The Last Viking Queen

by Taylor, Janelle

  Alysa did not repel him as his hands drifted down her back, caressing its supple line before he pulled her tightly against his hard body. He was enormously strong and his embrace was snug. His mouth urgently ravished hers and she bravely allowed him to continue his ardent behavior. She knew he was becoming highly aroused and she cautioned herself to control him. As his mouth journeyed down her neck and over a shoulder bared by pushing aside her upper garment, her arms encircled his muscled frame and her lips nibbled at his neck and chest.

  Rolf groaned as flames of desire licked fiercely at him. His mouth covered her ear with kisses, between which he confessed, “I must have you, my queen, before I go mad with hunger. I have wanted you day and night since we met. Lie with me as lovers.”

  “Nay, Rolf,” she murmured, sounding reluctant to cease their intoxicating actions. She pushed gently against his brawny chest and met his burning gaze. “I cannot, not until we are wed. Soon you will have me, all you desire of me, for surely you will win.”

  Confidently the handsome Viking murmured, “Yea, I shall win your heart and hand, my warrior queen. But there is no need to deny our passions until then. More than I wish to become king, I wish to become your husband. Forget your doubts and fears. No one will find us here. Yield to me now, my sweet destiny, the captor of my heart.”

  Alysa’s hand went to his cheek and caressed it. He nuzzled it and lavished kisses in its palm. She entreated with a soft and innocent voice, “I beg you, dear Rolf, do not ask me to roll upon the grass like a common strumpet. I am your queen. My honor must remain intact. Do you not realize the peril we would face if caught in such a manner? Our first time together must not be rushed. It must not be when we are frightened of being caught naked in each other’s arms. I would be shamed forever if others witnessed such a special moment. Be patient and kind. The quest will be done in but a few weeks.”

  Rolf coaxed, “Even waiting one day sounds like forever when I am starving for you. I trust Sweyn with all things and secrets. He will stand guard for us.”

  Alysa reasoned, “How could I ever look into Sweyn’s face again knowing that he stood guard while we stripped and made love so close to him? How could I win his respect and fealty when he would know I had disobeyed Odin to yield to lust for you before you became the last champion? What if he suspected us of cheating during the quest so we could have each other? The price of one hour’s pleasure is too great, dear Rolf. We must be strong and brave.”

  Alysa smiled sweetly into his eyes and hinted seductively, “If we crave each other today, think of how much more our bodies will be pleading when we are forced to control them for two weeks. The eagerness and anticipation of coming together will be stimulating. We will increase our appetites until we are so starved that our first night together will be wild and rapturous. The fires we have kindled today will be fueled each hour until our marriage. The moment we touch in your bed, our bodies will burst into fiery flames.

  Think of how wonderful it will be when we can finally have each other. Whet your appetite by yearning for me. Then soon you will feast wildly upon me until your hunger is sated. I will deny my husband nothing. Nothing, Rolf.”

  “A hunger such as I have for you, my warrior queen, can never be sated. When you are mine, I will pleasure you as no other man could.” A dark scowl lined his tawny face. “But what if I do not win you?”

  Alysa embraced him and rested her cheek near his heart. “Do not lose faith or confidence, dear Rolf. You are a superior warrior. I cannot help you with the quests’ riddles because I do not know the answers. Only Odin and Trosdan know such things, and I cannot ask the wizard to help us cheat on a sacred quest. We must do nothing to arouse anyone’s suspicions about us. Do not worry about winning. Even if you do not, we will find a way to be together. If I am compelled to wed either Ulf or Eirik, we will get rid of my husband when it is safe, then wed. There are many ways for warriors to die accidentally.”

  She leaned back her head and fused their gazes. She read his willingness to do anything to have her—even defy his gods. Clearly he was potently obsessed with her. Poor Enid, she thought, as the captive would never win this man. “Do your best to win the quest, Rolf. But even if you do not succeed, I will be yours soon. If you do not become my husband, we will find ways to meet secretly until our rival is slain cleverly. I will not be happy until you are my husband and High King at my side. Is this promise not sufficient to make you strong enough to resist me for two weeks?”

