Lambs had been butchered, ale purchased, and every woman in the village vied for becoming known as baking the best small, rich cakes. There would be a notable feast to celebrate the joining of Gunnar and Elin, and every villager would be invited as well as some family that would need to travel a bit. Every house in the village would have guests sleeping on furs in front of their fires, as cousins arrived from other towns.
Elin was surrounded by her family and friends as they feasted before the wedding. A bride didn’t ever have her own plate, she sat at the head of the table, and her friends would prepare plates of the choicest bites to bring her. Elin couldn’t eat much due to nerves. Her father stood and reached for her mother’s hand. Together they processed to the fireplace and returned to Elin’s side. Caren and Bale solemnly handed their beloved daughter a lantern filled with embers from her family’s hearth. The fire that had nurtured her in her parents’ home would go with her as she started her own family. The men moved to the front or the back of the processing, a holdover from the days when a bride might be kidnapped on the way to her new home.
In this way, they processed to Gunnar’s cottage. The sounds of the women singing the traditional songs, “The bride is coming; she is coming, to make a house a home. Warmth and light, she is bringing, a healing touch she’s bringing, a mother’s womb she’s bringing, welcome the bride! Welcome the lovely bride,” echoed among the stars.
The crowd within the cottage made room for her. Her groom stood at the empty fireplace.
Using the embers, she had brought from her parents home Elin lit the fire in the hearth and Gunnar wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. She was too shy to look in his eyes as she promised to be bountiful, honorable and yielding. Gunnar promised the assembled family and friends that he would keep her safe.
A cheer went up from the wedding party and toasts were given. Dafne held up a goblet and teased, Gunnar, “Now I have a brother! And now her temper is your problem!” but a tear rolled out of her eye. Elin felt her lower lip begin to quiver.
Gunnar stood, “It’s a good thing I’ve gotten as strong as I have! My bride will be my biggest challenge,” he kissed her forehead. He delightedly introduced his new wife to his half-brother, Carr.
It would be rude to linger too long at a wedding. Elin kissed her family goodbye. Gunnar thanked all the guests. And then they were alone, behind a closed door. In a house that he had provided for her and which she would make pleasant for him.
Elin had anticipated being timid, but to her surprise she was eager. She held his hand as he led her to their bed. Stroking her hair, he whispered that she was beautiful and sweet.
“And yours,” she finished his thought for him.
“And best of all, mine.” Their kisses were slow and tender and made her ache to feel him all over her. He slowly undressed her, and she was aware for the first time just how beautiful she was. She reveled in his eyes resting on her. Rolling her shoulders back she lifted her breasts, he greedily slid his hands up from her waist and cupped them, swirling his thumbs around her nipples.
Shuddering with pleasure, she unfastened his tunic, and he helped lift it over his head, her arms couldn’t reach up that high. His collarbone was marked with the initials of the man he had apprenticed with and a hammer. On the back of his neck was the symbol that showed he had been honorably discharged from the Snowforce. A series of small scars festooned his shoulders and arms. “Are those burns?” she asked, running a finger along one of them.
“Mostly,” he turned around, so she could see his back. A long narrow scar had been adorned with a tattoo.
“The Snowguard does that right?” she whispered.
He nodded, “I got a nasty cut when I was learning to use a sword. They call those tattoos gilding.”
She meant to ask him why he had left the Snowforce, but his hands on her flesh drove all questions from her mind. He pressed her gently back, and she lay on the bed. He lay beside her studiously running a single finger down from her throat, between her breasts and down her belly. She gasped as a stoking finger swirled through the silky triangle between her legs. Elin was shocked at the way she responded to his touch, she ground up against his palm. He seemed pleased by her eagerness. He rolled onto her and ran his tongue down her shoulder and all the way to her wrist, He pulled one of her fingers into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it. The velvety softness of his tongue was a revelation. He moved to her belly and dropped little kisses down, further and further.
