In a flash, he was upon her, swooping her off the ground and into a swirling, dizzying embrace. As always, a current coursed through her at his tantalizing touch. “By the gods, I’ve missed you!” He planted her back down amongst the wildflowers, crushed her against him, and swallowed her lips with his own. “I reek of sweat and the sea…” he whispered into her open mouth, sharing her hitched breath. “I want you to bathe me. And let me show you how much I’ve missed you.” He summoned his chamberlain Jofroi, who had come down from the castle to greet Skårde. “Prepare a bath in my private chambers. Send up a platter of fruit, meat, bread, and cheese. And a pitcher of mead. I will spend the afternoon alone with my wife.” Ravenous hunger blazed in Skårde’s fierce, feral eyes as he took her by the hand, waved away the swarm of scurrying servants, and led her up the hill.
Gyda greeted him at the castle entrance. “Welcome home, Skårde!” She laughed as he bent down to hug and kiss her, his blond beard tickling her crinkled cheek. “We’ll fix a feast for your crew tonight in the Great Hall—and a private meal for us in the solar.” She shot a knowing glance at Ylva, her warm smile conveying her understanding that they wanted to be alone. “I’ll take care of everything. See you tonight. Enjoy your time together.” With a swoosh of swishing skirts and a clinking of keys, Gyda slipped down the hall toward the castle kitchen.
Skårde guided Ylva through the crowded foyer, shooing away the approaching attendants and knights who obviously wanted to greet him, pulling her by the hand toward the stairwell. He conducted her up the stone steps to the second floor of the castle, down the hall to the last door on the right where Norhild and Eydis stood waiting inside Ylva’s private room.
“Thank you both, but I won’t be needing any assistance. Please help Gyda and Dagny with preparations for tonight’s feast.” Ylva waited until the two servants disappeared, then followed a restless, eager Skårde through her bedroom, across the antechamber where her herbs, elixirs, gemstones, and charms lined the wooden shelves, into his adjacent private chamber.
On a wooden table along the wall, Jofroi placed a platter offering an appetizing array of ripe melon, soft cheese, fresh bread, and cold roast pork with a pitcher of mead and two pewter goblets. Several male servants poured water from steaming cauldrons into a large oval wooden tub atop a shaped limestone base in a corner of the room. Attendants added fresh lavender, whose soothing floral fragrance filled the balmy air. While servants assembled the herbal soap, antler comb, and fresh linens for drying, Jofroi helped Skårde remove his soiled linen tunic, trousers, leather boots, and belt, which the attentive chamberlain retained for proper cleaning.
Once the tub was full and everything was ready, a gloriously naked Skårde dismissed Jofroi and the servants.
Alone at last, he stood beside the steaming tub, staring at her with unabashed lust, hislimbs visibly quavering with longing.
Ylva’s appreciative eyes roved over his scarred, magnificent body.
The jagged thunderbolt tattoo and ragged scar blazed across his expansive chest, amidst the dark blond hair which covered his sculpted muscles and trailed down his sinewy waist. Under her admiring gaze, his hardened body stood at attention for her, undeniably eager for her touch or her warm mouth. She longed to kiss every inch of him, tracing her tongue over his tattoo and down the tempting trail.
He grinned wolfishly, as if he could read her thoughts. “After I wash away the grime, you may do whatever you wish.” Slinking into the inviting tub, he slipped under the scented water and emerged with an audible sigh of pleasure. “Ah…the warmth feels good.” He leaned back in the tub and smiled at her with inviting, intoxicating eyes. “Come, wife. Wash me.”
Heart fluttering, legs shaking with desire, she knelt at the head of the tub and started with his thick blond hair. She soaped his long locks into a rich, luxurious lather with lavender and mint scented herbal soap, massaging his scalp with her fingernails.
His guttural moans sent waves of want straight to her aching loins.
After rinsing the suds from his hair, she lathered his beard, soaped up his neck, shoulders and back, washing and massaging the muscles of his arms down to his hands. One by one, she lovingly cleansed and caressed each of his fingers, delighting in his contented moans.