  Rolf chuckled at her playfully provocative expression and tone. “Yea, my sweet destiny, it is more than enough.” His mouth closed over hers and they kissed feverishly.

  When they parted, she smiled. “My ankle hurts. Could you carry me back to my horse? We must go before Sweyn thinks we have sated our hungers instead of tormenting them.”

  Rolf swept her into his powerful arms and headed agilely for their mounts. Alysa knew Eirik had been too far away to hear their words, but close enough to witness their actions and moods. With luck and caution, both men should be right where she needed them.

  As they rode back toward the settlement, Alysa asked casually, “Who is this Eirik? Did I not hear someone say he has not been with you long? Why was he allowed to join your group? There are many things I do not know about my people. Do you often accept strangers?”

  “He came from the camp of Hengist six or seven weeks past. He was seeking adventure, but Hengist is content to win land and wealth with patience and cunning, not by his sword and skills. A warrior cannot prove himself while warming a castle with his backside, so Eirik came to join us when he heard of our presence.”

  The two men laughed before Rolf continued. “He was forced to prove himself in the ring before he was accepted amongst us, as is our way. He was challenged by Gritar the Bold. When Eirik beat him, he was given Gritar’s dwelling and rank. He is from Juteland, near Denmark. He is a skilled warrior and we can use such men of prowess and hunger. He possesses no family, so he has no reason to return home.”

  “Has he proven he is loyal as well as skilled?” she asked.

  “Yea, my queen, he has led many raids and won great fame among us,” Sweyn replied begrudgingly. “Once, he saved my life.”

  “Where did he get the scar on his face?” she inquired.

  “It was there when he joined us. I have not asked.”

  Alysa’s gaze slipped over Rolf at her right. She smiled and remarked, “You have no scars, Rolf. No man has been strong enough to mar you. That speaks highly of your skills.”

  Rolf grinned with pleasure and admiration. Sweyn noticed the interchange between his queen and best friend. It pleased him. If Rolf became High King, that meant his rank would heighten.

  “Let’s race,” she suggested, needing to diffuse her excessive energy and tension. The men agreed and off they galloped.

  Alysa’s mind traveled as swiftly as her beloved Calliope’s sleek legs. She thought about Eirik. The timing of his arrival here perfectly matched that of Gavin’s disappearance! He looked, sounded, and most times behaved like the Gavin she had first met, not the strange Gavin he had become shortly before deserting her. What if the Runes only meant he was not Gavin at this time? What if the dark powers had Trosdan and the forces of Good fooled? What if Gavin had been sent here as Eirik to aid them?

  The scar, her keen mind hinted. It was far more than weeks old! Even if he was not Prince Gavin Crisdean, the two men could be related and not know it. What if Eirik was not a weapon or trick of the dark forces? What if he was only a close image of Gavin, a coincidence? Or, what if he was her real fate? What if she had been led here to do more than defeat their invaders? What if she was also meant to find Eirik, to choose him over Gavin?

  After what he had witnessed with Rolf, he would be jealous, mistrustful, possibly hurt by her betrayal. She had not meant to arouse those feelings in him. If he were innocent of her mental charges against him and he truly loved her, her actions could turn him away. Did she want that to happen? Did she want to re
turn to Gavin if things were the same as when he vanished? Could she bear to see Eirik slain during the attack by her people? She had acted rashly and cruelly, which was unlike her. If Eirik was not Gavin, she was ensnared in a trap of her own making. She could not remain the Last Viking Queen and marry him! And after her ruse was exposed, could she ever hold his trust and love?

  Those were all matters which Alysa did not want to ponder or decide at this time. She cleared her mind of her worries and doubts to enjoy a carefree ride. Soon, others sighted and joined them.

  The small group rode joyously over the downlands, circling Stonehenge several times before they returned to the settlement corral with Alysa in the lead. After dismounting, she chatted with some of the men who were pleased to spend time with their queen.

  Rolf said to the others, “She rides like the wind. No queen could serve us better. All men and kingdoms will envy us.”

