Nightfall till Daybreak (The Kingdom of the East Angles Book 2)

by Jayne Castel

  “If I could stop a moment in time and make it last forever, it would be this one,” Aidan said softly. “If I wasn’t so bound to honor and duty I would ride away with you from this place and never look back.”

  They stopped then and stared at each other.

  “I wish you were not so bound by honor and duty then.” The words burst from Freya before she could stop them. “I wish you’d throw aside that yoke and live selfishly just once. Where has loyalty gotten you?”

  Aidan stared at her in shock for a moment.

  Then, he stepped forward and pulled her roughly into his arms. His mouth came down hard on Freya’s and all words, all thought, disappeared from her mind.

  His kiss was hot and urgent. Freya’s mouth opened under his with a gasp. Her legs went weak as his tongue slid against hers. His hands cupped the back of her head and he deepened the kiss. Freya’s hands clutched at his chest, looking for a way through the barrier of his clothing. Her fingers ached to touch his naked skin. She pressed herself up against him and drank in his taste and smell.

  Despite the chill night, she felt as if she were on fire, burning with need for a man she had wanted from the first moment she had seen him.

  Yes, she admitted it now, at the end when it was almost too late.

  They were in a small glade, surrounded by elms. It was a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of Sigeberht’s hall; away from anyone who could stop what was about to happen.

  Freya stepped away from Aidan, threw aside her shawl and kicked off her boots. Then, she untied the girdle about her waist and, in one smooth movement, pulled her tunic over her head so that she stood naked before him. She had never done anything so bold, and had never had the inclination to do so – until now. Life was so fleeting; they had to live this moment before it was taken away from them.

  She could feel Aidan’s gaze upon her. It slid over her body, and lingered on her breasts before he looked back at her face.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “You are so lovely it hurts to look upon you.”

  With that, Aidan unbuckled the heavy belt he wore across his hips, shrugged off his cloak and pulled his tunic over his head. The moonlight glistened on the muscular planes of his chest as he undid his breeches and the garters that tied his boots to his calves.

  Watching him, Freya felt a heat grow between her legs and spread through the pit of her belly. His arousal was obvious and the sight of it made her breath come in sharp gasps.

  When he stepped towards her once more she remained motionless. Her body felt boneless and weak. She could not have run from him, even if she had wanted to.

  Aidan’s mouth claimed hers once more- hungry and insistent. He pushed her up against the trunk of one of the sheltering elms and pressed the length of his naked body against hers. Freya could feel the cold roughness of bark against her back but cared not. Her whole will was focused, instead, on the heat of his mouth and the warmth of his hands as they slid over her body. When he tore his mouth from hers and began to suckle one of her breasts, Freya cried out. Her hands tangled in his hair while he suckled one nipple and then the other. Then he straightened up and, once more, covered her mouth with his.

  Freya, all restraint a faint memory, ran her hands down the length of his torso, before her fingers traced the hard length of him. Aidan’s breathing was ragged now and he groaned when she began to stroke him.

  “Freya,” he groaned in her ear. “You will drive me insane if you continue to do that.”

  In response, Freya gave a husky, breathless laugh.

  “So be it.”

  She stroked him again, this time gently biting his neck as she did so.

  Aidan gave a strangled cry and, cupping her bottom with his hands, lifted her up against the trunk. Her legs parted and she felt him, hard and trembling against her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured between gritted teeth, “but I don’t know if I can do this slowly.”

  Freya angled her hips towards him in response and the pressure increased. She kissed him deeply and slid her tongue into his mouth, mimicking the act she wanted from him. That was all the encouragement Aidan required. With a groan of pleasure he pressed against her.

  Freya felt him slide into her before a stab of pain knifed through her. She gasped and went rigid. Aidan froze. Freya clung to him a moment, breathless, before she wrapped her legs about his hips and drew him closer.

  Aidan sank deep into Freya until he filled her completely; a glorious sensation that sent tremors of pleasure through her. Then, Aidan began to move his hips as he drove deeper still.

