Fires of Winter - Viking 1

by Johanna Lindsey

  Brenna took all of this in with surprise before she eyed Garrick again. "Well, will you tell me now why I am here? And why did you come for me the way you did, in such secrecy?"

  He shrugged and walked to the small table where a skin of wine and a plate of cheese rested. "I did not know your mood, so I chose not to risk your making a ruckus and waking the other women. There is no point for them to lose sleep just because you and I have things to settle."

  Brenna stiffened. "We settled everything. What else is there?"

  "We settled naught, mistress."

  "Yet I work for you," she replied, her voice rising. "I earn my keep! What more do you want of me?"

  He walked over to the large coffer set against the wall and took from it a gray silk robe trimmed elegantly with white fur. Then he came to stand before her, only inches away, so that she had to tilt her head up to look at him as he spoke.

  "Aye, you worked, gladly, but not as I wanted. I gave in to you because at the time I could see no other way. Slaves are not supposed to enjoy their labors, mistress, yet you surely did." He paused. "No more."

  "Oh?"

  A cold smile crossed his lips. "We will start anew. You will do the tasks originally set for you, and you will begin with this," he said, handing her the short robe. "There is a small tear under one arm that needs repairing."

  She stared at him, aghast. "Lord in heaven!" she cried in exasperation.

  "Your god cannot help you, wench, nor will mine. You have only me to deal with."

  "I won't do it, Garrick!" she replied furiously, throwing the robe to the floor. "You know I won't!"

  He shrugged again, unperturbed, and walked back to the table. "Then you will remain in this room until you change your mind," he said over his shoulder.

  "Nay, only until you sleep, Viking."

  "Then it appears you must be guarded again. Dog," he called, and the white shepherd came from the bed. Brenna had not even noticed him, his fur coat blended so well with the ermine. "Stay by the door and see that the wench does not leave," Garrick commanded.

  The animal seemed to understand every word. He turned his head and looked at Brenna inconsequentially before moving to the door, where he lay down to rest again. Brenna cast the dog a murderous look, then turned that same look on his master.

  "I have tried not to hate you, Viking, since you were not personally to blame for my being here, but you are making it difficult!"

  His lips turned up in a cynical smile. "Hate me all you like, mistress. 'Twill not change a thing. My feelings for you are not much different, for you have been naught but an ill-tempered, troublesome wench since you came, a thorn in my side that I can do without. At least we know where we stand." He took a long draught of wine, then began to remove his clothing.

  "Now what?"

  "We have reached an impasse, so there will be no more discussion this night. To bed, mistress."

  "I am no longer tired," she said sourly.

  "So?"

  "You may force me to stay in this room, but I will not sleep in that bed with you!" she stormed.

  "Oh?" he crooked an eyebrow at her. "I thought by the game you played since last you lay there that you would be more than willing to do so again."

  "You thought wrong!" she snapped, her cheeks reddening.

  "Well, no matter. Since I do not mind sharing my bed, you will sleep there. But never fear, mistress. I will not take advantage of you, for you will not find pleasure in this room. Now to bed, and if not to sleep, then to think on your stubbornness."

  Brenna's body urged her to consciousness. It seemed to cry out, Wake up, wake up and see what pleasures await you. The dream was dispelled and her eyes opened slowly in surprise at the strange sensations she felt, then they widened fully when she understood what was happening.

  She lay on her side facing the wall, her arms resting on the pillow under her face, one leg raised and bent at the knee, the other leg straight. She was on top of the soft ermine spread, as she had been before she fell asleep with Garrick beside her. But now her nightdress was pulled up and bunched about her waist, leaving her hips and legs completely bare.

  She lay perfectly still and managed to keep her breathing even as if she continued to sleep. Garrick's chest was pressed against her back, the warmth of him seeping through her nightdress. His arm rested on her waist, his hand beneath the material was squeezed between her breasts, gently teasing one. She could feel his breath on her neck, hot and tickling, and his hand moved slowly downward, trailing over the taut curve of her belly, then on to her hip and down her thigh. The sensation caused goosebumps to spread over her legs. Then his hand moved deftly to her inner thigh and began to ascend with maddening slowness until it finally stopped on the soft mound of black curls between her legs. There the hand lingered, the fingers gently parting the curls, nudging their way into the moist, hot flesh that already quivered with delight.

  With startled wonderment, Brenna heard a soft moan escape her lips. She knew she should run, flee, but instead she slowly turned onto her back to lay the way open for those questing fingers. A seductive smile curled on her lips when she saw the ardent look in Garrick's turquoise eyes.

  "It took you long enough to wake, wench," he murmured in a teasing manner.

  It amazed her that he could be so warm and tender, when he was usually so abrupt and harsh. But she did not mind, and this amazed her also; she actually looked forward to this moment. The last time they had laid thus, she had experienced genuine pleasure, but she also sensed that even more intense delight could be reached.

  "I could have sworn, Sir Viking, that you said I would find no pleasure in this bed," she said, running her fingers through the golden hair on his bare chest. "You cannot keep your word for a single night?"