  Alysa laughed gaily. “Only because I have ridden since childhood and I possess the best horse in all the world. I would die if anything happened to my beloved Calliope.” She hugged the animal and stroked his neck. Calliope responded by nuzzling her cheek. “All kingdoms will envy us because we will rule this land one day. To our great victory!” she shouted above the noise, and the men cheered louder.

  Ulf walked up to them. “Will you join me to eat tonight, my queen? I have asked my captive to prepare a matchless meal for you.”

  “I would be honored, Ulf. But first, I must refresh myself. I will join you soon,” she replied, knowing she could do nothing less if all three champions were to be treated the same in public.

  On the way to her dwelling, Alysa met Eirik. Again, he was moody and mysterious. His green eyes were narrowed and a frown creased his forehead. His body was taut with warring emotions, evidenced by his walk and stance. She wished she could explain her behavior earlier today, but she could not. She nodded a greeting to him and kept walking.

  Eirik trailed her. “Where have you been, Alysa?”

  She halted and replied, “Riding with Rolf and Sweyn, and others. Why did you not join us?”

  “I was not invited,” he said, his tone exposing his anger.

  “Nor were the others, but they joined us nonetheless,” she retorted.

  “We must talk privately,” he stressed.

  “We cannot. Others are watching us this very moment. I must reveal no favoritism in public. I explained this to you.”

  “Yet in private you do,” he said in an accusatory tone. He was jealous, furious, and baffled. He wondered how she could play the wanton with his rival after spending such a passionate night with him.

  “What is your meaning?” she inquired, stalling for time to think.

  “Are you afraid of what happened between us last night? So afraid that you seek comfort and protection in another man’s arms?”

  Alysa glanced around to make certain no one was within hearing distance of them. She scoffed, “Nothing happened between us last night, Eirik. It was only a dream. Are you trying to charm me, to beguile me, to entrap me? Do you not realize you are only confusing me and endangering me? If your feelings are real and strong, you will leave me alone to do my duty to my people and my destiny.”

  Before she could walk off defensively, he challenged, “Is it your duty to romance all three champions? To play me for a fool? To tempt me and torment me? To enchant me, then spurn me to steal my wits so another can win you in the battle ring?”

  She tried to glare at him, but failed. “I can treat none of you three differently before the others. I am new here and must be careful what I do and say. I am queen, and all watch me.”

  “Nay, you are mine, Alysa, mine,” he argued.

  “Nay, I belong to no man. I am not a piece of property. I am not a prize of war or conquest! I belong to Odin and to my destiny! If such was not true, I would be home in Damnonia with a weakling of a mate who does not understand me or accept me as I am. I need a strong man who trusts me and who does not interfere in my duty and destiny. I need a man who does not question my every word and action when I only do what I must to prevent trouble and suspicion. I need a man who believes in me and who will stand at my side no matter what happens. I need a man who loves me more than his own life and dreams. A man who loves me and wants me, not who wants to use me. If you are such a man, prove it by ceasing your temptation and pressure!” With those enlightening statements, Alysa walked away.

  Eirik watched her depart and considered her heated words. Her desire for him had not been concealed by her anger. He realized something vital: she was frightened and desperate! Was that why she had turned to Rolf in the woods? Was she testing her feelings for him? Was she trying to dupe Rolf into believing there was nothing between her and himself? Was she only worried over their safety?

  Eirik recalled how she had yielded so passionately to him last night. Their wild, sweet caresses had driven them both mad with desire and pleasure. But it had been more than a physical experience. Alysa was not a woman to yield to lust, or to yield to anything lightly. Her feelings could be nothing less than love! As were his. Yet she appeared almost terrified. Did she want him, but knew he was not to be the winner of the quest? Or was there more to her fears and doubts? There was only one way to find out…

  Fourteen

  When Alysa arrived at Ulf’s longhouse, she was amazed to see the amount of food being placed on a large wooden table in the eldhus. “You have planned a feast, Ulf. Will your friends be here soon?”

  “No one will join us, my queen. I did not know what you liked to eat, so I had my captive prepare a choice of many things.”

