The Seducer (Viking Warriors)

by Jianne Carlo

  When she had looked into the eyes of the warrior in the pond, a dim memory had nagged at her. Those startling blue eyes with their golden glints had seemed so familiar, so safe. A vague unease added to the heavy burden pinching her neck and shoulders.

  Mother Mary, she had not even tried to flee at first, for his embrace had felt like a haven. Elaina stumbled. Foolish, foolish. She could trust none. No sanctuary existed for her and the babes in these lands.

  A hush fell over the hall. The sudden silence jolted Elaina from her dark brooding.

  Lord Patrick tapped her fingers. “Make haste, the king has arrived. ’Tis but a few more steps.”

  Elaina ducked her head, guilty but pleased. She had added to her disguise by walking with a limping gait and had even procured a stick for occasional use.

  No one paid any attention to the shuffling, stout matron taking her seat at the low end of the high table. Elaina hefted onto the bench ’twixt a large, burly monk with a bald pate and an equally large woman of mature years garbed in fine velvet of a crimson hue. Relief stole the stiffness from Elaina’s spine. None, not even a child, paid her even the slightest notice.

  A drum sounded, a flute played, and amidst great cheering, King Máel Coluim took his place in the center of the dais. Elaina kept her stare fixed on the fine carvings traced into the table’s surface, and stood, sat, prayed, and waited in accordance with the crowds thronging the hall. She did not relax her vigilance, but studied from beneath hooded eyes those who were seated on the dais.

  Deidra sat two down from the king next to a giant of a man with fiery locks who could only be Magnus, The Destroyer, the Viking warrior she’d wed last year. King Máel Coluim sat in what would have been Magnus’ seat, yielded to the monarch for this visit. The Scottish king was of a stature equal to Magnus, but he had hair the color of the night dusted with twinkles of silver.

  Elaina recognized not a single countenance from Deidra’s down to the monk beside her, and sighed in relief. She drained the goblet of wine in front of her. The meal proceeded without any untoward incidence. Her appetite, long suppressed on the journey over worry about the girls and maintaining her disguise, reared to life with a vengeance. By the time the final course had been served, she was replete and not a little giddy from drinking too much wine.

  Her eyelids grew heavy. She leaned her elbows on the table and cupped her chin. The constant murmur of the hall receded. All at once the image of the golden warrior filled her mind. ’Twas as if God had chosen to endow this Jarvik with every gift he had to offer. Golden skin, a thick shock of sun-bright hair, eyes of a blue so piercing as to rival the finest clear sky she had ever seen. For cert God had bestowed him with massive shoulders, sculpted muscles, and a male organ of a size she guessed to be twice that of any normal man, even a Viking.

  Someone jabbed her in the side.

  She shook her head and opened her eyes. Her jaw dropped.

  “My lady.” The warrior from the pond stood before her. The one who had caressed her ass, cupped her mound, and nigh suckled her breast. What mischief worked Satan? What wicked trick had fate played her?

  Chapter Two

  Jarvik had not thought to gain Elaina’s easy acceptance of their betrothal, nor had he expected her to acquiesce to saying the vows after the evening meal. He had expected resistance and protests, and those he had received in full force, but she had had no choice. Not if she wanted the babes safe. In the end, the vows had been said, and they were wed. None could cleave them apart.

  His amusement spiked every time Elaina shifted her hands in her lap, every time she refused his stare and answered his questions gazing at some spot above his shoulder. The haughty woman did her best to frost his balls, letting her nostrils quiver as if he stank and flinching away if so much as the drape of his sleeve slipped across her bodice.

  Deidra had insisted the women sit side by side, which had allowed Jarvik and Magnus to further their hastily planned strategies. Elaina had declined to take more than a bite or two of the many platters presented to them, even the spiced chocolate balls Jarvik knew she had taught Deidra how to cook. She conversed a little with Deidra, but kept her own counsel most of the meal. No two women could have been more disparate.

