Steinn Page 7

  Still he kissed her, slowly, his tongue exploring the shape of her lips, her mouth, stroking her teeth.

  And then they were dancing, a grinding, hip-thrusting rhythm that tore groans from each of them. The noises were thick and throaty, and Gladys wished she could bottle them and listen to them again.

  Her hands were on his tight arse, exploring the shape, feeling the side indents of his buttocks each time he rode to full depth. She dug her nails into his flesh, imagining his arse cheeks to be ripe apples in the summer.

  He groaned and ground harder over her nub.

  She was going to overspill soon, the pleasure was becoming too much. It was going to be big and delicious, and she wanted it…now.

  She arched her back, clenched her pussy around his shaft, and drove her tongue into his mouth. A pounding release held her suspended for a blissful moment, then she gave in and spasmed around him. Ecstasy shot around her body, stealing her breath, her thoughts, her sanity. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she curled her toes.

  He was calling out in his own language. Deep, guttural words that tore from his throat and landed on her tongue. His arse, and every other muscle, had turned to granite as he tensed and spilled his seed.

  And then he stilled.

  So did she.

  Her skin was damp and tacky with sweat.

  So was his.

  Her pussy was still trembling.

  He gave a final shunt into her, then withdrew and flopped onto the bed at her side.

  Gladys stared up a the ceiling, blinking at the same speed her heart was going, which was fast, and making herself dizzy with it. She had to stop, force herself to close her eyes. Bright lights streamed over her eyelids from left to right as though she was twirling around and around.

  “That was good sex,” Steinn said.

  “Aye, it was.” She sighed and fell into the spinning sensation.

  They lay quietly, then, “Shut up,” Steinn commanded.

  “I…I didn’t speak,” she said, then yawned.

  “The damn birds. I wish they’d stop squawking so I can sleep.”

  9

  Steinn couldn’t open his eyes. If he did, it would make the pain in his head worse, he was sure of it. It was as though Thor had cracked his hammer over his crown.

  And where, for the love of Freya, was he?

  He was aware of the crackle of a nearby fire, and in the distance voices and a cockerel greeting the day.

  There was only one thing for it, he’d have to open his eyes.

  He cracked open the left.

  A low, dark ceiling.

  Then the right.

  More ceiling.

  Gingerly, he propped onto his elbows.

  Before him was a fire with a black pot over it. To the side sat a woman, wrapped in a grey woollen blanket.

  Gladys. His wife.

  He was in his new home.

  “Good morn to you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She glared at him.

  “I need steeped herbs.” He cleared his throat. “Get me some.”

  She stood and retrieved a mug. She ladled liquid from the pot into it. “Here.” She handed it to him.

  “My head.” He rubbed his brow. “What happened?”

  “I have no idea.”

  He studied her. Her face was ashen, and she had bags under her eyes. “Are you unwell?”

  “No, I am quite well.”

  She didn’t look it.

  “But—”

  “I am well, Steinn. I will collect eggs for breakfast. The bread is ready.”

  Food. Ja, that was what he needed. And lots of it.

  He nodded. “I thank you.”

  She glanced at his boots in the corner, then picked up her basket and left the room.

  Steinn stood, unfurling each bone in his back and hoping the cool air on his naked skin might revive him.

  It didn’t.

  With a groan, he reached for his trousers. After giving them a vigorous shake that did nothing for his pounding head but was necessary because of the Pict ants, he dragged them on.

  Sunlight was streaming through the open door, and with it came fresh air. He needed to fill his lungs with it, get rid of the cobwebs that had been spun in his body overnight.

  He reached for his boots then sat. He pulled on first the right, and then the left.

  “Odin’s balls!” he cried.

  A pain, like a lightning bolt, had seared fiercely through his big toe, his left foot, ankle, and up his leg.

  “What the…?” He tore the boot off and threw it to one side. He gripped his foot.

  Two small dots, red with pearls of blood, sat on the end of his toe.

  “Wife,” he shouted. “Get in here!”

  “What is it?” She was at the door holding her basket.

  “My boot…there is…” He stared at it lying on its side. From the end slithered a black-and-yellow rope. “There is a snake in it?”

  “No. There can’t be.” Her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of shock as the creature made its way to a stack of drawers in a dark corner of the room.

  “Do your eyes deceive you?” He pointed at it going from view.

  “But how did it get there?” She shook her head.

  “I don’t know. Crept in, I suppose.” He grimaced. “This forsaken place. First the ants, now this.” His foot was burning up, as though flames licked over it. The pain was sizzling up his lower leg.

  It wouldn’t kill him, he’d been bitten by a snake of those colours when he had been eighteen summers. It had hurt as though he’d been whipped, and his hand had turned into a round, shiny ball for a day where he’d felt sick and tired, but he’d survived.

  “Of all the…” He pointed at the drawers. “Be sure to stay away from there. I will get rid of it. I do not want you to be bitten and have this pain. It might be small but it is like the bite of a wolf.”

  “But, Steinn.” She set down the basket and rushed up to him. She kneeled before him and set her hand on his thigh. “I fear you will not get better. A snake bite will kill you.” Her eyes misted, and she bit on her bottom lip. “You are going to die.”

