by Fabio
"Anything my lady desires," he replied gallantly.
With a grin, Viktor pressed Reyna beneath him. As his strong thighs spread hers, he glanced down and hesitated as he spotted the streaks of blood on her inner thighs. "Perhaps we had better not try again so soon."
"Let me judge that, my husband," she replied, abruptly flipping him onto his back and straddling him with her knees.
He scowled ferociously. "Where did you learn this, wife?"
She smirked at him. "Think you I never saw what the warriors do to the females on their benches?"
As she slid upward to mount him, he stayed her, bracing his hands on her inner thighs. At her curious glance, he spoke sternly. "But with us it is different, Reyna. This is not an act of lust."
She scowled for a moment, evidently considering his words. Watching her, Viktor realized he had set himself up to be hurt. Reyna could wound him badly now by denying his words and cheapening the magic they had just shared.
Instead, she filled his heart with gladness when she whispered, "Nay, 'tis an act of happiness."
Viktor could have wept then. He hauled his wife close and kissed her with desperate love. By the time she moved back once again to mount him, her eyes were dazed, her lips wet and parted, her breath coming in pants.
The rest Viktor watched in fascination. Reyna arched up slightly, and her fingers curled around his manhood. Closing her eyes, she rubbed the tip of his throbbing arousal against her intimate recesses with an unconscious, provocative sensuality that submerged him in madness. At last she located her own warm center—
Viktor clenched his teeth and fought for restraint. With an impassioned whimper, she began taking him inside her, inching herself down upon his engorged shaft. Groans and shudders seized him. The warm tightness of her was so glorious that he struggled mightily not to grab her around the waist and impale her fully with his heat. Reyna let nothing stop her, not even her own breathless cries, as she eased lower until the constriction of her flesh stopped her.
At last her eyes flew open on a gasp.
"Easy, darling," he soothed. "Don't hurt yourself. You'll adjust to me in time."
"What do I do now?" she asked, half frantic.
"Darling, you've already done it. Just relax and enjoy your ride."
Viktor thrust upward, setting the pace. Reyna moaned and rocked with him as the sweet convulsions seized them both. His hands grasped her breasts, crushing them gently. Her breath came in delirious gasps. When she rolled her hips, he could not bear it—he caught her at the waist and held her to the wrenching strokes that hurled them both to ecstasy and tore a demented cry from her lungs.
"Reyna ... Reyna, darling,' he whispered fiercely.
Viktor pulled his wife close for a tender, shattering kiss that sealed their act of joy.
Across the fjord, Viktor's enemy was contemplating an act of lust. With knees spread and the front of his leggings bulging painfully, Wolfgard sat on his bed, staring lecherously at the female thrall he had just summoned, a young woman of two and twenty summers who cowered before him.
It irked Wolfgard that women invariably trembled in his presence, and when he spread their thighs and took his ease, they sobbed piteously, or suffered in silence. Even his wife had lain beneath him for many winters as dispassionate as a slab of meat, with only his occasional cruel thrust drawing a pained moan from her.
Sometimes he wondered if he would gain just as much pleasure seeking his release alone, by his own hand. But it was not his place to service himself, and verily, he liked subjugating a female and forcing sounds from her. Now that he had passed so many winters, he sometimes resorted to very rough measures to ensure that a female responded. When a woman sobbed or shrieked or pleaded, it drove him quickly to violent release.
He eyed the timid wench with contempt. 'Take off your garment, slave, and kneel between my thighs."
She began to shudder in horror. "Pray, master do not make me—not again—"
"Do it or I will slit your throat!" he roared.
The woman's trembling fingers moved to the brooch binding her modest garment, and Wolfgard licked his lips in anticipation and reached down to stroke himself. He paused, scowling, as Egil abruptly entered the room, a dark figure following him.
"Jarl, your spy is here."
"Damn it, man, have you no sense of discretion?" Wolfgard exploded to his kinsman.
Egil gulped in fear, but stood his ground. "I beg your pardon, jarl, but your man has an important message."
Wolfgard glowered at the two, then snapped his fingers at the slave. "Leave us!"
