by Jayne Castel
Seeing Hea again had been a pleasant surprise. Thoughts of her had distracted him all day … but was it wise to take things any further? Bridei had lain with his share of women over the years, although he had not shared the furs with another since Mid-Winter Fire. Over the bitter months there had been much to take care of, including a number of skirmishes and uprisings to deal with. His body ached for release.
I shouldn't be here, he thought and took a step back. Whatever Ecgfrith’s response, he would be leaving here soon. I should let her be.
Yet he did not move. Instead, he stared at the timber door before him. The temptation was too great—he had to see her.
Pushing his misgivings aside Bridei stepped forward once more and knocked on the door.
Chapter Ten
Honeyed Words
Hea was sitting by the fire pit, enjoying a cup of damson wine and whittling a piece of rose wood when someone knocked. Surprised, she glanced up. Few people visited her after dark, and she preferred it that way.
The evening was her quiet time, and especially after the day she’d had, Hea felt in need of some solitude.
With a sigh, she got to her feet and crossed to the door.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Hea? It’s me … Bridei.”
Hea went still. What is he doing here?
Long moments passed before she reluctantly reached out and lifted the heavy wooden bar that locked her inside; living alone, she could never be too careful.
She then opened the door and peered out into the dimly lit street beyond.
He was standing there, a few feet back from the door, watching her. Dressed simply, in plaid breeches and a leather vest which left his muscular arms bare, Bridei was as disarming as earlier. Shadows played across his handsome features as he observed her, giving her that same intense melting look that had flustered her so easily earlier in the day.
Hea met his gaze. She could not say she was pleased to see him, for she knew it was unwise for them to spend time alone together.
“Good eve, Hea,” he said, smiling.
She held his stare. “Why are you here?”
He grinned. “That wasn't the sort of greeting I was expecting.”
She frowned. “What did you expect?”
“A smile at least for an old friend.” His smile was both sensual and infuriating; the swine knew the effect he had on her. He had known from the moment they had locked eyes inside the Great Hall.
“You shouldn’t be here, Bridei,” she said quietly.
His gaze widened. “Why? Are we forbidden to speak?”
“No, it’s not that … it’s just this isn’t a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Hea huffed out a breath. He was deliberately being obtuse. He wanted her to speak plainly.
“You’re a guest here,” she said eventually, “and I am the king’s seer—we shouldn't be spending time together.”
Bridei snorted, making it clear that he cared not for her concerns. “Is it wrong for me to visit someone who was dear to me in the past?”
Hea exhaled sharply. While they tarried here in the doorway, someone was sure to walk past and spot them. It was clear that Bridei was not going away, so she decided it was best he came indoors.
Stepping back, she motioned for him to enter.
Bridei entered the dwelling, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the lintel. Indoors, the hovel was much smaller than he remembered. However, he immediately felt welcome in here. Despite the slight fug of wood smoke, he caught the scent of lavender as his boots crunched over straw and scattered herbs. The dwelling was simply furnished, the wattle and daub walls unadorned. A small hearth dominated the center of the space and bunches of dried herbs hung from the low ceiling beams; a small wattle door led out into the enclosed garden beyond. Against the far wall he spied a pile of soft furs.
His gaze halted on the furs, his breath catching as he imagined lying naked with Hea upon them, their limbs entangled.
“Sit.”
Hea’s voice, edged with annoyance, pulled Bridei sharply out of his reverie. He realized she had seen the direction of his gaze and guessed at his thoughts. Unembarrassed, Bridei moved over to a low stool next to the hearth and lowered himself onto it. Seeing irritation flare in her eyes, he suppressed a smile.
He liked feisty women.
“Wine?” she asked with cool politeness.
“Aye, thank you.”
He watched her move to a worktable near a tiny, shuttered window, and uncover an earthen jug. “It’s damson,” she said, reaching for a cup. “I hope that’s to your liking …”
“My favorite.”
Hea glanced over her shoulder at him, another frown marring her smooth brow. “You’ve a honeyed tongue, Bridei mac Beli. Is there any woman alive you haven’t charmed?”
He laughed, not remotely fazed by her directness. “Only one,” he murmured, holding her gaze.
To his delight, her cheeks reddened slightly and she turned away, busying herself with pouring the wine. Her embarrassment pleased him, it meant that despite her frosty welcome, he affected her. He watched her pour the wine, his gaze sliding over her comely form.
He liked her green wealca, different from the long, plaid ankle-length skirts that Pictish women wore. The color suited her fiery hair and complemented her creamy skin, while the cloth hugged her curves.
Turning from the table, Hea crossed to the hearth and handed him a cup of wine. He took it, deliberately allowing their fingers to brush as he did so. A shiver of heat rippled up his arm, and he saw her eyes widen; she had felt that too.
Hea took a seat opposite him, on the other side of the fire, sitting primly while she picked up her own cup of wine and cradled it on her lap. He noted that she had lovely hands—small but with long, elegant fingers. His gaze then shifted to a piece of wood that she had set by the hearth with a whittling knife.
