Sandra Hill - [Vikings I 02]

by The Outlaw Viking

  Selik’s narrowed eyes assessed her boldy, as if weighing her merits. Apparently, she came short in his scales, she decided when he looked away, snapping at her, “I owe you no explanations. In truth, you have been treated too softly in the past. That will change now that your word can no longer be trusted.”

  Rain stared up at him, trying to reconcile this fierce anger with the obvious fear he’d shown moments ago when he’d thought she was about to leave him. When the horse quickened its pace through the narrow streets, she grabbed his waist for balance.

  He inhaled sharply.

  She decided to test the confusing waters further and slid her hips closer to him.

  The edge of Rain’s thigh brushed against the rigid hardness between his legs. He jerked as if she’d just short-circuited him. And a sudden, heart-lightening thought occurred to her. Perhaps it was she, and not the beautiful Tyra, who turned him on.

  “Move.”

  Rain looked up and saw Selik’s teeth gritted, his lips drawn in against his teeth.

  “Wha—”

  “Move, now, or I swear afore all the Norse gods and Christian saints, that I will turn you in the saddle astride my lap and take you here and now atop my horse in the midst of Coppergate.”

  Rain considered that enticing possibility for a moment, finding it not at all as appalling as Selik undoubtedly thought she would. But she moved away slightly nonetheless.

  “Why did you bring me to Jorvik if you knew Tyra waited here for you?” she asked bleakly.

  “I have answered enough of your questions. Know this, wench, there will be a reckoning yet for the trouble you have caused me this day.”

  “Will you whip me?” she teased, nuzzling her cheek against his warm chest, despite the stiffening of his body.

  “Mayhap.”

  “Perhaps you will resort to the behaettie again and scalp me.”

  He made a small scoffing sound deep in his throat.

  “But, no, I don’t think you would do that. You told me once that my hair was like spun gold. No one ever said anything so nice to me before, Selik. Did you know that?” She rubbed her cheek, cat-like, against the warm wool of his tunic where it was exposed between the lacings of his leather doublet. With satisfaction, she noted the rapid jumpstart of his heart’s acceleration.

  “Do not be so sure of yourself, wench,” he growled.

  “Well, there are probably some especially excruciating Viking tortures you would employ. Like…oh, tickling a person to death. But I’m not ticklish, so that wouldn’t work. Although, if you used a feather, and I was naked, and you were naked—”

  Selik made a raw sound low in his throat and clapped a hand across her mouth. “Enough, wench! Do not think to sidetrack me with all these suggestive words. What I just might do if you persist is find that bloody G-spot of yours, then dig it out and nail it to your forehead for all the world to see what a wanton tease you are.”

  Rain waited until he removed his hand from her mouth a short time later and commented in a deliberately innocent voice, “So do you think you know where it is located?”

  “What?”

  “My G-spot?”

  Rain heard a short, strangled sound; then Selik surprised her by cupping the apex of her femininity, through the linen cloth of her slacks, and pressing a thumb against the area just above the pubic bone. “Yea. ’Tis just about here. On the inside, of course.”

  Rain looked up at him in surprise, astonished that he understood feminine anatomy so well and that, with all her talk of modern sexual manuals and female satisfaction, he had understood only too well every word she’d spoken. Despite his still grim features, he winked at her with supreme masculine conceit.

  “Some things a man just knows, without the book-learning.”

  Rain was the one who made a choking sound then.

  When they got back to Gyda’s house, everyone was sitting down at the long tables eating dinner—those of more importance, like Gyda and her family, at the head and, at the other end, Selik’s retainers, particularly the captives-turned-soldiers. In an infuriating move, Selik grabbed Rain by the scruff of the neck and pulled her along at a rapid pace toward the head table, as if to show his authority over an errant slave.

  Selik sat in the high-backed chair Gyda indicated and forced Rain to sit on a lower stool at his side which he directed a servant to bring forth. Like a dog, she thought, practically gnashing her teeth.