  Freya whimpered and buried her face in his neck. The pleasure was almost unbearable. Then, when he began to move more forcefully within her she cried out, digging her nails into his back.

  “Freya,” Aidan gasped, pushing her higher against the tree trunk so that he could penetrate deeper into her. “I can’t stop, I can’t…”

  “Don’t stop!” Freya cried out as he thrust into her once again. She could feel a pressure inside her mounting and she raised her hips to meet him, again and again.

  Despite the chill night, sweat slicked their bodies. Freya cried out as her body sang with pleasure; then she collapsed against Aidan, her limbs trembling. He only lasted a moment longer before his cries mingled with hers in the silent glade.

  Freya leaned into his chest, their hearts hammering in time like the drums of Beltaine. Aidan’s fingers were entwined in her hair that had come loose from its long braid.

  They stayed like that for a while, each savoring the pleasure that slowly ebbed from their bodies, and resisting the reality which their lovemaking had momentarily kept at bay.

  Freya’s mind felt like a gently rippling pool; a cool, wide, peaceful lake, far from the hard edges of the world. She clung to that peace, as she clung to Aidan – in the hope that wishing would make it so.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Moonlight poured across the glade, outlining the shapes of the trees and the horse that patiently stood at one end, awaiting its master.

  Aidan raised himself up on an elbow and looked down at Freya. His throat closed as he gazed upon her; taking in the pale, smoothness of her skin and the mane of dark red hair that spread out around her.

  They lay upon a mattress of their discarded clothes, with Aidan’s cloak covering their nakedness from the chill night air. Gazing upon her, Aidan was aware that Freya too was studying him; her eyes two dark pools in the moonlight.

  “I don’t want to go back,” she murmured, her soft voice breaking the silence. “Let’s just remain in this glade forever.”

  Aidan smiled down at her, and felt a weight settle upon the center of his chest.

  “If only we could,” he whispered.

  Freya reached up and stroked his face.

  “So handsome,” she sighed. “I’ve never seen a man so fair.”

  Aidan chuckled at that, gently taking hold of her hand and kissing her palm. “Why thank you sweet Freya. Although I was prettier before life took its toll.”

  He felt Freya’s cool fingertips trace the scar on his cheek; the one from the battle for Rendlaesham. It had healed well but had left a silver line down the length of his cheek.

  “Life only adds to it,” she said softly. “You needed a few scars or you’d have women resenting your beauty.”

  Aidan snorted at that. “Now you go too far!” He looked down and saw that she was grinning up at him – enjoying the opportunity to tease him. This playful side to Freya was new, and delightful. He was pleased to see that life as the king’s theow had not crushed her spirit.

  “I will never forget tonight,” he smiled down at her. “Never. We will stay here till dawn. This night, from nightfall till daybreak, you are mine.”

  “Well then Aidan of Connacht,” Freya ran her hands down over his torso and stroked his manhood, which was beginning to rise again in response to her caresses. “We had better not waste a moment of it.”

  Aidan leaned down and
laid the length of his body against hers. He stroked the milky skin of her breasts. He heard her gasp when he gently pinched her nipples. She groaned against him when he started to kiss her neck.

  Moments later, there was no more time for words, or worries of what the future held – only loving.

  ***

  The eastern sky was lightening when the lovers eventually rose from their makeshift bower and dressed. It was a chill morning and a frost twinkled around them. Freya’s breath steamed in the air as she walked across the frosty ground towards where Aidan had already mounted. She wrapped her shawl tightly about her shoulders and vaulted up in front of him. Strangely, she did not feel the cold this morning, even after a night out in the open. Unspeaking, she leaned against Aidan’s chest and relaxed against the gentle thud of his heart.

  Then, still without a word spoken, Aidan urged his horse forward and they rode out of the glade.

  It was a short ride back to Beodriceworth – too short. Freya was dozing against Aidan’s chest when the trees drew back and they rode out into the Lark Valley. They made their way up a shallow rise and down the hill towards Sigeberht’s hall.

