The Whispering Wind (The Kingdom 0f Northumbria Book 1)

by Jayne Castel

  No doubt she wondered what had come over him.

  Truthfully he wondered that himself.

  The humiliation of that morning in Market Square remained with him. The feel of cold wood against his naked chest, the sniggering and whispers of the watching crowd—and then the whistling of the rod before it hit him—still haunted his dreams.

  The pain had been worse than he had anticipated. He had nearly bitten through his lip as he forced himself not to cry out. He did not want Aelfwyn to see him howl and beg for mercy like a coward. It was bad enough he had seen her look of horror as she helped him off the bloodied snow. Her face had been ashen and wet with tears, but her eyes were what still haunted him—the same bleakness he had seen on Lindisfarena when she had awoken.

  Aelfwyn had already been through too much—and he had selfishly inflicted more suffering upon her.

  Windræs greeted him with a soft whicker. He had stabled the gelding in a lean-to attached to the back of the hut. Knee-deep in straw the horse looked comfortable enough, although Leofric knew he missed being outdoors.

  He sat the metal pail down and watched Windræs take huge mouthfuls of mash. Aelfwyn had added slices of carrot and apple to it as a special treat.

  Leofric leaned against the gelding’s warm flank, feeling the scabs on his back pull slightly as he did so.

  “It’ll be Yule soon, Windræs,” he said. The horse’s furry ears flicked back toward him, but he did not pause eating. “This time last year I was living under my father’s roof—without a care in the world.”

  Windræs snorted into his bucket, and Leofric smiled. “Aye, it was a shallow existence I’ll admit—hunting, whoring, and drinking with my friends—but I was happy enough.”

  The horse threw up his head, scattering mash, and stomped his left back leg, narrowly missing Leofric’s foot.

  “Alright then … I wasn’t that happy,” Leofric admitted, shifting away from Windræs’s heavy hoof, “although I didn’t know it at the time.”

  That was the truth of it.

  The last few months had been the hardest of his life, the most humiliating. He had been stripped of everything—his family, his rank, his pride—but the gods had given him a gift in return: Aelfwyn.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Yuletide Feast

  Mother Night arrived with another heavy snowfall. Aelfwyn and Leofric trudged through three feet of snow on their way into town. Fat flakes fluttered down, frosting the surrounding trees and the roofs and walls of Lincylene before them. Smoke from cook fires rose into a washed-out sky. The aroma of roasting meat—boar, mutton, and fowl—reached them.

  “I tire of this snow,” Aelfwyn grumbled as she struggled through a deep drift. Her legs were far shorter than Leofric’s, and she was having difficulty keeping up with him. “I want to see the earth again, and the grass.”

  Leofric turned and smiled at her indignance. Then he reached back for her hand. “Come on—not much farther.”

  Aelfwyn clutched his hand tightly, enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers, and attempted to quicken her stride. The heavy snow had rendered them housebound over the past few days. However, Cynn and Gytha had invited them to their home for the Yuletide feast, an occasion neither she nor Leofric wanted to miss.

  They reached the town walls and passed into Lincylene under the Roman gate. The streets were deserted this morning, for all folk huddled around their firepits while they sipped mulled wine and waited for their noon feast to finish cooking. The aromas that Aelfwyn had smelled outside the town walls grew thicker within. She inhaled the scent of baking honey shortbread and apple and plum pudding, and her belly rumbled.

  Boughs of holly and fir hung over the threshold of Cynn and Gytha’s hall. The mouthwatering aroma of roasting fowl greeted them as they ducked inside. Cynn and his family gathered around a long table. The girls sat, their round faces pink with excitement, helping their mother prepare the feast. The two eldest, Ealhgyth and Hilla, rolled out pastry and prepared the filling for an apple pie, while the younger girls chopped vegetables under Gytha’s watchful eye.

  “Merry Yuletide!” Gytha bustled over to them with two steaming cups of mulled wine. “Come warm yourselves by the fire.”