  When she opened her mouth to protest, Selik popped a piece of roast venison into it. She tried to stand, but he put a large palm firmly on her head and held her in place.

  Through the red haze of her anger and humiliation, Rain barely listened to the friendly conversation around the table.

  Gyda flashed a condemning look at Selik for his treatment of her but didn’t reprimand him. Instead, she asked, “When will the fighting stop, Selik? All the talk in the streets is of the Great Battle and so many good Norsemen dead or crippled.”

  “It will never stop, Mother. You know that,” Selik said wearily, “not ’til every man of Norse descent is gone from Northumbria.” Rain felt the tenseness of Selik’s words transmitted through the pressure of his fingers on her scalp.

  After making sure that everyone had enough food and ale, Gyda came back to Selik. “Then ’tis not safe for you here in Jorvik. Even today I saw some of Athelstan’s royal guard near the harbor.”

  “They were, no doubt, searching for Anlaf, who is long gone to his Dublin domain. But, yea, I must needs make myself scarce as well.”

  “What of the Saxon captives you brought with you?” Gyda jerked her head toward the other end of the hall, where Blanche helped her servants over the cooking fire. Eadifu, who was supposed to be scouring pots, talked instead with the three remaining male captives.

  Selik shrugged. “You can have any that you want, including the soldiers. All the others will be sold.” Rain’s blood turned cold at that prospect, not knowing if he meant her as well. Before she had a chance to ask, his hand slipped from her hair to her mouth in silent admonition.

  “The young woman, Blanche, would suit to help inside the hall, but the other slut must go,” Gyda said. “In truth, you left so many men behind afore to guard me and Tyra that we bump into each other all the time. And no more mouths do I want to feed.”

  Seeming to notice Rain then, Gyda asked, “And what of Ruby and Thork’s daughter? Wouldst you sell her as well?”

  He remained silent an infuriatingly long time, and Rain tried to stand up to tell him what she thought of his thinking process. But Selik had furrowed his fingers in her hair and pulled hard to show his mastery in this situation.

  “Nay, I will not sell the troublesome wench. Leastways, not yet. I keep her for possible ransom with King Athelstan.”

  Tyra giggled merrily, as if Selik had said something very funny. “Oh, Selik! You jest, of course. Who would ever want such a giant of a woman?”

  “You have a point there, little one,” Selik commented in a dry tone of voice, tugging on Rain’s hair in emphasis. The brute!

  Gyda bit her bottom lip pensively, her eyes darting back and forth between Rain’s furious expression and Selik’s arrogant flash of a smile. “Surely you would not sell Thork’s daughter to the slave traders.”

  “She is uncommonly shrewish, Gyda.”

  “I still do not understand how she could be daughter to Thork and Ruby. They were together but twelve years ago, and she is certainly much older than that.”

  “She claims to come from the future and that time moves faster there, or some such foolishness.”

  Gyda’s mouth dropped open, and she made a clucking sound of disbelief. “But—”

  Selik waved her concerns aside. “’Tis of no importance now. As to the slave marts, even did I decide to sell her, who would buy a shrewish woman of such height, especially being so long in the tooth?”

  Both Gyda and Tyra stared at him suspiciously now, probably understanding that he deliberately tried to provoke his hostage.


  “On the other hand,” Selik continued, “Rain is a physician with rare healing skills. In truth, she saved Tykir’s leg after Brunanburh.” Rain jerked around to look at him in surprise at his rare praise.

  “And everyone knows how the Wessex king values good healers,” Gyda concluded for him.

  “Perhaps you would like a slave to wash your garments and dress your hair, Tyra,” Selik offered glibly. Rain put both hands to her head, digging her fingernails into Selik’s hand, forcing him to release her hair. Standing proudly, she bent toward Selik, chin to chin, and declared, “I would sooner stick needles in a part of your body you value highly, you bloody barbarian.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk!” Selik clucked. “Spoken like a true pacifist! But not very slave-like language, I am afraid. I will have to devise some method of punishment.”