Gunnar glanced at his bride, her eyes were closed, she didn’t seem afraid. He slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her up to his ready lips. Elin’s moans were music to his ears. He had hoped that she would blossom under his attention and she was. Her thighs were sweet and slick with her juices and he pulled her dainty pearl between his lips. The wave of pleasure rolled over her, and she clutched at his shoulders, panting and overwhelmed. Gunnar buried his face into her belly, delighting in the writhing of her tender body.
He moved up so that he lay beside her and reached for her hand. Moving it to his erect cock, he was not surprised when she skittishly pulled it away. Then she gave a small laugh and nervously replaced her hand. Running her fingers along his length, she whispered, “That thing is huge.”
“I will try not to hurt you,” he replied, sliding her closed hand up and down along the length of him.
“I know.” She whispered. He bided his time, forcing himself to slow his breathing. If he hadn’t been afraid of frightening her, he would have rolled her over and taken her forcefully. Instead, he held her and whispered reassuring things while his fingers stroked between her thighs.
She grew slick with honey Gunnar tenderly pressed a fingertip into her cleft. He could feel both her barrier and how much she desired him. He was heady with his need to take her. Wanting to make sure she was truly ready for him, he pressed his palm against her mound and delighted in her whimper of pleasure. He lowered his mouth to her breast and pulled a dainty nipple between his lips. His hand was wet with her juices.
Gunnar gazed deep into her eyes and Elin gave the smallest of nods, and he knew that was his cue. Without ceasing stroking and whispering sweet words, he positioned himself above her. He pressed into her and felt her open around him. She was tight but very wet. He moved slowly, deeper and deeper into his bride. There was a slight wince as he entered her with all his length.
“Let me get used to you,” she whispered, and he stilled within her. With his weight on his elbows, he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her lips, over and over. When she clasped him more tightly, he whispered, “Are you alright?” still making himself go slowly and tenderly.
“I love you,” the words spilled out, she had planned to not say that until he did.
“I love you too, wife.” He allowed himself to move his hips and wrapped his arms as tightly around her as he could. She responded, rolling her hips and gasping each time he entered her fully. Their tongues entwined as their bodies rose and fell together. Elin moaned with pleasure. Gunnar slid a hand between their bellies and gently stroked her. With his fingers pressing on her pearl Ellins pleasure crested and she cried out his name. The sensations were overwhelming, her head rocked back and forth as she tried to find words to describe what she was feeling. The words were beyond her, it was all shooting stars and earthquakes.
Gunnar smiled, pleased that she had felt pleasure on their wedding night. Before Elin had caught her breath, He climaxed deep within her, whispering that he would always love her.
They fell asleep, man and wife in every way.
Chapter 10
Elin was astonished at how much easier keeping house for two people was than for ten. Gunnar would get out of bed and tend to the forge before the break of dawn. Elin would make something simple for them to break their fast, Gunnar was remarkably easy to feed since he ate everything set in front of him. It would take her only a few minutes to wash the dishes and tidy the cottage.
Making one bed, took no time at al
l. The new housewife had gone to the forge with her spinning one time hoping to keep her handsome husband company and had been scolded for her efforts. “That’s wool!” he had said, putting down his tools and propelling her out of the shack.
“I know it’s wool, what else would it be?”
“Something that won’t turn you into a human torch.” He said firmly.
“Wool sputters, it doesn’t catch fire easily,” she had retorted.
“Unless you are in what is basically a spark-filled kiln, and I do not like your tone.” He had replied and turned back to his work. Elin was not accustomed to being alone all day. Most mornings she headed to the farm. She helped her sisters milk the cows and in exchange got more than enough milk, butter, and cheese for her own tiny family.
Market days were the best days. Elin could visit with other women while she did her shopping. Gunnar’s shopfront was near where her family sold their products. Her sisters wandered back and forth. Elin enjoyed serving customers with a little sister perched on her hip. They had some readymade forged items; hinges, shovel heads, and fireplace tools. People were always lined up to buy them.