  "It seems, mistress," he replied huskily, lowering his parted lips to hers for a gentle kiss, "that I spoke in haste. But you have yourself to blame, for in truth, your mannish ways do vanish once you are abed." He grinned down at her. "Why is that?"

  She shrugged, then smiled impishly. "I find that being a woman on occasion has its merits. And I am not too timid to admit it."

  "Timid, ha!" he laughed. "Never that!" " 'Tis well you know it, Viking," she returned, her hand moving to his neck to pull him closer. "Now you will not be surprised by my actions."

  She kissed him hungrily, and even though she had said the words, he was amazed. That her nearness had tempted him beyond control was a fact. That she was driving him wild with passion now was even more true. She urged him to take her, and he did, without hesitation. She opened her legs to him and he thrust deep into her inner recesses. He clutched her buttocks to press her even closer to him and rode her like a stallion rides the wind. Before the final thrust, he felt her legs wrap around his hips and then he was lost in that white sphere of fire and delight that had spurred him to break his word and make her his.

  Breathing heavily, Garrick rested his full weight on her small form, his head nestled against her neck. Finally he moved to get up, but her arms locked behind his head and held him tight, and her legs still circled his hips. He looked down, questioningly, and noted the alluring slant of her eyes, the sensual twist of her lips.

  "Show me your strength, Viking," she breathed, squirming her body enticingly beneath his. "Continue."

  "By the gods, woman, have you no shame?" he asked in disbelief.

  "Why?" she returned undaunted. "Is it shameful that I like this? Am I supposed to pretend otherwise?"

  "Nay, but no woman has ever asked more of me."

  "Do not compare me with your other wenches, Viking!" she said hotly, and released her hold on him. "Leave off then if you have not the strength to satisfy me!"

  He grabbed the hands she pushed against his chest and stretched them out at her sides. "The tactics you use are unseemly, vixen," he sneered.

  With deliberation he started to move in her again, and at the same time crushed her lips with a painful kiss. It took but a moment for the spark of desire to
be rekindled. Garrick thrust with a steady, purposeful rhythm and at length released her arms and cupped her face in his hands. His kiss became more intense, more demanding. He could feel her hands roving over his back, kneading the hard muscles there. She began to moan softly and her arms circled his neck again, tighter and tighter she squeezed as if she would hold on for dear life. Even in his own fiery haze, he noted her wild abandon and at last the breath caught in her throat and she went rigid, her nails digging into his shoulders like cat's claws. His name escaped her lips in a throaty whisper. At that moment he joined her in that most sought-after realm of explosive delights.

  This time she did not protest when he moved to her side. They both lay exhausted, breathing heavily. When she touched his shoulder softly, his mind rebelled, for he feared that she would dare demand more of him yet.

  " 'Tis not yet morning, mistress," he said tiredly, his eyes closed. "Go back to sleep."

  "I only wished to thank you, Garrick. That is all."

  He opened his eyes to see the tender expression on her face before she turned away from him and pulled her nightdress down. He stared hard at the back of her head, wondering anew at the many different temperaments this woman possessed. This one he liked best.

  His features softened. "Come here, wench," he said huskily and pulled her back into his arms.

  He knew she wouldn't resist, and this pleased him even more. She snuggled close to him, and he knew without a doubt that he could grow accustomed to this woman without much effort.

  " 'Tis nice, Garrick, not fighting with you," Brenna breathed softly against his chest, already half asleep.

  He smiled to himself and unconsciously held her closer. The effect she had on him was startling. If she kept this up, he would want her again.

  "Yea, Brenna, 'tis nice indeed."

  Chapter 18

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  BRENNA sat across the small table from Garrick, her morning meal before her. She was slumped back in her chair, moodily picking at her food, every few moments flashing Garrick a furious look. But he was too intent on his meal to notice.

  For one week now he had kept her confined to this room, with only the cursed white shepherd for company. Garrick brought Brenna her meals himself, but left her alone for the length of the day, only returning at night. He did not touch her again after the night he carried her here, even conceding when she insisted she would sleep on the divan instead of next to him in the large bed.

  Awakening that first morning after their night together, she was appalled at the memory of what she had done. It was not Brenna who had acted no better than a wanton whore, but her contemptible female body. That traitorous instrument had demanded to know the full fruits of its awakening, had even teased and cajoled Garrick to show her. He had stirred a fire within her that she never dreamed existed, but never again. The delicious pleasure she had experienced could be denied. Yea, that kind of ecstasy she did not need, for she would have to give up too much to attain it again . . .

  Though it was too late to change what had happened, she would be damned before it was repeated. She had been a fool to think Garrick would change his mind because of it; he was still determined that she would serve him as he demanded. She could not forgive him for that, not after the tenderness that had passed between them.

  With Dog resting between their feet, Brenna absently offered him a morsel of meat, accustomed to doing the same at home with her father's hounds, which romped through the manor. When the white shepherd nuzzled her hand for more, she realized what she had done and looked up to see Garrick scowling at her. Good, she thought viciously. It was better than the self-assured smirk he had worn so often of late.

