Garth

by Sassa Daniels

  Taking a seat on a log, he beckoned his misbehaving wife over and pulled her down onto his lap. He arranged her so her hands touched the ground and she was forced to stand on her tiptoes, then he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “Scream as much as you want, meyla. I am going to whip your disobedient arse and then I’m going to fuck you senseless.”

  Her answering whimper told him all he needed to know. She wanted this as much as he did and, by the gods, he was going to give it to her.

  Ytha braced herself, but nothing could have prepared her for the intense sting of that vicious implement of Garth’s striking her bottom. She yelped and hopped from one foot to the other. She lifted her hands, wanting to try to rub away the burn, and realised why Garth had bound her.

  “Hold still,” Garth instructed before landing another blow.

  Ytha cried out and clenched her buttocks in her search for relief. There was none to be found. Fire spread through her flesh, and she could do nothing to stop it. She fought not to tense up when the rod whistled through the air once more, striking her hard at the top of her thighs. The screech that ripped from her throat was more animal than human.

  “Why am I punishing you?” Garth asked.

  “Because I disobeyed you.”

  “And will you do it again?”

  “No, never,” Ytha promised.

  “Good.”

  For a brief, foolish moment, she thought that was an end to it, but Garth delivered one stroke after another until she was crying and screaming like a child. Lying over his knee was humiliating, but more than that, it was desperately arousing. Each time he struck her, she was propelled forwards, and her most intimate parts rubbed his leg. She was soaking wet and she was sure he knew it.

  The wretched implement he’d fashioned landed yet again, across the full width of her buttocks. She moaned and writhed on his lap, desperate for relief from the sensual torture he was inflicting on her. Garth gave a knowing chuckle.

  “This really isn’t much of a punishment for you, is it?” he teased.

  “It is. It hurts so much,” she wailed. “Please, Garth, I’m sorry.”

  “I believe you, so I’m going to give you a reward for being such a good girl.”

  He slipped his fingers between her legs. His thumb brushed her little bud, and she squirmed with desire. Then he slid two fingers inside her. It was not enough. She tried to push against him, but Garth placed a hand on the small of her back to hold her steady.

  “Don’t be greedy,” he said firmly. “Your body belongs to me. I decide what to do with it.”

  He drove his fingers in and out of her tight channel and then stopped. Was he really going to abandon her like this? No, he was not. Gathering up some of her feminine moisture, he pushed three long, thick fingers into her, stretching her. She took a sharp breath inwards as he drove his fingers deep, preparing her for what was to come. When he took his hand away, she groaned in disappointment, but Garth moved quickly. He lifted her from his knee and positioned her on the ground, so her face was in the grass and her bottom was high in the air. A moment later, he was positioned behind her, and the tip of his cock glided through her wetness. Awareness suddenly struck Ytha, and she tensed up. They were out in the middle of the forest, for goodness’ sake.

  Seeming to realise she needed distraction, Garth reached around and fondled her breast. She gave a contented sigh and pushed back while he pinched her taut nipple. Suddenly he drove his turgid shaft to the hilt. Ytha gasped. He held himself still for a moment and then slowly pumped his hips, sliding in and out of her with expert strokes. Ytha quivered. At this angle, he hit a spot within her that seemed to bring every nerve alive. His cock rubbed her inner walls, and her entire body tingled with need. Garth drew back his hand and slapped her thigh, so hard it was almost too much to bear. Just as she was starting to get to grips with the sensations building inside her, he thrust harder and faster. As he pounded into her, he leaned forward and nipped her shoulder with his teeth. It was tough, animalistic. It was sheer bliss. He was marking her as his. Finally reaching the peak of ecstasy, she screamed his name. The last thing she heard was his shout of triumph before her eyes rolled back and she collapsed onto the grass.

  Garth collected her clothing and scooped her up into his arms. With her hands still bound, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their passion, she hung limply in his arms, and he carried her back towards their home. She pressed her face to his chest and breathed in the masculine scent of him. Her arse was sore, her body sated, and her heart full. Life didn’t get better than this.

  Something clattered on the ground outside. Garth’s eyes flew open, and he scanned the semi-darkness of their home. Flames danced in the fire pit, casting shadows on the wall, and Ytha sat on the edge of the bed, her body tense.

  “Someone is out there,” she whispered.

  Garth nodded and reached for his dagger. He gestured for Ytha to stay put and crept out into the night to find the source of the disturbance. With any luck, it was just that wolf she seemed to think was friendly, or some other animal searching for food. He made his way around to the side of the house, where movement revealed the figure of a man lurking in the darkness.

  “Vinr,” he called out.

  If it was one of his countrymen, he would know the word for friend and offer a response. This man said nothing but whirled around, the steel from his blade glinting in the moonlight. Garth moved quickly, knocking the knife from the intruder’s hand. The prowler struck out at him, but he dodged the blow and landed one of his own. The man came at him, but the fight was over in seconds. Catching his assailant off guard, Garth drove his dagger deep into his side and shoved him to the ground. The intruder was injured and would soon be dead, so there was little time to question him. Garth put his foot on the swine’s belly.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “What is your business here?”