In the back of the storefront, Gunnar had a small forge set up there where he could do minor repairs. Men would ask Gunnar about custom made items, and Elin would lean on the counter and chat with their wives. They would talk about who had the crispest cabbage and who was clearly trying to sell least years apples. She had joined the club of adult women, and she felt rather smug about it.
A friend of her mothers had brought some very soft wool, dyed in a lovely violet shade as a gift to Elin. “I meant it to be blue.” The giver had admitted, “Then I thought this color would suit you perfectly.” Elin thanked the older woman and set it aside.
“Anyway, we all think you might need some new dresses soon, “the older woman gave Elin’s narrow waist a sharp look. Elin crossed her arms over her non-existent belly. She knew a baby was a possibility, but she wasn’t quite ready to give up her time with Gunnar.
If she took her time, Elin could count the coins into the lockbox that Gunnar had shown her. Her father got more items in trade, Gunnar had some offers of exchanges, but most people just handed over coins. Elin had never seen so many different varieties. Gunnar identified some of them to her, “Those silver ones are from Rome, they are worth the most.” He touched a bronze coin with a hole in the middle, “These are from Byzantium. Huge markets there, things from the far east and slaves from a place called Ireland.” Elin gave a shiver, she had heard of slaves, although she had never met anyone who owned one.
It was getting close to closing, and most of the villagers had left the market. A peddler had gotten a mile or so out of town and then broken a wheel on his cart and asked Gunnar to come helps him pry it off so that he could repair it.
Gunnar agreed to go, saying to his wife, “Watch that fire, I want to keep it going for the repair.” He bent to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll be back before too long.” He trudged off following the peddler.
Elin did go back to the small smithy, but she very quickly grew bored. She decided to keep her eye on it and get their things packed up to head back to their cottage. Gunnar’s cart was in the alley, and she decided to help by dragging it closer to the forge to begin putting his tools in it. She set her new wool on the seat, intending to knit as he drove them home. Someone calling her name led her to back to the storefront. The young couple buying some hinges asked her how she liked married life. Elin was telling them how wonderful it was, and easy and fun when a sound like an echoing “whoomph” reached their ears. The smell of smoke filled the air, and the thatched roof of the storefront was licked with small blue flames. There were barrels of rainwater nearby, and they quickly set to dousing the blaze. Elin was relieved to see that they had stopped the fire, only to hear a shout go up. A spark had traveled and found a hospitable home in the thatched roof of a dilapidated goat shed. By the time they doused the fire with water, the shed had collapsed into a pile of smoking ruins.
Villagers always responded quickly to the threat of fire. The square where the market had been just an hour before was now packed with anxious homeowners.
The fire was out, the neighbor’s goat shed was a smoking ruin, but no one was hurt.
Elin stood in the middle of the angry crowd. Mr. Hansen was irate. Clutching a large birch switch, he ordered his grandsons to hold her still. Elin felt their fingers grasping her arms as she was caught fast.
Chapter 11
Villagers always responded quickly to the threat of fire. The square where the market had been just an hour before was now packed with anxious homeowners.
The fire was out, the neighbor’s goat shed was a smoking ruin, but no one was hurt.
Elin stood in the middle of the angry crowd. Mr. Hansen was irate. Clutching a large birch switch, he ordered his grandsons to hold her still. Elin felt their fingers grasping her arms as she was caught fast.
A low rumble of a manly voice and the crowd parted. A look from Gunnar and the men holding her immediately let go. “I am taking my wife home.”