She switched to his feet, concentrating on every one of his toes, working her way up his legs as she washed and massaged his muscled thighs. Removing her hands from the water, she lathered his chest hair, running her hands down his taut stomach, sliding her soapy, groping hands between his twitching legs.
Skårde leaned his head back against the tub and groaned as she finally grasped his erect shaft. But instead of letting her pleasure him, as she’d intended, he stopped her hand, stood up, and poured a pitcher of water over his head, rinsing away all the suds.
Eyes aflame, he stepped out of the tub, staring at her breasts through the sodden bodice of her soaked dress as he hastily dried off. He stepped down from the elevated base of the tub, onto the pinewood floor. Tossing the drying cloth aside, he moved forward and helped Ylva out of her wet, clinging clothes.
As she stood nude before him, his ravenous mouth claimed hers, his tongue parting and penetrating her lips while he grasped her bare hips and pulled her firmly against him. He suckled her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, making her swoon and whimper with want.
He led her to his feather bed, laid her gently upon the downy mattress, and spread her legs wide, feasting on her exposed flesh with a savage hunger in his fiery eyes. “I longed for this every day at sea. I cannot wait to taste you.” Soft, insistent lips suckled and swallowed her sensitive folds, the tip of his tongue tracing her delicate nub, driving her wild with mounting tension. “I must have you,” he groaned, sliding his calloused hands under her bottom, tilting her hips up and penetrating her with a full, deep thrust. In rhythm with the thunderous crash of the waves against the chalky cliff far below, he pounded into her, taking them both over the edge as they shuddered and shattered together, entwined in each other’s limbs.
Easing his weight onto an elbow, he leaned down to brush her lips her softly, sighing in ecstatic relief. “Odin’s eye, I missed you.” He covered her face with a light flutter of fleeting kisses. “I love you so much, Ylva. It feels good to come home.To you.”
As he nuzzled her neck and murmured in her ear, Ylva’s heart overflowed with love and gratitude. The trio of goddesses had answered her prayers. Skårde had safely come home. And, cocooned in his sinewy arms, her long legs wrapped around his hips, she felt blissfully happy and truly loved. Inside and out, body and soul.
“I’m famished.” He snarled like a growling wolf, rising from the bed and plodding across the room to inspect the platter of food.
She slipped out of bed and came up behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she kissed his broad, muscled back. “Smells good. Your clean skin…and the fresh fruit.”
He handed her a wooden plate, serving her some of the melon. “Would you like somecheese and nuts?” When she nodded, he placed a slice of soft white cheese beside the melon on her plate and spooned some cinnamon and honey laced chopped walnuts on top. “Pork and bread?” She nodded again, a wave of desire flowing through her when he dipped his finger in the pot of honey and stuck it into her mouth. As she sucked it, she watched the effect it had on him, sublimely content when his eyes rolled back in pleasure.
“I want to suck more than your finger…” She slowly and deliberately licked the honey from her lips, soaking up the lust and love blazing in his brilliant blue eyes.
He kissed the honey from her lips. “Let’s eat first. And have each other for dessert.”
“Sounds perfect.” She accepted the plate he had prepared for her and watched as he poured the goblets of mead, handing one to her. “Thank you, husband.” Thinking how much she loved to say the word, she crossed the room, set the chalice down on the bedside table, and crawled onto the bed. Still nude, she sat cross legged on the bed, smirking as she noticed how he couldn’t take his eyes off the pink flesh between her open thighs.
With a lusty grin, he groaned, “With you sitting like that, I don’t know how long I can last.”
She laughed and patted the bed beside her. “Come, let’s eat together. And make love again when we’ve finished.”
He sliced open some barley bread, spread it with cheese and nuts, topped it with slices of cold roast pork, and poured honey over the meat. Adding a couple wedges of fresh orange melon on the side of his plate, he came over and sat down beside her to eat.
They spent the rest of the glorious, golden afternoon in the soft, sumptuous bed.