  When the man didn’t answer, Garth pressed his foot down, and he screamed in agony.

  “Gold,” the man spluttered. “Viking gold.”

  He was about to ask him why he thought there would be gold here but he was distracted by a commotion from inside the house. Ytha! He ran back inside and found his wife -his naked wife - engaged in a tug of war over his box of jewellery with a man more than six inches taller than her and at least twice as heavy. Seeing the brute lash out, striking his woman across the face, Garth let out a furious roar and charged.

  His wife’s assailant turned and came at him. Together, the two men tumbled to the floor. They wrestled furiously with one another and the knife was knocked from Garth’s hand. Somehow the other man gained the advantage, rolling on top of Garth and putting his hands around his throat. His attacker squeezed his neck, and Garth tried to pull him off. He had almost prised his hands away when, suddenly, his attacker loosened his grip and tumbled to the floor. It took Garth a moment to realise his dagger was sticking out of the intruder’s back.

  In astonishment, he stared up at his wife. Her flaming hair cascaded down over her shoulders. Fury flashed in her eyes, and her cheekbone was swelling. She was like a goddess—his warrior goddess. He got to his feet and pulled her into his arms. The frantic thud of her heartbeat told him she was afraid, but as he looked down at her, it was her bravery that shone through.

  He led her back to the bed and urged her into a seated position. As much as he wanted to comfort her, the intruders had to be dealt with, and that could not wait.

  “There is another man lying wounded outside. I need to leave you for a while.”

  “Very well,” Ytha agreed, tilting her chin towards the intruder. “But get that swine out of my house.”

  Garth nodded and reached out to stroke her swollen cheek. She grimaced in pain, and he wished she had not killed the bastard who’d done that to her, so he could make him suffer a slow, agonising death. He stepped back and studied her carefully. She gave a nod of reassurance.

  “Barricade the door and let no one in but me,” he instru
cted.

  Grabbing hold of the intruder’s arms, he dragged the man out into the night to find Alarik and some of the others running towards him, weapons at the ready.

  “What’s going on?” Alarik asked.

  “My home was attacked. This one is dead, but another lies wounded at the side of the house.”

  “Who are they?” one of the other Viking warriors asked.

  “I have no idea,” Garth said, his jaw clenching tightly, “but I intend to find out.

  An hour or more passed before Garth returned. There were voices outside as he spoke to another man, or men, perhaps. She didn’t know what he had planned to do with the intruder’s body and, if she was honest, she wasn’t much interested. The man did not deserve an honourable burial. They could leave him out for the animals as far as she was concerned. When Garth knocked at the door, she ran and removed the heavy trunk that she’d dragged across it, to let him in. She had never bothered to bar the door against unwanted visitors, but now, she supposed, there would have to be some new measure of security. Lying on the outskirts of the village, their house was vulnerable. Any attack coming from the south would arrive here first.

  The moment Garth entered the room, she threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her to help her put her legs around his waist. They kissed fiercely as he took her to the bed. He sat and brought her down onto his lap, hugging her close. Then he tipped her back a little and examined her cheek.

  “It does not hurt so badly.” Her voice sounded odd because of the swelling, and she was sure he would see the lie for what it was. “I applied an ointment. I will look more myself in a day or so.”

  “I do not care about your appearance. I care only that you are safe.” Garth spoke with a vehemence that took her by surprise. “Why did you fight with the thief? If you’d let him take what he wanted, he would not have struck you.”

  “He was trying to take your things.”

  “They are nothing,” Garth said. “They are not important.”

  Ytha snorted. She had seen what was inside the box, and they were clearly precious items.

  “They were important because they belonged to you. I am your wife and will always defend what is yours.”

  Garth shook his head. “I believe that should be my line. Well, apart from the bit about being your wife.”

  Ytha laughed, the sound rumbling up from her belly, and then she groaned when her face throbbed once more. She looked at her husband and could see such concern in his eyes, she almost cried.

  “Who were our attackers?” she asked to distract herself from the swelling of emotion.

  “Men of Eanfrith’s who were not at his camp when we slaughtered the others. They intended to rob us blind and carry you off to sell into slavery.”

  “They could have tried,” Ytha said fiercely, “but I would have gutted the pair of them before allowing that to happen.”

  Garth threw back his head and laughed.

  “Again, you steal my line.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, Ytha, what am I to do with you?”

  “Love me, protect me.” She widened her eyes suddenly. “You called me Ytha.”

  “It is your name, is it not?”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t sure you knew that.”

  Garth gave her a funny glance, and it was clear he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “Of course I know your name. What do you mean?”

  “Since we married, you have called me little Pict, woman, meyla, and beiskaldi.” Garth had the grace to grimace at that one. “I do not think you have called me by my name.”

  “No, perhaps not,” Garth admitted. “I shall call you Ytha from now on, or perhaps, if you prefer, I will call you my love.”

  Ytha nodded enthusiastically. She had longed to hear such a term of endearment from his lips.