  He hated to see her so concerned and fearful of a future without him. He cupped her face and tried to soften the lines on his brow. “Do not fear. I am a Viking, remember. A snake will not send me to Valhalla.”

  “It won’t?” She frowned.

  “No, wife. It pains me, yes, but not to the point of death.”

  She stood, her jaw tense and her eyes no longer watery. “I didn’t know that.”

  “You do now.” He was squeezing his ankle, preventing the venom from spreading. “Now get me something, from the healer.”

  “Aye, of course.” She stood, gathered her gown, and strutted from the kitchen.

  He dropped his head back and blew out a breath, a wave of nausea adding to his misery. Ja, he remembered that from last time. But it would pass, and the healer would give him something for it.

  A flashback of the evening before slid through his mind. He glanced at the corner of the room, half expecting to see the pretty blue birds there, but of course, there weren’t.

  He frowned and tried to ignore the throbbing in his foot. A memory of tasting his wife’s cunny gave him the urge to lick his lips. He’d enjoyed her wetness on his tongue. And damn…yes, her tongue on him, too.

  Smiling, despite his pain, he remembered her pretty arse in the air as she’d sucked him. She’d been good, enthusiastic, and skilled.

  And then…then they’d fucked. A long, delicious fuck to the tune of the birds singing in the corner. Again, he glanced into the shadows. No birds. Which was good. They had got very noisy at one point.

  He rubbed his head. There’d been something very strange about the night before, a sensation he’d had on a few occasions when a neighbouring village in his homeland had elaborate feasts and added mind-enhancing herbs to mead.

  Was that what was in the powder Gladys had? The one she’d said would giv
e him strength? It was certainly something similar, though he didn’t know if it had given either him or her strength. What it had done was make them fly. Make them lustful for mating and added creatures into the room that hadn’t been there.

  He swallowed. There was a bitter taste of bile in his mouth. Shame the snake hadn’t been imaginary. That would have been helpful.

  Gladys sipped her drink and watched as Myrna treated Steinn’s wound.

  When she’d finished, she gave him ginger for his sickness and a ground potion for the pain. She ordered him to rest and for Gladys to feed him nourishing meals when he felt he could eat.

  “Of course I will,” Gladys had said, wondering if she’d get away with putting Satan’s bolete in a soup. Possibly, but she’d have to get out into the forest and find some first. That particular fungi was hard to source.

  Myrna left, and Gladys poured warm water into a tankard and stirred in honey and more ginger. “Drink.”

  Steinn took it. “I am sorry to give you this worry, but really, you mustn’t concern yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I can see that you are.” He touched the gap between his eyebrows. “You have a line here that always comes when you worry.”

  She rubbed the line he spoke of. “You have assured me you won’t die from the snake bite. Why would I not believe you?”

  “This is true. You must always believe me, your husband. I will not lie to you.”

  I need to find another way to get rid of him.

  She looked at the window, open to let in the spring air and help Steinn’s nausea. Still the forest beckoned. She was sure she’d get an idea there.

  “I am going for a walk, into the trees.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I must forbid it. I saw bear tracks yesterday, not far from here. Wolves, too. You are not to go alone.”

  “But I have been alone many times.”

  “Ja, I’m sure you have. But that was before you were my wife.” He supped his drink. “I do not wish harm to befall you.” He gestured to her with the mug. “For what would I do without you now?”

  “You’d be perfectly all right, the way I would be without you.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Last night, if I recall, you wanted me very much.”

  She scowled as irritation swarmed over her. Her recollection of their sex was hazy, but she remembered it had been good…too good.

  “I recall,” he went on, “how we pleasured each other with our mouths. How you took me into your cunny, and we fucked to the sound of the birds.”

  “There are no stupid birds.”

  “No, but there was…” He paused. “And a lot of your pleasure juice.”

  “You are a foul-mouthed pagan.”

  He laughed. “Perhaps, but you squirt when you claim your pleasure, the way I do.”

  Her cheeks flared. She’d always done that, had presumed it was normal.

  “Oh, do not be bashful, I like it. It tells me I have thoroughly satisfied my woman.”

  “You do not satisfy me.”

  “Your body does not lie, so there is no point denying it.” He frowned. “And why would you?”

  She huffed and snatched up her basket. There was no point talking to this disgusting Norseman. She stormed to the door.

  “Do not go into the forest, or you will be over my knee for a sound spanking.”

  “Dumb Viking,” she muttered.

  She’d show him that she knew the forest, that she was not a woman who could be given orders. Angus had never stopped her from foraging. In fact he’d encouraged it. How else would she have found the extra ingredients for them to enjoy?

  She stomped past several of the women in the village who were gossiping. When they called good day, she gave them a gruff response. What did they have to be so happy about? Like her, they had new, rough, demanding husbands. The situation was far from ideal; it was Hell.

  But not for her.

  She’d be free from Steinn before the day was out.

  She rounded the chief’s dwelling, strode past a shed of goats and a pile of straw, then out into the field.

  If she couldn’t kill him, she’d be better off getting eaten by bears or wolves. It would be an end to her misery.