  A huge oaken yule log burned in the center of the fire pit, throwing out a considerable amount of heat. Aelfwyn shucked off her fur mantle and handed it to Gytha, who hung it up with Leofric’s near the door. Sighing in relief to be out of the biting cold, Aelfwyn wrapped her chilled fingers around the warm cup.

  For the first time since Leofric’s flogging, Aelfwyn felt welcome in Lincylene once more.

  Of course Cynn and Gytha had been good to them, as had a few other townsfolk Aelfwyn and Leofric had befriended since their arrival here. However, she tired of the sniggers and stares whenever she and Leofric ventured into town to shop at the market. Leofric assured her it would stop soon enough, but their gawping galled her nonetheless.

  “Your decorations are beautiful, Gytha,” she said, gazing around the cozy interior of the hall. Gytha and her daughters had decked the walls and heavy beams overhead with boughs of mistletoe, ivy, and witch hazel.

  “Thank you,” Gytha replied with a proud smile. “The girls spent all of yesterday decorating.”

  Cynn sat at the head of the table, his cheeks ruddy from warmth and wine. He beamed at them, and Aelfwyn smiled back. She shared Leofric’s opinion of Cynn, and had liked the meadhall keeper from the moment she met him. Cynn was a big-hearted man who had welcomed them into his home like kin.

  “Sit down!” he called out to them. “The girls are baking shortbread. It should be ready soon.”

  They sat down at the long table, upon a low bench. Seated side-by-side, Aelfwyn was aware of Leofric’s closeness. His arm lightly brushed hers as he reached out to steal a sliver of apple from Hilla’s pie filling. The heat of his leg next to hers made her breathing quicken slightly; a frisson of excitement igniting in the pit of her belly.

  It was becoming unbearable—day after day cooped up inside the tiny hut, just the two of them. Leofric appeared unflustered by it, but the enforced closeness was starting to become slow torture for Aelfwyn. The hunger that knotted in her belly now had nothing to with the coming Yule feast.

  She did her best to ignore the yearning but when Leofric sat this close to her, it was impossible to ignore.

  “Here.” She smiled at Hilla and picked up an apple from the bowl in the center of the table. “Pass me a knife and I’ll help you get that pie ready for the oven.”

  The girl beamed and nodded. “Thanks, Aeaba. I could do with some help.”

  “She’d have the pie done by now, if she wasn’t so busy gossiping with Ealhgyth,” Cynn complained.

  “Oh stop your grumbling,” his wife replied before giving Hilla a fond smile. “Let the girls be—it’s Yuletide.”

  Gytha’s Yuletide feast was one that Aelfwyn would never forget.

  She was a splendid cook, better even than Aelfwyn’s mother, who was the yardstick by which Aelfwyn judged good cooking. The table groaned under the weight of the magnificent roast fowl and a platter of roasted and braised vegetables, cheeses, pies, and sweet treats. They ate and drank slowly, enjoying the celebration of being able to eat such rich, delicious food. Now that they had little gold to see them through the winter, Aelfwyn and Leofric ate plainly. One cauldron of pottage would need to last three days, and there was very little meat in their meals.

  After the feast, they joined the family on comfortable furs piled around the fire pit. Aelfwyn sat curled up against Leofric. Their friends believed them to be a wedded couple and perhaps wondered why they did not show much affection between them. The warmth and hardness of Leofric’s chest against Aelfwyn’s back was distracting to say the least, but her belly was full of good food, and the wine had made her drowsy. She dozed against Leofric’s chest, and was aware of him gently stroking her hair as he chatted to Cynn and Gytha.

  She could have sat like that all night but, eventua
lly, the time came for them to take their leave.

  Aelfwyn climbed to her feet and stretched sleepily. Yawning, she turned to Gytha and hugged her. “Thank you so much. I have never felt so welcome in someone’s home.”

  Gytha hugged her back. “And you always will be.”

  Aelfwyn crossed to where Leofric was holding out her cloak. With a smile, she turned, letting him place it over her shoulders.

  “Look!” Ealhgyth squealed. “They’re standing under the misteltān!”

  Aelfwyn started slightly at the girl’s outburst before craning her neck up. Indeed there was a sprig of mistletoe hanging overhead.