  Rain thought then of his earlier comment about G-spots. As hard as she tried to think of something else, she couldn’t stop the revealing blush that heated her face.

  “Do not be embarrassed, Rain. Gyda and Tyra understand the need for discipline amongst servants and slaves.”

  “Argh!” Rain choked out, reaching for his throat with an urge to kill. “Do they understand the need for women to murder overbearing, insufferably arrogant men?”

  With a laugh, Selik ducked and grabbed her by the waist, throwing her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. “Where do you have us sleeping this night, Gyda? I find I must speak to my slave in private about her wagging tongue.”

  Tyra giggled once again. If Rain could have reached that far from her upside-down position, she would have tried to throttle her as well.

  “Above stairs. Your usual room,” Gyda said with a laugh. “I will send up bathwater. You both look like you could use a good wash.”

  “Make sure the tub is large enough, then” Selik said, slapping a large hand over Rain’s derrière to hold her squirming body in place, “for two.

  “Ouch!” Selik exclaimed when she bit his lower back. He stumbled, almost falling on the wooden steps to the second floor.

  When Selik took a nip at her exposed rear end, Rain gasped out, “Oh! You are an animal.” The tip of her shoe barely missed his genitals then, and Selik spread the fingers of one large hand around the inside of her left thigh, high up, with the middle finger pressed against one strategic spot.

  “Move one tiny bit,” he declared with icy menace, “and I swear you will find a new meaning for the word humiliation.”

  Rain decided not to struggle anymore.

  When they got to the tiny room at the end of the hall, Selik threw her down onto the single pallet against the wall and immediately followed her. Laughing, he pinned her to the thin mattress with his body, his hands holding hers above her head, palm to palm, and his legs twined around both of hers, totally immobilizing her.

  “Get up, you big lummox. I can barely breathe,” she spat out.

  “Good. Mayhap your shrewish tongue will rest now.”

  “You won’t get much ransom for me dead.”

  “Yea, but I may finally have some blessed peace.”

  “Hah! You haven’t been at peace for years, and you know it. That’s why I was sent here, you thickheaded fool.”

  “So you say. I think that God—if such a being exists, and I doubt it mightily—wants to punish me for all my misdeeds. What better punishment! A true hell on earth—the plague of a shrewish, self-important, self-righteous, loose-tongued woman!”

  “Is that all?” Rain snapped sarcastically, trying hard not to be offended by his derogatory comments. She tried to buck him off by thrusting her hips up sharply. It was a mistake. All she accomplished was a reshifting of their bodies so that part of him was more perfectly aligned with that part of her. And she felt him grow bigger against her.

  Selik gritted his teeth, and Rain saw the glint of passion ignite in his silvery eyes before he lowered his long, dark lashes. And when she glanced sideways, she saw the sinewy muscles of his arms, which still held her hands captive, stiffen with tension.

  Pleasure and dismay swept over Rain with Selik’s instant response. This chemistry had existed between them from the very beginning, requiring only a look or passing glance to ignite the embers of smoldering desire. If she were being perfectly truthful, she would have to admit that her attraction to him had begun long before their first meeting. For years, he’d haunted her dreams, calling to her across time.

  “Selik, what do you want from me?”

  “Loyalty. But you have shown today that you cannot be trusted. Your word turned to ashes when you betrayed your vow not to escape.”

  “I told you why I—”

  “Nay, do not make excuses. When you gave oath, it was without qualifications. Do not attempt to put conditions on your word now. ’Tis too late.”

  “Well, then, I’m sorry.”

  He stared at her a long time, seeming to search for some hidden truth.

  “I wonder…” He hesitated and did not continue, tilting his head slightly in question.

  “What?”

  “I wonder who you really are.”

  “I haven’t lied to you, Selik.” She held his eyes, finding it extremely important that he believe her, then added, “About anything.” She was thinking about her words of love to him. Although she didn’t speak her thoughts aloud, Selik seemed to understand, and the tenseness in his jaw softened. His eyes darkened with some emotion, and for the first time, Rain noticed flecks of blue among the gray.

