of the room sufficiently muffled the nervous murmurs of the villagers, the sniffles of the children.

  Calmly, and without taking her eyes off of her captive, she pulled her knife from the folds of her skirt, twisted Rolf’s arm behind his back as she walked around behind him, and held the blade to his throat. “This is my prisoner,” she said loud enough for all to hear. She displayed a confidence she certainly did not feel. She waited for the rumble among the crowd to cease. Some took up the meager weapons they had scrounged and brought with them to the hall. “Yes, he is one of them. I found him washed upon the shore.”

  “Let us hang him from a tree as warning.” She recognized Mae’s voice.

  “Warning from what?” she called. “Not to follow us as we run off in fear?” She looked at William. “If they come this far, we can use him to bribe the attackers. Mayhap they will spare our village in exchange for him. His safety in return for our own.” She waited, encouraged by nods and murmurs of agreement of the few who had gathered close.

  Before she could react, Rheda broke from the crowd, rushed forward and slapped Rolf so hard, Kaylla felt her own teeth jarred. Before she could strike a second time, as she seemed want to do, William gripped her arm and held her at bay. He narrowed his eyes at the Viking. “Who are you that your kinsmen would so value your life?”

  Rolf shook his head. “I am no one. As I sailed to these shores with my king, my own kinsmen, traitors, attacked our fleet. Doubtless these men who arrive on the morrow are led by the same turncoat. They would most likely laud my death as well as your own.”

  “He will be of no use at all.” Mae, having remained silent longer than usual, stepped forward. “I say we kill him. Leave his rotting carcass on the road to show the h
eathens what will happen if they attack us.”

  “He deserves nothing more than to be gutted like a pig,” Rheda snarled. “Someone give me a knife.”

  Rolf surprised everyone by laughing out loud. Thrusting his chin at the two women, he said, “There is the courage you need to defeat your enemy.” He nodded in Wulf’s direction. “Even this boy has courage enough to fight.” Wulf looked as if Rolf claimed him the bravest warrior in history.

  “It will take more than some desperate women who speak of what they do not know to defeat these barbarians, Viking.” William fairly spat the word.

  Rolf challenged him with a look. “Aye, that it will. And I can help you.”

  Thrown off by his words, Kaylla released him. “Help us? How?”

  Rolf turned to her. He stood so close, even stark naked, heat radiated from his body. It warmed her through the few layers of clothing she wore, and she leaned a little closer to him. His words seemed to be for her alone.

  “I can teach you how to fight these men. I know their ways, their weaknesses.”

  “But we only have a single day.”

  “A lifetime.” His words held a promise.

  Could she trust that promise? “Why would you do that?”

  “If these are the men who betrayed my king. I would seek vengeance on his behalf. These men have no honor. And they will show you no mercy.”

  His eyes locked with hers. The intensity of his gaze set her heart to pounding. It hammered in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. He stared at her like a man with plunder on his mind.

  Kaylla tingled at the idea of being plundered by this man. This sinfully gorgeous man. He filled her head with fantasies she should never have.

  A dark shadow flickered through Rolf’s eyes, whether a reflection of her own arousal or the fire in the nearby hearth, she did not know. It disappeared so quickly, she wondered if she had imagined it.

  With a scowl, William shuffled between them. Rolf moved back without taking his eyes from hers. A promise, mayhap, to continue their mental conversation later. A conversation, she reluctantly admitted, she thoroughly looked forward to. He turned to address the others gathered in the hall. “I can show you how to fight off these attackers.”

  The villagers looked around at each other, all with the same doubt in their expressions that she felt. She wanted desperately to believe him. The image of Hugh’s broken body, his nearly severed head, filled her thoughts. Rolf said he had not been part of the raid on the monastery. But that did not mean he had not raided others, that he had not just as brutally killed more of her countrymen. How could she have faith in a ruthless barbarian who lived to murder and pillage?

  Raging emotions conflicted within her. Mistrust. Hope.

  Fervent lust.

  Rolf spoke to William. “Your people have already started gathering weapons. Send them back to their homes, scour the village. Collect anything they can use to fight.”

  William shook his head. He looked to Kaylla for support. “’Tis a trick. He wants to completely unarm us before his kinsmen arrive.”

  She considered this. It would be an easy enough task if they amassed every possible weapon in one place. So many risks to be considered. It was impossible to know the right thing to do. Part of her wanted William to take charge, had always wanted that. But she knew what William’s decision would be.

  Right or wrong, she was loathe to run off like a coward.

  Rolf smirked at her, mayhap suspecting her indecision, her need to appease everyone without ruffling feathers. He looked around at the gathering, but seemingly spoke to William. “Your village consists mostly of women; perhaps many have never wielded a sword or any other kind of weapon. You must determine what arms you have, then we can teach them the best use for each one.”

