by Bambi Lynn
The Viking leader fell like a stone.
“I knew you would come,” Wulf grinned up at her as he climbed off the corpse, his face and hands covered in blood.
“What is happening?”
“Many have agreed to join Bloodhands and overpower the turncoats.”
“Turncoats?”
Wulf nodded. “This one,” he kicked the dead body at their feet, “led an attack on the Norse king. Traitor,” he spat. “Bloodhands alone survived and has sworn revenge upon his brothers, except those who remain loyal to the old king.”
“Kaylla.”
The tiny hairs at the base of her neck stood on end. The baritone voice behind her could only belong to him. She turned slowly to face him.
“But in the village, you…”
Rolf interrupted her. “I could not let Boddi succeed in his treacherous plot to become king.”
“What will you do?”
He stepped forward, brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “My loyalties lie with you, now.”
Her heart beat faster. Her breathing came in shallow gulps. Could she dare to hope? She said nothing, waited for him to continue.
“I could no more leave you than … well, I cannot leave you.”
“Wh-why not?”
He stepped closer, wrapped her in his massive embrace. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, he whispered, “You have captured my heart, Kaylla. I love you.” He cradled her face in his big hands and slid his lips over hers. “I wish to remain at your side, always,” he whispered against them.
She kissed him back, with all the emotion raging within her. Love. Hope.
Relief.
He pulled away from her, but kept her within his embrace. “I saw much good farmland surrounding the village. And I recall the absence of men, with many women in need of husbands.” He chuckled and swept his arm in the direction of his remaining countrymen. “It so happens I have a small band of husbands who are in desperate need of wives.”
Udela brushed past her. “I shall choose first.” She stopped and let her gaze slide down the length of Rolf’s body. Then she grinned at Kaylla over her shoulder. “I suppose you can keep this one.” With a wink, she strode to the group of Norsemen.
The village would endure? Thrive even?
Rolf leaned closer so only she could hear. “Would you accept me as your mate?”
His whispered words tickled the tender skin behind her ear. Chills swept across the back of her neck. She ground herself against him, never wanting to be further away from him than she was right then.
She swallowed hard. “I have already accepted it. You are the mate of my soul, the other half of me.”
As if he had been holding it, Rolf let out a long breath. He crushed his mouth against hers, ignoring the catcalls from his kinsmen. Kaylla felt as if they were alone, so lost was she in the bliss with which Rolf enveloped her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
He pulled away too quickly. “We must send a messenger to King Eadwald,” he called to his men.
Wulf grabbed his arm and jumped up and down at his side. “Me, me, send me.”
“Not bloody likely,” Kaylla said.
Wulf ignored her. “I am fast. And I can travel through the forests unseen.” Bearn stood nearby, but did not volunteer.
Kaylla clenched Rolf’s forearm, silently begging him not to relent.
Rolf glanced at William’s heir. “What say you, Bearn?”
The rightful leader of their village jerked at the question. He stood a little taller, pulled his shoulders back, lifted his chin just enough to notice. “I cannot accompany him.” He indicated his injured ankle. “’Tis all I can do to stand here. Wulf is capable. I know he is.”
Retrieving Boddi’s sword, Rolf handed it to Wulf. “Warn the king that invaders from the north will soon launch an attack. Three hundred ships will make port at Appledore and Milton within a fortnight. Tell him that Rolf Bloodhands sends the message. Show him this sword, and he will believe you.”
Without even a farewell to his sister, Wulf dashed into the trees and was gone.
He took her hand. “At least, the man will have time to prepare a defense. If this Eadwald proves a capable king, I will pledge my allegiance.” Keeping her fingers entwined with his, he moved closer to Bearn. “Tell the men to gather and burn the dead, pack camp. We head for home.”
Still clutching her hand, he led her through the clearing, littered with bodies. As he passed his kinsmen, he instructed them to give Bearn the respect he deserved as the boy who would one day be their leader. Even when she spotted her modor and rushed into her embrace, Rolf did not relinquish his hold.
Wray followed close on their heels. He stopped abruptly before Edlyn. “I have survived, woman.”
Color brightened Edlyn’s cheeks. “I am not surprised. Thou art too stubborn to die in such a weak skirmish.” Her smile belayed her tone, and Wray did not miss it. He grinned at her like a fool.
Kaylla stroked Rolf’s palm inside the cocoon of his enveloping hand and explained to her modor where Wulf had gone.