  “I can no longer trust your word, and yet I find myself in the odd position of being unable to let you go…just yet.”

  “Because of King Athelstan and my value as a hostage?”

  A small smile turned up the edges of his lips, making him so handsome he almost took Rain’s breath away. How odd, she thought, that I rarely notice the scar that mars one side of his face. Or the imperfections in his nose. She shook her head slightly from side to side in wonder at her rose-filtered vision of Selik.

  “I have survived thus far without you as a talisman, wench. What makes you think I need you to ensure my safety with the bastard king?”

  Rain hadn’t thought of that before. She frowned. “For the money then. You could use the money I would bring in exchange for the king’s having a new healer.”

  Selik laughed outright then, displaying a beautiful array of perfectly white and even teeth. “Ah, sweetling, I have chests of gold and treasures stored here with Gyda and in the Norse lands. The pittance you would bring would not alter the circumstances of my life.”

  “You have wealth?” Rain asked, utterly surprised.

  “I told you I was a successful trader at one time.”

  “But I thought—you dolt!” she exclaimed, trying once again, to no avail, to shove him off her body, “I thought you had no home because you were so poor. Your clothes are ragged, and other than those armlets, I’ve seen no evidence of wealth. Oh, you must have really enjoyed making me think you were little more than a beggar.”

  Selik’s eyes glittered angrily. “Is that how you define a man in your country—by his wealth?”

  “No—well, some people do, but not me. Oh, don’t you look down your nose at me so skeptically. Didn’t I tell you I loved you, even when I thought you had nothing more than that vicious horse and stupidly named sword?”

  “Yea, there is that,” Selik responded in a husky voice, “although I do recall ordering you not to speak the ill-advised words of love again. I must devise a suitable punishment for your defiance and for your attempt to escape.”

  He leaned closer, nuzzling her neck. “Ah. I can smell your passion.”

  “I’m not wearing Passion today.”

  “I know.” With the tip of his tongue, he traced a path along the curve where her neck met her shoulders and whispered, “’Tis the other passion I speak of, sweetling.”

  Rain groaned at the sweet, sweet pleasure of that barest of caresses.

  “Did you like that, Rain?” Selik arched back, his ar
ms extended straight, intertwining his fingers with hers.

  She nodded slowly, running her tongue over her dry lips, then watched, mesmerized, as Selik mimicked her action with his own tongue over his own lips, holding her eyes the entire time.

  “I think I have decided on your…punishment.”

  With one deft movement, he moved his legs between hers and spread them wide, exposing her. He slowly pressed himself against her several times until he found her most vulnerable, sensitive bud, then thrust softly against her.

  Rain made a low sound of reluctant pleasure.

  Selik smiled smugly. “Nay, those mewling little love pleas will not work with me. I am not going to ‘rut’ with you, sweet witch. Do not get your hopes up in that regard. And do not frown at me so fiercely. Despite all your protestations to the contrary, ’twould not be a punishment at all.”

  Rain tried to twist out of his grasp, not being foolish enough to buck against him again. But it was just as bad when her breasts, even covered with bra, silk blouse, and wool tunic, grazed against his leather armor, coming immediately erect and aching for his touch.

  Selik gasped then, and before she had time to take advantage of the opportunity to escape, he released her hands and shrugged out of his leather tunic and wool hauberk. In the blink of an eye, Selik’s hands were back on top of hers, pinning them to the pallet, and he was bare chested, wearing only his tight black braies and short leather boots.

  Right to left, back and forth, he rubbed his chest across hers, barely skimming the surface, just enough to tease and tantalize and make her want more.

  “Oh.”

  “You say ‘oh’ now, but what will you say when I am done with you, foolish wench?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Selik chuckled. “Do you not want to know what your punishment will be?”

  Rain nodded hesitantly.

  “Remember that first time we talked, and you prattled on foolishly, as is your usual custom?”