Lord 0f The North Wind (The Kingdom 0f Northumbria Book 3)

by Jayne Castel

The shock of Osana’s warm, soft body landing on him jolted Aldfrith out of the anger that had rendered him speechless. In just a few words this woman, who until today had not been able to spell her name, had made him feel like a fool. He had been ready to send her away when she arrived at his annex earlier; he had been telling himself all day that he must. Yet one glance at her hopeful face, and his resolve had scattered like leaves in the wind.

  There had been no malice in her observations, just curiosity and plain-speech. Unwittingly, she had just destroyed the one thing he was most proud of: his wisdom, his ideas.

  Yet when she fell onto his lap, he forgot his upset.

  The scent of lavender and the sweet smell of a woman’s skin enveloped him. He was much taller than her, and when standing, Osana had to look up to meet his eye. Their gazes were level now though. He looked into those hazel eyes flecked with green, and saw the shocked look on her lovely face. His attention shifted to those lush, slightly parted lips, and lust hit him with the force of a battering ram.

  “Sorry, milord,” she gasped, her eyes glittering with mortification. “I’m clumsy, I—”

  Instinct took over. Aldfrith reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck. Then he drew her close, his mouth covering hers.

  The feel of her lips against his, the flutter of her pulse under his fingertips, drove the last of his good sense away. With a strangled groan, Aldfrith ran his free hand up her back, exploring the firmness of the flesh beneath her fitted tunic. Then his tongue parted her lips, and he kissed her deeply.

  Osana’s response was primal. Her soft whimper of pleasure, the way she melted into him like molten wax, awoke something deep within him Aldfrith had thought dead forever.

  The Lord save his soul, but he wanted Osana. Her taste was like honey, like rich wine. The feel of her body against his brought him alive. The ache in his loins was almost unbearable.

  She kissed him back, her hunger matching his. Her breasts pressed up against the wall of his chest, and he slid a hand from her back to cup their fullness. He wanted to see her breasts naked, to suckle them. He needed to tear away the layers of clothing separating them, to take her here and now on the desk. He wanted to lose himself inside her.

  Everything he knew about the world ceased to matter. His existence narrowed to this moment, this woman.

  Thud. Thud.

  “Lord Aldfrith.”

  The moment shattered.

  Aldfrith and Osana sprang apart as if doused with a bucket of icy sea-water.

  Fortunately, the door was closed. A cold wind had sprung up in the afternoon, and Osana had closed the door upon entering to avoid putting out the fire with a draft. It was that which had saved someone from walking in on them.

  “Aye,” Aldfrith said roughly, rising to his feet, while Osana sank down—trembling—onto her stool.

  The door opened, and Cerdic appeared. His gaze swept over them both, his expression impassive. However, Aldfrith was sure guilt was written over his and Osana’s faces.

  “Yes, Cerdic?” Aldfrith said shortly. “We’re in the midst of a lesson.”

  The slight raise of one of Cerdic’s eyebrows was the only sign that he knew what he had just walked in on. “Apologies for the interruption, sire. However, the ealdorman of Gefrin is here. He wishes to discuss rebuilding Northumbria’s armies. He claims the conversation is long overdue.”

  That man is like a dog with a bone. Aldfrith raked a hand through his hair. This was the last thing he needed. After that kiss he could barely think straight. Thankfully, the tunic he wore over his leggings reached mid-thigh, concealing his arousal. He had to gather his wits before returning to the Great Hall to meet his cousin.

  Edwin had become troublesome of late. He imagined the King of Mercia, or the Pict King Bridei, were plotting against them and planning an attack on Northumbria. As far as Aldfrith was concerned, his cousin’s worries were entirely unfounded. They had never enjoyed such peaceful relations with their neighbors as they did now.

  “Thank you, Cerdic. Tell Edwin to enjoy a cup of ale in the hall. I will be with him shortly.”

  The warrior nodded, his gaze darting once more to Osana, before he turned on his heel and strode from the annex.

  When he was gone, Aldfrith heaved in a deep breath and turned to Osana.