  Deidra, so cheerful and sunny, with a halo of ringlets reflecting the fire’s glow, resembled a beautiful, radiant angel. Elaina with her drab clothes, padded form, pale lips, and those painted-on sooty brows reminded him of the frumpy, bad-tempered village alewife. Doom and melancholy exuded from her hunched shoulders, her narrowed eyes, her frequent snorts and grunts.

  Thank Frig he knew the sweetness and beauty beneath.

  “What think you, brother?”

  Jarvik shifted to face Magnus. “Methinks I stand not a chance of winning a smile from my new bride this eve.”

  “A wager I would not take. For your lady seems a tad gloomy.”

  “If by gloomy mean you her thunderous brows, glares and scowls, and that narrowing of the eyes as if she’s taking aim with a poisoned arrow. Aye, she be a bit gloomy.”

  “She handled it well.” Magnus stroked his jaw. “I had not expected her to agree to the vow saying.”

  “’Twas Deidra’s doing. Had your wife not spoken with Elaina I know not that she would’ve wed me this eve.”

  When he had introduced Elaina to the king as his betrothed, the woman had nigh swooned. Deidra had quickly come to his rescue and escorted Elaina to an alcove where the two females had a hissed conversation none could hear.

  “I saw her face after Máel Coluim announced that he had invited King Eógan here. Methinks that was what persuaded her.” Magnus speared a morsel of fish. “And mayhap your vow to the king that her two babes are yours. And whatever you whispered to her after she spoke with Deidra.”

  Jarvik ignored Magnus’ quirked brow. He was not about to mention threatening to reveal Elaina’s true identity. “The messengers have been sent?”

  “Aye. And told to ride posthaste and promised a hefty reward. You take her this eve?”

  “’Twas my intention, but she was unprotected for so long.” Jarvik could not voice his fear.

  “Deidra swears Elaina is a maid. That none have harmed her.”

  “’Tis a long journey from Strathclyde to the Ferguson’s keep. I have worried on that oft. I know not what to believe. Elaina spoke to your wife about the pleasures to be had exploring a warrior’s body. What maid has such knowledge?”

  “And if she is not a maid? Makes this a difference to you?” Magnus raised a brow.

  “Nay. She is mine. But ’twould make a difference in how I take her. A maid needs special handling.”

  “There is only one way to be cert.” Magnus clamped Jarvik’s shoulder. “The women are rising. ’Tis the withdrawing time. Best you pretend to bid your bride adieu. I will signal the men.”

  “Done.”

  Jarvik rose, offering his hand to Elaina. “My lady, may I assist you to the stairs?”

  For the first time this eve, she met his stare. Her lips thinned, but she allowed her fingers to skim his flesh, and stood.

  Jarvik decided to begin battering the walls she had erected. “You heard the king declare that all may witness the bedding. Do you want it so or not?”

  Her nails bit into his skin. She swallowed. “Nay.”

  “Slow your steps. Smile at me, chatter. When I give the signal my men will bar the stairs. We head for the turret.”

  “What will the king say?” She ducked her head. “’Tis treason to disobey a king’s command.”

  “Ah, but was it a command? Think back to his exact words. Did he not say that all may witness the bedding?”

  She frowned, and dried soot flaked onto one cheek. He had of a mind to take them to a lake and wash away whatever she had done to ugly herself.

  “May, he said may witness.” She worried her lower lip. “But there are so many here.”

  “’Tis my brother’s keep. His men and mine outnumber the king’s guards. The king plays a game
with me. A challenge if you will.” Jarvik glanced over his shoulder to see all his men and Magnus’ were in position already. He relaxed.

  Máel Coluim had taken one look at Jarvik’s bride and had been unable to stop snickering during the wedding vows. Jarvik could not remember ever hearing so many bawdy jokes from the king. All the pointed taunts from the monarch were related to the title given him by the women of many courts. Jarvik the Seducer.

  “I still do not understand why and how this betrothal was arranged.”

  Jarvik peered at Elaina’s teeth. Had she blackened two of them? “I will explain all later. Make haste.”

  “We will not escape.” Elaina halted and turned back to face the hall. “All the king’s warriors are hurdling tables and benches.”