“Do not fear for Wulf.” Rolf’s voice was deep and low. He squeezed her hand. “He is a wily little bastard.” He turned to Wray. “Break camp and follow the boy back to the village. I have other business to attend.” He pulled her into the trees, calling over his shoulder to his other kinsmen as he did so. “Bearn is in charge!”
She did not ask their destination as he led her through the trees. Every now and then, he would stop and kiss her until she got dizzy. She got turned around more than once. But each time he broke away from her with a growl and continued on, she followed along like a newborn lamb. By mid-day, she had completely lost her bearings, but she did not care. She was with him, and he was taking care of everything.
They emerged from the trees and onto the bank of a river that flowed by in a lazy swirl. On the other side, farther than she would want to swim, rose a white cliff, seemingly impenetrable from here.
Off to the side, it sloped down to a grassy plain, banking the river opposite. He pointed there now. “We can extend the village to that plain. This section of the river will make a more suitable harbor than where it is now.”
Her heart soared. He had been considering their future. “Further from the sea?”
“’Tis not so far as you think.”
She looked across the meandering river, at the grassy field that would one day sport huts and vegetable gardens, the cliffs that would shelter it from attack and weather. She looked up at the man who made her heart swell nigh to bursting.
“Perfect.”
Rolf pulled her into yet another mind-numbing kiss.
A familiar heat spread through her body. His touch consumed her senses. Her feverish skin tingled where he touched her. She inhaled his manly scent. She could not deny him for the smell of sweat and blood that covered him. She doubted she smelled little better.
He pushed her vest off her shoulders and let it drop to the ground. With a hungry look, he sealed her lips with an open-mouth kiss that curled her toes. She quivered when he drove his tongue into her mouth. She swirled her own around it, savoring the taste of him, honey-wine and sweet fennel.
Rolf slid his lips down her throat, tugging at the top of her tunic. Claennis’ tight-fitting smock pushed the mounds of her breasts over the top, and he tore it in an effort to reach more of her naked skin. Flicking his warm tongue over the tender skin, he ignited liquid fire throughout her body.
Ripping the neckline further, he dipped his head and took one nipple in his mouth. She let her head fall back as a deep sigh escaped from within her. How could anything feel as good as this man’s mouth on her naked skin?
When he pulled back to look at her, she wrapped her arms around the tight muscles of his shoulders and latched her lips to the tiny spot pulsing in his throat. As she swirled her tongue around the tender skin, she inhaled, long and deep, savoring the musky smell of him. He was pure male, and she very nearly wanted to devour him.
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He continued to massage her breasts, bunching the remains of her smock higher and higher until she pulled away and allowed him to push it over her head. With her arms stretched toward the cloudless blue sky, he captured one taut nipple between his lips and suckled her.
Naked from the waist up, she bared his chest so she could press her full, heavy breasts against his warm skin. The light dusting of hair there tickled her, further tightening her nipples to painful buds.
He grasped her leather-clad buttocks and ground his hips against her. His bulging cock pressed into her stomach as he kneaded her through the confining breeches. Keeping his face close to hers, he pushed his hips back and looked down the length of her. He breathed in labored, ragged breaths.
“I have never loved a woman,” he said as he ripped out the lacings of Hugh’s breeches. “Not like this.”
She melted at his words, every muscle in her body going limp. She grasped his shoulders, her hands barely able to span them. She tilted her ass up as he worked the breeches over them.
Both hands met at the juncture of her thighs, spreading her cheeks and massaging them with erotic languor. His calloused fingers flickered across the gaping wet opening between her thighs. She groaned out loud and lifted her leg slightly, confined though she was by the breeches around her thighs, to give him better access to her most intimate spot.
He kissed her briefly, just a brush of his lips against hers, before bending over and pushing them further down her legs. She supported herself with her hands on the massive span of his back, rubbing them all over the taut muscles, desperate to touch him everywhere, unable to get enough. She lifted one foot then the other as he rendered her totally naked.
He stood and stepped back to look at her. Tangling his fingers in hers, he stretched her arms out to the side as he raked his hungry gaze over her. He eyes, nearly black with lust, locked on her mouth.
She parted her lips, hoping to draw in more air. She thought he would kiss her, but instead he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed little more than a child. She wrapped both arms around his neck and nibbled at the tender skin beneath his jaw.
He carried her the short distance back into the trees and laid her down in a small clearing. He stood over her to remove the rest of his clothing. She watched with ill-concealed impatience. She planted both feet on the ground, knees spread wide, drawing his gaze to her. He placed both hands on her knees and knelt between them, exposing her even more.
