by Sandra Hill
"Did you say something, my lady?" Wilfrid asked politely.
"Nay," she choked out, " 'twas just a bothersome gnat."
She turned and glared at Eirik over her shoulder.
He smiled innocently back at her. And began to rub the heel of his hand against her. Heat rushed to her face and swept over her body. She felt open and vulnerable with her legs widespread on the horse's large back. And then an odd, swelling ache began to thrum. there under his gentle, rhythmic touch.
"I hate you," she hissed softly.
"Mayhap I can correct that," he whispered back, and she knew he had been aware of what he was doing to her the entire time.
"Let us see how good an actress you can be now, my lady of the charades." He turned back to Wilfrid. "I see all the western fields are planted with new wheat." And his hand lay on her thigh, gathering her gown, bunch by bunch, until its hem lay in her lap, exposing her bare skin.
" 'Tis the work of your lady wife," Wilfiid informed Eirik. "Ask her how she badgered me into getting a spring crop in whilst you were away on the king's business."
Eirik's long fingers skimmed the smooth skin of her thighs, then inserted themselves in the hot liquid that pooled embarrassingly between her legs. She would have shot upward off the horse then if Eirik's left hand, holding the reins, was not pressed firmly against her waist, holding her in place.
"Is that true, wife?" he asked silkily.
She could not speak, just nodded.
All the other men kept glancing surreptitiously at her now that her disguise had been unmasked.
"Why, Eirik, your lady turns crimson with modesty. Did you know your wife had such a humble side to her disposition?" Wilfrid teased.
"Nay, I did not," Eirik said with a chuckle. "She usually tells me what a dunderhead I am and how there is naught I can teach her about anything. Is that not so, wife?" His middle finger found a spot on her body then that she had never known existed, and he proved she did not know everything.
A red haze bluffed her vision as a sweet, almost painful, need began to build from that bud of sensation he was touching so gently. A new and unexpected warmth spiraled throughout her body. She groaned aloud.
"My lady," both Wilfrid and Sigurd exclaimed at once. "What is amiss? Are you ailing?"
Eirik removed his hand, and she felt as if she were hanging on a cliff of anticipation. She rejoiced that he had removed his torturing fingers. She wanted to pull them back.
" 'Tis her monthly time," he lied unabashedly.
Eadyth sputtered indignantly and ducked her head self-consciously. If she ever survived this ordeal, she would take great delight in killing her husband, very slowly.
"Why do you two not go on ahead with the other men? 'Tis only a short distance yet," Eirik offered solicitously. "I will take my lady over to that stream there. Mayhap a drink will refresh her sensibilities afore we follow you."
Uh oh. Eadyth was not too besotted with Eirik's lustful touch to know she would be in even bigger trouble if they were left alone. "Nay, I am all right now. 'Twas just a... a stomach cramp," she said quickly.
But the men were already moving ahead of them, and Eirik was smiling down at her with supreme satisfaction as he guided the horse toward the stream. But he did not stop there. Instead, he crossed the stream, moving the horse into a secluded spot on the other side. Deftly, he dismounted and tied the horse's reins to a small tree near the water's edge.
She started to pull the hem of her gown down now that Eirik was no longer at her back with the protective cover of the mantle, but Eirik reached up a hand, restraining her.
"Nay, I want to look at you," he demanded huskily, and Eadyth saw now that he was not as cool and composed from all his fondling as she had thought. His pale eyes glimmered with passion, and his firm lips were turgid and parted with longing.
Oh, Lord.
Forcibly he pushed her hands to her sides, then lifted the hem of her gown to her waist. Silently he stared at her most intimate woman parts, glistening with a strange, dewy moisture. He inhaled sharply, probably in shock at her vulgar display.
Eadyth bent her head in shame, and a hot tear slid down her cheek and onto his hand which lay on her exposed thigh.
"Eadyth! Why do you weep?" he exclaimed softly, picking her up off the horse by the waist and standing her in front of him. Putting a fingertip under her chin, he lifted her face and asked again in a puzzled tone, "Why are you crying?"