“Am I interrupting you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
Hea saw the direction of his gaze and shook her head, her full mouth curving into a smile. “Not really, I was trying to carve my mother’s likeness, but I lack talent I’m afraid.”
“Can I take a look?”
Hea shrugged. “If you want.” She leaned down, picked up the half-finished figure and passed it across to him. “But please don’t laugh—I know it’s crude.”
Bridei took the piece of rose wood and studied it a moment. “You’re too hard on yourself,” he said after a few moments. “You need to spend a bit more time on her face and hair, but you’re almost there.”
“Now you’re humoring me.”
Bridei looked up, his gaze snaring hers. “No, I’m not.” He passed the carving back to her. “Make sure you finish it.”
She nodded, her face relaxing slightly. “I will, even if it doesn’t look anything like her.” He watched her gaze into the glowing embers of the hearth, sadness darkening her eyes. “It’s only been a year—I still miss her so much.”
Bridei did not reply. He had already lost both his parents, and knew what it felt like. Yet for him it had been different—he had not been as close to either his mother or father as Hea had been to Lewren.
“It must be hard continuing to live in here,” he said finally, gesturing to the one-room dwelling in which they sat. “Surrounded by memories.”
She nodded, and Bridei saw her eyes gleam with unshed tears. “Aye … sometimes. She wanted a different life for me.”
“What do you mean?”
Hea sighed and straightened up, brushing her wild, dark-red curls back off her shoulders. “She told me not to follow her path, to find a good man and have a family.”
“But you didn’t heed her …”
Hea raised her cup of wine to her lips and took a sip. “She raised me to be free—I don’t want to give that up.”
Bridei watched her, intrigued. “But surely, life for you here is hard, without a man to provide for you.”
She shrugged, and bestowe
d him with a tight smile. “It was … until the king began asking for me.”
Bridei took a draft from his cup, relaxing as the strong liquid burned down his throat and into his belly. The mention of Ecgfrith irritated him. “I don’t understand the nature of your relationship,” he said finally. “What does a Christian king need of a seer?”
Hea met his gaze steadily for a moment before she replied. “I wondered the same thing, but I know he’d asked my mother for guidance in the past. He’s a complex man—and sometimes I feel as if he’s torn between two worlds. You must remember Eanflaed, his mother?”
Bridei screwed up his face. “Aye—haughty old crone.”
Hea laughed. “I think she forced the new ways down his throat … and then he ended up wedding two incredibly pious women.”
Bridei raised his eyebrows. “It sounds as if you feel sorry for him.”
Hea pulled a face. “I don’t … I just realize that folk are the way they are for a reason.”
“Irmenburgh isn’t happy with your arrangement,” Bridei replied. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you.”
Hea sighed heavily. “I can’t help that—I can’t defy Ecgfrith because his wife disapproves.”
“But … is your skill as a seer the only service he requires of you?”
Bridei had not meant to ask the question. He had been thinking it, and then suddenly the words rushed out of him.
They fell like axe blows in the suddenly silent dwelling.
He watched Hea draw herself up, her face paling, her green eyes burning. Long moments passed before she responded. “Why would you ask that?”
Bridei held her gaze. The look on her face told him he had just made a mistake, yet to try and back out now would make him look like a fool. Now that he had stumbled out into dangerous territory, he had no choice but to keep blundering forward. Inwardly he kicked himself.
“It’s a natural enough question,” he replied slowly. “You’re a comely woman, and he’s a man still in his prime wedded to a wife he clearly doesn’t desire. The whole fort must think you’re lovers.”
Hea’s mouth drew in. “Well the lot of you are mistaken.” She rose to her feet, her small frame stiff with indignation. “I think it’s time you left.”
Bridei set down his cup and got to his feet. “Hea, I—”
“Just go.” She turned her back on him and stalked over to the table, slamming her cup down next to the earthen jug of wine.
Bridei ignored her command, instead following her over to where she still had her back to him. “I’m sorry, Hea,” he began, contrite. “I really should—”
She whipped around to face him, tilting her face up so that their gazes met. “Have you got cloth in your ears? I told you to leave.”
Irritation rose within him. She might have been comely, but she had a tongue like a seax-blade. “And I will, but not before I put things right. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“Well you did.”
“Will you forgive me?”
Her brow furrowed. “You really are used to women falling at your feet, aren’t you?”
Bridei drew back slightly, surprised at her vehemence. He saw that he really had hurt her. Their gazes held for a few moments before he attempted a boyish, lopsided smile, one that usually melted even the angriest shrew. “There’s only one woman I wish would soften toward me.”
“You’ve just accused me of being the king’s hōre,” she countered. “Do you think a smile and a half-hearted apology will suffice?”
Bridei started to feel flustered. This was not going well. Instead of winning her over, he was just digging a bigger hole for himself. Her nearness was also unsettling him. He was aware of the heat of her body, the light musk of her skin, and the scent of lavender from her clothing. It suddenly felt too warm inside the tiny hovel.
“I don’t—” he began, only to be cut off once more.
“Just get out.”
“For the love of the gods, woman,” he growled, his temper flaring. “Won’t you at least let me explain myself?”