  “Now they’ll have to kiss!” Cynn’s eldest daughter clapped her hands together with glee before she and her sisters burst out into tittering laughter.

  Smirking, Cynn gently cuffed Ealhgyth around the ear. “They’ve been waiting all afternoon for you two to stand under it.”

  Aelfwyn felt her cheeks warm. She glanced over at Leofric who merely raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Come on then,” he said softly. “We don’t want to disappoint them.”

  He stepped close to her, before reaching down and cupping her face gently. Then he stooped, his lips brushing hers. He drew back slowly, meeting Aelfwyn’s gaze as he did so.

  “Give her a decent kiss, man,” Cynn goaded him. “Or do you want Gytha and me to show you how it’s done.”

  Leofric cast him a sour look, causing Cynn to bellow with laughter. “I don’t need any lessons from you on how to kiss my wife.”

  With that, he drew Aelfwyn into his arms and kissed her deeply.

  Aelfwyn melted into him, her arms coming up to encircle his neck. For a moment she forgot where she was. His kiss set her on fire. When they broke apart, both gasping for breath, the hall had fallen silent. The girls were all blushing, although Cynn and Gytha both wore smug grins.

  “That’s better, Lenred,” Gytha congratulated him with a wink. “That’s how a woman likes to be kissed.”

  Outside in the empty, snow-carpeted street, Leofric was glad the darkness hid his embarrassment.

  He could not believe it. His friends thought him some cold fish—a husband who was embarrassed to show affection for his wife in public. Cynn and Gytha had no idea the self-restraint he had exercised over the past few months when it came to Aelfwyn. Her very presence set his veins alight. He ached for her.

  The snow had stopped falling, and a waxing moon lit their path home.

  They walked side-by-side, but Leofric did not take her hand, as he had on the way here. He could feel the tension between them, stretched tight like a bowstring, and wondered if the kiss had upset her. Although it was over two moons ago now, the memory of her recoiling from his embrace still stung like a fresh wound.

  They passed out of Lincylene and took the snow-covered path through the woods toward home. The night was still, the air sharp with cold. An owl hooted in the distance, the sound carrying through the quiet night.

  They were halfway home when Aelfwyn suddenly halted in her tracks. She turned to Leofric and reached out, catching him by the arm.

  Leofric tensed, his senses on alert. Had she seen something lurking in the trees? He reached for the seax he carried at his waist. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, Leo,” she said quietly. “I just want to ask you something.”

  He released the hilt of his seax and focused on her face. The moonlight bathed it in soft silver, outlining her delicate features. She was so lovely it hurt to look at her.

  “What is it?” he rasped. Did she have any idea of how much he wanted her?

  “That kiss you gave me …” she began hesitantly, “…back there. I—”

  “Do you want me to apologize?” Leofric’s gut twisted as he said the words. He was not sure how long he could keep up this pretense. It was eating him up inside.

  “No—” she replied softly. “I’d like another one.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Giving In

  Leofric stared at her, lost for words.

  “You want me to kiss you?” he finally asked, certain he had misheard her.

  “Aye,” her voice trembled slightly, betraying her nervousness. “If you want to, that is …”

  He gave a soft, incredulous laugh. “You do realize what you’re asking?”

  “I do.”

  Leofric gazed at her before reaching out and stroking her cheek. “I don’t want to scare you.”

  “You won’t.” Her voice was sure, although he felt her tremble under his touch.

  With a sigh he leaned down, his mouth covering hers. The kiss started gently, as it had back inside Cynn’s hall, but with no one looking at them it quickly deepened.

  Aelfwyn’s lips parted under his, the tip of her tongue teasing his. Leofric groaned and pulled her hard against him, savoring her mouth like the finest feast. His hands reached up to her hair, unfastening the wifely braids and letting her soft blonde locks tumble down. His fingers tangled in it.

  She groaned against his mouth, the soft sound releasing something within him. He gently bit her lower lip, enjoying her whimper of pleasure. Their bodies were pressed against each other now. Leofric was rock hard, and he knew she would be able to feel his arousal pressed against her belly.