Tears were streaming from her eyes now. "Because I am ashamed."
"Of what?" he asked with surprise. "The way I touched you?"
"Yea, but more than that..." Her words trailed off. She could not finish her shameful confession.
Eirik cocked his head quizzically, and then his face brightened with understanding. "Oh, Eadyth, there is no shame in a woman's passion, especially with her wedded mate. Look how my body shows its need for you, and I am not at all ashamed."
"Anything so pleasurable must be a sin. And I am as perverted as you, for surely women would be shouting the news to the world if they were getting as much... as much... delight from a man's touch. Sweet Mother of God, you turn me mindless with your devilish fingers. Mindless! Oh, I will never be a good chatelaine again, or manage my business affairs wisely, knowing I am as weak as any other woman."
"It pleases me immensely to know that my touch makes you mindless," Eirik said softly, and for once he was not laughing at her in boast. "And somehow I think you will manage to be as strong-willed as ever."
He pulled her toward a flat, grassy plot away from the stream and threw his wide mantle onto the ground. Then he removed his silver belt and sat down, slipping off his short leather boots.
"What are you doing?" she asked, wiping the last of her tears with the sleeve of her gown.
He drew his tunic over his head and stood before her, barechested and barefoot. "Taking off my garments."
He undid the laces of his braies and was about to pull them down when she cried out in alarm, "Why?"
"So I can make love to my wife, good and proper," he said matter-of-factly and dropped his leggings to the ground.
"Here?" she squeaked out. "Outdoors? In the daylight?"
He just grinned and nodded, then stood before her with maddening boldness, totally naked. She saw more bare skin than she had ever seen on a male, from his wide shoulders to his tapering waist and slim hips, past a staff so erect she thought he might burst, to long muscled legs and narrow feet. He held out his arms to her in invitation, and Eadyth thought she might just die.
The man was outrageously handsome. And he was her husband. And her body thrummed with the hot fires he had ignited with his flaming touch. And she wanted him. And she didn't want him. And, oh, Lord.
He smiled enticingly and crooked a finger, coaxing her closer.
The intense physical awareness building between them resonated in the stillness of the silent glen.
How could she surrender?
How could she not?
Hesitantly, Eadyth moved one step closer. "You have ensorcelled me," she whispered.
"Yea, but 'tis a sweet enchantment." He gave her a soft smile that set her pulses racing, and she stepped a little closer.
She loved the fact that he was not forcing her to mate with him, that he gave her the choice. Not that she had any choice now, really. A new inner excitement filled her with wonder. "You make me... uninhibited, out of control."
Eirik's lips quirked with humor. "Ah, Eadyth, do not lay that sin at my door. You were uninhibited long afore we met. You just channeled your passion in other directions."
"Oh."
" 'Tis naught to be shamefaced about, my lady. A woman's lack of inhibition is a man's pleasure."
"Really?"
"Really."
Eirik gazed at his wife and knew the time for talking was over. His patience and his self-control were wearing thin. "Come, Eadyth, 'tis past time." He reached out a hand to bridge the gap between them, and she allowed him to pull her forward int
o his arms, finally. He sighed deeply with satisfaction.
"I feel as if a million butterflies have jolted to life in my stomach and are threatening to break through my skin," she confessed shakily, her warm breath caressing his neck.
Eirik felt a jolt of his own, between his legs. He chuckled against her hair, her wild mane of silver blonde curls, and wondered how he could have ever been so blind to her beauty. "Butterflies are good," he said, pulling back to gaze at her. "Let us see what we can do about freeing them."
He removed her gown slowly and forced her to stand still while he feasted on her beauty. Her hair tumbled carelessly about her shoulders and down the smooth skin of her straight back, matching the tight curls of her nether mound. Eadyth was tall and long-legged, with a narrow waist and breasts just big enough to fill a man's hand. She pressed her finely defined lips together nervously, calling attention to the delightful mole.
"You are so beautiful," Eirik said in wonder, "and you are mine."