The terrified woman needed no encouragement to flee.
Wolfgard jerked his head around to the spy. "What news have you, man?"
"Your stepdaughter has married King Viktor," he replied.
His visage livid, Wolfgard surged to his feet. "I shall strangle the little traitor myself."
"Jarl, she married Viktor to save the lives of your son and his kinsman.
Making a sound of frustrated rage, Wolfgard stalked forward. "What is this? Tell me of my son!"
"Ragar and Harald were captured by Viktor's men. The warriors were prepared to torture and kill them when your daughter intervened, offering to wed Viktor if her brother and his kinsman were spared."
"And what of my son—the fool!" Wolfgard growled.
"I understand he will shortly be released."
"That is all?"
"Yea."
Wolfgard paced for a moment, still wearing a ferocious frown. He nodded to Egil. "Pay this man for his troubles and see him safely back across the fjord."
"Yea, jarl."
As the two men made to leave, Wolfgard called after them. "A moment."
Both men turned.
"Is the bride happy?” Wolfgard asked sardonically.
"I know not," the spy replied.
"Come back and report to me when you know."
The man bowed. "Yea. I will."
After the others left, Wolfgard sat brooding, staring into the fire. His witless son! Through the boy's foolishness, they had all played right into Viktor's hands.
Now Reyna was Viktor the Valiant's bride, and she must be slain. Whatever the girl's motives in wedding Viktor, Wolfgard must ensure that the girl never bore his enemy a son. If she did, he would lose his pact with Viktor, be impelled to end the feud, and suffer a terrible loss of esteem with his people.
Damn the little Valkyrie! A curse on Reyna!
Deep into the night, Wolfgard plotted how he would accomplish his stepdaughter's murder. He wanted her to suffer for her betrayal, but more than that, he wanted her slain; thus he realized his thirst for revenge must defer to the need to secure her expedient death.
Wolfgard would have summoned back the woman to service him, but for now, his anger far overshadowed his lust. 'Twas just as well for the thrall, he mused. In his current temper, he would use the wench badly, mayhap even beat her dead. Slaves served their purpose, and he could ill afford to slay them all.
TWENTY-FIVE
VIKTOR AWAKENED WELL BEFORE DAWN AND STARED AT HIS
wife sleeping beside him. Reyna appeared as serene and lovely as an angel, her warm body snuggled against him, her hair falling away from her exquisite face in a golden cascade. What joy she had brought him last night, giving herself to him so sweetly. She might not completely trust or love him yet, but that depth of feeling would come in time, he vowed. For now, he was content to be close to her, loving her, building their future—and, he fervently hoped, starting their baby together. Surely a child who was a part of them both would draw them closer and bind their lives and destinies together He shut his eyes in delight at the image of beautiful Reyna sitting on his bed with his baby at her breast—
When he opened his eyes, he found her awake, staring solemnly at him, almost as if his thoughts had stirred her "Good morning, wife," he said huskily, leaning over to kiss her.
He was stayed by a glimmer of uncertainty flaring in her eyes. He could alm
ost see the wheels of her mind turning, as if she were remembering the still-unsettled issues between them and questioning her own passionate surrender last night. After all the rapture they had shared, he could not bear her withdrawal from him.
"Don't," he whispered, touching the tip of her nose with his finger.
"Do not what?" she asked in bewilderment.
His hand caressed her bare spine. "Don't pull away from me, Reyna ... Or I swear I'll bury myself in you until I watch all the doubt fade from your eyes.'
Her mouth fell open on a tiny gasp, and Viktor could not resist claiming those trembling lips in an ardent kiss. Joy surged in him when she kissed him back with equal intensity. Moaning with pleasure, he drew her closer and cupped his hand around a lush breast, wanting to shut away the world and all their problems for a few more blissful moments and start the day savoring the woman he loved. Ah, she was so warm and tasted so good. He hungered to taste her all over—
They jerked apart at the sounds of yapping, and seconds later, three wolves bounded onto the bed, licking and chewing them.