  But this time it did not frighten her. She reached up, her fingers gently tracing his face as she kissed him back with abandon.

  When they finally ended the kiss, Leofric was shaking. This woman was his undoing. It took all his self-control not to throw her down in the snow and take her right there.

  “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he whispered, struggling to regain his composure.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry for making things so difficult,” she murmured, “after Ecgfrith I was so hurt and confused.”

  He reached forward and cupped her face with his hands. “Don’t ever apologize to me for that. I’d gut that bastard for what he did. You do realize I’d never harm you—don’t you?”

  She nodded. “I trust you.” She paused then, her gaze holding his. “I want you.”

  A heartbeat passed, and then Leofric pulled her back into his arms. Their kisses were ravenous now as the floodgates opened, and they released the need they had both spent the past few months denying.

  Leofric knew he would not be able to hold back. He wanted their first time together to be slow and tender. He wanted to explore every inch of her body upon the furs, and see her naked skin bathed in firelight.

  That was not going to happen.

  Her hands moved feverishly over his chest, digging in as she tried to get past the layers of clothing to his skin beneath. When her hands dipped to his groin, and she stroked his straining shaft, he let out a long groan in response. She gasped against his mouth and fumbled at his breeches, eager to release him, to touch him.

  Cold air caressed his skin as she freed him, although the feel of her cold silken fingers, gently caressing his inflamed cock, unraveled the last of his self-control.

  Leofric gathered her up in his arms and carried her across to the nearest tree—a tall beech that loomed over the path through the woods.

  He pushed her up against it, his mouth covering hers once more. His hands slid down her body, cupping her lush breasts. Her nipples were hard pebbles through the linen undertunic and woolen over-dress she wore. He longed to rip those clothes off her and bury his face in her breasts, but there was no time for that—not now.

  His hands delved deeper, hiking up her skirts so that he could touch naked skin beneath. He parted her trembling thighs, caressing the silken skin, before he touched the wet heat between them.

  “Aelfwyn,” he groaned her name. “I want to go slow but I—”

  “Leo, please,” she panted, widening her thighs and pressing herself against his fingers. “Take me … now!”

  Leofric needed no further invitation. He entered her in one smooth motion, sheathing himself to the hilt inside her satin heat. The sensation near
ly tipped him over the edge, and he cried out.

  In answer, she wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him hard against her.

  Leofric took Aelfwyn there, against the tree trunk, grinding into her until she shuddered and cried his name. Then he plowed her in long, deep strokes, cupping her buttocks as he thrust.

  By the time he emptied his seed within her, he was shouting her name—his cries echoing high into the treetops.

  In the aftermath, Aelfwyn stirred first, lifting her head off his shoulder and reached up to stroke his face.

  “Leo?” she queried softly. “Are you well?”

  He gave a soft laugh. “Never better.” He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck before groaning. “You taste better than the finest ale.”

  Aelfwyn smiled at the comparison. “I should hope so. I have no wish to remind you of a meadhall.”

  He nipped her neck gently in response and she shivered with pleasure. Her body still felt weak in the aftermath of their encounter. He was still buried inside her, and she had locked her legs around his hips to keep him there—however, the night’s chill was invading upon their private world, and her thigh muscles were starting to cramp.

  She ran her hands lightly up his back, to avoid disturbing the scabs there, and threaded her fingers through his hair. It was still much shorter than most men’s, but she could see it would grow into a thick auburn mane.

  He pulled back slightly from her then, his face all sharp angles in the dappled moonlight. “I hope I wasn’t too rough? I … forgot myself.”

  “No, you weren’t,” she assured him. In truth, the way he’d scooped her up, carried her across to the beech tree, and then taken her there had excited her beyond words. She wanted him to do it again—only next time she wanted them both to be naked with sunlight on their skin.

  To think her first experience with a man had nearly ruined things for her. She had never imagined it could be like this. Her coupling with Leofric had been natural, wild, and consensual. Never again would she hold back her instincts with this man. Never again would she let Ecgfrith cast a shadow over her happiness.