“Just her name.All femaleoxen are called Dagsauga in my country, or Smjorbolli.”He pausedas if struggling for the Latin words, then said in Cai’s ownlanguage, “Daisy.Buttercup.”
Cai gave a snort of laughter.“Vikingraiders call their oxen Buttercup?”
“No.Viking farmers.Weonly raid in season, and then we tend our homes and crops, just asyou do.So that takes care of the little heifer.What are younaming the bull?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.He’s just a farm beast—he’ll go to market when he’sweaned.”
“Still, you should namehim.It—”
“Yes, I know.It bringsdown the spirit on him.Well, we’ll call him Yarrow, then, if thatisn’t too ordinary.”
“No.Very suitable.”Fengave Dagsauga an encouraging pat.Then he rested his hands on hiships and looked around him into the barn’s golden shadows.“It’slate.Will you be missed in church?Or the dormitoryhall?”
Why are you asking?The words burned onCai’s tongue.He had kept his distance.Yes, he and Fen had beenbusy, but there had been times, solitudes.Fen had made no move.Itwas one thing, Cai supposed, to seize a man after a storm, or on awild island with no one to care for but the gulls.“No.I toldAelfric I’d be out here all night, making sure the calves are safe.And you?”
“I told him I was going outto hunt.”
Cai swallowed.They both stilldeferred to Aelfric, paid lip service to his authority, and so keptwithin the terms of their uneasy truce.He wasn’t here now, and thenight—for both of them—was secured.“Hadn’t you better get on withit, then?”
Fen raised one finely marked brow.“With what?”
“With your hunt.While themoon is still high.”
“Caius…”
It was low and soft, a plea not to beteased further.Cai surrendered, letting go a breath.“Sorry.Ithought maybe we had to be shipwrecked first.”
“Everything’s changed here.You’ve been busy.I didn’t wish to…disturb yourbalance.”
“My balance?”Cai chuckled.“What happened to the man who knocked me onto my arse in thedunes?”
“Still here.”
“And offered to do to methings I was stupid enough to refuse?”
“Stilloffering.”
The barn was large, extending offbehind Dagsauga’s stall into deep, fragrant spaces.The year’sfirst cut of hay was loosely piled and drying all around, mufflingfootsteps to silence.Cai unhooked the lantern from the overheadbeam.He held it ahead of him and concentrated on that, onfollowing his own light.Lupine shadows leapt and crouched allround him—some his own, others cast by the man moving noiselesslybehind him, and soon Cai couldn’t tell which was which, and fearclashed with the arousal mounting inside him.Why was he afraid?Hecould handle himself—handle Fen if he had to.He’d done it before.Their very first meeting had been a fight, and Cai hadwon.
He would lose against the man restoredto health.The conviction of that made every tiny hair on hisshoulders and spine rise, as if Fen were already touching him,brushing his palms down his naked back.
In the barn’s furthest reach, he easedthe lantern into a niche in the stonework.Then he turned.Fen wasstanding a few feet away from him, waiting.A cassock was asimpractical for hunting as for delivering cattle, but for Aelfric’ssake he and Cai had conscientiously worn them, traveller’s andraider’s clothing folded away out of sight, since their return.Either Fen was getting used to his or had found one that fitted himbetter.He wore it with an insouciance that was anything but holy.He was beautiful.
Cai cleared his throat, which seemedsuddenly full of golden motes of dust from the hay.He said, dryly,“What are you waiting for?”
“Did it ever occur to you, AbbotCai—these things I could do to you, these things you want and fearso much...”
No use in denial.“What aboutthem?”
“They are things that youcould do to me.”
Cai’s lips parted.He felt allexpression drain from his face, and suspected that he looked aboutas bright as Yarrow, and twice as astonished.Fen was holding out ahand to him.Cai ignored it.He closed his eyes—strode blind andbruising-hard into his arms.
The freedom offered was all Cai hadneeded.Spectral thoughts about greater or lesser men, comparativephysical strength, evaporated in Fen’s heat as they landed in thehay.Cai wasn’t sure who had knocked who onto his arse this time,and it didn’t matter—he clutched Fen’s shoulders, rolledluxuriantly with him, letting the pent-up wildness surge and surge.Fen gave it back to him, thrusting to meet each wave.The heavycassock fabric caught and restrained them, but even the friction ofthat was good, a sweet torture Fen brought to an end by hauling upCai’s hem and crushing their bodies together, flesh to engorgedflesh.Too hot a day for the linen-strip undergarment—Cai’s shaftplunged straight between Fen’s thighs, the place where lean musclewould grind hard enough to bring him over in a second.
“No!”Cai gasped.“Not likethat.Do them to me—the things you said.”
Fen went still.Their struggle hadleft Cai on top, and Fen gazed at him, hands securely spread andholding his backside.The flickering lamplight met the amber firesin Fen’s eyes.“Your choice.”