  On and on she went, each step bringing with it a new thought, memory, and conviction. It angered her that sex with Steinn was incredible. That he’d made her…squirt.

  She shuddered at the word.

  Angus had been good, but never as wild and passionate as Steinn.

  Her new husband was so comfortable in his body, with his nakedness. And he took control of hers in a way she’d never imagined.

  A tremble ran up her spine as she thought of his big cock filling her, of his hot, hard, strong torso over hers.

  “I have to get rid of him.” She raised her eyes to the blue sky. “Help me, Father. Rid my home of this pagan who indulges in the sins of the flesh with such ease and is taking me on the same route. Deliver me, I beg you, from such a carnal life.”

  Before long, she came across the crevice she’d found previously. This time she was aware of it and didn’t nearly fall.

  Pausing, she looked around. There must be something she could use.

  But like the other clearings and streams she’d found, there was nothing of use apparent.

  Stepping up to the deep drop, the hole about three feet wide, she stared into the abyss. The low gurgle at the base echoed upwards, reminding her of a dog growling in the night, deep and throaty.

  It wouldn’t do for a dog or a human to fall down there. The rocky sides would give barely any grip. Death would be likely.

  Death.

  Human.

  Steinn.

  She glanced over her shoulder. If she could lure him out here. If she could get him to fall into this crack in the earth, he’d land right there in Hell where he belonged.

  She grinned and set to work, tugging branches from the surrounding area and laying them over the hole. She added more, and more. Nothing so thick that it might support his weight, but enough so it made the dangerous plunge invisible. Like part of the forest floor.

  Crack.

  She paused and looked up, a sixth sense warning her.

  She examined the shadows. Searching for a figure, human or beast, and eyes.

  Nothing.

  She continued her task, feeling heartened that she had a plan. A new plan that would not fail.

  The rustle of leaves underfoot.

  She straightened and gripped the dagger at her side. “Who is there?” Her heart thudded; her belly clenched. She was not alone. “Show yourself.”

  From the track she’d ventured down not long previously, a wide-shouldered figure appeared. He was walking slowly. He wore a headband, and the top half of his body was naked but for a leather strap tied about his right biceps. On his left side an axe hung from his belt, on the right a sword.

  Steinn.

  10

  Stein swallowed. The snakebite had left a bitter taste in his mouth that made him want to be sick…again. His swollen foot ached, though his sturdy boot was applying compression which had helped on the walk through the forest.

  When he’d spotted his wife heading into the shadows of the tree line—disobeying him—his first emotion had been anger, but that had quickly spun to fear. Apart from animals, there could still be marauding thieves and villains out there who would be happy to take advantage of a sweet and beautiful maiden like Gladys.

  That thought generated nausea also.

  So he’d dragged his boot on—gritting his teeth—threaded his belt around his waist. and loaded it with his weapons.

  The going had been tough, but Gladys’s tracks easy to follow. He’d paused at a pretty clearing to eat some dry ginger, as he’d been advised to by Myrna, then continued on his journey.

  Now he saw her, sunlight arrowing through the leafy canopy and basking her in its glow. She reminded him of a goddess with a regal tilt to her chin,
her flashing, intelligent eyes, and her feisty, independent spirit.

  His heart beat a little faster. It had not taken him long to fall in love, and he thanked the gods for his good fortune. This was the woman for him. They’d shown him that in every way they could.

  Now all he had to do was deal with her insistence on disobeying him and risking her safety.

  What would I do if something happened to her?

  “Wife!” He came to a halt.

  “What are you doing here?” She slammed her hands onto her hips.

  “I came for you. I ordered you not to enter the forest alone.”

  “You cannot tell me what to do.”

  “I can. I am your husband.” He banged his chest. “It is my right.”

  She frowned and glanced at the leaf-and-twig-strewn ground.

  “And it would serve you well to know that,” he said, stepping forward and trying his best to ignore the pain in his foot and a swell of bile rolling around his guts.

  She took a step backwards and locked her fingers together, at her chest.

  “Do not fear,” he said. “I will protect you.” He continued to walk. “Though you can expect a red arse when we return to our home.”

  “A red arse.”

  “Ja, you will go over my knee.” He kept walking. A bird to his right let out an alarm call, and a skinny tumble of water splashed onto some weathered brown-grey rocks. Likely it would be a torrent when the snows melted. “You will go over my knee and feel my displeasure at your actions on your bare rear.”

  “You will have to catch me first?”

  “What did you say?” He frowned.

  She took another step back. “You will have to catch me first.”

  “Woman.” He sped up, reached out for her, but as he did so, the ground gave way beneath him. He was standing on nothing. Thin air wrapped around his feet, his legs, his body. His stomach lurched, and his heart skipped a beat.

  He was falling into darkness, Gladys’s wide eyes and open mouth the last thing he saw before rock and earth.

  He reached out, his fingers scrabbling against mud and stone. Twigs and leaves were falling with him.

  The base of his good foot touched rock. He propelled himself forward and managed to gain purchase on a cold, damp tree root. Quickly, he used his other foot to stop the fall. Dirt showered down around him as he blinked through the dust.