  She sat, stiff-backed, upon the stool looking as if she would flee at any moment. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her cheeks slightly flushed. Aldfrith inwardly cringed; Cerdic was no fool. He would know what they had been doing. They were just lucky that it was Cerdic and not the bishop who had interrupted them.

  Thinking upon Bishop Wilfrid sent a chill through Aldfrith, dousing the last of the lust that had driven away all rational thought.

  Temptress.

  Aye she was, but Osana was not to blame for what had just happened. He was. All his resolve, his decision to keep away from the alluring widow, and he had fallen upon Osana like a ravenous wolf.

  Lechery leads to disgrace.

  His own words returned to mock him. Osana was right. He locked himself away in this room, pondering life from afar, like an eagle perched upon a rocky eyrie. Yet the first moment he had been tested his resolve had crumbled.

  “Go back to the hall, Osana,” he said quietly, turning from her as self-disgust settled upon him. “I think it’s best if we don’t have any more lessons.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Beyond My Grasp

  HER LEGS WOULD not work properly.

  Osana stumbled back into the Great Hall, leaving Aldfrith behind in his annex. She barely paid notice to her surroundings. After that kiss her wits were still scattered. She was still reeling, still trying to make sense of it. She had not expected him to kiss her. And she certainly had not imagined Aldfrith could kiss like that.

  She had never experienced an embrace of its like, had never lost herself in a kiss so completely. It had been a wrench to pull herself away, even if the knock on the door had made it necessary.

  What would have happened if Cerdic hadn’t interrupted us?

  Osana flushed hot at the thought.

  She crossed the floor of the Great Hall, her legs like jelly, making her way over to where Lora stood kneading bread at a long table.

  Lora’s brow furrowed when her gaze alighted upon Osana. “You’re flushed … are you unwell?”

  Osana shook her head, flashing Lora a quick smile. “I’m fine. It’s just hot in here compared to outdoors. Do you need help with that?”

  Lora gave her a searching look. The woman was sharper than most folk realized, and she had an uncanny ability to read your mood. Yet Lora held her tongue and nodded. “There’s dough in that bowl that needs working.”

  Grateful to have a task to occupy her, Osana rolled up her sleeves and got to work. She sprinkled a dusting of coarse flour on the wooden work surface and poured out the bouncy lump of dough. Then she began to knead it.

  A gust of chill air blew across the floor as the doors opened, and Osana glanced up to see the king enter.

  The sight of him made her breathing catch. Just a short while earlier she had been perched upon his lap while he ravaged her mouth and ran those strong sensitive hands over her body, setting her on fire.

  He looked stern now though; not even the ghost of the earlier passion that had smoldered in those dark blue eyes was visible.

  Osana’s chest constricted. Once the kiss had ended, she had seen the change in him, the invisible door that had slammed shut between them. His gaze was shuttered now, riveted upon the heavy-set blond warrior who sat upon the high seat, cup of ale in hand, waiting for him.

  Aldfrith did not glance her way, even though she knew he would have seen her upon entering the hall.

  He was determined not to make eye contact with her.

  Osana dropped her own gaze to the dough she was pummeling, her vision blurring.

  Stop it, she chided herself. Why would you weep over such a thing? Of course Aldfrith isn’t going to look at you. Not now.


  And yet she could not hide from the disappointment that settled over her in a heavy blanket. The attraction between them had been there from the first, simmering during every meeting over the last two and a half years. It was only natural that spending time together alone would ignite it.

  I think it’s best if we don’t have any more lessons.

  Aldfrith realized his mistake in tutoring her. She would not learn to read or to practice writing her name and other letters. A vise gripped Osana’s chest at the thought, squeezing tight. How she had loved that lesson: the smell of the ink, the scratch of the quill across the vellum, and the magic of seeing her name written there. She thirsted to learn more and felt cheated that one lesson would be all she would receive.

  Arrogant woman. Osana punched hard at the dough. Raedwulf always said it. No wonder I’ve never been happy … I’ve always wanted what’s beyond my grasp.

  Aldfrith approached the high seat, deliberately keeping his gaze focused upon the blond man waiting for him there, and away from the dark-haired woman standing at one of the work tables.