"I have marks on my stomach from giving birth," Eadyth said shyly, trying to be honest about her defects, under his intense scrutiny.
"Yea, but your breasts are glorious."
"The nipples are too large."
Eirik almost choked on his tongue. "Nay, I do not think they are too large," he told her when he calmed his senses to the point where he might not spill his seed upon the ground.
"Truly?"
"Truly. They are just right to fill a babe's mouth for suckling. Or a man's."
Her eyes lit up at that, but then she bit her bottom lip in hesitation before adding with misery, "But my breasts do not wobble."
"Wobble?" He burst out laughing then. "What do you mean, wobble?"
"Bertha says men like women with wobbling breasts."
"And you suddenly take advice from Bertha? Ah, Eadyth, I think I am going to enjoy having you for a wife."
"Mayhap I will not hate having you for a husband, either," she added with sudden impishness.
He reached forward and touched the enticing mole above her full mouth, then traced her parted lips with the pad of his thumb. All humor ended as he lowered his lips to hers.
At first, his kiss was gentle, persuasive, but when she accommodated him with open, eager curiosity, his lips turned hard and searching. Eadyth returned his kiss with reckless abandon, even when he plunged his tongue into her moist depths. Pleasure, pure and explosive, burst through his body, and Eirik sank to the mantle on the ground, taking Eadyth with him.
She lay on her back, looking up at him expectantly, and Eirik felt a long-dead part of his heart begin to stir. "Oh, Eadyth, do you realize how much I want you?"
Her mouth curved into an unconscious smile of age-old femininity.
"You like that, do you, having me under your thumb?" he asked with a growl, skimming the smooth skin of her belly with an open palm. Then his hand moved lower, toward her hidden depths.
She' gasped. " 'Tis more like you having the controlling thumb, methinks."
He smiled. "Open your legs for me, sweeding."
When he knelt between her legs, looking at the honeyed folds of her womanhood, Eadyth blushed and turned her head aside. "You make me ache."
"I do?"
She nodded, then gasped as his fingers found the swelling bud in her center.
"And does it hurt, this ache?"
Shaking her head in silent negation, she tried to close her legs. " 'Tis too much," she cried when he refused to stop the fluttering of his fingertips against the blossoming nub.
"Nay, 'tis not nearly enough," he said rawly, not sure how much more of the "ache" he could stand himself. "Sweet Lord, you are like warm honey flowing over my fingertips."
When he inserted a long finger into the slick tightness of her sheath, he could feel the tremors of her building arousal. Desire roared in his ears as her hips arched upward, seeking the fulfillment he knew she craved but did not understand.
He took his hardened staff in his hand and placed himself at her entry. With his other hand under her buttocks, he lifted her for his penetration.
The head of his staff had no sooner entered her gates than Eadyth shuddered with her own driving need. Small spasms clasped him hungrily and almost unmanned him before he even began.
"Come with me, dearling," he coaxed. "Let us make the journey together."
She gazed up at him with passion-glazed eyes, not fully understanding until he covered her mouth hungrily and embedded himself in her tight sheath with one long stroke.
"Oh... oh... o-o-h." Her hot, silky inner folds welcomed him with rhythmic convulsions that grew stronger and stronger as she reached her first peak of satisfaction, tossing her head from side to side. She whimpered helplessly in her need.
When the shudders finally faded into little ripples, she opened her eyes and seemed to notice him for the first time. She smiled shyly up at him, then tilted her head questioningly. "Why do you look as if you are in pain?"
"Because I am," he grunted out, still hard as a pike and embedded in her to the hilt, but not for long if she kept squirming.
He knew the moment realization of his problem hit Eadyth. "This is about that peaking business, is it not?"
He nodded. "Do not move... yet."
The contrary witch made a low purring sound and arched her breasts upward, like the cat she was.
With a groan, he pulled himself out of her almost completely, and her mouth dropped open in amazement. When he plunged back in, she exhaled on a loud whoosh of disbelief. With each deliciously tortured stoke of his manhood into her heat, he slowly awakened the dormant sexuality in his siren of a wife.