  "What displeases you, Viking?" she asked in an innocent tone, though her eyes were alight with mischief. "Do you fear I have taken the dog's loyalty from you?" When his countenance darkened even more, her grin widened and she pressed on. "You did not know he and I have become friends, eh? But what did you expect when you keep us locked together? 'Twill not be long before he does not even raise his head when I walk from this room."

  Garrick stared at her coldly for a long moment before he finally answered. "If you speak the truth, mistress, then 'tis time I put a lock on the door."

  Brenna's face turned ashen. "You wouldn't!"

  "I would indeed," he replied, an icy tinge to his tone. "Tonight, in fact, since I have naught better to do."

  "I was only teasing you, Garrick," Brenna said, trying to make light of it. "You can trust your dog to do your bidding."

  " 'Tis you I don't trust," he returned pointedly and made for the door with angry strides.

  "How long will you keep me here?" she demanded furiously.

  He turned at the door, the old sneer coming to his lips. " 'Tis not I who keeps you here, wench, but yourself. You have only to serve me as I desire and you may enjoy the same privileges as the other slaves."

  "You pompous, overbearing ass!" she stormed, coming to her feet, her fists clenched. "You will rot in hell first!"

  "You are a stubborn wench," he sneered disdainfully. "But you will find that I can be more so."

  With that he left the room, leaving Brenna so thoroughly maddened that she picked up her full tankard of milk and hurled it at the closed door. Seeing the damage done, she did not stop there. With a destructive glint in her eye, she toppled over the small table; the platter of food crashed to the floor and sent Dog scampering out of her way. Determinedly she went to the bed and tore the covers from it, then moved to Garrick's coffer. With malicious pleasure, she flung its contents about the room.

  So intent was Brenna on her task that she did not hear Garrick return. She was grabbed from behind and thrown on the bed.

  "Your tantrums are those of a child, not the woman I know you to be!" he stormed, and followed her onto the bed.

  When Brenna turned to face him he was on his knees, with one hand raised to strike her. She stared at that fist without flinching, daring him to do his worst. But Garrick hesitated a moment too long and the impulse passed. He lowered his arm with a curse and left the bed, then looked down on her with heartless fury.

  "You have set your own task, wench. You will put this room to rights before eventide, or you will go hungry to bed this night. And if you have it in mind that one meal will not matter, then think again, for you will be denied sustenance until the task is done." And with that he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  "What shall I do, then, Dog?" Brenna asked softly as if the powerful animal would have a solution to her problem. "Shall I starve myself for spite? 'Tis not to my liking, but 'twould show that domineering jackal he cannot order me about. Damn him!" she cried. "Why does he do this to me? He would break my pride and grind it in the dirt!"

  Everything was going so well before this, she thought. And now he would starve me. Aye, he has said the words and so cannot relent. 'Tis I who will have to concede this time.

  Chapter 19

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  GARRICK topped a small hill and rested the stallion there. He dismounted and ran his hands through his tousled hair. His shoulders erect, he gazed up at the northern lights shining in the otherwise black sky, those mystical colors that cast a strange light on the land.

  He had ridden hard for most of the day, at times not even aware of where he was, giving the great stallion his head to take him where he would. Still Garrick had not resolved the turmoil of his thoughts, and they had weighed heavily on him ever since he left the haughty Brenna. Her fate, the one he had set, hung like a dark cloud over his head.

  He cursed himself a hundred times for the words he had spoken in anger, the words that might very well end the girl's life. Could she really be that stubborn? And over such a trivial matter? He should have followed his first impulse, which was to beat her. But he had been appalled at the thought of striking her lovely face. If he returned to his room and found it still in shambles, what then? If he backed down this time, he would never be able to handle the girl. If neither of them
gave in, the girl would die. . . If only he knew more of her character, then perhaps he could predict how she would react. But who was there to enlighten him?

  "Imbecile!" he said aloud. "There is such a one who can shed some light on the stubborn woman I have found myself harnessed to."

  Garrick turned his mount in the direction of his father's house. After only a short ride, he entered Anselm's smoky hall and found his father and brother engrossed in a game of dice. His mother was busy sewing.

  "Ho! What brings the merchant prince to our humble door this late of a night?" Hugh teased when Garrick joined them. "I would think you would need all your spare time to count the riches you have amassed."

  "Nay, only half of it," Garrick rejoined, though he was in no mood for this light banter. "I came to have a word with one of the new slaves."

  "Is it only a word you would have?" Hugh asked, then slapped his knee and guffawed at his wit.

  "Enough, Hugh," Anselm said solemnly. His curiosity pricked, he turned to Garrick. "Which one?"

  "One of the kin to Brenna," he answered. "It matters not which one."

  "Oh?"

  Garrick grimaced. "Father, I see the question on your face, but do not ask it. 'Tis I who have questions that need answering now."

  "From Brenna's kin?" Anselm replied, grinning. "You would know more of her, eh?"

  "Aye, I would know to what limits her pride would take her," he admitted.

  "You do not make sense, Garrick. Have you problems with the girl?"

  "You are a fine one to ask me that—you who praised her spirit," Garrick retorted. "Did you really think she would adjust to her new life here?"

  Anselm sighed. "So the girl does not please you?"

  "I have yet to decide if the pleasure she gives me in bed is worth the trouble she gives me out of it."