  Ignoring the doubt that niggled at the edge of her thoughts, she agreed. “I still do not believe they will waste time by coming here. Not if they are indeed en route to Axning. Still, we cannot wait around for them to plow through our lands. I hear they take people back to the Norse country as slaves. William.” She laid her hand on his arm. She took a deep breath, softened her expression. “I will not flee. I refuse to leave what little I have left to those - savages.” She glanced at Rolf, concentrating on his face, resisting the urge to sweep her gaze down the length of his torso. His honey-gold hair framed his features, fell about his shoulders. Brown eyes, deep and rich as freshly turned soil, stared back at her.

  Thirst threatened to overwhelm her. Just looking at him made all the moisture in her body flow to her most private of places. Even now she felt the slickness between her thighs. Ignoring the throbbing, aching, wanton desire she instinctively knew Rolf Bloodhands could relieve, she spurred William into action.

  “Let us do as he says. We will need every person, every child even, to fight off the raiders.”

  William set his lips into a tight line but did not argue. He looked behind him at the determined faces of Rheda and Bearn. Even Mae now seemed inclined to make a stand. His shoulders slumped in defeat. Limping back over to the hearth, he goaded the villagers into action, sending them off with instructions to gather anything that could be used as a weapon.

  Everyone within the hall scattered to do William’s bidding, none more enthusiastically than Wulf and William’s own brother, Bearn. Kaylla and Rolf continued to stare at each other amidst the chaos.

  The hungry look had returned to his eyes. Had they grown darker? Or was it merely the shadow? She wondered if she could have denied him had he offered to take her right there on the floor of the hall.

  Finally, she took him by the hand. “Come with me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They raced across the yard to her hut. Kaylla dragged him inside, intent on finding his clothes. She could not think with him naked. It seemed like a good plan at the time, a way to contain him, to control him. But he apparently felt no discomfort from the cold nor the stares of the villagers, admiring stares. She wanted to growl.

  Instead of letting go of her hand when he closed the door, Rolf pulled her back and forced her against it. Before she had time to react, his mouth came down on hers. Pressing her firmly against the rickety door with his body, he held both her wrists against the rough wood overhead with one hand and cupped her breast in the other. Her nipple puckered beneath her smock as he stroked it with the pad of his thumb.

  He licked her lips, sliding his warm tongue across them and sending jolts of pleasure throughout her body. Without shame, she pressed her own body back against his; she could feel him, thick and hard, against her stomach. The clothes she wore suddenly felt like a prison, keeping her from the most enticing man she had ever known.

  The gentleness of his lips contrasted with his rough handling of her breast. Her nipple strained against her bodice, reacting to the pleasure she felt at his touch. She parted her lips. She needed to feel some part of him filling her. Rolf rewarded her by plunging his tongue inside and kissing her until she could no longer remember exactly who or where she was.

  She had never felt anything as wonderful as his mouth on hers. Every nerve in her body tingled. He kissed her with the rawness she would expect from a barbaric Viking. She felt as though he consumed her.

  William never kissed me like this!

  Rolf reached down and tugged at the hem of her dress, pulling it higher until he could caress her bare thigh. Determined not to succumb so easily, she squeezed her knees together. His stroke raised gooseflesh on her skin. She tried to fight against her arousal. She really did. Thank God, he held her hands captive over her head. If not, she might have actually tangled her lecherous fingers in his silky hair.

  “Open your legs for me,” he whispered against her lips.

  It was not a request, but nor would she call it a command. If she refused, he would not force her. Instinctively she knew this Viking was no ravisher of women.

  I won’t do it, she thought, even as she felt herself relax, even as she shamelessly allowed him access to her most
private spot, even as she reveled in his ravishment of her mouth with his tongue.

  Sliding his hand to the slit at her center, he stroked the tender skin around the edges of her opening. She sucked in a ragged breath. The tiny hairs there tickled, urging her to grind herself against his calloused palm like a harlot. A spasm rocked her entire body. She shuddered from the pleasure, felt wetness oozing from inside her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut when he slipped the tips of his fingers inside her. Dear God! How could anything that felt as good as this be wrong? He eased into her like a knife through warm butter. Like the invader he was, Rolf plundered her without ever taking his mouth from hers. He licked her, nibbled her, until she feared she might die from the pleasure he gave her. His fingers felt so much better than her own. Rough and forbidden.

  He grinned against her lips as he tortuously wiggled his fingers. “You are so wet.” He swirled them around the opening, mimicking the movement with his tongue around her lips.

  She actually groaned when pulled his fingers from inside her. The hem of her smock fell to the floor, and her quim clenched at the sudden absence of him. With the abandon of a harlot, she pressed herself against his thigh. She craved more of him. She wanted to feel him all over her. In return, she wanted to feel all of him, wanted to touch him in ways, in places she had never touched a man.

  She had forgotten that he still held her arms captive until he pulled his mouth away, and she found herself unable to reclaim him. With his nose nearly touching hers, he lifted his glistening hand between them. Inhaling, she recognized her own scent. She watched him, mesmerized, as he wiped the glistening syrup covering his fingers over his mouth.

  “Taste yourself on my lips.”

  She could not stop staring at his mouth, the shape his lips made when he spoke, the gloss of her juices smeared upon them. She merely gaped at him, determined not to surrender to her lust induced craving and rake her tongue across his mouth.