“I don’t want to listen to your insincere excuses,” she shot back. “You meant what you said, I don’t need your lies.”
Bridei cursed, frustrated beyond measure.
Then, without stopping to think for a moment about the consequences, he reached out and pulled her against him—kissing her fiercely.
Chapter Eleven
The Wild Night
It happened so suddenly that Hea did not have time to react.
One moment she had been glaring up at Bridei, her fists clenched by her sides as she resisted the urge to slap his face, the next she was in his arms.
Hea had never been kissed before. An overprotective mother, followed by an overbearing king had kept all would-be suitors at bay. She had seen couples kiss at the spring celebrations of Eōstre before some of them slipped away to spend the night together. Sometimes their embraces had seemed awkward, at other times she had sighed at the obvious passion between them.
But she had never expected this.
The feel of his arms about her, the firm, softness of his lips on hers, ignited a hunger deep within her belly that made the world spin.
She gasped, her lips parting, and his tongue delved into her mouth, dancing with her own.
The kindling fire in her belly burst into flame.
How could the act of fusing mouths with a man affect her like this? It was just skin against skin, yet it was as if a strong wind had gusted in and lifted her off her feet.
Her surroundings disappeared. No longer was she standing in the corner of her one-room hovel—instead she was flying, spinning out of control, pleasure thrumming through her body.
Her anger at him—which had been nothing more than hurt and shame—dissolved. She could think of nothing but how good he tasted, how warm and strong his body was, and how she melted against him like a pat of butter on a hot griddle.
The rasp of his chin, the warmth and the scent of his skin, and the possessive way he kissed her, caused all rational thought to scatter.
When Bridei finally pulled away from her, breathing hard as if he had been running, Hea nearly cried out in disappointment.
Releasing her, he took a step back, a rush of cool air flooding between them. He stared at her, his brown eyes almost black in the dim light of the hearth and the two oil-filled cressets burning on the walls. He looked shocked; his lips were slightly parted and gone was the teasing, arrogant expression he had worn since entering her home.
The kiss had knocked them both off guard.
Need twisted deep within Hea as she stared back at him. He had only given her a taste of what she craved; she could not let him take it away. She felt as if she would die if he did not kiss her again.
Moving on instinct, all rational thought now gone, she stepped forward and placed her palms upon his chest. Through the leather of his vest, she felt his heart pound. A thrill went through her—she was not the only one struggling to keep control.
Then, she went up on tip-toe and kissed him.
Bridei’s low growl, at the back of his throat, unleashed a ravenous appetite within her. She flung her arms about his neck, her mouth opening under his.
Two steps brought them back, hard against the table. The edge of it dug into Hea’s back, but she paid it no mind. All she cared about, all she wanted, was this man.
His hands dug into her hair as they kissed wildly, tongues tangling. Then his hands were tearing at her clothing. He unfastened the brooches which held up the straps to her wealca, and pushed the garment down, leaving her standing in the thin tunic she wore underneath. His hands left her hair and traveled down her body, cupping her bottom.
He lifted her onto the table, pulling up her tunic so that her legs were exposed.
Panting now, Hea spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips and pulling him against her as they kissed once more. She could feel his arousal, iron-hard, pressed against her belly, and excitement coursed through her.
Frantically, she began clawing at his vest, at the laces on the sides. She had to feel his skin, taste it.
With a muttered curse, Bridei pulled away from her and yanked off his vest. The sight of his naked, muscular torso, the skin decorated with blue-inked swirls and circles down his left side, made Hea’s mouth go dry.
Once again acting on instinct, she leaned forward and kissed the hollow of his neck, her lips trailing down his chest to the hard nubs of his nipples, while she traced the skin of his back with her finger nails.
She felt him shiver under her touch, heard him moan.
Hea looked up to find Bridei staring down at her, a look of feral need on his face.
Wild excitement soared within her, and a deep throbbing began between her thighs.
If she did not have him inside her, she would dissolve from wanting.
Holding her gaze, Bridei reached down and started to unlace his breeches. Hea watched him, forgetting to breathe—yet when she saw his shaft spring free, her breath rushed out of her.
He was beautiful.
Almost shyly now, she reached out and touched him, her fingertips tracing the soft skin, to the swollen head that glistened in the firelight. She then wrapped her fingers and around his girth, marveling at its size and hardness.
“For the love of the gods,” he growled, his voice strangled. “Are you trying to kill me, woman?”
Hea glanced up at him, confused. “Kill you?”
His beautiful mouth twisted. Then he pushed her tunic high around her hips, so she was exposed to him and positioned himself between her thighs.
Hea felt the head of his shaft pressing against her, and her desire ebbed slightly.
Would this hurt?
Slowly, he slid into her—halting when he hit resistance. Bridei tensed. Hea clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
“Hea …” he began, hesitant, his voice husky. “I didn’t realize … I’m sorry.”
Hea barely registered his words, the throbbing ache at her core was almost unbearable. She did not see what he had to be sorry about; whether it hurt her or not she wanted him deep inside her.