  Even so, it took a monumental effort to focus his thoughts and not allow memories of that passionate kiss to distract him.

  Her soft lips. Her sweet taste.

  Enough. Concentrate.

  Seeing the mutinous look upon his cousin’s face, Aldfrith knew he had to keep his wits about him. Edwin of Gefrin was a sharp, blunt-tongued man who knew how to manipulate others.

  He stepped up onto the high seat, and the ealdorman gracelessly heaved himself to his feet and bowed. The gesture was rushed, bordering on disrespectful. However, Aldfrith let it pass; he did not care much for formalities, although in Edwin the slight grated.

  “Wes hāl, Edwin.” He nodded at the ealdorman and sank into his chair at the head of the table. “What brings you to Bebbanburg?”

  A servant appeared at his elbow with a jug of mead and poured him a cup. Wordlessly, Edwin thrust out his own to be refilled before turning his gaze upon the king.

  “Concerns, sire … grave ones.”

  Aldfrith frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “Northumbria still has no army. Where is our fyrd?”

  Aldfrith let out a long breath. He could not believe Edwin had again traveled all this way to berate him about his army. It seemed the only thing his cousin thought about. Every time they met, he repeated the same complaint. “I don’t need to gather a fyrd, Edwin,” he replied, his voice flat. “Northumbria isn’t at war.”

  “Aethelred of Mercia is strengthening his garrisons to the north of his kingdom,” Edwin growled.

  “And?”

  Edwin gave him a withering look. “He’s clearly planning something.”

  Aldfrith clenched his jaw. He was not in the mood for this. “I’m on good terms with King Aethelred. There’s no trouble between our kingdoms.”

  The ealdorman’s mouth drew up. “You can’t trust a Mercian. Thousands of our warriors have died upon their blades over the years.”

  “As have thousands of theirs.”

  Edwin scowled at him, his gaze narrowing. He was clearly unconvinced; this was an argument between them that would not easily be resolved. And yet Aldfrith sensed this complaint was merely a shield. The man’s resentment toward him hung over them like a fug of smoke.

  It is not an army you want but the crown. If Aldfrith had not been alive to succeed Ecgfrith, Edwin would have taken the throne.

  It must gall him terribly.

  He was not without sympathy for Edwin or his frustrations. Edwin was an ambitious man who had been thwarted. Yet his cousin’s belligerence put Aldfrith on edge. The man seemed to think the king should follow his counsel unquestioningly. He did not like being obstructed.

  I must be wary of him.

  Lora knew Cerdic was headed her way. The determined set of his shoulders, and the way his gaze bored into her, made his destination clear.

  Putting down the washing board and cake of lye she was using, Lora rose to her feet to greet him. He was a tall man, and she did not want him looming over her.

  Cerdic was a distraction; he made her feel an odd restlessness. After losing Broga, she had felt sad and empty for a long while. Was she even ready to give her heart to another? She liked Cerdic, but she barely knew him. Perhaps it was better to keep him at arm’s length.

  The grim look on his face now unsettled her.

  Lora dried her hands on her apron as she watched him cover the last handful of yards to the well where she stood. A basket of her and Osana’s tunics sat at her feet. She was halfway through washing them.

  “Good afternoon,” she greeted the warrior when he drew up before her.

  “Wes hāl,” he rumbled, dipping his chin in greeting.

  They stood on the edge of the yard, near where Lora had slipped in the snow. The snow had gone now, leaving mud in its wake. It was a sunny but chill afternoon. Lora could feel the kiss of the sun on her back. In another moon its touch would have more heat.

  “Why the serious expression?” she asked, injecting a light-hearted tone into her voice. “You look the bearer of ill-tidings.”

  He scowled. “Aye, I am.”

  Lora stiffened. “What’s wrong?”

  Cerdic cast a glance around them, to ensure they were not being overheard. “Aldfrith and your mistress grow close.”

  Lora stared at him, confused. “Sorry?”

  Cerdic huffed out a breath. “Earlier, when Edwin of Gefrin arrived, I went looking for the king in his annex. I found them there … together. I think I interrupted something.”