  As they approached, Freya could see a cloaked figure standing in front of the entrance to the hall.

  Freya’s stomach clenched. Although he wore a cowl over his face, she recognized the figure’s height and bearing. Sigeberht was waiting for them.

  Aidan had also noticed the silent, cloaked figure, for Freya felt his body tense against hers. Freya sat up straighter and squared her shoulders. Whatever came next, she knew it would be unpleasant. There was no way they could have hidden this from Sigeberht long-term. Perhaps it was better they confronted him about this now.

  Aidan drew up his horse and Freya slid to the ground. Aidan dismounted and stepped up beside her. The figure before the entrance to the hall pushed back his hood and stepped forward to meet them.

  In the soft light of dawn, Freya could see the anger, but also the lines of fatigue, on Sigeberht’s face. He had not slept.

  “You will come no closer.” Sigeberht stopped a few feet away. He was wearing short, leather boots and carried a long wooden staff, which he used to bar their path. “Neither of you are welcome in my hall.”

  “Sigeberht… milord,” Aidan began cautiously. “This was not done to spite you. We…”

  “Enough!” Sigeberht boomed, his voice lashing across the yard and causing a stir behind him. Freya glanced over Sigeberht’s shoulder and saw Felix emerge from the hall. Behind him, Freya caught a glimpse of four young faces in the doorway: Edwin, Osfrid, Paeda and Sebbi. The boys looked pale and worried.

  “I know what you’ve done. You know the rules of my hall. I will not tolerate a theow under my roof that is not chaste, and I will not suffer a thegn who defies me. You are both banished!”

  “My Lord Sigeberht.” Felix rushed forward, his face pinched in rage. “These two have done more than defy you. They have sinned! Your punishment must be greater than banishment. Put him in the stocks for a week and have the girl whipped. They must serve as a warning to others!”

  “Hold your tongue monk!” Aidan’s temper snapped. He stepped towards Felix and raised his fist. “Take your poison elsewhere. We have not sinned – we have only done something that is as natural as living and breathing. It is you who twists such things into sin.”

  “Silence!” Sigeberht roared, stepping between the two men. “My word is law here. Felix, I will not compound their sin by adding to it with our own. Aidan and Freya, I want you both gone. You may take nothing but the clothes on your backs. I wish never to…”

  Sigeberht’s last words were drowned out by the sudden tattoo of hoof-beats, approaching at a gallop from the north-west.

  Freya, who had not uttered a word since Sigeberht had barred their path, swiveled round and gasped at the sight of horses, approaching over the brow of the hill. Aidan put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to one side. The horsemen thundered into the yard. The horses skidded to a halt; their breaths steaming as they tossed their heads and jangled their bridles. They had been ridden hard.

  Ecgric the Eager rode forward and stopped before Sigeberht. The co-ruler of the East Angles was dressed for battle, in boiled leather and iron, and his face was set in hard, dark lines.

  “The Mercians approach Barrow Fields,” he barked, his gaze riveted upon Sigeberht. “What say you milord? Will you come willingly, or will we have to drag you?”

  “I will not fight!” Sigeberht growled. “I am a man of god now. You cannot compel me to kill!”

  “It is kill or be killed in this world,” Ecgric snarled before he glanced over his shoulder at the men he had brought with him. “Bind his hands and put him on a horse. He is coming with us.”

  What followed was an ugly, harrowing scene. Aidan and Freya looked on as four warriors wrestled Sigeberht to the ground and bound his wrists behind his back. Felix, seized by a sudden hysteria, ran flailing and clawing at the warriors, only to be felled with one punch. He crawled, whimpering back to the doorway, where Sigeberht’s four charges watched in horror.

  Yet, even unarmed, Sigeberht was a strong, muscular man, still very much in his prime. In the end, it took six warriors to subdue him, and manhandle him onto a horse.

  Freya watched her master, bleeding from the lip, one eye already beginning to swell, slump in the saddle, defeated. She fought back the urge to cry. Despite everything, Sigeberht had been good to her. He did not deserve to be treated thus.