He stroked his cock as he looked down at her, further engorging it, and coaxing it to a near-frightening size. The image enflamed her so much, she reached down and stroked the creamy wetness in her slit across the entire opening of her sex. She was so ready for him, his size no longer frightened her.
She cupped his heavy balls in her palm as he guided his cock to her throbbing puss. Her walls twitched in anticipation. He supported himself with one hand on the ground next to her and worked the thick head of his cock up and down the slick opening of her body. His hair trailed down, floating over her breasts, a faint wisp that held the power of a lightning bolt.
She arched up towards him. His cock slid into her, all the way to the hilt. Still holding him, she stroked her fingers around the sensitive area where their bodies joined. His balls churned against her palm.
She kept her fingers splayed around her sex as he began to slide in and out of her. He fit perfectly inside her. They stared at each other through the veil of his sand colored mane. She gripped his powerful thighs as he drove into her. Each time their bodies met, the tight curls at the base of his cock nestled against the puffed-up bud at her center.
His languid strokes grew increasingly more powerful until she cried out with mind-numbing pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut at the blinding waves of emotion shooting through her. Even behind her closed lids, visions of him filled her head. She opened them to stare at him as his drove into her one last time, spilling his seed and crying out his own pleasure. He throbbed inside her for a long time.
“Kjæresten min,” he whispered over and over.
When he pushed back to his heels, she started to get dressed. She felt sure there was something she needed to be doing.
Rolf would have none of it. He held her at bay, still kneeling at her juncture and stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Be still, kjæresten. The others will have bypassed us and be nearing the village. We have time.”
She snuggled against him as he rolled her onto one side and molded his body around hers. “Time for what?” Through the brush, she could still make out the opposite bank of the river.
Rolf hugged her against him, idly stroking her breasts. “Nothing. Just relax and dream of the life we will build here.”
She looked across the clearing and tried to envision the harbor he had described. Families, children, all thriving on the trade that came through. And Rolf Bloodhands at her side to show them the way. Could their tiny, failing village transform into a bustling port town?
She wiggled her backside against him, pleased when his cock stirred in response. Her heart fluttered within her chest at the overwhelming emotions that assailed her. She hugged his arms tighter about her.
“Do not think to ever leave me.”
He nuzzled his face in her hair, inhaling deeply and speaking softly against her ear.
“Never, kjæresten min.”
Epilogue
“My raiding days are over. I have no desire to return to the Norse lands. ’Tis bitter cold there, even during the long days.” Rolf leaned back against the wall and propped his foot on the table. He glared across at Wulf. At nineteen winters, he seemed a giant in the confines of their hut. “Your sister will have your hide for even suggesting such a ridiculous idea.”
“As she will yours if she catches you with your dirty foot upon the table.”
Just then, the latch lifted on the door. With a start, he dropped his foot to the floor and swept off any granules of dirt.
Kaylla entered narrowing her eyes at them. “What mischief have the two of you all clammed up?”
His bloody cock stirred at the mere sight of her. He stood and adjusted the relentless thing. Still, he could not resist pulling her into his arms and pressing it against her. He claimed her lips. By the gods, he could kiss her forever.
Wulf made a gagging noise behind them. “See. Tis past time I left. Started making my own way. Ships align daily to berth now that the dock is finished. Our new bishop has arrived to oversee the completion of the church. Bearn has the village well under control. He does not need me.”
She pulled away and licked her kiss-swollen lips. “What is he talking about?”
“He has an idea to take one of our ships on a vikingr.
The color faded from her cheeks. “Are you completely barmy?” Her voice rose quickly as she ranted at the poor boy. By the time she was done, their three oldest children had fled one by one. Edlyn slunk out carrying the baby.
Wulf stared back at her with doleful eyes. When she finally stopped screaming at him, he sputtered, “Rolf had his feet on the table.”
The End
About The Author
Yes, Bambi is my real name.
I grew up on a farm in South Georgia. My high school was very small with a graduating class of less than 100 people. Shortly after high school, I met my wonderful husband who took me to Belgium, where a three-year tour turned into fifteen. While living in Europe, I nurtured my love of all things medieval. I often get homesick for Belgium, but with the world wide web, I’m home with the click of a mouse. I now live with my husband and son in North Alabama.
When not plugging away at my keyboard, I teach World History. I love to ride my big, black Tennessee Walker, Jamaica. My husband and I each have a Harley to go with our collection of classic cars and hot rods.
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