“Aye! Aye!”
Even the women yelled to kill Helga.
Laren waited until they quieted again. “All of you are right, in a sense. The warrior didn’t spit Helga on his sword. He walked up to her, stared down at her, and spoke softly, very softly, strange words that even she had never heard. It sounded to the king like a strange benediction. The warrior’s voice was so very smooth and steady. He raised his hand over her head, just held his hand there. She didn’t move, didn’t say a word. It was as if she were turned to stone. In the next instant, she began to fade away, growing dimmer and dimmer until naught remained but an armlet of solid gold that suddenly fell to the floor, thudding loudly. No one said a word, even her husband, Fromm.
“The king once again told the others to leave and so they did, grateful that they hadn’t been made to disappear like Helga. The Viking warrior walked back to the king and Ninian. He said, ‘I have gained my freedom now. I will return to you, Ninian, but as a man. I will still guard you, but it will be with a mortal’s life and a mortal’s strength. Look for me, Ninian, for I will come back.’
“With those words, the Viking warrior, just like Helga, paled into nothingness, at last simply clear air against the whitewashed wall.”
Laren raised her hands and said finally, “It is over.”
“But did the Viking warrior return as he promised?”
Laren grinned toward Merrik. “Aye, he will return, and he will protect Ninian.”
When Merrik lifted the woolen blanket and eased down onto the box bed beside her, he said, “Are their names really Helga and Ferlain?”
“Aye.”
“I am the Viking warrior.”
“Aye, you are.”
“Why didn’t Taby say anything?”
“I told him not to.”
“Ah. Do you truly believe it is Helga behind your abduction?”
“I don’t know. Her dislike of Taby and me was the most obvious. The husbands aren’t quite as stupid as I made them out to be, or as innocent. Fromm is a huge man, ugly and vicious. Cardle is weak-chinned with stooped shoulders. He whines when he doesn’t get his way. No two men could be more unalike than they.”
“I will see, won’t I?”
“Aye, we will see together, Merrik.”
He held silent, frowning into the darkness. “Nay, you will remain here at Malverne. It is now your home, your responsibility. Besides, I would keep both you and Taby safe. It was my vow to you.”
“Nay, I must come with you. You do not know these people. I do. I could protect you. We will leave Taby here.”
“You will obey me, Laren. You are my wife. You will obey me. I do not need your protection.”
“Stubborn man,” she said under her breath, but knew he’d heard her. Before he could reply, she rolled over to him and grabbed his face between her two hands. She kissed him, missing his mouth, then finding it in the darkness, kissing him hard until he parted his lips, and she slipped her tongue within to find his and feel the warmth and sweetness of him.
“You think to seduce me,” he said, his voice bemused, for she was innocent, yet she had no thought to hide from him, to play the coy maid, or allow him alone to direct their lovemaking.
“Aye, of course I do. Now be quiet. I love how you taste, Merrik.”
He smiled and she felt the softening of his mouth against her lips. “You won’t change my mind, Laren, no matter what you do.”
“This I do for myself,” she said, and came over on top of him, her loose hair spilling around their faces, an erotic veil that made Merrik quake beneath her. She was still wearing a linen shift, but it didn’t remain on her for very long. He stripped it over her head, then felt the soft weight of her body on top of him, her breasts pressing against his chest, her legs atop his, his sex hard against her woman’s flesh. And she was kissing him all over his face, her tongue lightly touching his ears, her fingers a light whisper over his brows, his forehead, his nose. Then she began to move over him as she kissed him and he laid his palms flat over her hips and pressed her down hard against him even as he thrust upward. He moaned and she caught the warmth of the sound in her mouth and parted her legs.
He thought he couldn’t hold on much longer. His hands were all over her now, tangling in her hair, pulling her back so he could kiss her breasts.
He rolled over atop her, coming up to catch his breath, for surely if he didn’t, he would spill his seed on the woolen blanket and not deep inside her. His chest heaved and he shook with his need to come into her, but he held himself still, aware finally that she’d stopped squirming against him and was lying there beneath him, waiting, wanting him. He drew her legs up and brought his mouth down to her, his fingers tightening on the soft flesh of her thighs, knowing vaguely that she would be bruised, but not caring, for she was arching upward, and keening softly into the darkness, calling out his name, again and again, and the wanting in her voice, the urgency and fervor, made him feel things he’d never before known existed.
He gently closed his hand over her mouth when her cries erupted from her throat, giving her the freedom to yell if she wished to without the others in the outer chamber hearing her.
And when he was stroking her with his mouth, easing her and calming her, she was tugging at his shoulders, urging him upward, and he came up to his knees and then guided himself into her. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her, the smallness, the eagerness of her to bring him closer and nearer to her.