  “So little faith, Elaina.” Jarvik took advantage of her position to hook his arms under her knees, heaved her up high against his chest, broke into a long striding run, then took the wide steps two at a time. Naught he loved better than beating the odds.

  She wrapped her legs around his back and looped her arms around his neck. Jarvik lost the rhythm of his gait and jammed into a corner to steady his hold on her. The position brought her breasts close to his nostrils, and he grew drunk on the memory of the proud globes he’d seen when she arched her back before falling into the pond.

  “Your men have barred the staircase. You can let me down. I can run.” She pushed at his chest and unhooked her legs. Her feet touched the stone floor.

  He twined their fingers together and tugged her into a slow sprint. “Run, my lady.”

  The fading evening light vanished, and he had a mere glimpse of the ugly wimple, her pallid complexion, and an arrogant nose before shadows claimed Elaina’s features. He had waited an eternity to claim her or so it seemed. She smelled of the pond, of the cherry blossoms that had floated and bubbled around the rocks, of spring and pairing, of fate and destiny, for she was his and his alone. ’Twas the reason he had named his new lands Skjebne, the Norse word for Destiny.

  They rounded a corner and arrived at the turret door. “We are safe. Need you a moment to collect your breath?”

  “Nay. Nay. I would have more layers between me and the king. Lead on. I am swift.”

  After barring the door, he gestured to the narrow staircase. “After you.”

  His eyes grew accustomed to the blackness, and he saw the vague outline of her head, heard her deep inhale and the air moved when she whirled around. Jarvik trailed his hand along the curve of the stone stairwell, fumbled for her wrist, and held her fingers captive over the cool brick.

  “’Tis a long steady climb we have. Pray, take the lead. Keep your arms braced on the walls. I will watch your back and catch you should you stumble.”

  “I am as sure-footed as a mountain goat.” She edged forward, and he rested his palm in the small of her back.

  She climbed a stair.

  He had a mind to divest of her of her disguise afore they reached the turret. The material of the drab wimple grazed the back of her legs, so he grabbed the two ends of the veil, and yanked.

  “Ouch!”

  The head covering fell to the floor. Her long hair slid cool and smooth over his bare forearm. A wave of lavender lifted the musky smell of the stone turret, and he sniffed, enjoying the way the aroma wrestled the fustiness under control.

  She spun to face him, hands balled into fists. “Why did you do that?”

  “I would have you as you were in the pond.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and unlaced her cyrtel, working with a dexterity earned during countless stolen trysts.

  Her gasp slashed the eerie quiet. “Nay. I do not understand. How do you know me?”

  “Deidra.”

  “She would not betray me.” Her warm breath smelled of mint.

  He yearned to taste her sweet mouth. “The new king of Strathclyde hunts you. And the babes.”

  She crumpled, and he cradled her back, his grip firm. “Nay. He believes us dead.”

  “No longer. ’Tis the reason we married this eve. To protect you and the babes.”

  “Why? Why would you wed me? Protect my girls?”

  “I have lusted after you for many seasons, Elaina.”

  “Lust is not a reason to marry, my lord.” She did not wriggle or squirm, but stood unmoving, though her breathing quickened.

  He chuckled. “Aye. But it sweetens the pot. I will have you in my bed. And you will have my protection. As will the girls. Are we agreed?”

  “The deed is done. I have no other choice. Nor do my girls.” That strong chin firmed, and she nodded. “Agreed. ’Twill be quicker if I do the deed.”

  She batted away his hands, worked the dress loose, and shrugged the fabric off her shoulders. It took longer to drag the cyrtel over her padded waist and hip. His mouth went dry. She began to remove the cotton padding that shrouded her sleek curves.

  He gathered the material as she discarded each roll, not wanting any evidence left behind. ’Twould be questions aplenty on the morrow since they had cheated the hall out of witnessing the bedding.

  She stood before him in nothing but a transparent chemise with tiny embroidered daisies decorating the scooped neckline.

  He had been hard and aching since the pond and the sight of her thus, nipples furled, breasts proud and perky, blued his balls. One step and he would be unmanned.

  “Is this to your liking?” Shoulders back, she met his gaze without flinching.