"Hey, you guys have a terrible sense of timing,' Viktor scolded, while affectionately petting Hati, who had landed on his thigh.
Reyna was giggling as Thor licked her face. "Mayhap your wolves seek to protect me from you, my husband."
"Protect you?" Viktor repeated with a scowl. "You, my lady, are the one who has been trying your best to slay me, ever since I brought you to this village."
She fought a smirk. "Did I slay you last night, my lord? "
"Did you ever." He leaned over Gen's squirming body to kiss his wife's impudent lips. "Why don't we go for a picnic today?"
"A picnic? What is that?"
"We'll pack up some food and mead and spend the day picking wildflowers on the tundra."
She appeared intrigued but also bemused. "For what purpose?"
He grinned, then playfully nibbled on her breast. 'To enjoy each other, darling."
An ecstatic sigh escaped her. "Will the wolves come?"
Viktor harrumphed and straightened, gently pushing Had aside and hopping out of bed. "I think not." He winked at Reyna lecherously. "I'm a newlywed, you see, and I just may find myself feeling amorous toward my new bride."
As Viktor went to retrieve his leggings, Reyna could not help but stare at his glorious, naked body. She feasted her gaze on his sinewy shoulders, the smooth lines of his back, his hard buttocks, and his muscled thighs with their covering of coarse hairs. She remembered those strong thighs drawing hers so widely apart last night, just before he had impaled her with his rigid, hot member. Oh, it had smarted, but so sweetly, and such incredible pleasure had come in the wake of the pain! Heat suffused her cheeks at the memory, and excitement throbbed in the very places where she still ached from her husband's fierce possession. Verily, she was shameless, but some traitorous part of her gloried in the fact that this man was hers, that she was now his bride.
Yet on another level, these potent new yearnings, this sense of emotional exposure, left Reyna uncertain. She still doubted Viktor's motives in wedding her; she still feared he was using her to end the feud. And how could she have forgotten her own vow never to let any man have such power over her, never to become the creature of a warrior's will?
Yet when Viktor had touched her, something elemental in her had been stirred and moved, and she had surrendered eagerly. Her pride, indeed the price his passion demanded, had seemed not to matter. Now she was left off-balance, perplexed, and feeling closer to him than she had ever wanted to feel.
She watched him bend over to retrieve his leggings, and a sigh escaped her. Then he turned to don them ... Staring at the front of him and seeing how aroused he was despite their night of passion, Reyna felt even stronger tingles of desire deep inside her. She squirmed on the bed, her fists clenched. Viktor had said he would likely feel "amorous" today. Reyna wasn't entirely certain what that word meant, but she had a strong intuition that she would be feeling much the same and this scared her as much as it excited her.
Observing him grimace while tying his leggings over his distended manhood, she chuckled. "Need you assistance, my lord?" she called.
Viktor grinned back at her. His wife was avidly watching him, her lips parted, her hair falling over her shoulders, her breasts bared. She looked sexy, disheveled, and primitive, especially surrounded by the three eager wolves. He hungered to plunder her body thoroughly—but not while three ninety-pound monsters were bounding all over them!
His voice sounded very raspy. 'Get dressed and let's get out of here—before I am well beyond help."
Viktor had finished dressing quickly, and while his wife completed her toilette, he went to fetch them bowls of porridge and tankards of buttermilk. Bringing their breakfast on a crude tray, he spotted Reyna seated on the bed, wearing a long garment of brown wool and soft leather boots and drawing a whalebone comb through her shiny hair. He sat down next to her and balanced the tray on their laps.
Reyna eagerly gulped her buttermilk. "What of Ragar and Harald?" she asked anxiously. "Will they be going back to Wolfgard's village?”
"I offered them escort home this morning, Reyna," Viktor answered carefully, "but your half brother wants to stay for a few days to ensure that you are well treated."
Reyna frowned, and Viktor knew she was again recalling the unpleasant realities that had prompted their marriage. "Mayhap Ragar and Harald could come with us on the picnic."
Disappointment stabbed Viktor. "Do you really want them along?"
"I must know they will not be abused while we are away."