  Lora cocked an eyebrow. “And how to you know that?”

  “I may look a dolt,” he growled, folding his muscular arms over his chest, “but I know the look of a man and woman who’ve just leaped from each other’s arms.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Aye. I’ve never seen such two guilty faces.”

  Lora sighed, pushing a strand of hair that had escaped her braid out of her eyes. This news concerned her, for Osana was putting both their futures at Bebbanburg at risk. However, she would not share her fears with Cerdic. Instead, she decided to take the opposite approach with him. “Should either of us be worried? Aren’t they both free to do as they wish?”

  He favored her with an incredulous look that made Lora wilt slightly. “I took you for a clever woman,” he growled. “Surely you realize that a widow like Osana can’t consort with the king without ruining herself. Likewise, he has a responsibility to take a highborn wife to strengthen this kingdom’s position in Britannia.”

  Anger spiked within Lora. It annoyed her that Cerdic thought her a goose, and she wished she had spoken her mind to him rather than trying to diminish the situation. However, she was stubborn and would not back down now. “Surely Lord Aldfrith can consort with whomever he wishes?” she replied tartly. “He is king after all. Likewise, Osana knows what she’s doing. We shouldn’t meddle.”

  His gaze bored into her with such intensity that Lora felt her breathing quicken. This man’s nearness distracted her. “Speak to her, Lora.” The sound of her name on his lips made her pulse quicken. “Warn her of the situation she risks putting herself in.”

  Lora held his gaze before wetting her lips nervously. She instantly regretted the act when she saw his eyes drop to her mouth. “What situation is that?”

  “Aldfrith can’t take her as his consort openly. If she lies with him, she will always live in the shadows. Folk will treat her as his hōre.” Lora flinched at the baldness of his words, but Cerdic had not yet finished. “And you too will be tainted by association.” They stared at each other for a long moment, before Cerdic’s mouth softened. For an instant the severity of his face eased, and Lora caught a glimpse of the man beneath. “I would spare you that.”

  “Cerdic came to speak to me today.”

  Lora’s words, quietly spoken, made Osana glance up from where she was unlacing the front of her woolen dress. They stood inside their alcove, readying themsel
ves to retire to their furs for the night. Osana was in a tense, distracted mood, and was glad to be able to hide from the rest of the hall, to be able to crawl into her furs and be alone with her thoughts.

  “Did he?” Osana replied with a smile. “It seems that warrior has his eye on you.”

  Lora huffed. “He spoke to me of you … and Aldfrith,” she replied, ignoring Osana’s comment. “He’s concerned.”

  Osana stiffened. Of course—Cerdic had known exactly what he had stumbled upon earlier that day. “I hope he hasn’t gone around the hall sharing his concerns,” she said tightly. “I didn’t take him for a man with a loose tongue.”

  Lora shook her head. “No … I think he has only spoken to me.” Her blue eyes were pleading as they met Osana’s. “He believes you are putting your life here at risk … and I agree with him.”

  The words fell like heavy axe blows between them. Osana went still. Her first reaction was anger. She hated the thought of Lora and Cerdic discussing her. A moment later panic swelled within her breast. Life here would become unbearable if rumors started circulating about her. It would be easier for Aldfrith; he was a man and could take lovers without ruining his reputation. She, on the other hand, had a tenuous position in the Great Tower at best.

  “We only kissed,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “Neither of us planned for it to happen.”

  The look of sympathy on Lora’s face made her want to weep. “It cannot go any further than that,” Lora replied softly, coming forward and placing a comforting hand on Osana’s arm. “Or you put both of us at risk.”

  Osana’s mouth twisted. “You don’t fancy living with my shrewish aunt in Jedworth then?”

  Lora shook her head. “Not particularly.”

  Osana sighed heavily and sat down upon the furs. The strength had gone out of her suddenly; she felt weary beyond her years. “You don’t need to worry, Lora,” she said, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Aldfrith realized he’d made a mistake the moment the kiss ended. We won’t be spending any more time alone together.”