“Now, look here, you aren’t from around here, but in this village someone.burns the place down gets punished.” “No one punishes my wife but me.” Mr. Hansen was not mollified. “She needs to be stripped to the skin and have stripes laid on her back. ” This made the rest of the crowd nervous, they were angry at her carelessness, but this was harsher than they had bargained for. Gunnar took a step towards the angry barrel maker, “No one touches my wife. She will be thoroughly punished, by her husband.. If you insist on a public whipping,” he pulled his shirt over his massive frame, “then it will have to be me.” Most of the village felt that it was proper that a wife be punished privately by her husband. The idea of a girl they had all watched grow up stripped and scarred was a discomfiting gone. Gunnar took hold of Elin’s wrist and led her out of the crowd. Mr. Hansen followed after them waving the whip “It needs to be a proper chastisement! See to it.” Gunnar turned around, “I will see that it is done properly. I won’t leave scars on her back, but you can be certain she won’t be sitting comfortably for a good long while.” Elin had no doubt that he meant it. She blushed from her hair down to her bosom. This seemed to both reassure and amuse the villagers. Gunnar continued “I will rebuild your goats hut tomorrow.” The feeling in the square had lightened considerably, most of the men were laughing and several pointed out that Mr. Hansen would do well out of the catastrophe since his goat hut had been very old and barely upright. They trudged down the road towards their home. It was a wide lane and there was not far to go from the village to the forge by the river. Elin peeking sideways trying to gauge her giant husband’s mood. His jaw was set in a grim line. He let go of her wrist to unlatch the gate to their yard. Seeing her chance, Elin dashed away from him and ran towards the woods. She knew she couldn’t outrun him, so as soon as she saw a tree that she thought would hold her, but not him, she frantically pulled herself up into it. She had to go higher than she would have liked, but she wanted to be sure that he couldn’t follow her. Gunnar stood furiously at the foot of the tree. “You are making things worse for yourself.” Elin said nothing, closing her eyes and clinging to the swaying branches. A group of boys had followed them and now clustered around the blacksmith offering advice. “Want me to throw rocks at her?” one asked. Gunnar, thankfully, would not allow that. “Well, lads,” he said cheerfully, “I have had enough of being humiliated by my wife for one day.,” “Good, so leave!” Elin retorted. He turned to his receptive audience, “Do you think I’m going to leave? Just let her stay up there forever? Shall I send up baskets of snacks and maybe pillow and blanket? Let her just live in a pear tree?” A cheer from the boys made it clear that they knew he would do no such thing. He hauled himself up into the tree. An ominous cracking and a branch broke under his feet, but he grabbed another in time. He could not go as high into the tree as Elin had. He could however get high enough in it that he could grab her ankle. Elin clutched harder a
nd tried to kick him away. “Stop that,” he growled. “You will fall and get hurt.” “You are going to hurt me anyway, so what do you care?” “I am going to punish you, not break your neck.” “I am not sure there’s a difference.” He tenaciously gripped her ankle, “Then you are a silly girl.” The branch she was on gave a sharp crack. Elin gasped and threw her arms around the tree trunk. afraid she was about to plummet to the ground. Gunnar placed her foot onto the branch underneath it. “Here. Put your weight here,” She didn’t want to trust him, but she had no choice. As soon as she stepped down nearer him, he pulled her to him. She tried to slap his hands away, but she was too nervous to really tussle with him midair. Her plan was to make a dash for it as soon as she hit the ground. Gunnar had anticipated this. He stepped down and before her feet were near the dirt she was tossed over his shoulder. The mob of boys laughed and cheered. Elin managed to get a few good digs into his ribs with her toes and got a sharp smack to the upturned bottom for her efforts. “Go along home, lads. I can take it from here.” Pummeling his back with her fists didn’t invoke a reaction. She pressed her face against his ribs and bit him as hard as she could. This did get a reaction. He swung her down so that he held her in front of him. His stride didn’t slow down at all. “I have never met a woman who needed a red-hot spanking more.” “if you think I am going to let you spank me, you are delusional.” “If you think I need your cooperation you are sillier than I thought you were.” He unlatched