"They will not be, Reyna," he told her. "I'll make sure my blood brother, Svein, guards them while we are gone. And they will both be invited to dine with us tonight." He regarded her earnestly. "Satisfied now?"
"Yea," she answered, flashing him a smile.
Moments later, they rode out of the village, Viktor on Sleipnir, Reyna astride a black pony. The morning had brought a cool breeze and bright sunshine.
Watching his wife wiggle in her saddle, Viktor chuckled. "Sore, milady?"
"Yea," she admitted ruefully.
"We won't go far."
"Yea—you will not want to spoil me for your pleasure," she quipped.
"No, I'll want to spoil you with it."
They rode up into the foothills, passing the monk Pelagius, who barely acknowledged their greeting with a distracted wave of his staff as he trudged along, mumbling and crossing himself.
Just beyond the monk, Viktor raised an eyebrow at his wife.
Reyna chuckled. "Do not mind Pelagius."
"I know—he is seeking a state of grace."
They stopped in a large meadow, where Viktor spread a wool blanket and set out their repast of mead, dried cod, bread, berries, and nuts. They reclined together in the midst of a tundra brilliant with wildflowers—white arctic cotton, purple heliotrope, and numerous small pink and yellow blooms. Above them, a hawk circled in the perfect cloudless sky.
Viktor fed his wife berries and bread and offered the mead from his oxhorn. He felt intensely grateful for the beautiful day and the pastoral interlude they were sharing—for once, without anger in a spirit of tenderness and exploration.
Reyna experienced the same surge of gentle feelings at being pampered by her new husband. Never before had any man hand-fed her a repast, much less licked the mead from her lips! She was still afraid to love and trust Viktor, fearing he would eventually dominate her just as her mother had been subjugated by Wolfgard. Still, her bridegroom greatly intrigued her, for he was in so many ways a mystery to her— strong yet tender, passionate yet elusive. She wanted to know him better.
The hints Viktor had given about having lived another life continued to tantalize her. Had he acquired his compassionate, endearing qualities in that other life? He had obviously known a world she had never seen, one she yearned to explore, if only through his sharing.
Where, for instance, had her husband learned of this delightful custom, the
"picnic"? And why, at their nuptials last night, had he replaced the circlet on her ankle and slipped his ring, with its lovely, square amber stone, on her finger? She had meant to ask Viktor about these odd rituals last night, but she had become distracted by his kisses.
She smiled as she watched the light play off the ring he had given her She glanced at him curiously, watching him tilt his head back and sip the mead. '^During our nuptials, why did you place this ring on my finger—and the bracelet back on my ankle?"
Lowering his oxhorn, he considered her question. The ring is a tradition where I come from. It's called a wedding ring—the bridegroom places it on the bride's finger as a symbol of their troth. As for the bracelet"—he paused to wink at her—"it is yours, my love."
"Yea, but you stole it!"
His grin was unrepentant "I know, but you had sorely tried my patience, as I'm sure you'll recall." He nudged the circlet with his boot. "Nevertheless, it's your possession, and I've been meaning to return it to you.' He chuckled. "Besides, the anklet may prove a convenient device for me to grab you, should you try to leave my bed."
She lifted her chin saucily and sipped the mead. 'Think you I will attempt that soon, Viking?
"You will not succeed if you try," he teased back, then pulled her close for a kiss.
After a languid moment, she murmured, "Tell me of your other life, my husband."
Brushing a strand of hair from her eyes, Viktor regarded Reyna curiously. "What do you want to know?"
She straightened the sleeve of his tunic. "I want to know where you learned such outlandish customs as wedding rings and picnics ... and being amorous."
He kissed her chin, then licked a droplet of mead from the corner of her mouth. "You mean people are not amorous in this age, Reyna?'
She shrugged a shapely shoulder. "As you know, my experience before you is as naught. But no, I would reckon we know not of being amorous here—only of mating/'
"I find that very sad."
More insistently, she urged, 'Tell me of where you came from. Of where you lived after you journeyed to Valhalla." Tentatively, she added, "I saw you, you know."