  “Aye and more. ’Tis a great weight to carry around every day.” He hefted the padding she had divested.

  “But very warm in the cold winter months.” She shot him a sidelong glance, the gold in her green eyes more prominent in the shadows. “Have you no questions?”

  “Many. But they can wait. I will make you mine tonight, Elaina. ’Tis the only way to keep you safe.” He folded his arms and leaned against the cool stone wall. “I can see from the fire in your eyes that you also have many questions. And bear me much anger as well.”

  “You have the right of it.”

  He caressed her slender neck marveling at the suppleness of her skin. “Did Deidra not assure you that all will be well?”

  She bared her teeth in a snarl. “Pray forgive me if I depend not on others for the safety of my babes. I know you not. And yet now I belong to you.”

  “Did you black your teeth?” He rubbed the soot from the top two. “I know the all of it, Elaina. Your father’s murder. Your escape from the same plight with his daughters—”

  “Nay.” The wail echoed in the turret. She hissed and shoved his chest with a violence he did not anticipate. “How? How do you know? Deidra vowed she would never reveal them.”

  “I know the all of it. I claimed the girls so all will know they are under my protection. None, not even the king of Scotland or the new King of Strathclyde, can gainsay that.” He heard her stifled gasp, smiled, and nudged her shoulder. “’Twill be more comfortable in the tower. Pray continue, my lady.”

  For long moments they stared at each other.

  “I would know now.”

  “Nay. ’Twill be a long telling. First, I make you mine. Then, my lady, you can ask anything of me and I will answer.” He worded the vow carefully.

  Her rasped inhales thundered in the quiet. He counted them. One, two, three. She snapped her teeth together. “So be it.”

  They resumed their climb.

  In the oppressive silence, the sounds of their mingled breathing, the soft slide of her slippers on the stairs, and the ring of his boots meeting stone, rang like church bells.

  She halted suddenly, and his nose brushed her high rump. Jarvik gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, the temptation to wrap his arms around her waist, lift her chemise and taste her akin to that of the sirens calling ships to the rocks. The rigid set of her shoulders bellowed her anger.

  “May I ask you to make haste and sate your lust once we arrive in the turret? I would have this duty behind me as soon as is possible. I have no need for sweet
words or kisses.”

  What kind of female had he wed? Maids, mistresses, wives…all women loved kissing. And in truth, he enjoyed the sweet beginnings, the flutters and starts of learning a new lover, searching for the unexpected touch that had her sighing and squirming.

  They came to a landing. And Elaina had enjoyed her first kiss, that he knew with utmost certainty. He reached for her shoulders, spun her around, and found her mouth with his.

  She stiffened and pummeled his ribs.

  Refusing to be daunted, he stroked her spine, sipped on the soft satin of one lip, tickled a tantalizing corner, and explored the dimple in her chin.

  He kept his movements light, tempting her to open more. Her rigid back softened, and he touched the tip of her tongue with his. Unable to resist, he cupped a breast and thumbed her nipple into full blossom. She shivered and her mouth opened. He swallowed her surprised huff, tasting her deeply.

  She let him have his way, quieting like a cooing dove, snuggling into his groin. Her legs trembled against his, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. She rubbed against him, and he suckled her lip. Her fingers fluttered on his neck. He stroked her tongue. She gripped his tunic, and a low sound bubbled between their fused lips, a soft, sweet moan.

  Slowly, he loosened his hold, kissed the tip of her nose and one winged brow, then wrapped his arms around her back. “You may not need the sweet words and kisses, Elaina, but I do. Are you rested enough to continue?”

  He heard her teeth snap together, grinned, and let go of her. Such fire meant passionate bedsport.

  She shook out her chemise. “I have no need of resting again. I will climb to the top without stopping.”

  “Have mercy on me lady, for I will most cert need to catch my breath at the top of each turn.”

  Elaina seemed ready to beat the angels to the turret, and Jarvik quickened his footsteps. She sprinted, her gait fierce and pounding. He feared she would tangle her feet in her hem. He lurched to the same step on which she stood and embraced her from behind.

  She tried to elbow away from him, and he tightened his hold.