the door and strode through with her still over his shoulder. Turning to kick the door shut, he kept a tight grasp on his wriggling captive. A quick glance around the room and he decided the bed was the best place to spank her. She got a good kick in right below his ribs right before he unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. Elin scrambled to dodge him and escape. He caught her by the shoulders and swung her around to face him. “Now, stop that. right now.” “No,” she yelled, trying to dart away. “You are not going to spank me.” He gave a chuckle which infuriated her. She punched him in the belly, but he didn’t even seem to notice, “Don’t laugh at me,” Elin was suddenly on the verge of tears. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, “I am not laughing at you. But you are thinking you can outfight me is a little ridiculous.” She was fighting to control her quivering lip,” You are not going to spank me.” She blinked, terrified that she would be betrayed by big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yes, I am. And trust me, I will make a good job of it too.” “I thought you loved me.” Now she had made him angry, “Don’t you say that. Don’t you dare. Would you really rather get your dress taken down and have that jackass Hansen whip your back until it scars?” The answer to that was no, she would not. She tried one more time to yank herself away from his grasp, and in response found herself face down over his lap. Kicking and scratching and squirming did her no good. “I am not going to wrestle you,” he said. “Well, I might wrestle you!” she retorted, trying and failing punch him near his kidneys. With a resigned sigh, he scissored one of his legs over the back of hers and grabbed her right wrist and pinned it into the small of her back. “You are being impossible!” he scolded her, tossing her skirts up over her shoulders. Elin couldn’t even twist very much, he had her held fast. The first slap was to the roundest part of her bottom and made her shriek. He ignored her and continued to spank her hard and fast. Determined not to cry she clamped her lips shut, and vowed to not give in. Her pale skin became hotter under his strong hand. She flailed her left arm around, but it did her no good. “Now, listen to me,” he rested a hand where her bottom curved into her thigh. “No.” Fine, he would stop trying to talk. The sound of the spanking ricocheted around the walls of the small house. Her flesh quivered under his hand. She yelped with every smack but held herself rigid. He paused, “Elin, snow dove, yield. Just yield, and this can be over.” She buried her face into the covers on the bed and bit down to not make a sound. He moved lower onto her thighs and blistered them with stinging slaps of his fingers. “Here,” he said, helping her up, and trying to pull her onto his lap. She yanked herself away threw herself down on the bed as far away from him as she could manage. Gunnar bolted to his feet and stomped to the door, he wrenched it open with such ferocity that the door came off the hinges. He tossed it aside, “I’ll fix that as soon as I’m done building a goat shed” he said sarcastically. Angrily, over his shoulder he called, “Try not to burn our house down.” As soon as he had left Elin gave herself over to the tears gathered behind her eyes. She sobbed into the covers. She felt sorry for herself. She was humiliated, and her bottom was throbbing. With no door to block the sound, her crying followed Gunnar as he paced around his forge. He turned back. Quietly he knelt beside the bed and stroked her back. After a few moments she dove into his arms and buried her face into his chest. He murmured comforting things into her hair. This only made her cry harder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean it to happen.” “I know you didn’t. I couldn’t let someone else punish you,” he pressed a finger under her chin and insisted that she look him in the face. “I couldn’t risk someone actually hurting you.” “That spanking really hurt,” she said ruefully rubbing her backside. “I am sorry, you have to go build that drunk old man a new goat shed.” He shrugged his shoulders, “That doesn’t matter. I’ll do it tomorrow.” She pressed her lips into his neck and in a very small voice whispered, “Do you still love me?” “Oh sweetheart, of course I do. You are my wife.” “Does that mean you are just stuck with me?” He had to resist his urge to laugh, recognizing that although silly, her fear was genuine. . “No. I do not mean that. I mean that I am blessed to have you as my very own.” “Thank you for not leaving me there. I’m a little afraid of Mr. Hansen.” “I will never desert you. Never. You needn’t fear anyone.”
Her Gilded Firebird: Book Three in the Norse Warriors series Page 5