Soma pulled Gressa to her feet and away from the other woman. Magga seized the opportunity to drive her fist into Gressa’s stomach.
Gressa had all she was willing to take for the sake of not looking guilty for fighting. Her foot lashed out and landed in Magga’s sternum. She pushed as hard as she could, hoping to break her breastbone. Magga fell to her knees holding her chest, gasping. Soma’s blade had already torn a fine line along Gressa’s skin. Gressa reached over her shoulders and estimated where Soma’s eyes were. She thrust her thumbs into them, gouging them until Soma released her hold. Gressa wasted no time swiping Soma’s knees out from under her. When she landed on the ground, Gressa picked her head up and smashed it against the ground twice.
Two more women Gressa did not recognize joined in the fight to replace the injured Soma and Magga. Gressa was prepared when they launched themselves at her and sidestepped their attack so they collided into one another.
“What in Odin’s name is going on here?” bellowed Ivar as he approached with Strian, Rangvald, Erik, Leif, and Bjorn.
None of the women spoke.
“Very well. It doesn’t take much to understand what happened. I take it you,” he swept his arm in a wide arc to encompass the women who now huddled together, “thought to welcome Gressa home by mauling her. Damn it, the woman has been gone for ten years. How could she have wronged any of you, let alone so many? She’s been here all of twelve hours!”
Ivar finished with a roar as he made his way to where Gressa stood staring at him, her gaze shifting to Strian often. She did not know how to interpret the look on his face. There was a dangerous anger percolating, but Gressa was not sure who they directed it at.
Strian was the first of the men to catch sight of the fight. He recognized Gressa immediately. If her clothing had not given her away, her dark brown hair would have. He had pointed to the growing crowd and dashed to help Gressa. It was Erik and Leif who kept him from intervening.
“If you rescue her now, you will only make it worse. They will accuse her of weakness, of being your concubine, of stealing you away from the eligible women who have tried to catch your attention. If you butt in, you will seal her fate.”
Strian stared at Leif as he spoke. He could not believe his best friend wanted him to ignore the danger his wife faced. One word broke through the fog.
“She can’t be my concubine if she’s already my wife,” Strian spat.
“You may think that, but neither Gressa nor the other women recognize that anymore.” Bjorn cut in.
“Look. Ivar is going to intervene,” Rangvald nudged Strian.
The depth of his exhale of relief left his body feeling hollow. He pushed through the crowd that now had both women and men ogling and gossiping. He made his way to Gressa but did not reach out for her. He was not sure how she would react.
Gressa looked at Strian and wanted to burst into tears of relief that he had finally come to her side. She had seen him standing with the other men as the fight finished. She did not understand how he could watch her being assaulted. The rejection fueled her anger and strength as she took on the women she still did not recognize. Strian coming to her as soon as Ivar ended the fight gave her some relief.
Strian extended his hand to her and waited a moment before saying, “I think you’ll need a bath before we go to the wedding. We haven’t much time.”
Gressa swallowed her gasp as she placed her hand in Strian’s. He helped her balance as the mud tried to swallow her shoes. They walked hand in hand in silence to the bathhouse.
“I don’t have any clothes,” Gressa murmured. “And I don’t want to turn around and go back. It’s already too humiliating.”
“I sent Freund, Freya’s cabin boy, to ask Lena to find clothes for you.”
“You already thought of that?”
“As soon as I saw you fighting. Freund was lurking while Bjorn went through the wedding sword ritual. He was very convenient.”
Strian pushed the bath house door open and stepped aside. He was prepared to wait outside until Gressa finished. She bit her bottom lip as she looked at the room filled with five large tubs. She looked forward to soaking in one of the tubs, but she had a more immediate concern. She looked over her shoulder at Strian.
“I need your help.” She watched as his nostrils flared, but he remained silent. “I can’t get these clothes off on my own. My ribs hurt too much.”
Strian straightened at the mention of an injury. Gressa had never voluntarily confessed to being in pain. Not in all the years he had known her, and he had seen her injured more than once. Strian scooped her into her arms, and she squeaked as he carried her inside before setting her down on one of the wooden benches. He added a ladleful of water to the smoldering rocks and waited for the steam to rise. Once he was satisfied, he turned on the tap that would fill the tub with water from the natural hot spring that ran below the building. He returned to Gressa who stood. He eased her back to the bench and went down on one knee to peel away her shoes. He watched her face as his hands skimmed her ankles. When she did not pull away, he ran a fingernail along the sole. Her foot twitched, but she did not move again. Instead she gazed at him, their eyes locked. They both remembered a time when Strian did much the same thing except it was to consummate their marriage. He had been gentle and kind to her on their wedding night, just as he was being now. Except they both knew it would not culminate in the same pleasure.
Strian stood and helped ease the tunic over Gressa’s head. She hissed as she raised her right arm, and Strian could see where a livid bruise was already forming. She stood and pushed her pants off her hips. Strian could not keep from staring. Even with the bruises, her body was the most magnificent and seductive sight he had ever beheld. The need to join his body with hers felt as though it was an all-consuming quest. He ran the back of his fingers along her arm until he could feather them over the bruises. He wanted to pull her against him and bury his head in her neck as he branded her with his kisses. Gressa shivered, but it was not from being cold. She felt raw and exposed being undressed while Strian remained in his clothes, but the touch of his fingers on her skin brought her need crashing back to the forefront of her mind.
“They hurt, but I think nothing is broken,” she murmured as Strian’s scent of pine and musk invaded her senses. She placed a hand over his heart, waiting to feel the steady thud. Her fingers seemed to be on their own quest as she slid them up to his collar and into the hair at his nape. She rose onto her toes and tilted her head in invitation. She would not kiss him, fearing rejection, but she would give him the opportunity to take what she offered.
Strian’s arms wrapped around Gressa as he swooped in for the kiss she offered. Their kiss was a firestorm of need, hurt, memories, and familiarity. Gressa pressed her body against Strian as his hold tightened. She was sure he would fuse their body into one if he could; however, there was only one way to do that. She used the hand not tangled in his hair to pull at the laces to his leather pants. Once they were loose, her hand curled around his length. The heat coming from his cock singed her as she stroked him. Her moan was one of pure pleasure, holding him as his tongue filled her mouth. She stroked his tongue with her own in the same rhythm that her hand pleasured him. She found the position frustrating and awkward with Strian’s pants still over his hips. She released his hair long enough to use both hands to push his pants low enough to reveal his muscular backside. Her fingers bit into the taut flesh as her other hand resumed its mission.
Strian was sure his vision would be blurred if he could have kept his eyes open long enough to see. The feel of Gressa’s hand on him was bringing him to release far faster than he wanted. A small voice niggled at the back of his mind warning him that she would regret this later. It screamed that he should stop before they went too far. But his heart and his body were not strong enough to deny the craving that grew. He wanted to be fully reunited with his wife. He wanted what they once had, and he knew her body, if not her heart, wanted the same.
“I need more,” they both whispered.
A lopsided smile on Strian’s face took Gressa’s breath away. She had dreamed of that smile night after night while they were apart. It was one she knew he reserved only for her. He lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist before walking to the nearby wall. Her back pressed against it as he slid into her.