"Tell me," he gasped out.
"I want..."
"Tell me."
"I want... oh, Eirik, you make me feel..."
His strokes turned harder and shorter, and the extent of his prim wife's responsiveness stunned him. Thrashing her head from side to side, she whispered brokenly of her need. A floodtide of the most overwhelming pleasure he had ever experienced washed over him then, and he pummeled his wife with a hardness which would not be sated.
"Please," she begged.
"Soon," he promised.
"Will you come with me?"
"For a certainty. Ah, Eadyth, you are burning me with your woman heat."
"You set the flame, my love."
My love? Eirik exploded then with a roar of primal male satisfaction, his neck arching back as his manhood spilled its life seed into Eadyth's convulsing body.
At first, Eadyth could not move, so stunned was she by the new and marvelous waves of pleasures that continued to ripple over her.
"Eadyth... oh, Eadyth... you were wonderful," Eirik rasped out against her neck. "You take all I have to give and make me want to give you more. Everything."
"I was... I was satisfactory then?" she asked tentatively, remembering Steven's harsh appraisal of her lovemaking.
Eirik raised his head slightly. "How can you ask? You are everything a man could want, and more."
"Truly?" she asked, inordinately pleased.
"Truly." He lowered his head and laid his lips against her neck. Soon she felt the warm breath of his sleep against her skin. She was not offended. She felt oddly lethargic herself after all that "peaking" and allowed herself to doze for a moment.
Moments later, Eadyth awakened, still feeling wonderfully replete, still on her back with her husband's weight pressing her to the ground, his half-limp man part embedded in her.
She should have been repulsed now that the lovemaking had ended and her senses were returning to normal. She was not.
She should have felt crushed by the boorish weight of a man she did not want in her life. She did not. Instead, she felt oddly cherished in the cradle of his arms which held her fast.
She should have been appalled at her wanton responsiveness to the lusty lout who had bedded her. She was not.
So this is what it is like to be loved, Eadyth thought. For the first time in her life, she knew the power women wielded wh
en they yielded. She smiled, arching her hips up sensuously.
'Twas time to awaken the lusty lout, and his wonderful lusty male part.
Chapter Fourteen
My wife.
Eirik flicked the reins of his horse and looked down with wonder at the woman sitting across his lap, her head resting against his chest. She had been fast asleep for the past half hour, almost as soon as the horse started moving.
Eadyth cuddled closer—God's Bones, the waspish woman was actually cuddling—and made a soft, purring sound of satisfaction. Well, she should be satisfied, after draining him nigh dry that second time. No doubt he had grass stains on his arse and claw marks on his back.
He was having trouble reconciling the prim and proper lady he had wed with the siren who had just proven more than a match for him in the love sport. Her innocent enthusiasm would be a joy to watch as it unfolded in this marriage he had resisted, but now looked at in a different light.
Leaning his head back, he tried to see her better. Her hair fell like skeins of spun silver about her head in wild disarray. Her lips, her finely defined lips, were swollen and bruised from his many kisses. And a pink, sexual flush hazed her creamy cheeks. The overmodest Eadyth would shudder with mortification if she could see herself, he thought with a chuckle, but he liked knowing his wife looked well-satisfied and carried the marks of his loving.
My wife. Eirik smiled to himself—unable to believe his good fortune. 'Twas like falling in a dung heap and realizing it was really gold. He doubted Eadyth would appreciate the comparison. Mayhap he would tell her anyway, he decided with a contrary chuckle.
Then he turned more serious. The Eadyth he had glimpsed today was the kind of wife he had longed for years ago—one who would provide a home and family for him, at the same time she was a sensuous and willing bed partner. Eirik tried to restrain his optimism. After all, this was how he had felt before he married Elizabeth. And she had proven a sore disappointment. 'Twas not good to raise one's hopes too high. Yea, he must tread carefully.
Eadyth awakened slowly to the rhythm of the horse beneath her legs and of Eirik's thudding heartbeat against her ear. She did not open her eyes at first, wanting to relish this sweet moment out of time.