  Satisfied that Sigeberht was subdued and bound securely, Ecgric turned to Aidan. His gaze rested on him a moment before flicking to Freya. Aidan’s arm about her shoulders told him all, and his lip curled.

  “So your whore likes foreign cock does she?”

  Aidan stared back at him coldly, refusing to be baited. Seeing that this was neither the time nor the place to trade insults, Ecgric returned to the task at hand. Behind him, his men were coldly silent; Ecgric’s outburst had lowered him in the eyes of all present.

  “You said you had twenty spears to add to my fyrd,” he bit out each word resentfully. “Gather them now and follow us to Barrow Fields.”

  Aidan nodded curtly. “We will come.”

  With that, Ecgric wheeled his horse away and dug his heels into its sweat-slicked flanks. Freya watched the group of horsemen, with Sigeberht riding in their midst, gallop away, and disappear over the brow of the hill.

  The sun had risen over the eastern horizon, rays of golden light warming the frosty ground. Freya turned back to Aidan, her heart in her throat.

  “We almost had our freedom,” she managed, her vision blurring with tears. “Sigeberht banished us. We could ride out of here and never look back… but you can’t.”

  Aidan met her gaze. His face taut as he struggled to control himself; his gaze conflicted.

  “You know I can’t,” he replied huskily. “I made a promise and I must keep it. I’m sorry Freya but I must go.”

  “Aidan!” Aldwulf emerged from the hall, hurriedly doing up the cross-garters on his legs. “Is it true? Does the enemy approach?”

  “They do,” Aidan turned from Freya, the warrior’s mask slipping into place. Gone was last night’s lover. She did not know this man before her. “Ready the men, Aldwulf. We ride for Barrow Fields.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Aidan shrugged the chain vest over his head and felt its weight settle against his chest; a sensation that he would always associate with battle. Standing before the smoldering fire pit in the hall, he placed leather arm guards over his forearms and upper arms and waited while Edwin laced them up for him. Felix was nowhere to be seen, and nor were the three other students.

  This was the warriors ritual, one that meant war was coming and blood was about to be shed. Aidan’s weapon of choice was not a sword – for only ealdormen and their kin carried these – but a spear. Aidan’s spear had always meant a lot to him; it symbolized his freedom from slavery. Only a free man could wield one. This spear was around eig
ht feet in length and made out of ash, with a lethal iron point. When fighting, Aidan always carried a spear in his right hand and a shield in his left.

  As Edwin finished tightening his arm guards, Aidan’s thoughts momentarily strayed from the approaching battle to Freya.

  A hard knot of sorrow tightened in the center of his chest. The memories of last night broke over him, like water bursting from a dam. Last night he had known a joy he had never thought existed. He had been with plenty of women since reaching manhood, but none had made him feel like Freya did. Even now, he ached to rush to her, to touch and kiss her; to hear the sound of her voice and breathe in the scent of her skin. She made him feel truly alive. Wryd, fate, had cruelly cheated him. He had been given too little, too late.

  Aidan took a deep breath and forced his thoughts on to what lay ahead. Edwin finished tightening the last arm guard and stepped back, his blue eyes huge on his thin face.

  “Thank you lad.” Aidan forced a smile. “Look out for the others. If the battle goes ill, the Mercians will come here. You may want to consider hiding in the woods until everything’s done.”

  Edwin nodded wordlessly, although Aidan could see that his words had given the boy no solace. As young as Edwin was, he understood that there was no honor in hiding in the woods while the rest of his male kin went into battle.

  “Listen to me Edwin.” Aidan hunkered down so that their gazes were at the same level. “There is nothing pretty about war. I know you want to be with your father and your brothers, but it is best you stay here. The other boys are not as strong as you; they need you to look after them.”

  Edwin’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Why would I want to be with my father when he sold me for a pouch of gold?”

  Aidan felt sadness stab him through the guts at the anguish on the boy’s face.