  Her blue gaze swept up and down the overloaded table. She mentally scoffed at the amount of waste at innocent victims’ expense. “There is so much food, Ulf. If we feasted for weeks, we could not consume so many dishes. But you are kind to go to such trouble for me.”

  “It was no trouble,” he replied accurately, as the slave had done all the work, using food stolen on vicious raids. “If there is food and drink left, she will serve it to my friends or to the wounded. None will go to waste,” he remarked as if reading her mind.

  Alysa took a seat at the end of the long table. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Delectable aromas filled her nose. She smiled at the captive, and complimented her labors.

  Ulf took a seat to Alysa’s left. The slave continued her task in silence. Ulf reached for a joint of meat and slapped it on his wooden platter, jarring both the platter and the table. As if ravenous, he piled food around it and filled another side platter. “Where are the bowls, stupid woman?” he shouted at the captive.

  With haste and fear, the woman fetched them. Ulf ordered, “Are you still a dumb and lazy cow? Fill them for us!”

  “Which soup?” she inquired in panic, her voice quavering and her hands shaking.

  “My queen?” Ulf inquired of Alysa in a mellowed tone.

  As she mastered her anger at the woman’s treatment and concealed her pity for enthrallment to such a vile creature. Alysa eyed the potage and the mutton stew. “That one,” she replied softly, then thanked the woman after being served. The slender female glanced hurriedly at the beautiful queen, her eyes filled with ahunger for kindness and freedom. Alysa smiled again and the woman’s eyes misted.

  Ulf frowned in annoyance. When the woman went to bring the hot bread, Ulf chided in a whisper, “If you show them such kindness, they get lazy and disrespectful. She is here to serve her master, not enjoy herself. She will cause me trouble if you soften her.”

  Alysa wanted to lift the large carving blade from the table and drive it into the vicious man’s heart. Soon, she vowed, such cruelties would halt and men like Ulf would pay dearly for their evil. Yet she forced a genial smile to surface as she teased, “Does not sweet cinnamon taste better than bitter verjuice, Ulf, and bring forth more gentle flavor, even in people?”

  He laughed as if she had told a joke. “Yet verjuice makes food more tender and causes it to last longer. So which is more valuab
le and agreeable?”

  Alysa grinned and nodded as if she stood corrected and agreed. She tasted the mutton stew, which was laced with tiny chunks of bacon, veal, and venison. It was seasoned and cooked perfectly. She nibbled on the white wheaten bread which was smeared lightly with butter. She decided on a breast of spit-roasted duckling over the rabbit or lamb or tripe sausages. She passed over the onions with peas to slowly devour fragrant and tender cabbage with slivers of pork. Between bites she sipped wine and listened to Ulf rave about his past conquests.

  The man related raids in other lands and in other areas of this isle. From his descriptive words, it was obvious he loved to hurt people and destroy property. Clearly he believed it was a show of manhood and prowess to cower others and to take anything he desired from them. He spoke of how many warriors he had slain and beheaded, revealing how he enjoyed piling their heads high and counting them before leaving them to feed the vultures and wild animals. Age and sex meant nothing to him, for he slew and maimed both with great zest. He talked of the weapons he used, and which ones he preferred. As could be imagined, he favored those which inflicted the most horrid of deaths.

  She tried not to watch the man stuff himself crudely and talk with his mouth overflowing, but she could not stare at her platter until this meal ended. Neither could she leave so quickly after her arrival nor admonish his sloppy behavior. To fool Ulf and others, she had to endure this sickening chore. Hopefully it would be the last time she would be compelled to show she favored none of the three champions by spending time with all three. Yet she detested this Norseman who was so unlike Rolf and Eirik. Ulf was a barbaric savage!

  Ulf lifted his bowl several times and gulped down his soup, trying the potage first and the mutton stew second. He seized the gigot of lamb from his platter and tore off large hunks with yellowed teeth, eating like a wild and starving animal. As if a wild beast trying to beat another to a fresh kill, he grabbed half of a duckling and ripped pieces off the bone, appearing to swallow them whole. When it was devoured, he reached for half a rabbit and did the same.