  “Only if you mean it.”

  “I do mean it,” Garth assured her. “I think I have loved you even before you threw that sealskin at me.”

  She wanted to believe that was true, but he had seemed so unhappy at their union. He had actually tried to set up camp outside rather than setting foot in her home—hardly the mark of a man in love.

  “But you were so reluctant to be with me.”

  “I admit, I thought we would make a bad match. I believed you to be cursed, and with my affliction…” He made a gesture towards his head that told her he was talking about the pains he suffered. “Well, you have seen how weak I am.”

  “Not weak,” Ytha protested when he set her down on the bed and rose to his feet. “You have a sickness, that is all.”

  His answering grunt signalled that the conversation was at an end. It would take time to get him to discuss how he felt with her in any real depth, but Ytha didn’t mind. She would chip away at his outer walls slowly until he felt comfortable sharing his innermost thoughts with her. She watched him bend to pick up the wooden box. He held it out for her to take.

  “These are for you.”

  She took the box and opened it. With great reverence, she ran her fingers over the exquisite pieces of jewellery. She could not accept these from him. She held the box out to him.

  “They are too precious. I cannot accept them.”

  Garth came down onto the bed beside her and put an arm around her shoulder.

  “I want you to have them. They are the most precious thing I have to give.”

  Understanding the sentiment behind his words, Ytha rested her head against him and sighed contentedly. He ran his fingers through her hair and began to tell her a story. He told her of the Valkyries who chose worthy warriors from the battlefield to enter Valhalla. As he spoke of brave men and battles, Ytha thought of what lay ahead of them. They, too, would face many battles, but together they would find great happiness. Garth might not know it now, but the jewels were not the most precious thing he had to give. That was growing, unseen, inside her belly, and would not make an appearance for another nine months. She closed her eyes and saw a beautiful baby boy with his father’s deep-brown eyes and fearsome scowl. A smile touched her lips. Life was good and the future bright. She could ask for nothing more.

  Epilogue

  “Are you sure the babe is coming?” Ailsa asked for what was surely the hundredth time.

  “I am sure,” Ytha said. This might be her first experience of childbirth, but she knew what the signs were. Her waters had broken, and her belly contracted every few minutes.

  Ailsa paced back and forth as Ytha sat on the bed and breathed deeply.

  “But how are you so calm?”

  “What is the sense in fretting?”

  Ailsa threw her hands up in the air as though completely at a loss for words. She turned to Ytha and shook her head in wonder.

  “Whatever magic it is Nessa taught you, please share it with me when the time comes.”

  A momentary sadness passed through Ytha’s mind when she thought about Nessa. The old woman had not survived the winter. Despite the village coming together to urge her to seek shelter with them, the old woman had been stubborn to the last. Seeming to know that her time had come, she’d wanted to die in the home she’d known for six decades. Ytha planned to name her child for her foster mother, but not this one, for he was a boy. Of that, she was certain. Surely a girl would not plague her mother with so many sleepless nights, kicking and punching at her belly. No, there was a little warrior in there, and it was about time for him to come out.

  A fierce contraction gripped her belly, and Ytha let out a groan. Ailsa ran to her side.

  “Help me onto all fours,” Ytha instructed.

  Ailsa steadied her while she moved onto her hands and knees, a more comfortable position for giving birth. The door opened, and yet again, Garth poked his head anxiously around it.

  “Get out!” Ailsa roared, and Garth beat a hasty retreat.

  “He can come in if he wants to.”

  “No, if he comes in here, then Thorolf will wish to be present at the birth of our child.”

 
“You don’t want that?”

  Ailsa shook her head, nodded, and shrugged, and Ytha laughed. Clearly, her sister was as undecided about whether to invite her husband to witness this intimate moment as she was. It was not done to have a man at the birth, but really, Ytha wouldn’t have minded. She was not one to follow convention, and, after all, Brandr had been there when Eithne had her twins.

  Another pain gripped Ytha. She grabbed a handful of the fur covering on the exquisite bed Garth had built for them and squeezed it tight.

  “Garth!” she shouted.

  Immediately, he raced into the house, coming straight to her side.

  “What can I do?”

  “Get between my legs,” Ytha instructed.

  “What?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. Did he really think she wanted to have sex with him now?

  “Hands out. Catch the babe,” she ordered tersely.

  Garth barely had time to scramble into position before Ytha gave an almighty push. The child slid from the birth canal, and her whole body shook with intense relief. With tears pouring from her eyes, she rolled onto her back and reached out to take the baby from her husband. As she hugged her son close to her chest for the first time, she looked up at Garth and smiled when she found the intense love she felt for him reflected in his eyes.

  “Welcome to the world, Alarik.”

  They had decided to name him in honour of Garth’s friend who had fallen in battle. His loss had hit the men hard, Garth in particular.

  “Shall I take him and get him cleaned up?” Ailsa offered. She held out her arms to take the baby, but then her face contorted with pain, and she gave an agonised moan.

  “Is Thorolf still outside?” Ytha asked Garth.